Page 5 of Barging In
“That is delicious,” Max said, finishing the last bite of chocolate flapjack a few minutes later. “I can already tell you’re going to be a popular addition to our little community. Business has been slow for us over the winter.”
“I thought vinyl was all the rage again.”
“It is, but physical media only appeals to a certain crowd. Hopefully, you’ll attract people my way. With that colour, your boat certainly garners attention.”
Clem smiled. “She does.”
“A lot of people come from town via the footpath over there.” Max pointed to a gap in the hedge further down the towpath. “Most head straight over the bridge and into the wharf without even noticing us traders. If you slow them down and have them queuing, that works for me.”
“What other traders are here?”
“We’ve got a bookseller, vintage clothes, a woodworker, and one lady makes pottery.”
“That’s quite a mix.”
Max nodded. “Some live aboard their boats; others come from the local area.”
“Do you live aboard?”
“Yes,” Max confirmed.
“Me too.”
“I’m surprised you can fit everything in,” he observed, trying to peer in Florence’s windows. “You must need a lot of equipment.”
“It’s not too much of a squeeze. There’s only me. Do you want to have a look inside?” Clem offered, already leading the way to the stern, knowing Max wouldn’t be able to resist.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued,” he said, following her onto the stern. “She’s old.”
“Yep. 1974,” Clem said, patting the orange paintwork as she descended the steps.
Max took in the kitchen, his eyes darting around as he entered the boat. Stainless steel worktops stretched along both walls, stopping short on the port side to allow access to the serving hatch. Various mixing machines lined the surfaces.
“Wow, this is something,” he said. “The kitchen must take up half the boat.”
“It sure does. It’s all second-hand, but it does the job. Come through; I’ll show you the rest of her.”
As they reached the middle of Florence, Max stuck his head out of the service hatch. “I should get one of these. It’d save me standing outside in the cold.”
“You stay outside unless it’s raining. It’s good for business. You can engage with potential customers better.”
Max grinned. “If you say so.”
“I do.” Clem gave a firm nod.
He turned to examine the partition wall, where her espresso machine stood, a statement piece in the compact space.
“Impressive kit. How do you run all this?”
“The hob and espresso machine run on LPG. The rest runs off batteries I charge overnight and keep topped up with solar panels,” Clem said, pointing to the roof.
He nodded. “Will you be open through the winter?”
“Probably not. I moor up locally on a private jetty at the bottom of my parents’ garden, so I was just going to batten down there.”
The thought of her mum fussing over her every day was enough to have her cruising off into the sunset, though.
“A fridge and freezer?” Max asked, pointing to them under the stainless steel worktop on the starboard side.
