Christmas at Little Beach Street Bakery
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He looked at her closely.
‘You can’t adopt them all,’ he said.
‘No,’ said Polly. ‘But I can do something.’
He looked at the spread in front of him.
‘What’s all this in aid of, then?’
‘Well, it’s partly getting ready for the Christmas fair… and partly to welcome Reuben’s parents.’
‘Oh,’ said Patrick. ‘Oh goodness. I wonder what they’re like.’
‘Exactly how you’d think,’ said Polly. ‘And then some.’
Chapter Twenty
The day of the Christmas fair dawned crisp and crackling. The village hall was absolutely heaving. People had come from miles around. Polly had been up for days on end making delicious gift baskets of gingerbread and clotted cream fudge and half a dozen small Christmas cakes that had been soaking in brandy for weeks now. Her stall was absolutely groaning, and, from the second the doors opened, totally mobbed. Selina was on her left-hand side with her lovely filigree jewellery that had taken hours upon hours of careful work.
‘It’s brilliant,’ said Samantha, bustling around the many little stalls. ‘This is going to raise so much money!’
‘I’m getting all my Christmas shopping done!’ said Mrs Corning. ‘This is going to wrap it right up.’ Polly and Selina tried not to think about how much money they would have made if people had done their Christmas shopping directly from them.
Flora was helping on the bakery stall, having brought a huge tray of her fabulous religieuses. Polly was paying her for being there. Well. At least Flora was a student. And it was Christmas. She should get into the spirit more.
‘How’s Jayden?’ she said cheerfully. Flora as usual simply shrugged.
‘He’s all right,’ she said.
‘Polly, show this guy your ring,’ called Selina from the next table, and she leaned over obediently and showed off her beautiful seaweed engagement ring.
‘Oh yes,’ said the man. ‘Something like that would be lovely.’
Selina beamed. ‘Ooh, maybe this exposure thing works after all,’ she said, and Polly gave her a cross look.
‘It is pretty,’ ventured Flora, and Polly let her examine it, feeling proud.
‘It’ll be you next,’ she said, remembering the conversation she had had with Jayden.
‘Ha, no way,’ said Flora. ‘Don’t think so.’
Polly winced and pulled her hand back. Maybe she would have to have another word with Jayden.
‘Have you seen Kerensa?’ said Selina. ‘Only she’s gone really weird on me. I haven’t seen her for months.’
‘Hmm,’ said Polly, not quite trusting herself. ‘She’s just been really exhausted with the pregnancy and everything, I think. I’ve hardly seen her either.’
Selina gave her a penetrating look.
‘When’s the baby due again?’
Polly looked at Selina and decided that the best thing under the circumstances was to tell her a big fat lie.
‘End of February,’ she said.
Mid January was more like it. She could actually see Selina counting backwards in her head.
‘Oh, right,’ said Selina. ‘She’s enormous.’
Samantha was annoyingly tapping the mike at the front of the hall.
‘Hello, everyone!’ she said brightly. There was a large crowd milling around. ‘Now, thank you so much to everyone who’s contributed to make the fair such a success…’
Selina and Polly swapped rueful looks.
‘And now, I’d like to ask our town’s resident baker… the woman who feeds us all those naughty treats…’
Polly stiffened. She didn’t really like being referred to like some kind of drug dealer.
‘… to come forward and judge the baking competition! Jayden said it would be fine.’
Samantha grinned widely at Polly, as if she had no doubt that there was nothing Polly would like better. Polly blinked. She had no recollection of Samantha asking her to do this, but it was entirely possible it had been mentioned in one of the many emails she had never looked at.
‘Um?’ she said.
‘To judge the baking competition!’ Samantha repeated encouragingly.
Polly reluctantly made her way to the front of the hall. On the long table behind the microphone was a vast array of home-baked goodies, and standing behind each plate was an apprehensive-looking villager.
Polly knew every single person there. Every single one was a customer. Or ex-customer, once this went the wrong way, she thought.
She started at one end of the table and tried each of the various pies, cakes, breads and tarts, although she could hardly taste them for nerves. There were old Mrs Corning’s rock buns… Muriel had made a date tart… and nine-year-old Sally Stephens, the vet’s granddaughter, was standing proudly behind the most beautiful lemon meringue. All eyes followed Polly beadily as she moved from plate to plate.
‘These are all wonderful,’ she stammered. ‘I really can’t choose.’
Samantha’s face was stern.
‘Well you have to choose,’ she said. ‘I’ve donated first prize of a weekend at a spa.’
Polly groaned internally. There were very few people in Mount Polbearne who wouldn’t fancy one of those in the middle of winter.
She looked around once more at the eager faces. Then she picked up old Florrie’s dull, dry biscuit.
‘Um, this one,’ she said.
The elderly lady looked up with watery eyes.
‘What?’ she said in a quavering voice.
‘You’ve won, love!’ shouted Samantha cheerily.
‘What?’
Polly had thought giving the prize to the neediest entrants was the best solution, but now she was feeling a bit unsure.
‘You’ve won the baking competition! Congratulations, Florrie!’
Florrie blinked as someone from the local press took a photograph. Polly listened uneasily to the mutterings of the locals behind her. She’d probably lost about thirty per cent of the goodwill towards her business in one fell swoop. This was going great.
‘It’s a SPA!’ Samantha was now hollering in Florrie’s ear.
‘A what, love?’
Polly was thrilled when Bernard from the puffin sanctuary walked in the door, as it gave her an excuse to escape from the baking table.