Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Hilda and I emerged on deck to set off for her early walk at the normal time the next morning.
I usually loved the canal when the sun was still low on the horizon and the only other occupants of the towpath were sleepy ducks with their beaks still buried in their feathers, or the occasional vole scampering into the undergrowth.
Today, however, I hopped ashore to discover my peaceful haven had been invaded by a platoon of high visibility-bedecked blokes wielding a variety of paintbrushes and power tools.
‘Good morning,’ said one of them, doffing his hard hat.
I did a double take as I recognised my new neighbour in an outfit most unlike his usual garb.
He should have looked like he was messing about in fancy dress with his paint splattered ripped jeans and toolbelt hanging low over his narrow hips, but his characteristic air of confidence meant he appeared completely comfortable.
I became acutely conscious of his physicality in a way I hadn’t been before, suddenly aware of the strength in muscles which had previously been concealed by immaculately tailored clothing.
‘What on earth is going on?’ I asked, flustered and trying to cover it by going on the offensive.
‘The guys will be working here with me all day,’ said Jack. ‘They’re going to help fit out the bar.’
‘Are you sure they’re all going to squeeze on board? How many venture capitalists does it take to change a lightbulb?’
‘I’m not a venture…’ With a visible effort, Jack changed tack. ‘Very witty,’ he said. ‘I’ll make sure they stay out of your hair.’ His eyes lingered on my mane with an amused glint, and I shuffled awkwardly, fighting the urge to smooth it.
I cleared my throat. ‘I hope they won’t put people off visiting my shop. If there are loads of workmen around, customers might think I’m not open for business.’
‘I’ll ask the team to make sure every passer-by knows that’s not the case,’ said Jack. ‘In fact, I can get them to actively encourage the crowds to enter your lair if you like. Anything my neighbour desires, I’m happy to help.’
His tone was teasing, but I decided not to rise to the bait.
‘That won’t be necessary. I would, however, appreciate if they could take pains not to block the path and to keep their stuff out of my part of the garden.’
‘Not a problem. I can send them across to spruce up the Bookship later, if you like,’ he added.
This time he really had overstepped the mark.
‘I beg your pardon, but what exactly do you mean by that? The Bookship certainly doesn’t need “sprucing up”.’
Hilda slumped down on the path, sensing we might be here for a while.
‘Let me rephrase. They’ll take a look at the damage I caused the other day and see if they can fix it,’ said Jack. ‘I have high standards and they come recommended.’
‘By whom exactly? Because as I’ve already told you, that scrape on the hull is above and below the waterline, which means the boat will have to go into a dry dock for the paintwork to be done.
I know all the specialist boat maintenance workers around here and none of them are standing on the towpath right now.
If those guys have claimed they can fix my boat in situ, then they’re lying to you.
Your standards clearly aren’t high enough.
You should have a word with the person who recommended them and let them know they don’t have a clue what they’re talking about. ’
The crease in Jack’s brow reappeared and he folded his arms defensively. ‘I was merely trying to find a quick solution.’
‘Quick solutions do not necessarily equate to being the best solutions,’ I pointed out.
He tried to stare me down, but I returned his glower and eventually he sighed. ‘Fine, if you don’t even want them to take a look, that’s your prerogative. I’ll get my insurance expert to come across and arrange repairs on another date.’
‘Yes to the repairs on another date, and no to getting your “expert” to sort them out. I’d prefer to appoint my own actual expert, thank you very much.
’ He opened his mouth, preparing to argue back, but I didn’t give him a chance.
I had no intention of letting him think I needed saving by him.
‘Trust has to be earned, and I’m not going to let some random who’s never stepped foot on a boat before try and earn it on my Bookship.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have chores to do.
’ I clicked my tongue. ‘Come on, Hilda, we’re behind schedule as it is. ’
I set off at a pace which Hilda found unusually fast judging by the little glances she kept sending in my direction, but I could feel Jack’s critical gaze burning between my shoulder blades as we hurried away.
Once we were around the corner, I slowed down and tried to focus on enjoying the walk, but I kept replaying the conversation with Jack and overanalysing every word, hating that I was allowing him to live rent-free in my head, but unable to stop it happening.
My mood plummeted still further as I approached the post office ready to carry out the weekly check of my PO box.
The only correspondence which landed there was money-related, and sure enough when I unlocked it, there was a brown envelope emblazoned with the logo of my bank waiting for me.
I toyed with shutting it back in the box, but I knew it wouldn’t help me in the long term, so I ripped it open and quickly scanned the contents which immediately sent my anxiety levels rocketing.
The letter informed me that the interest rate on the loan I’d used to buy the Oxford Bookship was increasing by 2 per cent.
There was the usual spiel about getting in touch for support if I was struggling, but the threats in red capitals about missed payments and repossessions didn’t exactly make me trust that the bank would show mercy if I fell any further behind.
A 2 per cent increase sounded like such a measly amount, but the effect on my monthly repayments would be significant as the letter handily spelled out for me.
I translated the sum into the number of books I would have to sell and felt even more sick.
I left the post office in a daze, not even finding the energy to do more than nod in acknowledgement as one of the ladies behind the counter waved a copy of The Secret History which I’d recommended to her a couple of weeks ago and gave me a big thumbs up.
I walked down the street, letting Hilda lead the way as I read the letter again.
How on earth would I be able to afford these repayments as well as finding the cash to cover the mooring fees?
Was this the way the situation would continue, me fooling myself I might be able to get a handle on things, before yet another financial blow wiped out that tentative optimism?
‘Not bad news, I hope?’ asked a familiar voice as Hilda suddenly stopped in her tracks and started wagging her tail vigorously.
I quickly stuffed the letter back in the envelope and screwed a smile on, not quite ready to articulate my fears out loud, even to my best friend.
‘Flick, hi, are you on your way to work? And no, only the usual boring business correspondence, dull as dishwater, as always,’ I said in as sunny a voice as I could manage.
The fact she took my words at face value was an instant warning.
In normal circumstances there would have been no way she’d have been taken in by my forced grin, and knowing her, she’d have eyeballed the letter’s contents too, her journalist’s eye automatically seeking out the salient information because she couldn’t help being curious about the world around her.
But today that curiosity was strangely absent.
‘Good, good,’ Flick said distractedly, glancing down at her phone and chewing her bottom lip, her usual tell for when something was bothering her.
I forced my financial concerns to the back of my mind and focused on my friend, looping my arm through hers to escort her to a nearby bench.
‘Try again, Summers. You can’t fool me. What’s the matter?’
She sighed. ‘I think I’ve messed up with Liam.’
She passed her phone across so I could read the exchange of messages on the screen.
I’m sorry hun but I won’t go on the record, not even for u. Liam xx
But you could help stop him doing that kind of thing again! Plus, why shouldn’t you set the record straight? YOU did nothing wrong! You can trust me to tell it properly I promise F x
‘I stopped by his place after the pub last night and he told me about the whole Jack screwing over his career situation,’ she explained.
‘I should have just listened, but I wanted to help, to do something practical. I offered to write about it in the paper because people shouldn’t be allowed to get away with treating others like crap, and Liam’s story deserves to be heard.
I mean, no matter how well he’s doing with his social media stuff, his original career has still been stolen from him.
But he got all worried and couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.
And then like a complete muppet, I kept pursuing the thing over text as I was walking home and he’s stopped replying.
I think he’s going to break up with me. Well, I mean, he can’t break up with me because we’re not officially an item yet or anything, but you saw what he said. ’
My fury at Jack increased exponentially.
‘Jack Siddall has a lot to answer for. I’m so sorry, lovely. I feel responsible. I was the one who suggested Liam might have a story for you. I probably shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.’
She squeezed my hand. ‘Don’t be silly. Of course you told me. We’ve never kept secrets from each other.’
Now I felt even worse. It wasn’t the time to add to her distress by confessing my financial woes, but I made a silent resolve to speak to Liam as soon as possible to try to clear things up.
He didn’t strike me as the type to ghost someone, but I could understand his extra sensitivity when it came to Jack.