Page 66 of Barging In
Clem shrugged, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s fine. So, what are you up to today?”
Victoria sighed, glancing out the window towards the wharf. “It’s supposed to be my day off, but I think I’d better go help Emma.”
“Wouldn’t she be best helped by hiring a new catering manager?”
Victoria smiled faintly and blew on her coffee. “Emma wants the job. I’ve given her a two-week trial.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. Why did you say that?”
“She just seems young.”
“She’s enthusiastic and passionate about the wharf,” Victoria countered firmly.
“Is she qualified?”
“Not really, but then, when have qualifications been essential to someone who is already doing most of the job?”
Clem shrugged. “Fair point. I should get you home then. You can’t work like that — not that you don’t look totally cute first thing in the morning.”
Victoria’s cheeks flushed. She tried to hide it by takinga sip of coffee but failed spectacularly. Clem thought she was cute.
“Are you sure?”
“That you’re cute or that I’m giving you a lift?”
Victoria’s breath caught at hearing the words again.
Clem gave her a slow, playful smile. “Both, of course. Come on.” She moved down the galley, putting things in cupboards and nudging cooling cakes to the back of the worktop. “I could do with topping the batteries up. Florence eats up power.”
“I must admit, I have no idea how these things work,” Victoria replied, grateful for a change in subject so she could compose herself.
Her eyes caught one of the cakes as she passed, a lemon drizzle with a crisp layer of lemony sugar on top. Her mouth watered.
"Well, running the engine is a bit like running a car: The alternator charges the batteries while the engine’s running. I use a lot of appliances, though, so the time Florence spends cruising isn’t nearly enough to generate all the power I need in a day. I’ve got solar panels across the roof, which help top things up, but I still have to plug her into shore power at the house overnight to fully recharge the batteries."
“Sounds like a lot to manage. It must be stressful.”
“It is,” Clem said, climbing the steps to the stern.
“How do you deal with water?” Victoria asked. She took the last sip of espresso and popped the cup in a bin as she followed behind. It was considerably better than what they served at the wharf.
“I have a five-hundred-litre tank, so it lasts a few days. I fill up from the garden hose, and there are a few filling stations about. But yeah, I’m constantly thinking about it. Even when everything is full, you can’t catch a break. Ialways have to keep an eye on my usage. If Florence was just a home, running out wouldn’t be so bad, but with the business, I can’t run out of water, gas, or electricity.”
“It’s not a lifestyle I could manage,” Victoria said, feeling overwhelmed just listening to her. “I like my amenities on tap.”
Clem sniffed out a laugh. “The problem is I do, too. We definitely take them for granted when we have them.” She started the engine and manoeuvred them away from the bank and down the canal. “We have to turn around a little way down here; it’s a bit of a nuisance but all par for the course.”
Victoria gripped the railing that surrounded the stern to steady herself against the moving boat. “It’s fine. I’m in no rush,” she reassured her, having no idea what the time was thanks to her dead phone and decision not to wear her watch last night.
“So, when did you decide you weren’t so keen on narrowboats?” Clem asked.
“A girls’ holiday at uni. I endured it for a week and vowed never again. I was dubious to begin with; they’re so small, airless, cramped.” She took a breath. “It’s the combination of floating on water and it being a bit of a scramble to get out of two fairly small exits.”
A boat passed them, sending a slight sway through the deck. “This, too,” she said, steadying herself against the stern.
“Couldn’t you have left?”
