Chapter 40
The Tube carriage rattled and shook as they whizzed through the Underground, with Chris keeping up a non-stop monologue Grace barely heard. She’d catch the odd snippet of what he was saying about Binky and the gigs he’d been playing that week as she stared at the reflections of other passengers in the window, breathing through her mouth because of the stale odour of BO. The stranger next to her was pressing his meaty thigh against hers, so it was a relief when Chris stood and cheerily announced, ‘This is us,’ as they pulled into Mile End Station.
He was remarkably chipper for someone who’d recently gone through a break-up, Grace thought, her legs feeling robotic as they left the factory-like smell of the Underground station behind for Regent’s Canal.
The sky overhead was a watercolour blue, with fluffy clouds daubed as though on a painter’s canvas. The air was still enough for the canal’s waters to act as a mirror, reflecting the buildings and leafy bowed trees. The atmosphere was peaceful, and you’d never know you were in Central London. She would knuckle down and put some serious working hours in once the festival was over and begin saving, she resolved, eyeing the canal boats ahead.
So much had shifted and changed in such a short time, and Grace pushed rewind, playing back everything that had happened since she and Chris had last followed this path. That day, they’d been on a mission to see if they could get his band behind the idea of a music festival. Grace knew she’d changed fundamentally, too – and for the better, she suspected. Risking a sideways glance at Chris, she wondered how he could be so chilled out. Maybe he hadn’t received that text after all? His broad shoulders beneath his Nirvana T-shirt were completely relaxed, and he was all but whistling, whilst her stomach felt like it was attempting to pass the Girl Guides knot-tying badge.
Looking past him to the dark-green canal waters in search of a reprieve from her clamouring thoughts, Grace saw a waterbus filled with tourists puttering past. A little boy’s mammy was berating him for trying to trail his hand in the water, but he wasn’t bothered, waving out when he saw her looking. She waved back and, as the boat carried lazily on, it revealed a pair of cocky ducks meandering along the edge of the opposite path.
‘Are we going to that same pub?’ Grace finally ventured, hoping for a clue. She assumed Chris would know what she was talking about.
‘Nope.’ He gave her an infuriating grin then pointed to the wall of graffiti where he’d explained the finer points of tagging previously. ‘That wasn’t here last time.’
She murmured her agreement, pausing to check out the neon-coloured art, surprised to find she viewed what she’d previously seen as vandalism with fresh eyes. The mouse – or was it a rat? – wasn’t exactly Banksy, but it meant something to the person who’d stood there with their spray cans under cover of darkness. A swinging-ponytailed jogger pounded past, followed by a twenty-something with a skateboard tucked under his arm, neither of them making eye contact as they gazed straight ahead, oblivious to the redheaded young woman’s inner turmoil as she caught up with the handsome fella in the Nirvana T-shirt focused on wherever it was they were going.
Grace was about to demand an explanation, because she couldn’t stand this much longer, when Chris stopped alongside the various red, green and blue canal boats moored like sardines along the canal bank. A couple, barely visible through the leafy green foliage decorating their boat’s deck, were enjoying afternoon tea. Just for a moment, Grace visualised herself doing the same, then she sought out the boat they’d seen for sale here last time. Her eyes alighted on the sight of peeling paint and cracked windows as the old girl bobbed in the water. She stuck out like a sore thumb next to her well-cared-for cousins.
‘Oh, it’s sold.’ It was weirdly disappointing to see the ‘For Sale’ sign was gone. ‘Maybe her new owners will restore her,’ she added wistfully. It was sad to see her neglected like so.
‘Chris. What are you doing?’ Her eyes rounded as he clambered on the deck. ‘Get off her! That’s private property.’ Grace’s eyes swivelled left to right, but no one was about.
Chris didn’t get off. He stood there as cocky as those ducks she’d seen on the canal wall earlier, grinning at her. She took a little step back, shaking her head as he held his hand out to her.
‘Princess Grace, I’d like to officially invite you aboard TheEmerald.’
‘What are you on about?’
‘TheEmerald. She’s mine, Grace. I bought her.’