‘All right, calm down, Satan… We’ll see you on Sunday.’
Cooper raised an eyebrow as I hung up. ‘Are we going somewhere?’
‘Mum’s invited you over for Sunday lunch,’ I said, suddenly realising that I really ought to have asked him first. ‘You don’t have to…’
‘A hot meal and a chance to see your embarrassing teenage pictures? You try and stop me.’ He set my mug down and carefully turned the handle towards me. ‘Besides, I’ve got a great new jumper to show off.’
‘That you do.’ I grinned as he set the custard creams down. ‘Teaandbiscuits? I’m very spoiled.’ I pulled the duvet aside so Cooper could get underneath and warm up again. The boat really was quite chilly.
‘Full service aboard The Lady Di,’ Cooper said. ‘Though I’ve been thinking of changing the name.’
Charlie, who’d followed Cooper in, leapt up on the bed, interested in the biscuits and my bare feet. I wondered where his owners were and if they’d ever contact me. If I was being honest, I’d been thinking of him as Cooper’s dog for a while now. From the way Cooper looked at him, I wasn’t the only one.
‘Got to get the engine working first,’ I pointed out. ‘Maybe after this, I can take a look? You still have those photocopies?’
‘I do, though they’re a bit covered in oil and my tears,’ Cooper huffed. ‘Gorgeous and knows her way around an engine – you’re not leaving this boat.’
I kissed him, buzzing with warmth. ‘I will have to, unfortunately. I’ve got Emma’s coven coming in for a crochet night tonight and I really need to get back for it. Then there’s the cleaning up after…’
‘Your luck’s in – I am really good at cleaning,’ Cooper gestured around us. ‘Exhibit A.’
I swatted his leg through the duvet. ‘You don’t want to clean the shop with me.’
Cooper took my hand and kissed it. ‘I’d snake the drains if you were there.’
‘Charmer.’
‘I try. Besides, a gaggle of crocheting witches? This could be the most interesting evening of my life.’
I loved the way he said it. Not as if he was poking fun, but as if he was genuinely excited to see what was going on. To be part of my life, of my world. I didn’t have the slightest qualm about him meeting Mum, I realised. He really was perfect – for me anyway. Which was all that mattered really, when you got right down to it.
Tea and the start of a new sock forgotten, we fell back into bed. Scandalised, Charlie skittered back to his bed with a snaffled custard cream. Outside a goose honked and water lapped at the sides of the boat. I smiled against Cooper’s mouth. I couldn’t help but think that Aunt Lou would have approved.
Epilogue
One Year Later
Autumn was turning themeadow into waves of gold, umber and sienna. I knew that because those were the colours Cooper was using to capture it. He’d left the little tubes on the draining board, promising he was going to cut them open and get the last of the paint out later.
He’d set his easel up on the roof of the boat, out of the way, and was working on the third in a set of paintings with Charlie at his side. The subject was our house – currently covered in scaffolding and workmen. In spring the old farmhouse had barely stood out from the green grass and dark waves of ivy. By the time he did the summer painting, it was free of the tangled undergrowth and the old granite was golden with sunlight. Now the dark paint and rust of the scaffolding and building equipment looked almost picturesque in the autumnal image. By winter, he said, there would be lights in the windows and smoke from the chimney. The two of us all moved in and off the boat for good.
We’d both been working hard on the house. My DIY skills and Cooper’s willingness to get his hands dirty and learn on the job paired well together. Emma had also thrown her shoulder to the wheel, coming over at the weekends to help hack at brambles. Even Mum and Dad had done their bit, lending tools and bringing over food shopping to keep us going.
Charlie had done his part, killing three rats and patrolling eagerly for more. We’d finally located his owners via the out-of-date info in his microchip. As it turned out, he’d belonged to their great-aunt, who’d passed away and left them taking care of him. They didn’t want him and hadn’t been too fussed when he’d run off, escaping from their garden one morning. His old name was ‘Cuthbert’ and Cooper firmly believed that this was why he’d run away. So he was ours now, and had the tag to prove it.
The meadow with its ruined farmhouse was ideal for us. I had plans for the meadow once the house was finished. I’d have sheep moved onto the land and a shed built to allow for processing wool and dyeing it on site. Cooper had lots of space and subjects to paint and we were both happiest when surrounded by nature and old-fashioned buildings, instead of being hemmed in by traffic and soulless flats.
‘Tea?’ I called out through the window.
‘Love a cup,’ Cooper called back. ‘Are you sure I can’t come in?’
‘It’s bad luck!’ I laughed. ‘I’ll bring you another blanket, though. We shouldn’t be too much longer.’
‘We hope,’ Emma muttered, holding up a crochet hook and a tangle of fine yarn in consternation. ‘Is this right?’
‘Yes,’ I said, after some consideration, as it was upside down.
‘But you’re going to look like Madonna.’ Emma pointed her index fingers out from her chest meaningfully.
