Free Narrow Margins by Marie Browne Page B

nothing to eat.
    Mum listened to them all, her frown deepening with each wildly inaccurate whinge.
    â€˜Aaoow, poor thing, why don’t we go out? Now that your mum’s got a fridge, I’m sure we should go shopping to find nice things to put in it and maybe some sweets for you as well, poor boy.’
    Sam’s face fell. Aha, this should be interesting, I thought, he doesn’t want to go out and leave his game, but he knows that Nanny is good for sweets. I raised my eyebrows at him, and smiled, ‘If you want sweets, you have to come to the shops with us.’
    â€˜No, no,’ Mum cut in, ‘you don’t have to come, if you’re all comfy, you can stay with Daddy and Grandpa, we’ll bring you back a surprise.’
    I sighed; that was just what Sam wanted, thank you very much, Mother.
    â€˜Thank you, Nanny,’ Sam fluttered his eyelashes at her and gave her his best smile (where do they learn to do that?) ‘I love you. Could you bring me a comic as well and maybe a toy?’ And without waiting for an answer, he whizzed off down to the front to continue his ‘chickenation’ of the world. I had lost, as usual.
    â€˜Cup of coffee, Mum?’ I asked. She pursed her lips at the milk gently evolving in the late summer warmth.
    â€˜Hmm, no thanks love, let’s go shopping.’
    On our return, we found that Dad and Geoff had installed the fridge. I put everything away and set to making lunch. Sam tore himself away from his game again long enough to collect all his extravagant goodies from Nanny (we ‘are’ supposed to be going for a simpler life here) then disappeared back into his nest, but at least this time it was to play with toys and not the computer.
    â€˜So what do you think then,’ I asked, indicating the boat.
    â€˜Oh, it’s lovely,’ Mum looked slightly embarrassed. ‘Well actually, it’s horrible,’ she laughed, ‘but I’m sure it will be lovely when you have sorted it all out. Do you know what you are going to do to it?’ We wandered down the length of Happy and I explained what we hoped would go where. Dad and Geoff grabbed their lunch and disappeared back into the engine room with it. Sam refused to come out of the bow.
    Mum and I, left to our own devices, sat on the bank with a picnic. It was strange, I had absolutely nothing to do and I couldn’t remember when I had last talked to her without having to clock-watch or be disturbed by phones ringing. We spent a happy afternoon under a tree, just chatting. Maybe there’s something to living in the slow lane after all.

Chapter Eight
No More Excuses,
We Really Have to Actually Travel
    M UM AND D AD LEFT that evening at about nine. They had treated us to dinner and had generally been helpful and lovely. Maybe this time one of their children had rolled so far left field they couldn’t really help and had no advice, so all they could do was just sit back, watch and be ready to catch us if we fell. I know they were worried but had obviously discussed it between themselves and had decided to just smile and be supportive.
    Watching them drive away, I was struck with a sudden homesick panic. What the hell was I doing, stuck on this floating bathtub, I shouldn’t be here, I can’t do this, I need to be looked after, I really, really want my mum. However, I didn’t have long to dwell on it, as Sam morphed into were-brat after eight o’clock and had to be coddled back to the boat and into bed. Geoff was in (he claimed) the final stages of getting the new inverter installed so he went back to the engine room.
    I hovered about for an hour or so tidying up Sam’s ‘nest’ and trying to find something useful to do but at about ten o’clock I wandered into the engine room to irritate Geoff.
    â€˜How’s it going?’ I asked the soles of his feet. The opposite end stopped swearing for long enough to tell me exactly how it