Page 2 of Barging In
“You know full well I’m not telling you. You’ll have to wait and see, like I told you last week. And the week before that.”
An exasperated breath came back down the phone. “I don’t understand why you’re being so secretive about it.”
“I just want it to be a surprise. Are you still coming on Saturday?” Clem asked, quickly changing the subject.
“Yes, but we’ll need to head straight back Sunday afternoon. Our first guests arrive on Friday, and it’ll take a couple of days to cruise back to the marina and get everything ready. I can’t believe it’s our last season.”
“The end of an era,” Clem exhaled.
Her mum hummed soulfully in agreement.
“I’m sure you should be more elated at the prospect of retiring, Mum.”
“You know me. I need to keep busy.”
“Finishing the house will keep you busy,” Clem countered.
“There will be nothing left to do.”
“I’m sure you’ll find something to sink your teeth into,” Clem said, trying to reassure her. “You can always come and help me in the busy season.”
Her mum hummed again. “If it wasn’t for your dad being so old?—”
“Oi, Barbara!” came her dad’s mock offended voice in the background, making Clem chuckle.
“—then we wouldn’t have even contemplated sellingThe Kingfisher,” her mum finished.
Although Clem’s mum was only sixty-four, the ten-year age gap between her parents put her dad well past retirement age, something he had spent the last few years telling anyone who would listen. He often complained about his aching joints and how he was ready to hang up his skipper’s hat, tired of running around after guests ontheir luxurious wide-beam hotel boat,The Kingfisher’s Rest.
Inheriting the house from Great-Aunt Maud had presented Clem’s father with the perfect opportunity to call time on his and his wife’s successful business as it entered its twentieth year.With a full diary of bookings lined up to the end of August, though, they couldn’t move straight in. It was just as well; at present, the house wasn’t fit for purpose. Towards the end, Aunt Maud had become a bit of a hoarder, and with the house being so large, it had taken Clem’s parents the whole winter to empty it out. Now that it was clear, it was the builders’ time to shine.
Realising the line had gone quiet, Clem tried to make out inaudible whisperings between her parents as she gave a friendly wave to a passing narrowboat. Suddenly her mum spoke, making Clem jump.
“Your dad’s reminded me: Watch out for that woman next door. She had the gall to have a go at us for obstructing the lane when we were clearing the last bits of furniture out a few weeks ago. It’s not our problem that she has such a fancy car; she should learn to drive it properly.”
A grunt of agreement sounded from her dad in the background.
“Then she asked us what we were doing. I told her to keep her sticky beak out of other people’s business, didn’t I, love?”
“Too right you did!” he shouted back.
“There’s nothing quite like falling out with the neighbours before you’ve even moved in,” Clem muttered quietly.
Her mum blithely ignored her comment and moved on. “When do you start work?”
“Tomorrow,” Clem confirmed.
“Well, I wish you every success with it, darling, but you know how I feel.”
Clem internalised a groan, wishing her mum had stopped halfway through her sentence. She braced herself as she continued.
“You had so much potential, such a bright future ahead with that promotion you were offered. ‘Head of Social Media and Marketing’ has such a nice ring to it. You worked hard over the years to get to that point, only to throw it away.”
“I hated it, Mum.”
That wasn’t completely true. She loved elements of the job, just not the industry she was working in. She wanted to use her creativity for good, not to actively harm people by persuading them to buy overpriced fast food without an ounce of nutrition in it. Cakes weren’t exactly nutritious either, but at least they could be made from real, wholesome ingredients, and were intended as an occasional treat. Her motto was simple: If it wasn’t in a kitchen cupboard, it wasn’t real food. Not that she ever said that out loud at the office.
“Most people hate their jobs,” her mum said with a sharp tut. “Sometimes you need to knuckle down and get on with it to put a roof over your head.”
