Summer at Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 36

‘No,’ said Reuben.
‘You want me to tell them?’
‘No,’ said Reuben, pouting out his bottom lip.
‘Someone has to tell them.’
‘It’s been in the papers,’ growled Reuben, getting up to go and poke at his lobsters.
‘What’s been in the papers?’ said Polly. The papers came late to Mount Polbearne – on windy days not at all – and between that and how hard she worked, and the slowness of their Internet connection, Polly had got out of the habit of reading anything other than the Western Mail or, if she was being entirely honest with herself, sometimes looking at pictures of celebrities on tabloid sites.
‘I’m going to tell them,’ hollered Kerensa.
Reuben shrugged. ‘I don’t care, you know.’
‘I know.’
‘I don’t care if you want to leave me now.’
‘Fuck off!’
‘What?’ said Polly, jerked out of her reverie into wakefulness. ‘What’s going on?’
Kerensa looked at Reuben.
‘I’m not leaving you, so tough shit.’
‘Why are you not leaving him?’
‘Well, because I’m just not.’
Huckle leaned forward.
‘Guys, could you tell us now what’s up? Or otherwise leave us a trail of sinister clues that end at the Louvre or something? Either way.’
‘I’m hungry,’ said Reuben.
Polly was suddenly terrified that there was something wrong with one of them. Surely not. There couldn’t be. Not when they’d just got married and were starting their life together. Her heart was in her throat.
‘What is it?’
Kerensa rolled her eyes.
‘Well, enjoy the champagne,’ she said. ‘Because we really need to get through this cellar.’
‘You’re moving?’ said Huckle.
‘Oh yes,’ said Kerensa.
Reuben was expertly popping a lobster into the pot.
‘How? Why?’ said Polly.
Kerensa glanced over.
‘Well, as it turns out, we also have news,’ she said. ‘Because SOMEBODY – and you may decide for yourselves which one of us you think it was – has decided to invest all of their money. All of it, please note. Not some of it in spread investments and some of it in government bonds and some of it under the bed and some of it in beautiful property. Nooo. All of it.’
Polly watched Kerensa and Reuben carefully.
‘Every last penny… in a series of Star Wars sequels.’
‘Oh, they’re coming out!’ said Huckle. ‘I’ve heard about them.’
‘No,’ said Kerensa, in measured tones. ‘Those are the licensed ones you’ve heard about, the ones that George Lucas is doing. You haven’t heard about our ones. The Jar Jar Binks spin-off trilogy.’
Everyone fell silent.
‘You’re not serious,’ said Polly.
‘Oh, very serious,’ said Kerensa. ‘And the Jar Jar Binks musical – opening directly on Broadway, by the way, none of this touring and building up a show from scratch, oh no…’
She downed her glass, and refilled it again.
‘Oh, and the line of Jar Jar themed restaurants in capital cities across the world.’
Huckle turned to look at Reuben.
‘THIS is what you’ve been away doing?’
‘Hey,’ said Reuben, crossly. ‘They say you’ll only ever make money doing something you love.’
‘Yes, something you love that other people love too,’ said Huckle. ‘Like Polly making a loaf of bread. Or Kerensa making a… conference organisational strategy.’
‘That was nice of you to pretend to include me,’ said Kerensa.
‘Thank GOD,’ said Polly.
Everyone else looked at her.
‘What are you talking about?’ said Kerensa. ‘This is a horrendous disaster.’
Polly shook her head.
‘I thought… I thought somebody was sick, or somebody was going to die, for God’s sake, after last year… I mean, seriously, it’s only money.’
‘So speaks someone who’s never had any,’ said Huckle, wryly.
‘Reuben can just go invent something brilliant like he did the last time. You’ll get it back.’
‘It’s not just money,’ said Kerensa. ‘It’s actually negative money. It’s actually more money than we really have.’
‘But I thought you had all the money.’
‘That was before somebody tried to mount a two-hundred-and-forty-strong-cast Broadway production,’ said Kerensa. ‘Was it me? I can’t remember.’
‘What are you going to do?’ gasped Polly.
‘Well, I’m already back at work, which, frankly, I’m extremely relieved about, as there’s only so much swanning about the world on room service one can take.’
Reuben looked a little gloomy. Kerensa’s expression became a little cheerier.
‘And I shall take Reuben as my fuck toy.’
Reuben perked up.
‘Kerensa!’ said Polly.
‘What? What? Would you rather I threw myself off a bridge shouting “No, no, I shall kill myself just because I married a total idiot”?’
‘No,’ said Polly.
‘I’ve still got my flat. He can sit in the corner of it doing computer things. And sex things. And apologising to me every ten minutes.’
‘Seriously, man, it’s all gone?’ said Huckle gently.
‘I’ve sold this place to a Russian oligarch with a nine-strong security detail, Kalashnikovs and an army-issue helicopter,’ said Reuben, waving his arms. ‘Actually, I liked him.’
Polly looked around. She was suddenly sad. They’d had so much fun here, in this crazy place. It was where she and Huckle had shared their first kiss. Where they’d celebrated Tarnie’s life; where she had come after she’d taken Neil to the puffin shelter. She would miss it. Huckle, sensing what she was thinking, came over and rubbed her neck.
‘God,’ she said. ‘It’s… it’s really hard luck.’
‘Still,’ said Kerensa, ‘I’m slightly less frightened about my sister killing me for her inheritance.’
‘Yeah, but Dahlia is psychotic, though,’ pointed out Polly, who had Dahlia previous. ‘She was trying to kill you way before you met Reuben.’