Fit For Purpose Julian Parrott (best ebook reader for chromebook TXT) 📖

floor had inspired a lustful romp as soon as they had returned to Nia’s house. They had fumbled with their clothes as soon as they were in the home’s vestibule and Nia, half naked, had pulled Tom into the lounge and they made furious love on the carpet. She warmed to the memory as she sat at the table with her coffee. She heard Tom moving upstairs and she felt comforted. Her cold, quiet, and empty house was no longer any of those things.

She sipped the coffee and thumbed through the Rolt book. She liked that Tom had bought her a book and she had already begun to think about books she could, in return, present to Tom. She hoped it would become a tradition for them. She heard Tom whistling as he came down her stairs. He limped heavily into the kitchen with his hair still wet.

“You okay,” Nia said with genuine concern and nodded to his leg.

“Oh yes,” replied Tom. “Just a little achy this morning,” he rubbed his scarred thigh. “I must have been in an odd weight bearing position.” And then he remembered just exactly what had stressed his leg the night before. He smiled sheepishly.

Nia realised too and smiled back. She stood up from the table.

“Ok tiger, how would you like some eggs for breakfast?” Nia asked.

***

 

Llangollen Canal. December 14th

The early winter cold snap had been replaced by more classic seasonal weather: leaden skies, grey days and almost continuous drizzle. It was miserable weather but not too miserable now to keep Tom and his boat moored up. Tom took Periwinkle back north through the Llangollen canal. He watched the heavy grey clouds tumble and rumble to the west where he knew the mountains of Snowdonia would soon experience a deluge. He also knew that if the clouds weren’t spent over Snowdon, then the drizzle he was now experiencing would become a heavy pounding rain. As it was, Tom had the canal almost to himself. There were almost no hire boats out this late in the year and most continuous cruisers had moored up for the season. This was a stretch of the canal that he never grew tired of. He enjoyed the solitude, the tranquillity, and the beauty of the canal and its adjoining countryside. He had traversed this stretch of canal numerous times and it never failed to take his breath away. Here, the natural beauty of the Ceiriog and Dee valleys was interspersed with the engineering genius of man, personified by the canal itself and its iconic tunnels and aqueducts. Tom was hoping the weather would be kind enough to allow Nia this experience.

Jack joined him on the little stern deck. She barked good naturedly at some ducks who quacked in response. It was the only sound Tom had witnessed, apart from the comforting, rhythmic put-put of the engine below his feet, for some miles. His voice sounded strange when he spoke out loud to his dog.

“Jack, my girl, we need to train you to make tea.”

Tom moored up at Llangollen’s narrowboat basin. He took the short walk into the little village to resupply the Periwinkle’s small fridge with food and drink, bought fruit and vegetables, and, thinking about what would make Nia more comfortable, some fresh-cut flowers. He took advantage of a small and quiet launderette and washed some clothes, towels and bedding. He tidied the already spotless boat in preparation for Nia’s visit. There had been guests on the Periwinkle; Rachel and Owain were frequent summer visitors, and there had been the rare romantic partner, but this was different. He was aware that Nia had a track record of shying away from relationships and guarded her privacy and her vulnerability. But by allowing Tom, literally, into her personal space she had emotionally opened herself to him. He wanted to reciprocate by welcoming her into his home. Tom Face-Timed with Nia and confirmed her arrival time at Crewe’s railway station.

At Crewe, Jack waited patiently in Tom’s Land Rover at a parking spot close to the station’s entrance. Tom was on the platform, waiting less patiently for the train from London. He desperately wanted to see Nia again, to hear her voice, feel her laugh, to touch her, breathe her scent. He already couldn’t remember what life was like without her.

The Virgin express train was on time. A number of travellers alighted at Crewe. Tom scanned the crowd and saw Nia step down from a first-class carriage. She had a large spinner bag with her. He watched as she appeared to hesitate as the platform crowd, most just off the train, thinned out, moving on to their next trains or off the platform and on to points home. She wore new hiking boots, designer combat type trousers, a colourful boiled wool Norwegian sweater and a navy pea coat. She put on a red knitted hat. She began to move down the platform when she saw Tom. Her smile moved him. They met on the platform and kissed deeply, oblivious to the travellers that moved around them.

“I’m so happy to see you,” Tom said. “So glad you made it up here.”

Nia hugged him again and her dark eyes shone. She carried her now well-thumbed copy of Narrowboat.

“Ummmm,” Nia said, “God, I love how you smell.”

Tom laughed. “How was the trip?”

“Smooth actually,” Nia answered. “Spent most of the time reading the Rolt.”

“What do you think of it?” Tom asked.

“Fascinating,” began Nia. “But he’s a bit opinionated, isn’t he?”

“Quite. Some of his observations about people haven’t aged well.”

“Like bargees being a different race?”

“Yes,” Tom laughed. “Like bargees being a different race.”

“Is narrow boating still like this?” she asked pointing to a particularly romantic illustration.

Tom smiled. “Yes,” he said simply. “It can be. But it can be rather chilly, especially these days, and some people feel the whole thing is too