Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Thankfully after the stress of the stolen cable, the next few days passed peacefully.
Well, as peacefully as they could with a full-on renovation happening next door.
Although I pretended to myself I wasn’t interested in the Jericho Wine Barge and its owner’s behaviour, I couldn’t help keeping track of the efforts of the crew as they worked to their tight deadline for the transformation.
Although I’d seen no sign of them today, the noise from next door had reached quite possibly its worst level yet.
The constant racket was driving me to the edge.
It was like somebody was following me around bashing a saucepan by my ears.
It was the hottest day of the year so far, but there was no way I could sit up on the deck and enjoy the sunshine.
Instead, I was stuck in the bookshop cabin, the windows shut tight despite the rising temperature.
The combination of the stuffy atmosphere and raucous soundtrack meant nobody was browsing for long and every task I attempted was interrupted by the incessant din from my thoughtless neighbour.
The accounts were soon put to one side, as I kept messing up my spreadsheet, at one point making the figures go so scrambled that it looked like I was making a million pounds a day. If only.
I tried instead to relax with the advance copy of a book due out next month.
I was hoping to tempt the author to do a signing, or perhaps even a talk, but as I kept having to read the same page over and over again, she’d probably be releasing her next book by the time I actually finished it.
I settled reluctantly on doing a stock take, figuring even I could manage to scan bar codes without getting distracted by the thumping from the Jericho Wine Barge.
I was wrong. I ended up scanning one book five times before I admitted defeat and stomped next door to confront the creator of the din.
I tried knocking on the cabin door, then rapped on the side of the boat as well, but Jack was causing such a palaver indoors he didn’t register I was there.
I hovered for a second, then decided the necessity to stop the noise outweighed the need for politeness, so I opened the cabin door and went in, bracing myself for the confrontation.
But I should have braced myself for something else altogether.
My normally buttoned-up neighbour was back in his working garb, but this time he’d ditched the high-vis.
In fact, he’d dispensed with wearing a top all together.
His feet were bare, which struck me as being hazardous while he was messing around with hammers and nails.
I had a sudden vision of him walking barefoot across a beach, white sand glistening between those tanned toes.
I didn’t have a thing for feet, and my only excuse for fixating on them was that I couldn’t quite bring myself to look upwards again.
I tried to convince myself I’d imagined it, that the whole Poldark scything topless thing Jack had going on was a mirage created by my over-stressed brain.
I mean, men who looked like that did not exist outside of the world of fiction.
For one to exist in the form of my infuriating next-door neighbour was astonishingly unfair. The universe was having a laugh.
Jack cleared his throat and I was suddenly conscious I’d been standing there for an indeterminate amount of time, but definitely too long to justify remaining this quiet for.
I finally dragged my gaze back from his feet to his face.
He raised an eyebrow at me, and I blinked back at him in embarrassment.
‘Mr Siddall,’ I started, feeling the need to address him in a formal manner to make up for his very informal mode of undress. I hoped my voice didn’t sound as strangled as I feared it did.
‘My dad is Mr Siddall. I’d really prefer you stuck to Jack,’ he replied. ‘And calling me Mr Siddall doesn’t make up for the fact you let yourself in. I could have been doing DIY in the buff.’
Why had he felt the need to evoke that image in my head? ‘You might as well be,’ I retorted, wishing I didn’t blush so easily. He grinned with the easy air of someone completely comfortable in their own, admittedly spectacular, body. ‘And I did knock,’ I added lamely.
‘I guess I mustn’t have heard. I tend to get quite focused on tasks.’
‘I noticed.’ My voice was stronger now. ‘You’ve been focused on this particular task since 7 a.m. Without stopping.’
He took his phone out of his back pocket and checked the screen. ‘Time flies when you’re having fun. You must have been paying close attention to have noted exactly when I started work.’
‘I couldn’t have failed to notice. I didn’t need an alarm call this morning due to your banging and crashing.
I’m of half a mind to complain to the Oxford Boating Association about you causing a noise nuisance,’ I said.
I had no real intention of doing so, but perhaps the threat of it would make him be more considerate.
‘I didn’t realise the Oxford Boating Association had a remit over such things,’ he said.
‘They like to keep a close eye on all residents to make sure nobody’s doing anything which could damage the environment around here. Welcome to canal life,’ I said.
‘I’m not too worried about it. The noise is for a limited amount of time and is well within guidelines. I’ve found the Association extremely helpful so far, and I’m sure they’d agree what I’m doing is reasonable. They’ve made me feel very welcome,’ he said.
Of course they had. They didn’t have to live next to his building work.
‘Look, I appreciate you have to do the work, but can you please try not to make such a din while you’re about it.
You’re giving me a headache. And more to the point, you’re putting off my customers.
Nobody wants to browse in a bookshop where it sounds like a juggernaut is doing battle with a pile driver next door. ’
‘I think that might be somewhat of an exaggeration,’ said Jack, in an emphatically polite tone.
I sighed. ‘You’re missing the point. I shouldn’t have to put up with it.’
Jack looked contrite, although I wasn’t buying it.
‘I do apologise. If it’s any comfort, it’s only for a short amount of time longer.
As you can see, I’m nearly finished with the conversion.
’ He gestured around him, and I finally took in my surroundings.
The floor was neatly sanded apart from a final patch surrounding the vintage bar which was now fixed into position.
Behind the bar was a large fridge with a clear door, presumably for white wine and other drinks that needed chilling, while shelves stood ready for glasses and more bottles.
The lower part of the cabin’s walls had been transformed by the addition of warm oak-coloured panelling, which explained the reason for all the noise.
The furniture was stacked in one corner, ready to be set out in time for the grand opening.
It was starting to look like a really classy venue. Not that I was going to tell him that.
My expression must have given away I was impressed because he added, ‘My living area isn’t looking quite so polished, but that’s not really a priority at the moment.
I’m still working on the plans for my private residence.
It’s good to keep one’s options open. Who knows what other opportunities might come up in this area of the canal? ’
His seemingly offhand comment was perturbing, especially given his earlier mention of cosying up to the Oxford Boating Association.
Everything I’d heard suggested Jack Siddall worked five steps ahead of the rest of the world.
If his plans involved expanding into the neighbouring mooring, i.e.
mine, then I needed to disabuse him of that idea.
I decided to try my luck and see if I could get any more information out of him.
‘I’ve got a few minutes now, and having done up the Oxford Bookship only last year I can probably give you some good tips for your living space,’ I suggested. ‘Why don’t we take a look?’
I didn’t give him the chance to disagree with me.
I picked my way past the construction detritus and opened the door leading into the rest of the boat.
Behind it was a neat bathroom space which consisted of two tiny toilet cubicles on one side with whitewashed wooden doors, and then a couple of sinks with classy matt black fittings on the other.
A glossy green plant hung between the two sinks, plump round leaves cascading towards the black and white tiled floor.
I surreptitiously reached out and stroked a leaf, surprised to find the plant was real rather than the plastic replica I’d expected.
‘Nothing fake around here,’ said Jack.
I frowned doubtfully at him. ‘I’m guessing the sink area doubles as a wet room?’ I asked, indicating the showerhead on the ceiling.
He nodded. ‘That’s correct. And before you say anything, the guys have fitted a master switch so bar patrons can’t accidentally turn the shower on while they’re in here and get themselves drenched.’
‘Probably wise. Although it would be one way of quickly sobering up any difficult customers.’
Jack opened his mouth like he was going to argue back but decided against it.
‘Onwards to your private cabin,’ I said.
‘It’s really not fit for viewing,’ repeated Jack, but I stared at him, or rather slightly past him in the manner of someone protecting their gaze from the sun during an eclipse, until he reluctantly unlocked the linking door and indicated for me to go in first.
‘Goodness, I see what you mean,’ I said, taking in the spartan interior.
Actually, even to describe it as spartan felt generous.
There was a camping stove set up in one corner and a rolled-up yoga mat and sleeping bag in another.
And that was about it, apart from a single packing case which I suspected doubled as a table, and a couple of suitcases I assumed held the rest of his possessions.
‘Really living the high life, I see. Is this an exercise in self-discipline, or do you like existing like this?’
‘It’s only like going camping,’ said Jack.
I turned slowly on the spot, trying to see if there was something I’d missed. But there wasn’t. There was nothing comfortable about the space at all.
‘But you don’t look like you’re camping. You’re always so meticulously dressed,’ I said, then immediately regretted saying the words out loud.
Jack cleared his throat and indicated his current state of disarray. As if I was likely to have forgotten about it.
‘Apart from now, obviously,’ I added.
‘I’m flattered you think I look good,’ he said.
‘I didn’t say that exactly,’ I retorted. He responded with one of his disconcertingly devastating grins. The way it transformed his face with warmth never failed to surprise me, giving a glimpse of a normally hidden side to his personality. I started to smile in return but caught myself in time.
‘It’s all smoke and mirrors. My shirts may look like linen, but they’re actually a cleverly designed non-crease variety. Life’s too short to be constantly pressing stuff, and I’m certainly not going to waste space by having an ironing board on the boat.’
‘It must be tough slumming it without staff,’ I said, still trying to get back on the offensive.
‘I’m more than happy standing on my own two feet,’ he said quietly.
‘How very commendable of you. But you’re not telling me you’re using that thing as a mattress?’ I gestured at the yoga mat.
‘Admittedly it isn’t ideal, but I’m still trying to get a feel for the place, and I’ve been too busy to get a proper bed sorted.’
‘Or in fact any kind of furniture at all. Be careful, it’s making you look like a commitment-phobe.’
‘I wouldn’t say that. I’m merely a man who considers choices carefully so any commitment I make is a meaningful one. As you can tell by the amount of work I’ve put into creating the bar, I’m extremely committed to making it a success.’
‘And what exactly does success look like for you?’ I decided I might as well come out and ask it.
Jack chuckled. ‘That sounds painfully like the type of question I was expected to answer in my previous corporate life.’ He plucked at his shorts. ‘I’m a little underdressed to play the interview candidate right now.’
I frowned. ‘I was only asking. You keep stressing how important it is for the bar to do well, but what does that actually mean? From what I’ve heard, you’ve climbed to the top of the corporate ladder in the past and not minded the price others had to pay for that along the way.
Are you intending to do the equivalent here?
Are you looking to create a Siddall monopoly on the Oxford Canal? ’
Okay, I’d got a bit carried away, but the questions were out there now, and I really wanted to hear his answers.
Jack folded his arms defensively, and despite his dishevelled appearance, his stance was now one hundred per cent confident, steely-eyed businessman.
‘It sounds like you’ve been paying too much attention to gossip, and I bet I can guess exactly who has been feeding it to you.’
‘Let’s leave Liam out of this,’ I responded.
‘Why?’ he asked simply. ‘You clearly set great store by his opinions.’
‘I’m perfectly capable of forming my own opinions, believe me. And bringing Liam up sounds like a classic tactic for trying to avoid answering my questions.’
He shrugged. ‘You were the one who mentioned his name. But there’s little point in me having the Liam discussion with you at the moment, as you’ve obviously made your mind up that what he says is gospel.
Fine. If you insist, yes, I have a long-term plan for the Jericho Wine Barge.
What sensible businessperson doesn’t? And as part of that plan, I’ve considered options for further development.
The Oxford Canal and the beautiful permanent moorings in this area in particular offer a plethora of possibilities.
I’d be a fool not to consider the opportunities which might present themselves were another space to become free. ’
‘You’ll get my mooring over my dead body,’ I declared.
‘Why wou—’ started Jack, but I left before he could even ask the rest of his question.