Chapter 11 #2
Jack frowned. ‘Yes, it has been making a strange noise. I hope they haven’t been putting sawdust in there.
’ He must have seen my blank expression, because he elaborated.
‘Like Mr Wormwood does in Matilda to make the engines in the dodgy cars he sells sound like they’re running more smoothly.
At least, they do for a short while, before they break completely. ’
He’d know about dodgy business practices, I thought, but restricted myself to saying, ‘Another film you’ve watched in preference to the book?’
‘No, I’ve read the actual book. I admire a character with the courage of her convictions.’
‘Right,’ I said, rather taken aback.
‘And as we’re on the subject of children’s literature that still resonates, like you, I’m a big fan of the Swallows and Amazons books by Arthur Ransome,’ he added, his eyes sparkling in an irritatingly pleased-with-himself way.
‘How did you…?’ I started to ask, before stopping myself. The whole charming book chatter was clearly a ploy to soften me up.
‘Only someone who likes Swallows and Amazons would use the term “hullabaloo” to describe a person who’s failing to control their boat properly.’
‘It was justified,’ I said, unashamed of my use of the word, but surprised at his knowledge of my reference point.
It would have been an easy shot to make a snide comment about his apparent love of books intended for children, but I would never stoop so low as to criticise a person’s reading habits.
Reading was reading, whether it was the back of a cereal box or The Iliad in the original.
Although remembering Jack’s ancient Greek pedantry, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d actually done the latter.
It was probably only a matter of time before he’d make some comment designed to show that off.
‘Perhaps in that moment. But I promise I’m much more than a hullabaloo,’ he said, looking at me steadily. ‘Maybe you would agree, if you allowed yourself to see past the first impression, that is. After all, isn’t that what the message said on our blind date book?’
I fought the urge to drop my gaze, feeling uncomfortably exposed, fixed in his hazel eyes. I clamped down on the stirring of curiosity. He was playing with me. I didn’t need to know anything more about him. I was a good judge of character, and I knew quite enough already.
‘Hmm,’ I said dubiously. ‘Delightful as it’s been to talk, I’ve got work to do. Here’s your coat back.’
I held it out to him, but instead of taking it, he gestured for me to follow him.
‘Dump it on the side somewhere. Come and take a look inside, if you like.’
I folded the coat carefully and placed it on the cleanest-looking bit of deck. No matter what my thoughts were about its owner, it was too expensive an item of clothing to be dumped on the side. ‘I really am very busy at the moment,’ I said half-heartedly.
But there was no point in trying to deceive Jack.
‘Sure you are,’ he said, pointedly looking over at the empty towpath. ‘You’ve had, what, a grand total of half a dozen customers so far today?’
‘There were more than that. And at least two of them were very good customers who bought a significant number of books,’ I pointed out, omitting to mention I’d undermined my bottom line by giving them a book too.
Jack looked unimpressed.
I sighed. ‘Fine, I suppose I can take a look, but if any customers arrive at my shop, I’ll have to leave.’
‘Naturally. I would expect nothing less. Follow me,’ he said. ‘Or rather, Hilda will lead the way. She seems to have taken quite a liking to me.’
‘There’s no accounting for taste,’ I retorted.
He drew a sharp breath in. ‘Ouch. Molly Bramble by name, Molly brambly by nature, I see.’
I unleashed an icy glare on him which would have been enough to wither most people, but Jack returned my gaze with a distractingly concentrated focus.
‘Lead on, MacHilda,’ I said, tapping her gently on the haunches as I sought to break the intensity of the moment.
‘I hope that doesn’t make me Macbeth,’ muttered Jack.
I tried a different approach and smiled with sweet sarcasm at him, which he took at face value, surprising me with a smile of his own, a sudden change which threw me even more off guard and made me feel unaccountably flustered.
Hilda nosed her way into the cabin, and I gestured to Jack to go ahead of me too, somewhat taken aback by my reaction.
‘Shall I explain My Vision as we go?’ he asked.
‘I’m definitely hearing the capital letters in there, Mr Wine Barge,’ I said, back on the defensive.
‘Go on then, fill me in on your Big Plans.’ I injected a note of weariness into my voice to disguise my eagerness to discover exactly what horrors I was going to have to endure from my new neighbour’s enterprise.
‘So up there on the well deck where we were standing,’ he glanced at me to check his vocabulary, and I nodded, ‘I’m going to have some bench seats fitted with large cushions for people to lounge around on while they’re enjoying their drinks.
I’ll string fairy lights up from the roof, and there’ll be a proper gangplank with guard rails so people can get on board and off again easily. ’
‘Drunk people and water are never a good combination. What time will you be staying open until? And what will your policy be on serving people who’ve obviously already had too much?
How strong will the outside lighting be?
What noise controls will you have in place?
’ I fired a load of questions at him. Flick would be proud of me.
Jack nodded as if he’d been expecting them.
‘I envisage the lighting being soft and cosy, atmospheric shall we say, but obviously bright enough so people can see where they’re going.
My hospitality licence is until 11 p.m. And before you ask, I’ve done plenty of risk assessments.
It was a requirement of getting the licence in the first place.
I don’t have a policy per se about people getting too drunk, but I don’t think I’ll be attracting that kind of clientele.
I highly doubt they’ll be rowdy or even that noisy. ’
I frowned. ‘That seems foolishly optimistic. This is a city full of students and tourists. People out for a good time who like to let their hair down rather than sticking to being sensible. And I can’t imagine they’ll be quiet about it.’
‘There’s nothing foolish about optimism,’ he said simply.
It was a sentiment I’d normally agree with, but whatever optimism I used to have was being slowly crushed out of me thanks to the challenging financial circumstances I faced.
‘Easy to say when you can afford it. Where is the bar going to be?’ I asked.
I could see him considering whether to respond to my statement, but he decided it wasn’t worth it and answered my question instead.
‘In this main cabin over there, approximately where Hilda is standing at the moment. In fact, she’s a similar length to the actual bar.
Maybe I could get her to lie down so I can draw around her on the floor and mark out where the rest of the furniture will go.
’ His features softened with an infectious flash of humour.
‘Good luck persuading her to stay still for that,’ I said, smiling despite my best intentions. Given Hilda’s inexplicable interest in the man, she’d probably do exactly as he wanted.
I followed him further into the body of the boat and walked slowly in a circle, taking in the stripped back interior.
I could see marks on the walls where a set of bunks must have been, and the floorboards were bare and in desperate need of a good sweeping.
The portholes were grimy on the inside, and a pile of wine boxes was stacked up next to the interior door, which was hanging off its hinges. It was echoing in its emptiness.
‘It’s a good space, isn’t it?’ said Jack, the starry expression on his face telling me that he was impervious to any flaws.
In truth, it was an expression I recognised from seeing it in my own mirror in the early days of the Oxford Bookship before the reality of the day-to-day battle for business took over.
He’d soon realise the errors of his naivety, I tried to reassure myself.
On the other hand, it was obvious he had a much bigger financial buffer to protect him from the stresses I had to face. Perhaps I was the one being naive.
‘The floor is in good condition, so that will stay as it is. Yes, I will give it a good clean first,’ he added, as he caught my dubious countenance.
‘I’ve got a reclaimed bar from a pub that closed down.
I’m planning to disassemble it and then rebuild it in here.
It’s made of beautiful old oak, smoothed to a shine by the touch of generation upon generation of punters.
I love that it’ll bring some history to the place.
A few barstools and then some small tables, and that will be all the furniture I can fit inside.
Again, I’ve reclaimed them from the same pub.
It was sad to see such an institution shutting down, but I’m glad that I can give them a second life.
I’m going to fit a ledge running along one side of the cabin so people can rest their drinks on it.
I don’t want to cram too much furniture in.
That way there will be more room for people to mingle.
And the overflow will be on the deck and the towpath garden. ’