Free A Mistletoe Kiss by Katie Flynn

your cousins were unlikely to spot the change, but I’m surprised at you, young woman.’ He climbed laboriously out on to the quayside, then shook hands with Tom and Bill, obviously thinking them too old for grandfatherly kisses. ‘Pity it’s been raining, because the cabin’s a bit small to hold a crowd,’ the old man said genially. ‘But I dare say we can all get in if we squeeze up a bit, only we won’t do that until your gran’s got the grub on the table. I know she’s prepared a Lancashire hotpot, with a heap of spuds, so I reckon you’ll none of you say no to a helping.’
    Gareth began to say rather awkwardly that he wouldn’t dream of eating their food … he hadn’t been asking for an invitation but had merely accompanied his friends, but before he had finished the sentence the cabin door shot open and Gran stood there, grinningat them and waving a wooden ladle. She was a small, bird-like woman with curly grey hair and a face tanned and seamed by constant exposure to the weather. Hetty jumped down into the Sprite and gave her a loving hug. ‘You would feed the five thousand, given a chance, Gran,’ she said. ‘Oh, Gran, I love your Lancashire hotpot but I’m quite willing to share my helping with Gareth, horrible though he is to me, because he’s come all the way from Salisbury Street to have a word with Gramps about getting work on the canal and I thought …’ She looked around her, suddenly struck by something. ‘Where’s Guinness? I know you stable him while you’re loading, but it looks as though you’re ready for the off …’
    â€˜Aha, she’s spotted what’s different,’ her grandfather said. ‘We decided it was time we modernised the old barge, so we’ve had an engine installed and we’ve got the loan of a young lad who knows about engines to help out until your gran and myself grow accustomed.’
    Hetty’s mouth dropped open. ‘Gramps, how could you?’ she said in a shocked voice. ‘You’ve always said engines were filthy modern inventions which you didn’t want any part of, and Guinness is the best horse on the whole of the Leeds and Liverpool, you know he is.’
    â€˜True; as soon as folk on the canal knew we had taken to motor power they came calling, hoping we meant to sell the old feller,’ her grandfather told her. ‘I refused all offers, of course, but I agreed to lend him to a young couple who had just inherited their grandfather’s barge.Whenever we see the Winchester Wanderer we keep our eyes open for Guinness, and I promise you he’s in grand shape.’
    â€˜Oh, then that’s all right,’ Hetty said, though she still felt a trifle uneasy. ‘Do I know the people who’ve got him, Gramps?’
    â€˜No, because until they inherited the Wanderer they worked the Grand Union,’ her grandfather explained. ‘But we’re bound to meet them some time over the next few weeks … now stop chattering and get everyone into the cabin, so we can get outside of that hotpot your gran’s been preparing all morning.’
    Hetty obediently herded the assembled company into the tiny cabin, helped her grandmother to dish up and then joined her grandfather, who had taken his plate out on to the stern. He greeted her with his usual cheerful smile as she sat down beside him and began to attack her own food. ‘Good girl,’ he said approvingly. ‘Anyone would have thought you’d spent your entire life on the old Sprite , instead of having to live mostly ashore for the past … let me see, let me see … how many years is it?’
    â€˜Too many,’ Hetty said a trifle gloomily, for her grandfather’s news had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. ‘Gramps, who is this feller – the one who’s coming along to show you about engines? And where will he sleep? Only