Page 51 of Barging In
“Drew was due to pick me up. He’s travelling from London today, but he’s running late.”
Clem huffed. “It’s your birthday. Your fiftieth. I wouldn’t let you out of my sight all day if you were married to me.”
The comment caught Victoria off guard. Clem wasn’t married to her, but it felt like she hadn’t let her out of her sight all day. She flashed an appreciative smile and decided it was best to change the subject.
“I keep meaning to apologise for being rude about your boat, though I stand by what I said.”
“You apologise but stand by your words? Bold move,” Clem said, her lips thinning into a sardonic smile even as she gave a gentle nod.
“Sheisgarish,” Victoria said with a shrug, “but I could have put it more politely.”
Clem smiled. “She’s not my favourite colour, but I wanted to restore her to the original. She used to belong to my mum. I was born inside her.”
“Oh — wow. I wasn’t expecting that.”
“They sold her years ago, and I managed to find her. So yes, be mindful of what you say. She’s family.”
Victoria laughed. “I will.”
“Now, we should get a move on. We don’t want Cinderella to be late for her ball.”
“I’m already late,” Victoria sighed. “Anyway, isn’t it fashionable to arrive a little late to your own party?”
Clem checked her watch and started Florence’s engine. “Perhaps not half an hour late. Sit inside if you like. Make yourself at home.”
“I’d much rather be out here—” Victoria cut herself off beforewith youcould slip out.
“Well, if you insist.” Clem opened a cupboard just inside the door and extracted a blanket. “Here. It will keep the chill off as we move.”
Victoria accepted it gratefully. The cool evening air was swirling around her bare ankles, and her thin blazer was doing little to help. Wrapping herself up, she leaned against the railing and watched as Clem expertly guided Florence down the canal.
This certainly wasn’t how she’d envisioned arriving at her fiftieth birthday party. It couldn’t have been further from the plan. And yet, deep down, it felt oddly perfect despite her complicated feelings about canal boats.
She watched the wind tug at Clem’s dress, then catch her hair, sending it streaming behind her like something from an old movie. It was nice to just be in her presence, peacefully and without tension. Most of their encounters so far had been full of chaos — arguments, accidents, unexpected collisions.
For the first time, Victoria had the space to see Clem. On the surface, she was unremarkable — average height, average build — but nothing about her was forgettable. She carried herself with quiet resilience, stood her groundwithout arrogance, and offered help instinctively, all without making a performance of it.
Victoria had always felt there was something undeniably attractive about the shape of a woman, so understated compared to the blunt geometry of men. Feminine allure came from a subtle, authentic grace that didn’t demand attention; it simply deserved it. It held power the way some women did: naturally, without effort, without apology.
Realising the boat was slowing, Victoria looked up to see the wharf ahead. Where had the time gone? She’d been so deep in thought she could barely recall any of the journey. She only hoped she hadn’t been staring at Clem the whole time, lost as she was in her own world.
They disembarked and walked quietly together over the bridge, which was lit by a string of hanging bulbs. The cascading light gave off a romantic hue. Part of her wanted to stop Clem, return to the boat, sit on the bow wrapped in blankets, and pass the time. She didn’t want to face a waiting crowd of people she hardly knew and be reminded of how few friends she had. She knew it was the quality that counted, though, not the number. Over the years, she’d come to realise that most people were, generally, overrated.
The cobbles reminded her she was wearing heels, her ankles wobbling as she focused on picking her way up the path. It must have shown as Clem linked her arm through Victoria’s, steadying her as they continued to the main entrance. As they entered, Victoria gently pulled away.
“Thank you for getting me here in one piece,” she said.
Clem beamed. “Anytime.”
There it was again —anytime. Victoria wondered whether Clem said it to everyone or just to her. Shewanted to believe the latter but knew it was probably the former. Letting the thought go, she headed into the café.
The room was pulsing — a blur of voices, echoes, and low background music. Gold and silver balloons hung from the steel beams while guests mingled in loose clusters beneath them. As Victoria passed the café counter, heads turned and applause followed, heating her cheeks in an instant.
A thought struck her: She was making an entrance with Clem, not her husband. Would that look strange? Most of the people here were his contacts, his acquaintances. Did it matter? She and Clem were just friends.
The thought sat inside her — a warmth blooming in her chest accompanied by a twist of nausea in her stomach. The truth was, what she felt towards Clem, she’d never felt towards someone she considered just a friend before. She couldn’t recall feeling it as deeply as this with Drew — not even when they first met.
A hand on her back urged her forward. It was Clem’s, reassuring and encouraging. With a deep breath and a forced smile, she pushed herself onwards.
