Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 61

Tarnie looked at her, and she remembered she was furious with him. His piercing blue eyes were sorrowful.
‘Aye, Polly, hello,’ he muttered, casting his eyes to the ground.
‘Also,’ said Polly.
‘Aye, reckon,’ he mumbled. ‘I’m sorry, you know.’
‘It was so cruel,’ she said, suddenly forgetting the weather, but still shouting. She’d managed to avoid him so successfully, but here she was right in front of him. ‘So cruel, you know. You took advantage of me.’
‘I know,’ said Tarnie, blushing furiously red and shaking his head. ‘I shouldn’t have. I’m so sorry.’
‘My whole life had come crashing down and you made it worse. Why?’
Tarnie looked up then, and his eyes were very blue and clear against the crashing grey sea.
‘Because I thought you were so lovely,’ he said gently.
The wind went out of Polly’s sails completely.
‘Well… That’s STILL BAD.’
‘I know,’ said Tarnie. ‘I’m sorry. It was an awful thing. Me and the missus had been going through some hard times and I was… I was very lonely.’ That word again.
‘Well you shouldn’t have taken it out on me,’ Polly said severely.
‘No.’
Tarnie scratched the back of his neck. The other fishermen were looking on. It was hard to keep things quiet in a village.
‘Can we be friends?’ he ventured finally. ‘Please? Like I should have kept it?’
Polly waited a second.
‘Well, all right,’ she said.
Tarnie put his hand out awkwardly and Polly took it.
‘Kiss!’ shouted Jayden, but Kendall instantly stuck his hand in front of his mate’s mouth.
‘Well now,’ said Polly. ‘I don’t have anything for you to eat today.’
‘Reckon that’s all right,’ said Tarnie.
Another peal of thunder shook the purple sky.
‘You guys are amazing,’ said Polly admiringly.
‘I hate this job,’ said Jayden.
‘Must you go out in this?’ said Polly, looking up, horrified. ‘It’s awful out there.’
‘Seen worse,’ said Tarnie. ‘Damn it all.’
Polly looked at him. ‘It was very naughty to send Jayden to buy your bread.’
‘I know,’ said Tarnie. ‘But come on. I have to live without you; I don’t think I could bear to live without your sandwiches too.’
‘Are you going to be good from now on?’ she said.
Tarnie nodded furiously. Then he took a book out of his back pocket: her Alice in Wonderland.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I really did enjoy it.’
‘Good,’ said Polly, slipping it inside her mac. Big globules of rain were falling on them. ‘I still can’t believe you’re going out in this.’
‘It’s just weather,’ said Archie, loading up. ‘Just the wind and the rain.’
‘Well, be careful out there.’
‘She’s a stout little ship, she’ll outrun it,’ said Tarnie.
‘Aye, and so’s your wife,’ shouted Kendall, and the boys guffawed. Tarnie ignored them, and cursed roundly, and Polly backed away.
She watched them clamber into their yellow oilskins, clipping their nets and checking the winch. Suddenly their huge yellow sou’westers made a lot of sense. Inside the tiny galley, someone had already set tea to brew.
‘Godspeed,’ she said, under her breath, then she turned and left, back up to where her bathwater was still waiting (she’d kept it to wash some clothes in) which was thankfully still hot.
Polly couldn’t concentrate on anything that evening, thinking of the little fleet bobbing out on the ocean, the boats so tiny under such a furious sky. Maybe the fish were easier to catch when the waters were swirling and bouncing like this; maybe they couldn’t sleep either. She tried to phone Kerensa and then her mum for comfort and a chat, but she couldn’t get any reception at all – the storm must be interfering with the masts – and she finally gave up.
She’d expected to be awakened at the usual early hour – she rarely needed to set her alarm – by the boats coming back and the fishmongers’ vans rattling up the cobbles. That night, however, her sleep had been disturbed, by crashing thunder and heavy seas. At one point she’d woken up completely knotted in her blankets, unable to breathe, convinced she was on the point of drowning; she could feel the ocean pulling her down, the boat collapsing above her, everything disintegrating into heavier shades of blue and black, the panic and the twisting. She was drenched in sweat, her heart thudding in her chest, her eyes wide open. The storm was still raging around the house, and she jumped suddenly as something hit the window. To her horror, she realised it was a wave, thrown with incredible force right over the harbour wall, across the street and up to the first floor of the building, as if a huge being had simply picked up a handful of water and hurled it at her full force. The noise was tremendous.
When she’d finally calmed down, she fell back into a calmer sleep, filled with the heavy scent of bees and a quiet buzzing. And when she awoke, it was indeed to her phone buzzing with messages from the intermittent signal, and the great clouds clearing away, the storm blowing itself out. She jumped up in panic, realising immediately that she had slept in, that it was late.
She grabbed her phone: 7.30. Damn, damn, DAMN. The first loaves should have been in two hours ago; she had to open up in half an hour. There wasn’t even time to make coffee; she had to move, and fast. She pulled on a top and jeans, and galloped downstairs, where she turned the ovens up as high as they could go, heated the wood-burner up (she kept it smouldering all night, otherwise it would take too long to heat in the morning) and hammered out her loaves on their racks without her usual care or finesse. There would not be much choice today.
She finally had them all in and was starting on the rolls when she glanced out of the front window and noticed that there were a lot of people out there. At first she thought they were waiting for her to open up, but they were facing away from the bakery, all of them peering out to sea. Nobody was speaking, nor really moving, except to occasionally mutter something into their telephones, or stare at them as if they had some kind of an answer.
‘ALL HANDS!’ she heard.