Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 17

‘He’s American,’ corrected Tarnie. ‘That’s not weird. Well, you know. It is a bit weird but it’s not his fault.’
‘There’s an American who came here to make honey?’ asked Polly.
‘I think he was misinformed,’ said Tarnie. ‘I’m not quite sure what he thought he was coming to. But he got nine months of rain anyway. He’s on the mainland.’
‘Gosh,’ said Polly. ‘He sounds…’
‘Loopy,’ said Jayden. ‘This is great. Can I have some more?’
‘Can I have some more too?’ said Kendall quickly, jam across his mouth like a five-year-old.
‘Boys! Quieten down,’ said Tarnie. He brushed at some crumbs. He wasn’t in his yellow sou’wester today; he was wearing a Breton shirt and faded cut-off jeans, and his beard was trimmed.
‘Uh oh,’ said Jayden suddenly. He took a second piece of bread and jam from the plate and hid it behind his back.
‘What?’ said Polly, turning round. All the fishermen’s faces had fallen and one or two of them had disappeared into the body of the boat. It was the woman from the bakery, and, of course, Polly’s new landlady. Outside, oddly, she looked even larger, a round wobble of a woman, though it in no way slowed her down as she marched directly towards them. A seagull set up cawing and looking for lost crumbs, adding to the ominous atmosphere.
Tarnie ran a hand through his thick hair as the woman approached.
‘Er, afternoon, Mizzus Manse.’
The woman sniffed loudly. ‘Afternoon, Cornelius.’
Polly raised her eyebrows and Tarnie shot her a slightly hunted look.
Mrs Manse didn’t bother saying hello to anybody else. ‘What are you eating?’
‘Um, just…’
Polly glanced down at the plate; half the loaf was still there.
‘Where did you get that?’
‘We’re just having a little tea break, Gillian. I’m sure you understand.’
Gillian Manse’s face darkened and she drew herself up sturdily.
‘I tell you what I don’t understand. When we’re all trying to pull together and stop local businesses going under and be proper Polbearnites and have a bit of pride, I don’t understand why you’re going to some happy-go-lucky incomer for your bread.’
‘It was just —’
‘I mean, I am the only baker in town. And I know you didn’t buy that from me.’
‘Now, Gillian —’
‘I made it,’ said Polly, feeling ridiculous that she’d gone a little shaky. Who did this horrible woman think she was? She could make whatever the hell she wanted.
‘You did WHAT?’
She might as well have said ‘I spat in it.’
‘I… I made the bread.’
‘You. Made. The. Bread.’ Gillian looked utterly insulted. ‘And what’s wrong with my bread?’
‘Nothing’s wrong with your bread,’ said Tarnie, trying to be placatory and spreading out his hands. ‘It’s just that Polly here —’
‘Polly,’ said Gillian.
‘Polly made us a snack. You know, she’s new.’
‘Obviously she’s new,’ sniffed Gillian. ‘She’s taking up space in my house. I know she’s new.’
Polly stiffened as the woman turned towards her.
‘People in this town get their bread from me,’ Mrs Manse said menacingly.
Polly was determined not to be cowed. ‘But I’m not from this town.’
‘All the more reason,’ said Gillian, ‘for you to keep away from other people’s businesses and stop trying to ruin them.’
Ordinarily Polly wasn’t an easy person to intimidate, but this hit home.
‘I would never,’ she said quietly, ‘try and ruin anyone’s business.’
Mrs Manse glanced witheringly at her rough-hewn efforts.
‘No, not with that you won’t.’
Polly bit her lip.
‘I’ll be on my way,’ said Mrs Manse, giving them all another dose of the bad eyes. As she manoeuvred her considerable bulk to go back along the harbour, she stopped and glanced into Polly’s box. Polly winced.
‘What is this?’ said Gillian, eyeing up Neil, who eyed her back beadily.
‘Oh yes, I’m taking on the butcher next,’ said Polly in a low voice, and Tarnie couldn’t help grinning.
Mrs Manse raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s a shame when people arrive in town and can’t fit in,’ she hissed. ‘But they usually move on soon enough.’
After she’d gone, and the other fishermen had re-emerged, Polly had to sit down.
‘Don’t worry about Gillian,’ said Tarnie, uncomfortably. ‘That’s just her way.’
‘To behave like the DEVIL?’ said Polly. ‘How can that be a “way”? “Oh, you know he killed all those people? Just Harold Shipman’s way.”’
‘Aye, well. She’s lived here a long time.’
‘She’s probably what’s been holding this town back. Oh Lord, and she’s my landlady. She’s actually going to kick me out for baking.’
‘She’s scared of change really.’
‘But I went to her bakery.’
‘Aye, it’s kind of gone downhill…’
‘It’s horrible.’
‘It’s all she’s got,’ said Tarnie. ‘It’s hard to scratch a living round here, you know.’ The look in his eyes made it clear that his words were heartfelt.
‘So why’s she doing her best to drive trade away?’ said Polly. ‘I’m never going back there ever again.’
‘Neither am I,’ said Jayden. ‘Polly, can you make bread for us every day?’
‘Yes please,’ said Kendall.
‘Um, your boss says not, apparently,’ said Polly, giving Tarnie a look. ‘Don’t want to upset Mrs Manse. Although she seems pretty upset already.’
Tarnie didn’t look happy. Polly decided to head off.
‘Me and Neil have to get back,’ she said. ‘Cornelius.’
The other boys laughed at that.
‘It’s…’ Tarnie looked a bit embarrassed. ‘It’s tricky.’
‘It’s not tricky,’ said Polly. ‘She’s being like the Mafia, warning me off moving in. I tell you, that might be a good enough reason for me to break the lease.’