The Cosy Canal Boat Dream: A funny, feel-good romantic comedy you won’t be able to put down!

Nell could only manage a nod, not trusting herself to speak. They linked arms and slowly walked over the bridge towards the huge willow tree and perched on the wooden bench underneath it. Nell clutched her bag against her chest, feeling close to Ollie for one last time. For a moment neither spoke; they just stared out over the tranquil water of the lake, Nell lost in her own memories.

It had been six months since the decision was made to switch off Ollie’s life-support machine, and she still missed him dreadfully. The pain twisted in her heart; it was still raw and never went away.

Every time Nell thought of Ollie, her eyes brimmed with instant tears. She remembered the night of the accident as though it was yesterday, and could still hear Ollie’s voice swirling around inside her head, ‘Gherkins, you want gherkins? Are you sure you aren’t pregnant?’ He’d joked.

‘Of course I’m not, it’s just that I’ve picked up some of those fancy biscuits from the deli and I could murder a slab of Stilton and pickles to go with them.’

‘Your wish is my command,’ he’d laughed, picking up his keys and kissing Nell lightly on top of her head.

‘I’ll be ten minutes max.’

He’d climbed on to his motorbike and pulled on his helmet. Nell had watched him disappear into the foggy night from the window of the boat. Once the roar of his bike had petered out she’d switched on the TV and thrown some more logs on to the fire. She’d drifted off to sleep and the next thing she knew she’d heard footsteps and a rap on the door.

Ollie hadn’t been gone nearly ten minutes; in fact he’d been away for over two hours.

The moment she opened the door her heart had sank and she knew Ollie wasn’t coming back. There, standing on the deck of their narrowboat were a couple of policeman, who’d informed her that Ollie had been knocked off his bike by a lorry. From that moment on, Nell’s life had descended into complete darkness.

Nell turned towards her mum, ‘I can still smell him at times,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper, ‘Is that madness?’

‘No,’ Gilly answered softly, feeling her daughter’s pain.

‘Sometimes, I wake up and I actually think he’s still there, lying next to me and then I remember – he’s never coming home. My life feels so dark all the time.’

‘You will get through this and be happy again,’ Gilly rested her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and pulled her in close, ‘I promise.’

‘When?’ Nell’s voice faltered.

‘One day,’ was the only comfort Gilly could offer. Her own heart was breaking seeing her daughter in so much pain. ‘Are you ready?’ she asked tentatively.

Nell nodded and bit down on her lip before looking up at the sky.

‘I love you, Ollie Andrews, with all my heart. The love we shared was so special,’ she paused, ‘Thank you for choosing to marry me and loving me so unconditionally,’ the words tumbled out of her mouth.

Nell’s eyes glistened with tears as she reached inside her bag and took out the urn. She stood up and clutched it to her chest, her hands visibly shaking and her legs trembling as she slowly walked towards the water’s edge.

‘This is our special place and I promise I’ll visit all the time. You just try and keep me away,’ smiled Nell through her tears.

She unscrewed the lid and scattered Ollie’s ashes into the air, ‘Goodbye, Ollie. I’ll love you forever.’

‘Goodbye, Ollie,’ Gilly whispered, standing by her daughter’s side.

They clung to each other as the tears freely flowed down their cheeks. Nell wished with her heart that Ollie was still here but that was one wish that would never come true.

Chapter 1 (#ubb838fd0-8e8e-5b51-a79b-2b9651cc207d)

Two years later …

Nell heard the creak of the door and looked up, startled, ‘Hey, I can’t believe you’re up so early. I noticed the light on.’

Bea was standing in the doorway of the Nollie, her breath misting. She was wrapped up tightly in her duffel coat, sporting a warm smile and clasping a white paper bag.

‘Come on in and shut the door, it’s freezing out there.’ Nell smiled up at her best friend.

Bea unbuttoned her coat and scooted over to the seat next to her.

‘I couldn’t sleep, I’ve had a bit of a restless night,’ admitted Nell.

Bea touched her hand affectionately, ‘Ollie’s birthday?’ Her voice was suddenly wobbly.

Nell met her gaze and they shared a sad smile.

‘Yes, Ollie’s birthday. The first of February.’

For a moment, they sat in silence, ‘Cuppa?’ Nell asked. ‘I think I can squeeze a couple more cups out of the tank and have a shower before the water needs filling up this morning.’

‘Yes please, and in there is a couple of warm croissants,’ Bea slid the paper bag over the table towards her.

‘Have you already been to the deli?’

She nodded, ‘I couldn’t sleep much either. I’m way ahead of schedule today.’

Bea owned the delicatessen in the hub of the marina called The Melting Pot, which was famous for its hot chocolate, savouries and scrumptious homemade cakes. Nell used to work for her part time, taking care of the accounts, but since Ollie had passed away Bea had taken her under her wing and she now worked for her full time behind the counter of the deli, serving customers, which was a welcomed distraction.

From the first day of high school Nell and Bea’s friendship had been cemented over a pair of laddered tights. Bea had saved Nell with a spare pair she’d whipped out of her bag and from that moment they’d become best friends. They’d sat next to each other for the next five years, then from the age of eighteen frequented the local pubs together. Bea had attended catering college and spent most of time testing out new recipes on Nell. Her work ethic was faultless and she’d soon landed a job alongside a well-known chef in the city of Lichfield. This had been Bea’s ticket to freedom, and she had escaped her suffocating parents, flown the nest and rented a flat above the delicatessen at the marina.

When the owners of The Melting Pot had decided to sell the business, Bea had immediately snapped it up for herself, whipping it into shape with counter array of cakes, speciality cheeses and flapjacks to die for.

Nell had beamed with such pride for her friend on her first day of opening – the deli was a dream come true for Bea.

Bea was married to Nathan and they had one five-year-old son called Jacob, who was the cutest thing Nell had ever set eyes on. But as his godmother, Nell knew she was biased.

When Ollie had been alive, the four of them had been firm friends and had enjoyed most weekends in each other’s company, rambling around the marina and eating Sunday lunches at The Waterfront. Life had been perfect.

‘What are you doing after work today?’ asked Bea, ‘Would you like to come over to the cottage for your tea? Jacob would love to see you.’

‘I’d love to see him too, but I’m having tea with Mum, after we’ve visited the lake.’

Bea nodded, ‘How is Gilly? I’ve not seen her for a couple of weeks.’

Gilly lived down the lane from Bea in Bluebell Cottage, the same property in which Nell had lived for the whole of her life. Gilly was the proud owner of a vintage bicycle with a basket and a bell and could often be seen cycling around the marina.

Nell rolled her eyes and smiled, ‘She has her hands full at the moment!’

‘Intriguing. What’s she up to this time?’

Gilly, who was in her mid-fifties, but appeared much younger than her age, had been drowning in her own grief. Her husband, Nell’s father, Benny, had unexpectedly passed away from pneumonia five years ago – an event that had rocked their world. Since then Gilly had thrown herself wholeheartedly into every local crafty organisation in the village, from basket weaving, painting antique furniture and had even joined the pottery club.

‘Last week she was ferreting around in the greenhouse at the bottom of the garden when she found a tabby cat curled up in an old blanket on top of a bag of compost. She took it into the cottage and made it up a bed in front of the Aga. She thought it seemed a little unwell and a little plump and decided to make it an appointment at the vets for the following morning. There was no collar or tag. She didn’t even know its name, but by the time next morning arrived Mum found three extra bundles of fluff curled up next to the mother.’