A shivering Victoria pulled her scarf tightly to her neck as she and Chandler made their way towards the river and its long pathway.
The streets of Windsor were already beginning to fill with Friday night revellers, including squaddiesfrom the local barracks. The town, with all its royal pageantry, was very much a tourist destination, where historic sites were visited by a plethora of nationalities. Sites including neighbouring Eton, famous for its college, whose hallowed halls had been graced by princes and prime ministers.
It was a particularly freezing October night when Victoria reached the river path.
Feeling her shoulders drop at being able to be silent with her thoughts at last, she let out a little sigh of relief. The patchy mist that had formed and floated spookily just above the water of the Thames, in combination with the sporadic cries and calls of water birds, plus creaking tree branches, made for an eerie atmosphere. Lights shining out from various yachts and narrowboats moored along the water’s edge illuminated her way. You could tell the ones that were genuinely loved, with their shiny new paintwork, plant pots and twinkly fairy lights. A couple of tatty older vessels sat in complete darkness, awaiting their fair-weather owners.
Growing up, she had always loved making up stories about who lived in each boat and why – whether it be a grand tale of escape by the young couple who lived onPastures New, or a city banker’s weekend show-off yacht, aptly namedFortune Afloat. Many boats had come and gone during the years that Vic had walked this path, but there was one that had been in the same spot for as long as she could remember.
Lazy Daze, a red-and-black narrowboat that was always laden with tubs of seasonal flowers, was firmly in the ‘beautifully kept’ category. It was a standout vessel along the river path and inhabited by the enigmatic Jake Turner.
A voice filtered through the gloom, and Vic nearly jumped out of her skin.
‘If it isn’t Kath’s eldest, and that little terror of a terrier. Long time no see, young lady.’ Huge white plumes of smoke mixed with the chilly night air accompanied the man’s poshvoice. A distinguished-looking gentleman with a white beard and weather-wrinkled eyes sat quietly at the front of this boat, with a thick grey blanket wrapped around him, smoking a roll-up. His Jack Russell appeared behind him, chasing its tail and yapping, making Chandler bark loudly in response.
‘Hell, Jake, you made me jump. But good to see you.’ Vic smiled. ‘Bit cold in there tonight, though, I expect?’
‘God, no. Toasty as anything. A misconception of all you naïve house-dwellers.’
‘Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, and all that, I guess.’ Vic suddenly thought of Nate, her free-spirited other half, and how he would be in his element living on a houseboat.
‘Exactly.’ Jake took a large drag from his cigarette. His little dog ran around his feet, yapping. ‘Norman, will you shut up?’ He ushered the dog inside and shut the door on him. Chandler carried on sniffing around the path. ‘From what I can see of you in this light, you’re looking well. Everything OK? Still painting?’
Vic nodded. ‘Yes, illustrating mainly… At the same place in Putney.’
‘That’s years now you’ve been there, isn’t it? I thought you’d have your own gallery by now.’
‘In my dreams, Jake.’
‘When you were knee high to a grasshopper you had those dreams, and wasn’t it Van Gogh who said, “I dream of painting, then I paint my dream”? Always keep the dream alive, young Victoria. Promise me that?’
Vic smiled through her shiver, surprised that he had remembered her love of drawing when she had been a little girl. ‘One day, Jake, maybe. Who knows?’
‘Come in for a hot chocolate and warm up.’
‘That sounds so lovely, but I’m picking up fish and chips for me and Mum.’ Vic lengthened Chandler’s lead to stop him pulling. ‘So, have you been on any travels lately, then?’
‘Not for a while, no. I’m the old wanderer who’s never wandered far.’ Jake gave a throaty laugh. ‘Thirty-seven years, I’ve been moored here now. My needs are small. And how many people can say they live in the same town as the Queen, eh? Speaking of which, how’s your mum these days?’ He grinned a slightly crooked grin. ‘I haven’t seen her or this old boy for a while.’ He nodded towards Chandler, who was now busying himself sniffing a mooring post.
Victoria’s face fell. ‘You know – up and down.’
‘The best thing I ever did was give up the demon drink, but you’ve got to either have a wake-up call or really want to do it.’
‘It’s tough for her, I know. But Jake, I just want my mum back.’ Victoria’s voice wobbled.
Jake’s voice softened. ‘You and me both, sweet girl.’ He leant down to put his cigarette butt in an ashtray at his feet. ‘Are you sure you don’t want come in for a chat?’ he offered kindly.
‘No.’ Vic sighed, thinking how lovely it would actually be to just sit for a while with this calm, intelligent man and not have to think about life and all its trials and tribulations. ‘No thanks, Jake. I’d better get back. Next time.’
‘Well, it’s good to see you looking so well. And tell Kath I asked after her, will you? My Norman is always up for a play date with young Chandler on the Brocas.’ He pointed his arm in the direction of the opposite riverbank. ‘You tell her that too, will you?’
‘Yes. I will. Definitely.’ She paused for a second. ‘And thank you, Jake. Thank you. That means a lot.’
Victoria’s eyes stung with unexpected tears as Jake made his way back inside his floating home.
‘Good boy.’ Vic stopped as Chandler cocked his leg on the wall. Despite the now-dark stretch along the river pathway, she could make out two swans, silently swimming alongside them as if paddling along to her inner thoughts.
‘Hello, you two,’ she said aloud, and with Chandler nowhappily sniffing ahead of her, her thoughts turned back to her mother. For as much as Vic tried to remain calm, it hurt her massively that Kath continued to choose drunken escape over sober reality. Especially on the weekends Vic came down from London to spend time with her.
