Christmas at Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 54

‘It was nice to meet you,’ she said softly. ‘But I’m going to go now.’
‘Aye,’ said Tony. ‘Aye, yeah, that’s all right. Of course.’
He looked at her, and his eyes were glistening with tears.
‘Do you forgive me?’
Polly nodded. ‘Of course,’ she said.
‘Thank you. Do you have little ones?’
‘No.’
‘Oh well. I know this will sound wrong, but… you should, you know. It’s… Having a family… I shouldn’t be telling you this, but… it’s wonderful. It’s a wonderful thing. A family of your own.’
Polly felt this was going too far.
‘Goodbye,’ she said.
Carmel jumped up. Her eyes were full of tears.
‘Sorry about that,’ she said, walking her to the ward door.
‘It’s all right,’ said Polly stiffly. ‘He was being honest. He chose you. And that’s all right. He’s lucky to have you.’
Carmel bit her lip.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you for doing this for him. I know you didn’t want to. It means… It means so much.’
And instinctively she threw her arms around Polly, who stood, a tad reluctantly, then found herself hugging her back.
‘Okay. Goodbye now,’ said Polly. This would have to do. She turned.
At the end of the corridor, she heard a yell. It was Carmel, calling her name. She turned back.
‘Sorry!’ said Carmel. ‘Sorry. Sorry to bother you, sorry to keep bothering you, I really am. But: can I ask you for one last thing? Sorry. I know it’s too much. But it is Christmas…’
Polly blinked and stood still, not saying anything.
‘Could I… could I possibly have a photograph of the two of you together?’
Polly nodded. ‘Of course,’ she said.
Their first ever photo. The first father-and-daughter photograph Polly had ever had.
She sat down on the bed feeling weird and awkward, with a stupid lump in her throat she couldn’t dispel, and took her father’s wizened hand fully in her own, grasped it, fingers interlaced, for the first and the very last time, and squeezed it, and he squeezed back as if they could connect with each other just here, just this one time, and then the photo was taken and it was time to go.
‘Any time you need me,’ said Carmel, ‘come and find me. Here’s my number. Anything. Any questions. Come and find me.’
And Polly turned and walked slowly out of the hospital, into the car park, where the first snow of the season was starting to fall; blanketing the ugly hospital buildings, covering the pain and sadness, turning the world fresh and white and new again, starting over with a clean slate.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Polly had picked up Nan the Van – which Reuben had kindly got a flunky to bring over when she’d explained she only had one mode of transport, and Nan was it. She drove slowly away from the hospital, the world changed in front of her eyes. The gently falling flakes turned into a flurry, then began to fall steadily, silently, covering the ground. The light was fading from the afternoon and Polly tried not to worry about how she would manage the causeway. She would get home somehow, back home to her puffin and her lighthouse and her oven, and she could figure everything else out later. Or maybe sooner.
Because the thing was, she guessed, you always thought you had time – time to fix the relationships that had broken down; to do all the things you thought you’d get round to; to finish everything, tie it up with a neat bow and that was it.
But life wasn’t like that at all. Things festered for years. Things that ought to be got over never were. Bitterness became a defining characteristic of people’s lives. And she could see it happening. It had happened to her mother. It might happen to Kerensa and that little baby. And she understood why, at the end, her father had tried to make sure that it didn’t happen to him.
She wasn’t going to go through the same thing. She and Huckle had been so happy together. Could they get it back? Could they make it right?
She turned on the radio, which was playing jaunty Christmas music intercut with ominous snow warnings and suggestions that you didn’t travel unless it was absolutely necessary. Polly ignored these. The A road was fine, the trails of the many cars in front of her making it easy to follow. She was not looking forward to the turn-off, though. The snow hadn’t been forecast, so the gritters wouldn’t have had a chance to get out. The problem was, unless she found a hotel before the turn-off – which she didn’t have the money for – there was absolutely nothing between there and Mount Polbearne. If she did turn off, she was stuffed.
Her thoughts drifted to Huckle. What was he doing? What on earth was he thinking? Whatever else happened, she had to get home.
As the exit loomed, several things happened very quickly.
Lost in her thoughts, Polly had to indicate in a fluster. A huge truck behind her honked menacingly, which startled her, just as her telephone rang. As the van twisted towards the exit ramp, a tiny rabbit flashed out from the undergrowth and straight across her path; she caught a glimpse of the little pawprints in the fresh snow. Nan struggled to get purchase on the road, failed, lurched forward and headed straight down the hill towards the road at the bottom, which was thankfully empty, shooting straight across it and coming to rest, rocking menacingly, in the snowdrift that had already started to build on the opposite verge, just out of reach of the oncoming traffic.
Polly didn’t realise she was screaming, nor that she had somehow in her panic pressed the answer button on her phone.
‘It’s all right, it’s all right, it’s all right!’ she heard a desperate voice saying on the other end of the line. ‘It’s all right! It’s going to be —’
‘GAAAAA!’
‘Polly! Polly! Are you there? What is it? What is it?’
Polly desperately tried to catch her breath, but it came in tearing sobs. The voice became more alarmed.
‘Polly? Polly, what is it? What’s happened?’
Finally she found the breath to speak, a great ripped-out gasp.
‘Hu… Huckle?’
‘Yes. What happened? What’s the matter? It wasn’t because of me, was it? You haven’t done anything stupid? Please tell me you’re okay!’
Polly blinked and looked around. Nan the Van appeared to be slowly sinking sideways into the snowdrift.