Page 27 of Barging In
Then she noticed something odd: All three reviews had been posted around the same time last night. Suspicion took root. Could it be? Would Victoria really stoop low enough to post shitty reviews about her competitor’s business?Yes, was Clem’s immediate thought. She wouldn’t put it past the woman, not after her underhanded stunt with the signage.
Clem set the phone down on the worktop and stepped away from it. What she needed now was a moment of calm. She headed to the bow, sat down, propped her feet on the gunwale, and closed her eyes.Gritty icing.She sieved her icing sugar meticulously, and her cakes didn’t sit around for days. Ever.
These were genuine fake reviews. The question was: What was she going to do about it? She could report them, but it was unlikely to get her anywhere. Would confronting Victoria about them just lead to another slanging match? Then again, did she even care if it did?
Her phone rang from inside Florence. Straining to catch the ringtone, she recognised it as the one she’d assigned to her dad. Clem sprang up from the chair and ran inside to retrieve it.
WHACK!
Her knee collided with the edge of the bed, sending pain shooting through her leg.
“Fuck!”
Hobbling down the narrow corridor to the kitchen, she seethed — at the reviews, at Victoria, at her bad luck. With her level of spatial awareness, what the hell had she been thinking of buying a narrowboat?
“Hi, Dad. Is everything okay?” she asked quickly, her voice tight as she silently panted through the pain.
“Oh yes, we’re making good progress. It’s just… I’ve had a call. You know how I sorted all your permissions for trading at the wharf? Well, I forgot to mention that I went to school with the landowner.”
“Forgotto mention.” Clem groaned, leaning over to rub her knee. “Is that how I managed to get the best spot?”
“That’s not important right now.”
She was about to argue that nepotism was important when he added, “Someone asked him to revoke your mooring agreement.”
She shot upright. “What? Why?Who?”
“They wouldn’t give him their name, but they told him that you were being physically violent and causing a health and safety hazard — something about your sign blocking the towpath.”
“What?”
“He sent them packing,” her dad added quickly.
Clem exhaled with relief. She didn’t need a name; she knew who was behind this.
“Victoria,” she muttered, her eyes drifting towards the woman’s office window.
“You think it has something to do with her?” her dad asked. “I’ll be having words when I see her next.”
“Seriously, Dad? I’m forty. I’ve never needed you to fight my battles.”
“You did at school when that boy nicked your pencil case.”
“I was six! And for the record, I didn’t need your help. I kicked him in the shins, and he never bothered me again.”
Her mum’s voice cut in through her dad’s fading chuckles. “That woman needs putting in her place.”
“It’s fine, Mum. I’ll handle it.”
“Just wait till I see her again,” her mum snapped. “She’ll be getting a piece of my mind for messing with my daughter.”
“I can handle Victoria Hargreaves,” Clem stated. “In fact, I’ll do it now.”
“Well, you give her what for.”
“I will, Mum.”
Clem hung up and squinted across at Victoria’s window, trying to see if she was in her office. Right on cue, Victoria spun her chair around, putting her straight in Clem’s eye line. Clem quickly stepped back. She had caught Victoria nosing at her the day before, and she wasn’t about to get spotted doing the same.
