Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 89

‘Goodness,’ said Polly. The Plymouthites were sitting at a table in the corner, and they all cheered Kerensa as she walked in. And then did a double-take at Polly.
‘We thought you’d gone!’
‘We thought you didn’t talk to us any more!’
Polly realised it was the first time she’d seen many of them since she’d taken herself out of town. She had felt so ashamed, so embarrassed, she hadn’t let any of them near her. Looking round at the kind, interested faces, their obvious pleasure at seeing her again, she found it hard to believe now that she had been too proud to ask for help, so certain that nobody else would understand what she was going through. They scooshed up to make room for her and launched into loads of questions about what she’d been doing since she left Plymouth. When she told them, they were gratifyingly impressed, and Kerensa smiled secretly to herself.
Huckle had slept late, had slept better than he had in months, in fact, and came down and spotted her laughing and joking with her friends, who had already made plans to come down to Mount Polbearne over the summer. He smiled nervously and she looked shyly back at him, the events of the night before etched clearly on her memory.
‘Hey,’ she said, getting up. One of her friends let out a quiet ‘woop’ and she hushed them quickly.
‘This is my friend Huckle,’ she said, with as much dignity as she could muster, but the smile spilling from her face betrayed her utterly.
‘You,’ said Rich, one of her old friends who worked in marketing. He pointed a finger at her. He was still quite drunk from the night before, and the Buck’s Fizzes were now helping him along too. ‘You are NEVER coming back to Plymouth.’
‘Come with me,’ said Huckle, when they surfaced later. ‘Come have a look at Savannah.’
Polly swallowed. She supposed Jayden could mind the shop for a little, but he couldn’t bake like her. Quality would slip faster than you could say bath bun. But Huckle wheedled, and before she knew it, he had booked her a seat on the plane, and she called home and it was decided.
But she didn’t have long.
‘Wow,’ said Polly, looking round the minimalist apartment with its floor-to-ceiling glass. Outside, the lights of Savannah seemed far below. ‘I can’t believe you live here.’
‘Now that we’ve christened the bed, I’m never leaving,’ said Huckle, lying back, his arms behind his head, a picture of total contentment.
Polly gazed at his body, which she had dreamed of so often. To see it laid out for her was almost too much.
‘Mmm,’ she said, and he smiled back at her.
‘So,’ he said. ‘What do you want to do tomorrow? I can send you to the mall.’
‘Why, what are you doing?’ she asked, surprised.
Huckle bit his lip.
‘Well, I have to go to work. So I thought you might like to, you know. Shop for a few things.’
‘What things?’ said Polly, suddenly worried. ‘I never shop.’
Huckle shrugged. He had thought, he realised on some level, that as soon as he got her back here, she would stay, would be so happy just to be here, that it would all be perfect.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘DO NOT SHOP! I order it. Stroll around. Have a look at Savannah. It’s gorgeous here.’
He stood up behind her and embraced her as they stared out of the window together.
‘We don’t have to live here for ever, you know,’ he said. ‘Go look at the old section; they have these most gorgeous houses there, on garden squares. We could live in one of those.’
Polly turned round, hurt.
‘But I have a house.’
‘You rent an apartment that lets rain in,’ Huckle pointed out.
‘At the moment,’ said Polly. ‘But I was thinking of…’
She hadn’t really been thinking of it seriously, but suddenly it came out.
‘I was thinking of buying the lighthouse, actually.’
Huckle actually laughed.
‘You’re not serious?’
‘I might be.’
‘That old falling-down lighthouse? It’ll be worse than the flat.’
‘Not with a bit of care and attention.’
‘And all that light!’
‘Actually, when you’re IN the lighthouse, you don’t see the light,’ pointed out Polly. ‘It’s the only place safe from it.’
Huckle shook his head.
‘I love your crazy ideas.’
‘It’s not…’
They both fell silent, sensing disagreement.
‘Are you going to have a fireman’s pole?’ said Huckle eventually.
‘Maybe,’ said Polly, trying not to sound defensive. ‘Anyway.’
‘Anyway.’
Huckle sat down on the bed, and they looked at each other.
‘Sorry,’ said Huckle slowly. ‘But I thought… I thought you’d come and live with me. Here.’
Polly blinked several times.
‘But I came to the wedding.’
‘Yes, I know, but, you know. To me too. No?’
‘No,’ said Polly, half lying. ‘I mean, I wanted to see you, but… it wasn’t till I actually did see you…’
Huckle nodded. ‘Yes! And hurray!’ he said. ‘I mean, COOL, look at us! Look at us, we’re amazing. Aren’t we?’
Polly nodded.
‘And you’re here…’
His voice tailed off. He had to admit, he had thought about it. Wouldn’t it be lovely for Polly not to have to get up at five every day, slave her guts out, get covered in flour, behaving like an indentured servant to Mrs Manse, whom she hated, living in that shack of an apartment? Wouldn’t it be lovely for her to be here, in a lovely home with him, taking a rest, having some time off? He assumed that that would be exactly what she wanted, what she would like… He had plenty of money, he could pay for everything…
He tried to explain this to Polly, realising as he did so that what had seemed perfectly logical and reasonable in his head wasn’t coming out well at all now that he started to say it. Her face was looking more and more concerned.
‘But it’s mine now,’ she tried to explain. ‘The bakery. Mrs Manse has retired to her sister’s. She’s left everything in my hands. It’s my responsibility.’
‘But you can bake here,’ said Huckle, gently kissing up the side of her neck. ‘Hmm?’