Summer at Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 28

‘I don’t think they think so,’ said Polly. ‘I think they think they can get all our profits without any actual expenditure.’
‘In that case,’ said Selina, ‘I think I have some magic beans they might be interested in.’
Polly gave a weak smile.
‘Look,’ said Selina. ‘As soon as they see it’s not working, they’ll change back to doing it your way, won’t they?’
‘I’d like to think that,’ said Polly. ‘But they’ll probably just figure I sabotaged it, and sack me instead.’
‘Hmm,’ said Selina. ‘Tricky one. Can’t you start up what you did before? Sell the illicit stuff?’
Polly shrugged. ‘I didn’t own a lighthouse before. And I think the bottom is probably going to drop out of the lighthouse market any day now, so… we’re a bit stuck.’
‘Does your other half not work?’
‘He does, but…’ Polly scuffed her shoe. ‘It sounds stupid, but all my life I’ve dreamed of being able to go it alone, know what I mean? I started up my own business with my old partner when I left college, and, well, that failed, but it was so amazing when the bakery started to take off. I know it wasn’t wholly mine, but it was my baby really. The idea of failing again and having to start over… God, it doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘Can’t you buy them out?’
‘No,’ said Polly. ‘Janet probably only wants ridiculous offers, like she’s some kind of multimillionaire magnate selling a house of solid gold. Nobody would be stupid enough to pay what she’s asking. Well, one of my friends would, but I’m absolutely not asking him. I don’t want to be a hobby baker.’
‘Hmm,’ said Selina. ‘Well, you know, I only ever wanted to marry rich, and look how that turned out.’
There was a short silence. They both stumped up the tiny hill towards Beach Street, the lighthouse looming on their right-hand side.
Jayden had turned the lights on in the bakery, and Polly gave him a wave.
‘Have you got time for that coffee?’ said Selina. ‘I’ve got a new cappuccino machine. It does instant froth.’
‘Ooh,’ said Polly, glancing at her watch. She ought really to go and help Jayden, but it was so ridiculous that in a few days’ time all this food she’d so lovingly prepared would be reduced to plastic trays of pre-packaged sandwiches, and tightly sealed factory bags of sliced white that would never go off or get hard. She sighed.
‘Why not,’ she said.
‘Watch the fourth step…’
‘It’s all right,’ smiled Polly in the dark stairwell. ‘I know.’
Neil, as usual, had taken the short way up, simply flying to the windows of the flat. He seemed very at home, probably because he had found it tricky in his little head to really come to terms with the fact that they’d moved.
Polly looked round the flat, both so familiar and unfamiliar. She felt nostalgic for a period that had barely passed, and had to remind herself that however bad things were at the moment, they had been much, much worse on the cold, blustery morning she’d first arrived.
‘Oh, it’s nice,’ she said admiringly, and it was. There were none of the cosy rugs and cushions she had furnished the place with when she had lived there; instead it was stark and white, like an art gallery, with huge arty black-and-white photographs hung on the walls. There was an uncomfortable-looking square black leather sofa with two square armchairs, and a glass coffee table, and no blinds on the windows.
‘How are you dealing with… um, the light pollution issue?’ Polly asked carefully.
‘You are totally the worst neighbours ever,’ said Selina, firing up a huge and frightening-looking coffee machine, filled with pipes and gauges, which hissed and spat. ‘I wear an airline mask.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ said Polly, glancing about. ‘Where’s your cat?’
‘Lucas? Oh, he’ll be snoozing somewhere on the bed. He’s the laziest animal you can imagine,’ said Selina.
‘Cool,’ said Polly, and went over to the window to let Neil in as Selina busied herself with tiny square coffee mugs.
It all happened extremely fast.
Polly undid the old-fashioned brass clasp on the window. Overjoyed, Neil flew in to what he considered his own rightful home, and looked around cheerfully, wondering where the snacks were.
A voice came from the little kitchen.
‘Also, I have to tell you, there’s somebody…’
Polly went to pick up Neil, aware of the fact that there was a cat somewhere in the house, but was suddenly completely and utterly distracted by a man walking out of the bedroom dressed only in a towel – a man, moreover, whom she recognised. It was Dubose, of all people, emerging from the bedroom she used to sleep in. She gasped. And in that instant a flash of tortoiseshell fur bolted into the sitting room. It burst into the air in a huge eruption of sharp white teeth and whiskers, jumping astonishingly high as Polly watched open-mouthed in shock.
Selina’s cat brought Neil down with one paw, slamming him on to the floor. Its claws raked down his stomach as the puffin fluttered and eeped hysterically, screaming, actually screaming out loud, just as he had done the night the storm had thrown him through the door downstairs.
‘Oh my God!’ Polly said, trying to pull the cat off him. Lucas, who already had a mouthful of feathers, fought back, his needle-sharp claws raking bloody lines down her arm.
‘Oh my goodness,’ said Selina, rushing over. ‘Lucas, baby. Lucas, darling, get off the nice bird, please.’
Dubose rushed over to help, his face a mixture of guilt and boldness.
As Neil opened his mouth to screech once more, Polly summoned all her strength and yanked the yowling cat off him. Sweat was pouring off her as she tried to separate the two animals. Neil attempted to take off, but he was bleeding and didn’t seem to understand why he couldn’t fly. Watching him wobble down to earth like a plane landing in a cross-wind broke Polly’s heart. She fought the base instinct to hurl the cat away with full force; instead, she marched him up to Selina and placed him none too carefully in her arms.
‘Can you…’ her voice was coming out high-pitched and hysterical, she knew, ‘can you put your cat away for a moment, please?’
She realised she was shaking. Selina took Lucas, stroking him.