Christmas at Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 14

‘What are you doing?’ she asked Selina. ‘Tarnie’s family again?’
Selina nodded. The awkwardness of the arrangement was far outweighed by the pleasure it brought Tarnie’s mother, having a connection to him in the house. They would drink too much at dinner, and then sit afterwards and watch old videos of him as a child, and then they’d watch the wedding video and everyone would cry for hours.
‘Worst conceivable day of human existence,’ said Selina. ‘But I tell you what: if there is a heaven, I’m getting in.’ She took another sip of coffee. ‘Man, this is good. It’s nice to drink real milk once in a while. Although I’m probably lactose intolerant.’
‘Probably,’ said Polly.
‘Oh my God, you’re agreeing with me even though you don’t believe in it!’ said Selina. ‘How bad is this thing?’
‘Right,’ said Polly, steeling herself. ‘I really need someone to talk to. And Kerensa’s busy. I mean, I like you just as much… Um. Anyway. Listen. What do you think? I’ve got a friend back in Exeter. From school. You haven’t met her; I don’t see her very much. She’s married and everything. And now she’s pregnant. But. But she thinks it’s somebody else’s.’
‘Oh my God,’ said Selina, sitting up straight. ‘Is it Kerensa? From that night? Oh my God, it is, isn’t it? It’s Kerensa. The dates totally work.’
‘What?’ said Polly. ‘Of course it’s not Kerensa. Don’t be stupid. I just said someone you’d never met.’
‘Yeah, but you’re forgetting I was there!’
‘What? No, it’s not her! How could it be? She totally wouldn’t. It isn’t like her at all!’
Polly felt her face grow hot. Selina didn’t say anything, just kept watching her for a while.
‘Okay,’ said Polly. ‘Look, it’s my cousin, okay. The family is falling apart. Please, could you not mention it? I know some families are all right about this kind of thing, but not mine…’ She looked down, but kept an eye on Selina to see if she was buying it. Thankfully it seemed like she was.
‘Okay,’ Selina said eventually. She paused. ‘Is it you?’
‘Of course it’s not me!’
‘Only you have form.’
‘Don’t bring that up,’ said Polly, and she meant it. During a period of temporary estrangement from Selina, Tarnie had slept with Polly without telling her he was married. It had been awful for everybody. ‘Look, this is a nasty family problem, but I can take it elsewhere if you don’t want to treat it seriously…’
‘Okay. Sorry,’ said Selina, who wasn’t a bad stick really. ‘I’m preparing myself for a month of being unbelievably thoughtful and lovely to everyone. Just getting the last of it out.’
‘Okay,’ said Polly. ‘Look, it’s just… I mean, I feel really bad about it. Even though it’s not officially my problem.’
‘Do you know the husband?’
‘Yes… uh, a little bit.’
Selina looked at her shrewdly.
‘And is he a dickhead?’
‘Sometimes,’ said Polly. ‘Does that matter?’
‘Does he have other women?’
‘No! I don’t think so.’
‘Hmm,’ said Selina. ‘And are you good friends, you and your cousin?’
‘Yes,’ said Polly. ‘I want to be. But this is… it’s so awful.’
Selina leaned forward. ‘What do you think you have friends for?’ she said softly. ‘This is why. Have you the faintest idea how many people abandoned me when Tarnie died? I lost so many friends over it. How is that fair? People… they didn’t know what to say, blah blah blah. What’s to say? You just say, it’s a fucker. Then you maybe apologise in case you say the wrong thing in the future. It’s not rocket bloody science. Then you start being friends again.’
Her jaw looked fixed.
‘Some people stayed. Some people,’ she looked at Polly when she said this, ‘some people came. But some just vanished completely, as if by being miserable I would infect their cosy, perfect little worlds. Does that make sense?’
Polly nodded. It did. It made perfect sense.
‘That’s when friends need you more than ever. When something awful happens. And here’s the crucial thing: even if the awful thing that’s happened is your own fault. Especially when it’s your own fault. Do you see?’
Chapter Seven
‘Well get in then.’
Neil loved going in the van. Well, he preferred Huckle’s sidecar, where he would perch and enjoy the wind ruffling his feathers, but he loved the van too.
The rain had cleared, leaving in its wake a bitter cold, but Nan the Van warmed up quite quickly and Polly wanted to get moving before, as normally happened, people started queuing up in front of it for a pasty or a Marmite twist.
When she’d lost her job at the bakery the previous year, she hadn’t stopped baking; simply bought a van and moved her operation into that. It had worked far better than she’d expected, and she’d kept the van on, partly for transport and partly because she could use it in the summer for coffees and sandwiches and keep everything bustling over. People’s faces lit up when they saw her out and about in it, and more than one person had asked if she’d consider a delivery service. But it was also her only mode of transportation when the rain came in.
She rocketed across the causeway – she’d done the crossing so often now, she no longer had the fear she used to have, that the van would swerve and she would simply drive off the side and down into the depths; you could still see, moving under the waves to their own current, the tops of the trees that had grown there when Mount Polbearne had been connected to the mainland all the time. Somebody had once sat under those trees; had thought and dreamed about their life. And now they were down deep beneath the sea, as one day Mount Polbearne itself would be, reclaimed by the ocean along with everything they now held dear.
It was a short drive across the thin end of the county to Cornwall’s north coast. In the spring, summer and autumn, the beach Reuben and Kerensa owned was a perfect private surfing spot, coveted throughout the county. Reuben often let the local lads use it, in return for doing a bit of bouncing and keeping out the pushy weekend surfers, who drove down from the cities with their loud voices and stupid hipster vans and entitled manner.