Page 103 of Barging In
Having become quite familiar with the wharf’s kitchen by now, she found the space really worked for her. It had most things she needed, and the rest she would borrow from Florence. A twinge of betrayal caught her at closing the narrowboat café, but beneath it lay more excitement.
The last three months had been relentless, juggling the two jobs. There was no harm in trialling working full-time for the wharf over the winter, she told herself. She was simply adapting to her environment; that was all. The bonus was that she’d get to spend every day with her favourite person. If it didn’t work out, she could go back to her business in the spring.
“We’ll make it work,” Victoria said, patting Clem’s shoulder.
We. Clem flashed her a soft smile, but it faltered. When would they be awein every way? Would they ever be?
Her mum and dad joined them, having agreed on the banner height — or, as Clem thought more likely, one of them had given in. Her dad, no doubt.
“It’s a great place you have here, Victoria,” he said, looking up at the wharf. “I can see why Clem was so keen to work here.”
“We were reading the information boards in receptionabout your family history,” her mum added. “I didn’t realise your ancestors built it.”
Victoria nodded. “Yes. I consider myself very lucky to have it and to have Clem to help me. She’s a real asset.”
Clem rolled her eyes playfully at Victoria as her parents beamed with pride.
“The signage is all up,” her mum said. “So, what’s next?”
Clem was grateful for her parents’ enthusiasm — for however long it lasted.
“Dad, you’re helping Max in the cider barn today, if that’s okay.”
Her dad’s eyes lit up with delight. “More than okay.”
“Mum, I’ll take you to meet Max’s mum. She’s helping you hand out leaflets.”
“Thank you both,” Victoria said warmly. “I really appreciate you coming to help.”
“We wouldn’t miss out,” her mum said with a smile. “It’s all Clem talks about.”
A group of people in historic costumes were making their way around from the car park and into the courtyard. Clem nodded in their direction. “I’ll leave you to deal with them, Victoria.”
“Oh, wonderful, I was beginning to worry they weren’t coming.” She gave Clem’s arm one last pat. “I’ll see you later.”
“Who are they?” Clem’s mum asked as the three of them strode off across the cobbles.
“They’re a local theatre company. Victoria invited them to perform some re-enactments of people who worked at the wharf.”
Clem recalled how enthusiastic she’d been when Victoria first suggested the idea. The troupe lookedimpressive all dressed up. She hoped they’d bring an old-world charm to the wharf, telling stories of the lives once lived here. Some were fictionalised, but others Victoria had unearthed from original records held in the town archives.
She led her parents to the barn with its recently installed sign above the doors:Otterford Cider Barn.
The large, wooden doors were wide open, revealing a transformed space. Assorted stainless steel equipment and benches filled the floor, along with what looked like a small bottling machine. The air was so rich with the sweet, sharp tang of fermenting fruit that Clem’s mouth watered.
“Hey, Clem,” Max said from behind a table lined with beautifully presented bottles and filled gift boxes. An older couple stood beside him. “Meet my parents?—”
“Graham and Helen Frost,” his dad said, stepping forward.
“Nice to meet you both, and these are mine, Tom and Barbara Wentworth.”
Everyone exchanged nods and warm smiles.
“Clem has the boat moored next to mine,” Max said to his parents.
“The fabulous cake maker!” Helen said. “We’ve heard plenty about you. I’m hoping to taste one later.”
“Well… I can bake a cake or two.” Clem laughed, a little heat rising in her cheeks.
