Page 32 of Barging In
“I did not. I stipulated it should be better than the last one, and it has not been! That was underhanded, and so was this. What on earth possessed you to escalate things and try to get her removed from her mooring? I assume that was you, too?”
Christine turned her head away, fixing her gaze on the ceiling instead.
Victoria took a deep breath as silently as possible, then murmured, “I never agreed to any of it.”
“That offer idea was yours, remember,” Christine accused.
“It was. A bit of competition is healthy, but I fight fair, not dirty, like you.”
“Dirty!” Christine protested. “It’s your business at stake, not mine.”
“What exactly did you do?” Victoria demanded, hoping to get to the truth of the matter.
“I rang the landowner,” Christine admitted. “Said she was blocking the towpath and picking fights with neighbours.”
“She only fought back as you gave her something to fight against — by blocking her sign in the first place! What was she supposed to do?”
Victoria tried to suppress her creeping sense of guilt. Her initial instinct had been to retaliate, too, and block Clem’s sign with the wharfs, but she’d been angry. She didn’t intend to do it. At most she had tried to move Clem’s to one side. Then one thing led to another, and they had tussled over it.
“How did she find out it was us, anyway?”
“You, Christine, not us,” Victoria said wearily. “I don’t know. She didn’t share the particulars during her tirade. You have put me in an extremely difficult position, spreading lies that trace back to my business — and to me.”
“Well, if you want to sit around here and watch her take all our customers, that’s up to you, but I’m not going to. Anyone would think youlikehaving her out there.”
Did she?Victoria wondered.
Yes, a voice answered instantly.
“And don’t bother firing me. I resign. Effective immediately,” Christine said, getting to her feet.
“What?” Victoria blinked. She hadn’t expected that. “Well, you’re already fired anyway,” she snapped back.
Christine narrowed her eyes. “You need to get your priorities straight or you’ll lose this place. Shame. It has so much potential — just needs a real leader.”
Victoria scoffed, but the sound caught in her throat.A real leader.As if she wasn’t trying.
As Christine swept out of the room, Victoria shouted after her, “You’d better take those reviews down or you won’t get paid!”
She knew she couldn’t withhold her final wages, but it was worth a try.
What had Christine meant byso much potential? The phrase echoed Clem’s words to Victoria, that she must have big plans for the place. But what more did people want? She’d created something remarkable. The café was versatile and inviting — except for the chemical cakes — and Jasper had worked wonders with the museum.
What was she missing? She may have brought the building to a position where it could be something, but was the rest pure fantasy? Would everyone be better off if she brought someone else in to run it whilst she returned to what she was actually good at? The wharf needed a manager who could hire and keep good staff, who could implement changes —a real leader.
Reality hit her hard. She was now without a catering manager, and there was the wharf’s birthday party to cater in three days. Victoria slumped in her chair and instinctively swivelled it to face the window. The vacant mooring before her was a stark reminder that Clem was missing — perhaps never to return.
A pinch in her chest took her by surprise. Why was she so concerned about the café boat owner’s whereabouts, and why did she feel like a truck had hit her ever since she got pulled out of the canal?
CHAPTER 10
Clem stretched back in her chair, propping her feet on the gunwale and tilting her face towards the welcome warmth of the sunshine. After two days off, she felt mildly refreshed, even if it had been a long and busy Friday. The lunchtime rush had become so frantic that Max popped his head in to ask if she needed help. She had promptly set him to work on the espresso machine. Now she was looking forward to the scrumpy he’d promised to bring over once he closed up.
The break had given her space to breathe and reflect on how things were going. She’d realised she could use a backup traybake for later in the afternoons. Customers had been asking for something savoury around lunchtime, so she’d added sausage rolls and cheese scones to the menu. They’d sold out in fifty minutes flat. It was amazing what ideas came to mind with a bit of downtime.
The relaxing cruise she’d planned on the first day of her break had been a complete washout. The heavy rain that had been forecast for late morning had arrived early, so she’d turned around and gone home. Standing at thetiller in the pouring rain wasn’t her idea of relaxation. It only served to reinforce the nagging feeling that maybe she wasn’t cut out for boating life. Had she grown up with some nostalgic, rose-tinted view of it?
She’d only lived on a boat until she was five and remembered little of it, but she’d spent plenty of time aboardTheKingfisher’s Rest, which she’d thoroughly enjoyed. Of course, that had felt more like a holiday, with her mum handling the meals and her dad doing the heavy work. Her own contributions were limited to the occasional bit of piloting and opening a few locks.
