Fateful Lightning: A New History of the Civil War & Reconstruction by Allen Guelzo (self help books to read TXT) 📕

her bag in the narrowboat’s cabin. Tom had once again made space for her things in the cabin’s small cupboard and closet. Tom was on the stern deck going through the routine of engine starting while Nia was in the cabin folding her things. Tom had planned on letting the engine tick over for about twenty minutes before they headed off westward up the canal.

Tom came down the stern cabin’s steps whistling. The tune he was butchering stalled when he noticed that the cabin’s curtains were drawn, he recognised the sweet scent of Nia’s Floris No 89, and then he saw Nia was under the covers of the bed. He smiled.

“Well, hello,” Tom said in a posh louche accent.

Nia laughed and she pulled back the duvet. She was wearing a pink silk camisole set.

“C’mere,” she said with theatrical lasciviousness and patted the bed next to her.

“As you command,” Tom replied and began to slip out of his clothes.

They fell together hungrily. After, they lay spooned together as Nia ran a hand through Tom’s hair.

“That was lovely,” Nia said. “Do you know what would make it perfect?”

Tom turned on his side so they were face to face.

“Errr,” he responded. “A cup of tea?”

Nia smiled, “Tom, you’re a genius.”

“What’s with you and all the sex and tea?” Tom joked.

“It’s Welsh thing,” Nia replied laughingly.

Tom got out of bed.

“You are a gentleman genius,” added Nia. “And with such a fine arse too.”

She slapped Tom’s bottom.

“Oh, I haven’t had this much affection since basic training,” Tom said as he put on some boxer shorts and Nia laughed.

“I love you, Tom Price,” Nia said as Tom disappeared down the small corridor to the galley. Jack ran into the cabin after being sexiled in the lounge and jumped up on the bed. She licked Nia’s hands before settling down, after her usual circular nesting motion, at the foot of the bed. Nia lay back enjoying the warmth of the bed, the weight of the dog on her feet, and the diffused light that emanated through the curtains. She sighed with happiness.

The afternoon’s trip down the quiet canal was uneventful. Tom steered the Periwinkle and Nia joined him at the stern taking in the countryside and the tranquillity. She was a little nervous as the narrowboat approached the first of three locks. Nia’s confidence returned almost as soon as she had opened the first lock gates. Tom pulled the Periwinkle in and Nia closed the rear lock gates before she moved to the front gates and opened the sluices to fill the lock. They worked well together through the next two locks and Nia was a little disappointed that the lock flight at Grindley Brook would require the assistance of a lock keeper.

Tom pulled the Periwinkle up to a water station after the final lock. Nia walked up from the lock after a quick chat and a word of thanks with the hirsute, friendly volunteer lock keeper. A shiny red and gold narrowboat moved into position to go down the lock flight. Nia took the tiller as Tom pushed the Periwinkle away from the water station and then stepped on board. The late afternoon sky moved from shades of reds to oranges to yellows.

Nia took a turn at the tiller and increased the revs. Tom noted, again, that there wasn’t any speeding on the canal as well as no running around the locks, another thing Nia continued to do. Nia slowed down and steered the Periwinkle into the canal banks to let Tom off to open the swing bridges that marked this stretch of canal. Nia was always quick to wave and shout out a greeting to the few boaters that passed by. She received friendly ‘hullos’ or ‘how do’ in return and the occasional double take of recognition.

Tom enjoyed watching Nia at the tiller. She had quickly become a competent helmsman and was now confidant enough to control the boat around sharp bends, into locks, and even steering the middle course between narrowboats on her port and starboard sides. Tom finished making two steaming mugs of tea and brought them back to the stern.

“Ummm, lovely,” Nia said taking one of the mugs. She was squinting in the lowering sun but had zipped up her coat over one of Tom’s fleece jackets against a wind that was progressively getting colder.

“It will be a chilly night once the sun drops,” Tom stated. “Do you want dinner in a village or on the boat?”

“Let’s stay on the boat,” Nia replied.

They both looked at each other and smiled.

“Like a real couple,” she added and immediately regretted the turn of phrase. Her smile faded.

“What’s wrong?” Tom asked.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be presumptuous,” she said.

“Nia, don’t you see us as a couple?”

She thought for a moment, “Yes, of course I do, I love you so much, Tom. It’s just that it sounded strange to announce it publicly.”

“Publicly? There’s only the two of us. And Jack.”

Nia laughed nervously and moved to hug Tom. She felt vulnerable but wanted to make sure that Tom was okay with where the conversation was going.

“I do love us being a couple, doing couple’s things,” she said. Then she added, reticently, “I haven’t felt as if I needed to be a part of a couple for a long time now… but now, with you, I do.”

Tom lifted Nia’s chin gently and kissed her.

“To us, being a couple. Let’s toast to that,” Tom said and raised his mug of tea and Nia reciprocated with a throaty guffaw as they clinked mugs.

Tom had actually thought of himself and Nia as a couple since the drink they shared in the theatre bar after her performance in Blithe Spirit.

Nia drove the Periwinkle through the wetlands of Prees which she thought felt like a