Chapter Text
Waverly rubs her hands together, in the hope of generating a little warmth. Then brings them close to her mouth and blows, which does nothing but create a misty cloud in front of her face. The wood burner died on Monday, which means she can't open for business. Business being the selling of second-hand books, from the belly of a Dutch barge, moored on London's prettiest canal.
She’s called the repair guy, five times to be exact. After each call she curses at the excuse given for not coming. That he’s on an emergency job, that November happens to be his busiest month, that he will get to her as soon as possible, as soon as he’s fitted a widget into a thingamajig, sooner if she stops calling. Something about his attitude tells her she’s not high on his list of priorities.
Frozen fingers fumble a text to Wynonna: cold…CoLd…COLD
Her sister replies with an eye-roll emoji. Follows it with the same suggestion she made on Monday: u cud vlog it?
Wynonna is social media savvy. Correction, her big sister lives as though everything is one big movie, each scene choreographed to within an inch of its life, recorded and released to an audience of tens of thousands. And she’s good at it. Knows what’s trending, what’s hot, what gets likes and hearts and up thumbs. It was Wynonna who convinced her (read bullied) into setting up an Instagram account for the barge, explaining it would be good for business. Right now, a wood burner that burns wood would be good for business.
Waverly considers herself semi-media savvy. Has kind of mastered how to upload videos from her iPhone, can scan a QR code like an adult, it’s just her heart is really not in it. Or her other senses. She needs something between her fingers for it to feel real. Okay, a phone between her fingers is real, but so is a leaflet, magazine, book, which get her more excited. Gets more than a few of her precious seconds of attention. And yet, here she is typing away on a phone to her sister: no one is remotely interested in a broken wood burner...
Her sister replies: tru but peeps gonna feel sadz 4 u
Plus one more text: make it GTA
She immediately flings a WTF back. Seriously, this is a real barge not some virtual car in a videogame she's rubbish at.
Another eye-roll emoji pops up, followed by: GRAB THE ATTENTION
There being little else to do with her time, Waverly begins recording. “Hi, hope you’re all having a lovely and warm day,” she says, as she turns slightly to point at what should be heating the barge, before smiling inanely at the phone like it's somehow her friend. “The Waverly is without heat, so we can’t open. As soon as we have heat, we’ll…” She hesitates as her brain searches for something to GTA. “Be right back y’all.”
Sounding like a Wild West cowgirl, she realises too late, is just plain wrong. Not that she truly knows how they sound, other than in her imagination, they can’t possibly sound as cliché. She’s not sure why she went in that direction for her GTA. Or, why she added a weird swing of the arm and a jaunty lift of the right leg. Yee haw!
She huffs out a cloud, deletes the offensive offering and stares through the nearest window. There’s got to be more to life than grabbing someone’s attention by talking into her phone. She’s tries again.
“Hi, so The Waverly doesn’t have any heat…” She demonstrates by pushing out another breath. “So we’re closed, which is so sh—” She stops herself from swearing at the screen, in case she gets censored, “not great. So, I’m hoping to have the wood burner fixed by the end of the week. So drop by with a coffee if you’re passing, because I’m freezing.”
She plays back the clip and concludes it’s awful. How is it possible to use the word ‘so’ so many times? Plus, there’s a huge problem with clothing. Encased in a puffer coat, it makes her look like a ripe chilli, a chilli wearing pink earmuffs…why didn’t I remove the earmuffs...decides her effort is not serious but stupid. The chances of grabbing anyone’s attention zero.
A message pings from her sister: well...
Well what?
where is it
I'm doing IT
do IT faster
Why?
Another eye-roll emoji appears.
She makes a new video. It’s not as awful as the other attempts. The earmuffs are gone, and she’s made sure not to say ‘so’ so many times. She posts it. Then regrets posting it. Doesn’t know how to unpost it. She asks her big sister, who replies with two up thumb emojis and a question:
how do u want yr ☕
Her sister knows how she takes her coffee. Vegan latte, which she failed to mention. Shit!
She Googles ‘how to delete an Instagram post’. Navigates to her Profile…selects the post she wants to remove…taps the three dots (Options) on the post…decides no one is going to view it, and no one is going to swing by the barge with a free coffee. Why would they? Her other posts got only a handful of views, mostly friends. She returns to looking out the window.
It’s early afternoon, the towpath which runs alongside the barge is empty. It’s been empty most of the day, the occasional fitness freak jogging past, the odd dog walker, zero tourists. The repair guy is right; her business isn’t a priority even if she thinks it is. Her sister is right too; no one will find her floating sanctuary from a busy world if she doesn’t promote it. But if she promotes it too many will come and…
She steps off the barge and onto the towpath. It takes a second or so for her balance to adjust to the lack of movement under her feet. Sways slightly as she surveys the outside. The panels of the barge need a repaint, the hull will need blacking too, otherwise water will eat away the bottom and her barge will sink. She measures the time since both paint jobs in ‘Curtis’ years. Her uncle has been dead two years, the barge and the business his before his heart gave out.
Aunt Gus wanted to sell, but Curtis put it in his Will the barge would go to her, the only one in the family who understood what he was doing with it. He named the barge after her for that reason. Two peas in a pod Gus would say with a shake of her head. She misses Curtis, more so on days like these, when things aren’t going swimmingly, when small problems have become bigger problems, threatening to become insurmountable problems.
If Curtis were here, he would tell her not to dwell on the bad stuff. Would say something like; worse storms happen at sea. Which is true. At least she can step off the barge and go find somewhere warm to sit until this particular storm blows over. She makes a mental note of the multitude of jobs to be done. The refilling of the bird feeders, cutting back of all the dead bits on potted plants, which should have been done weeks ago, but still.
In the corner of a café within Coal Drops Yard she swirls a small stick in her lavender matcha latte and questions why she said coffee in her video. Oh, that’s why, because lavender matcha latte gives the wrong impression. It’s too on the nose trendy, too fancy for a second-hand book seller, even though that’s precisely what she’s drinking. It’s a money thing too. Not that she has to worry or budget, Curtis seeing to it she wouldn’t be forced to sell the barge because of lack of funds, much to Gus’s consternation.
Another message arrives from Wynonna: where r u?
She sends an obtuse reply: I am here
Wynonna: u r not here????????
It’s her turn to flick an eye-roll emoji back at her sister.
Wynonna: cos I am here with the GOAT lifestyle vlogger...!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
She flicks another eye-roll emoji in her sister’s direction.
Wynonna: come back now…!!!!!!!
Sorry can't. Getting warm
Her phone rings.
“Seriously, where are you?”
“In Mojo’s thawing out. Why?”
Wynonna’s voice is a mix of frustration and excitement. “Because I’m currently standing outside this wreck of a boat with none other than Nicole Haught. Who has bought you coffee.”
She hears the accompanying squeal. “Um, I don’t need it. The coffee. I have a—”
“Did you hear what I just said?” Wynonna replies, loud enough to have Waverly move the phone away from her ear.
“I heard you. Can’t you come to me?”
“For fucks sake. Okay fine, we’ll come to you. Where’s this Mojo’s?”
She directs her sister to the cosy café she’s retreated to for warmth. Fully expects getting real eye rolls from the staff at Mojo’s when her sister and this goat vlogger rock up with a delivery of coffee not made in said establishment. What she doesn’t expect is the roll of her own eyes, as the woman with her sister saunters in as though she owns the place. And well…
Nicole Haught is the epitome of someone Waverly hates. A swagger so obvious it goes without saying she loves herself, totally wants everyone to notice her too. The woman's height alone sets her apart as she struts behind Wynonna, then there’s the copper hair, cut in such a way that makes it urban chic. That’s how Waverly views it, not that she has a handle on such things, or knows the current buzz words for living an urban chic life. What she does know is her hair doesn’t look anything like the woman’s seated opposite, who is feigning interest in her life.
“A bookshop on a barge boat,” Nicole purrs as she stirs a cortado. “Cool.”
“A Dutch barge,” Waverly corrects.
“Cool,” Nicole repeats.
Waverly glances at her sister who has a smug grin plastered over her face. “Nicky wants to feature you on her channel,” Wynonna gushes. “Get you some promotion…to…” She turns to this new person in her world as though her life depends on Nicole's every word. “What did you say again?”
“I think my audience will get your concept,” Nicole offers. “Like, who does what you do? Answer, no one. It's so unique.”
“There are plenty of floating bookshops,” Waverly qualifies, which her audience of two ignores.
“So want to check out this book boat of yours,” Nicole continues.
“My book barge has a heating problem,” she throws back.
The glamour queen turns to Wynonna and shrugs. “We don’t have to do this if there's a problem.”
Wynonna shoots her sister The Look, one which Waverly knows too well. “No, listen…it’s really…it’s really lovely…like, really cool you wanting to feature my barge on your...channel. It’s just…” She huffs. “I can show you around the barge, if you want?”
Nicole smiles, a smile that has all the appearance of sincerity. It even has dimples attached to each side, and Waverly is forced to admit with a smile like that Nicole Haught probably gets everything she wants. She smiles back and reaches for her walking cane.
She senses the woman's eyes are on her as they leave Mojo’s and take the towpath to the barge. Senses the question behind those eyes, the question behind most people’s eyes. Why does someone her age need a cane to walk? She chooses not to explain, because explanations are nothing more than a polite conversation piece, something to ease the conscience of another. Because Nicole doesn’t need to know the circumstances behind the stick, most likely has already judged her as 'uncool' because of the limp. Suspects Wynonna left out that tiny detail when selling this vain vlogger the whole boat thing.