Christmas at Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 13

‘And what’s the cause?’ she said.
‘Well, it was going to be the school development fund,’ said Samantha. ‘But that all seems to have been sorted by that wonderful friend of yours with the loud voice, isn’t that magnif? So we’ll have to think of a new one.’
She turned and was on her way out again before Polly had time to give her an answer.
‘I’m guessing that’s a yes,’ said Jayden.
‘Hmm,’ said Polly. ‘It looks that way.’
‘You know, you could ask other people to bake cakes and have a competition,’ said Jayden. ‘On your stall. Without you in it, of course.’
Polly smiled. ‘Or Flora. She’d wipe the floor with everyone.’
‘She would,’ said Jayden, looking moist around the eyes. ‘But you know. Everyone else could get stuck in.’
‘Wouldn’t it cause the most terrible fights and bad feeling?’ said Polly.
‘Totally,’ said Jayden. ‘It’ll be hilarious.’
Polly picked up her phone and checked it, regardless of whether she’d got a signal. There was nothing from Kerensa. She felt horrifically guilty whichever way she looked at the situation, but the longer she left it, the worse it got. Then something occurred to her.
Selina, who’d gone out with Kerensa on that fateful evening, lived upstairs in Polly’s old flat. She was Tarnie’s widow and helped Polly out in the bakery from time to time. She was new to the village – even newer than Polly herself – and didn’t really know Polly’s friends all that well. She’d had a tough time getting over the death of her husband at such a young age, but living in the village had seemed to bring her some of the peace she’d been searching for. Polly didn’t think she’d be there for ever, but for now it seemed to comfort her to be near Tarnie’s family and friends, even though she was a city girl born and bred. No wonder she’d jumped at the chance to take Kerensa out.
Selina tended to sleep late in the morning, so at about ten o’clock, Polly made a big fancy latteccino (the sort of drink most of the locals had absolutely no time for), put some hazelnut syrup in it and headed upstairs.
Selina was floating about in light loungewear. She’d done up the ratty old flat, with its uneven floors and holes in the roof that let the rain in. Now, instead of the cosy cushions and warm rugs Polly had strewn around the place, it was a calm oasis of white walls and stripped-back wood, with what to Polly’s unpractised eye looked like quite expensive art on the walls. Selina’s plump cat Lucas, whom Polly had distrusted ever since he’d mauled Neil the previous year, lay resplendently on a cushion.
Selina was all right for money, and was taking a kind of correspondence course in jewellery design on the mainland. Thankfully Tarnie had had a really good life insurance policy, and though it didn’t make up for him not being there, not for a second, it was typical of his thoughtfulness that he had made sure she was looked after. Fishing was still one of the most dangerous professions in the world, even these days.
Polly still missed him terribly. She couldn’t imagine what it was like for Selina.
‘Hey,’ said Selina. ‘Is that for me! Oh wow, thanks!’
‘And!’ said Polly, producing a warm cheese twist from her apron pocket like a conjuror. ‘Don’t give any to Lucas; he looks fatter all the time.’
‘No way!’ said Selina. ‘You know, I have to hold my nose every time I go past the shop to stop myself going in and just guzzling everything. I thought I’d get used to it, but no. Fresh bread, every morning. It’s not fair!’
Selina was absolutely tiny and took being absolutely tiny extremely seriously. Polly’s theory was that she gave all her cravings to Lucas.
‘I should say that given your willpower, you’re the best person in the world to live here,’ she said. ‘Which is why you’re allowed a cheese twist every now and again.’
Selina looked at it severely.
‘I’ll go halves with you.’
‘You’re on,’ said Polly.
‘Is there skimmed milk in the —’
‘Yes!’
‘So, what’s up?’ said Selina, as they sat down on the angular white sofa.
Polly bit her lip. ‘Am I that obvious?’
Selina nodded. ‘Yup. Otherwise you’d be up here all the time.’
‘I’d like to come up more,’ said Polly. ‘I’m just… I’m so busy.’
‘I know,’ said Selina. ‘I’m not.’
‘I’d love you to work for us again in the summer, you know that,’ said Polly.
Selina nodded. ‘So, anyway. What is it? If it’s the sodding Christmas fair, count me out.’
‘But your jewellery…’
‘I know,’ said Selina. ‘I was slightly hoping I could make myself sound tough enough to be convincing to Samantha, but it won’t work, will it?’
Polly shook her head.
‘You know she wants my entire profits for the day,’ said Selina.
‘Mine too,’ said Polly.
‘I mean, I wanted to do this for a job.’
‘Exposure?’ suggested Polly weakly.
‘That’s what she said,’ scowled Selina. ‘And you don’t need the exposure. You’re literally the only baker in town. What are people going to do, start getting their bread delivered by drone?’
‘I quite like having someone bossy around,’ admitted Polly. ‘I even miss Mrs Manse.’ Mrs Manse had been the original, rather dragonish, owner of the Little Beach Street Bakery. ‘I just like the idea of someone else knowing exactly what’s to be done, and insisting that it is. I only get really worried when I don’t think anyone’s in charge.’
Selina nodded. ‘I know what you mean,’ she said. ‘What are you doing for Christmas?’
Polly rolled her eyes. ‘Hopefully nothing.’
The previous year she and Huckle had gone to Polly’s mum, in her small house in Exeter. Polly’s mum was scared of anything out of the ordinary – Polly breaking up with her fiancé and moving to a tidal island to set up her own business had been quite a challenge for her – so it had been a quiet Christmas. Fortunately, though, she’d taken a shine to Huckle, who was very easy company and didn’t mind not doing very much, which was just as well given Polly’s mum’s reclusive nature. Polly knew that she should persuade her to come down and spend a few days in Mount Polbearne, but she was aware how hard she’d find it, and she hated making her mum unhappy.