Chapter 31
Was it fate, or just my need for a footwear-based pick-me-up that had inspired me to put the bloody My Little Pony boots on that morning?
They’d been dried out and I’d polished them over with clear wax, and now I was risking them again in a mad dash up the towpath.
Well, maybe ‘dash’ was putting it too strongly.
I was fast-walking, adding in the odd sort of scuttle every now and again.
I hadn’t properly run anywhere since I went up to an F cup in sixth form.
I took the shortcut to the towpath and hurried upstream towards where Cooper was moored.
It wasn’t until I saw the boat still exactly where it had been the day before that I realised I’d been expecting him to be gone again.
I was relieved to see it still there. Still more relieved to see no sign of Adelaide on the towpath, though, if she’d rushed up here, she could already be inside.
I couldn’t rule out the possibility that someone else had seen Cooper and knew that he was the man living in the much-discussed narrowboat.
As I got closer, the curtain in the living area was nudged aside and I saw Charlie’s furry face through the gloomy glass. He barked sharply, and a moment later he was swept away and the curtains tugged closed again.
I glared at the curtains. That wasn’t going to fly today.
It was time for Cooper to put his big-boy pants on and deal with me like an adult.
Of course, if I said that to him, he’d probably only point out that I wasn’t exactly wearing my ‘grown-up’ boots.
Instead of annoying me, the idea made me smile.
Emma was right, I did like him. Damn it!
Taking extra care to avoid falling in, I stepped over onto the boat and rapped hard on the door. Predictably, no response came from inside.
‘I know you’re in there!’ I called through the door. ‘And I know you know it’s me!’
Charlie was barking inside and I thought I could hear someone moving around, probably trying to herd him into the bedroom to muffle the sound. I knocked again. Okay, so it was less of a knock and more of a pound.
‘Cooper! Even if you don’t want to talk to me, I need to tell you something – someone came to the shop looking for you and—’
The door was wrenched open and Cooper stood there looking at me in mingled shock and horror.
The sight of him made my heart do a tiny flip in my chest, like a gymnast on the high bar.
My first instinct was to hug him, and I quelled it.
He was wearing grey joggers tucked into thick woollen socks.
I noted little dabs of green and brown paint on the grey fabric and wondered if he’d been decorating.
He was also wearing the jumper – my jumper, with the sleeves rolled well up away from any painty mishaps.
The jumper that had led me to him in the first place.
I saw him glance down, clocking my boots, and I wondered if he appreciated the strange twist of fate that had brought us together again, just like that first day.
‘Hi,’ I said, more pointedly than I’d intended to. ‘Thanks for opening the door this time. I see my cake was welcome inside, even if I wasn’t. You’re welcome.’
He had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed, stubbled cheeks turning slightly red. He took a step backwards and waved me in, glancing around as if checking to see if I’d been followed. Jesus, he really was worried. What was going on?
Inside, Charlie leapt at me, pawing at my favourite lilac tights and trying frantically to lick my hands. I knelt to give him a good pet and then looked up at Cooper, who was still hovering anxiously by the door.
‘Who was it that came looking for me?’ he asked, sounding very tired all of a sudden.
‘A woman called Adelaide, very pretty, fancy handbag. She’s passing out pictures of you and asking for any information.’
Cooper shut his eyes for a second and swore under his breath. ‘Did you tell her where I was?’
‘Oh yeah, obviously. I drew her a little map, then I just decided to rush up here to tip you off because I love drama,’ I said, giving him a look. ‘I didn’t tell her anything.’
He seemed to sag slightly in relief. ‘Okay… thank you. That’s… good. Ugh, I should have known this would happen eventually. She’s so bloody stubborn.’
‘You have something in common then, don’t you?’ I said. ‘I mean, you could have just told me you never wanted to speak to me again, not left under the cover of darkness and then skulked back to hide from me.’
I know I’m being somewhat – okay, a lot – bitchy but he hurt me quite a bit. And I’d only been trying to help. It still smarts, actually, that he couldn’t just tell me he’d handle it.
‘Skulk… oh, God!’ Cooper looked annoyed but also rather embarrassed. ‘I didn’t flee the area, for God’s sake – I went for a test drive and my engine conked out again. Took me a while to get it running. Turns out I could have used your know-how after all. That book was not idiot-proof.’
‘Oh,’ I muttered, feeling myself turning red, my anger losing all its momentum in the face of relief.
He hadn’t run away from me on purpose. My heart skipped a little when I realised that.
He’d also come back as soon as he could.
‘Well, I didn’t know that… but you have been avoiding me and you did run off when I was just trying to help and… ’
He ran his hands over his hair. ‘I know, I um… I’m sorry for that.
I shouldn’t have snapped at you.’ He sighed and leant against the wall.
For the first time I noticed that the remainder of the Diana clutter had been cleared away.
The boat was dark, with all the curtains drawn, but even in the dim light I could see that it was roomier and that a lot of the display cabinets had also been turfed out. He’d been working hard, not sulking.
‘I probably shouldn’t have been prying so, you know… takes two to tango,’ I said – rather magnanimously, in my opinion. Diana would have been proud. ‘If you’re in some kind of trouble, I want to help, but you don’t have to let me.’
Cooper seemed to waver for a moment, then gestured. ‘Shall we talk in the kitchen? I think I’m going to need some tea.’
I went through and noticed on my way that there was a weird shape at the far end of the living area. For a moment I thought it was some kind of horribly misassembled modern piece of furniture, then I got closer and saw that it was a table easel on top of an old ironing board.
Cooper saw me looking and laughed awkwardly. ‘Cheapest standing desk around. Found it in a skip.’
‘Do you paint then?’ I asked, peering at the easel. There was a pad of paper on it and I could see a palette of watercolours and a paint-stained Charles and Diana mug cluttered with brushes and pencils.
‘… I do, yeah,’ Cooper said, sounding tense.
‘Oh!’ I turned to him. ‘Did you do that watercolour in the bedroom? The one of this boat? I saw it when I was getting changed before. It’s really good.’
‘Yeah, I did that one.’ His voice was soft and I realised that he was shy, looking down at the floor. ‘I’m not a professional or anything.’
‘You could be – honestly that’s a really great picture.
’ I left the easel alone and moved into the kitchen, where the blinds were open and Charlie had retreated to the bench seat to watch us.
Cooper was blushing when he came in behind me and quickly went to a kitchen cabinet, peeling at the edges of some masking tape that held an A3 painting up.
‘That’s incredible,’ I said, before I could stop myself, because it was clear he was a bit self-conscious about his art.
But it really was amazing: a large watercolour filled with details hatched in with black ink.
A whole flotilla of narrowboats with a pub in the background and a field beside it, with a pair of donkeys watching the world go by.
It was somehow both lifelike and pleasantly whimsical.
I could easily see it being used to illustrate one of the old-fashioned children’s books Aunt Lou had read to me.
‘Thanks… did it while I was stuck waiting for a new engine part. Had to have it delivered to that pub.’ He indicated the one in the picture. ‘They were really good about it actually.’
‘You’re really, really talented,’ I said, still taking in all the details.
There were people outside the pub and on the boats, almost painted like flowers – shapes and colours springing up everywhere.
The first time we’d met I’d thought he had nimble fingers – artist’s fingers, I now realised.
I heard a scuffle of papers behind me and saw Cooper rounding up more artwork from the kitchen table, where he’d apparently been sketching in pencil when I came knocking.
I caught my breath, recognising the shape of an as-yet-unlettered sign.
It was the wool shop. I reached out to still his hands and he let me take them.
He was saying something about them not really being ready yet but I was transfixed.
He’d sketched most of the key buildings in town, the ones with historic features anyway – the old church and the Victorian schoolhouse, the library and the chocolate-box cottages near the duck pond and even the ruined blacksmith shack further down the canal, with its rusted anvil still outside and the carved granite water trough.
But he’d also drawn my shop, which was nowhere near as interesting.
And though all the other pictures had abstract little people in them, there was a fully realised figure at the shop window, caught in the act of turning the sign over, a wistful smile smudged on her little graphite face. Me.
Cooper’s fingers joined mine on the page, ready to take it from me.
‘Sorry,’ he said softly, so close to me. ‘I know I should have asked but it was after I’d left and… sketching was the only thing keeping me sane. Well, that and Charlie.’