The Cosy Canal Boat Dream. Christie Barlow
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past year, Nell had often noticed his light on in the boat shed until the early hours of the morning when she couldn’t sleep. He was always beavering away, restoring and painting boats and was well thought of at the marina.
‘What do you think about the place so far?’ Nell asked, while Guy carried on beckoning for Sam in between chatting to her.
‘I can see the attraction,’ he snagged her eye and she didn’t know why but she felt herself instantly blush. He paused for a second, ‘Ed was always what my mum would call a tinkerer. Always up to his armpits in grease and oil.’
‘Just like my Ollie.’
‘Ollie?’
‘My husband,’ she answered, traipsing alongside Guy. ‘Was my husband,’ she exhaled.
‘Was?’ Guy commented, not making eye contact but looking up ahead for Sam. ‘Divorced?’
‘Widowed. He passed away. In fact it’s his birthday today.’
Immediately Guy stopped in his tracks and swung towards her. ‘I don’t know what to say. Are you okay?’ he asked kindly.
Nell offered him a warm smile, ‘What can you say? Life was difficult for a while but it’s becoming more bearable. I’m getting there, as they say.’
‘What happened? Do you mind me asking?’
Nell shook her head, ‘Ollie was involved in a motorbike accident, and eventually his life-support machine was switched off and you know what?’ she touched his elbow, ‘This is the first time I’ve spoken about it without bursting into tears.’
‘It sounds like it’s been a very difficult time for you.’
They carried on walking in silence before stopping a little further up and leaning against an old rickety fence. The pair of them stared at the stunning scenery. The fields stretched for miles and miles.
In the last twenty minutes or so the temperature had dropped dramatically and Nell shivered.
‘It looks like it’s threatening snow,’ said Nell, ‘Let’s hope we find Sam soon.
Guy nodded, ‘You’re cold,’ he said, ruffling a hand through his hair before slipping off his scarf and handing it to her.
‘Thanks,’ she replied, wrapping it tightly around her neck. ‘It doesn’t look like he’s come this way. Let’s head back towards the marina.’
They both turned around and began to quickly walk back up the path, ‘I can’t help but ask,’ she said, curiosity getting the better of her, ‘about your accent.’
‘Irish.’
She nodded, ‘Ed doesn’t have an Irish accent.’
‘That’s very true. We have different fathers. He’s ten years older than me. My mum and his dad split up years ago and then she met my father, Niall.’
‘Whose name sounds very Irish!’
‘Yep, hence the accent. Ed moved across here some time ago after meeting a girl at work. She was on a short-term contract at a firm he used to be employed at over in Ireland, but she was from around these parts and when her contract was up, she moved back home and he followed her.’
‘I didn’t even know Ed had a girlfriend.’
‘He doesn’t now. They split up a couple of months later, but he liked the place that much he never came home and has been here ever since.’
‘What about you?’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, have you got any family of your own?’
His eyes seemed to harden for a moment, ‘Only my dog, who seems to have done a complete runner on me.’
‘Don’t worry, he can’t have gone far, we’ll find him.’
They hurried back towards the marina and the whole place looked deserted on this cold grey day except for a van parked up at the far end of the towpath. Then, out of the blue, all they could hear was a sudden continuous banging that seemed to echo all around them.
‘What’s that noise?’ Nell asked, glancing up the wharf.
‘That man over there. He’s hammering a sign on to the front of that building.’
She squinted ahead to see the man throw his tools into the back of the van, start the engine and drive off.
‘What’s that place?’ Guy asked as they carried on walking towards it.
Nell paused outside the building and a small wave of sadness washed over her. She was rooted to the spot and stared up at the sign. ‘For Sale,’ she murmured despondently.
‘It looks like it’s been empty for a while. Shame, it looks like it was a beautiful building.’
Nell had forgotten how much she adored this place. Some of her favourite memories were made right there, inside that building.
‘It was. It’s the Old Picture House.’
‘Picture house?’
She nodded, ‘A cinema with a difference. In it’s heyday, on a Friday night, it used to be packed to the rafters. It really was the place to go. Ollie and me had our very first date there, must be over twelve years ago now, and when I was a kid I’d spend my Sunday mornings here with my dad watching films. This place was the heart of the community for years.’
‘I bet you were a cute kid,’ he smiled at her.
Nell laughed, his words taking her a little by surprise. ‘Adorable my dad said, but he was biased.’
They both stared up at the building. The roof looked worn and the grimy bricks were streaked by the rainwater that had dripped from the broken gutters. Half of the windows had panes of glass missing and the other half were boarded up. Worn heavy velvet curtains still hung in the upstairs windows, but they looked as if they were clinging on for dear life. What was once a magical building was now badly in need of some tender loving care.
Out of every inch of Nell’s body poured the memories of her early dates with Ollie. They were good memories and magical moments she’d never forget. She could still remember the thousands of anxious fireflies dancing around in her stomach on their very first date, the smell of his aftershave and the feeling that surged through her body when he had held her hand for the very first time. That night he’d offered to pick her up from Bluebell Cottage and just before seven o’clock there’d been a rap on the door. Nell had waited a moment at the top of the stairs, not wanting to appear too keen, until her dad shouted ‘I’ll get the door.’
How embarrassing.
She’d sprinted down the stairs quicker than an Olympian and threw open the door to find Ollie standing on the doorstep, timidly smiling back at her. It was early autumn and the sun was still shining in the early evening sky. He’d stood shyly, with his hands in the back pocket of his jeans, and she couldn’t help but notice his tanned muscly arms on show.
‘Hi,’ he’d said, then nervously raked a hand through his unruly hair. They’d walked to the marina, and she could remember looking back over her shoulder as they wandered up the garden path, only to notice her mum and dad peeping from behind the curtain. At that time of year the walk to the marina was a pleasant one, along the towpath. Honeysuckle still festooned the hedgerows and the narrowboats slowly glided past them up the canal. They’d ambled side by side, their elbows banging against each other’s. Her heart was thumping and she forced herself to breathe calmly. Feeling his presence so close to her had made every ounce of her body tingle. His eyes sparkled and met hers, then, finally, he’d stretched out his hand and their fingers had entwined. They’d strolled hand in hand for the rest of the way.
At the end of the evening he’d walked her home. They’d lingered on the doorstep for what seemed like hours before he’d taken her hands in his. She’d shivered