Summer at Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 53

‘One day there will be food in this van,’ she promised. ‘And you can buy some.’
‘Cool,’ said the kid. ‘Will it be chips?’
‘No.’
‘Aw. I like chips. Pizza?’
‘It’ll be bread,’ said Polly, smiling. The boy looked at her.
‘What, toast and that?’
‘Um, yes, or just fresh bread.’
He looked at her sceptically.
‘Seriously?’
‘Yes! It’s a good idea!’
‘So people will come and want chips and you give them some plain boring old bread?’
‘Yeah, all right, kid.’
‘I think they’re going to be totally cross when there’s no chips,’ said the boy. ‘What about ice cream?’
‘I’m just driving off now.’
The boy watched her all the way down the street, shaking his head sagely.
‘Okay, thanks, Lord Sugar,’ Polly said to herself crossly, looking at him in the rear-view mirror. Her happy mood had been punctured somewhat.
Evan hadn’t moved from the corner when she returned.
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I slightly hoped I wouldn’t have to see it again.’
‘I wasn’t going to steal your van, Evan,’ said Polly.
He nodded. They went back into the garden. She wasn’t quite sure how to do this.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’d like to buy, um, Nancy.’
Evan looked at her.
‘But it’s cursed, I told you. You seem nice. You shouldn’t buy it.’
‘I’m sure it isn’t cursed,’ said Polly.
‘What, you’re saying it was our fault?’
‘No!’ said Polly.
There was a silence. Evan let out a great crushing sigh. Polly was worried about him. She also wasn’t sure who should speak first. In the end, they both did.
‘Well,’ said Polly, just as Evan said, ‘So.’
She let him go first, but he was letting her go first, so they fell into silence again. Finally Evan sighed again and sat up a bit.
‘She’s brand new,’ he said. ‘You know, we did all the fitting-out ourselves. The oven, the sink, the fridge. It’s all absolutely new.’
‘I realise that,’ said Polly, getting worried.
‘I mean, nobody had touched that stuff before us. Before those damn festival bastards got their paws on it. Now it’s contaminated.’
‘Mmm,’ said Polly. What had Huckle said? Act calm and unconcerned; stare into the middle distance; pretend this wasn’t really bothering you and that you could easily walk away at any point. That was what to do.
She looked over at the long grass waving in the gentle summer breeze, and tried not to stare at Nancy, the unfortunate red van, parked neatly back in the garage. She couldn’t stop nervously fiddling with her bag, though, which held all the cash she had withdrawn. She had never seen so much money before, not in real life.
There was another long silence. Polly felt her heart thumping. What if he wanted a return on his investment? Maybe if she offered him another couple of hundred… No, she told herself. Huckle had said she should get the price down, not up. She had to bargain down from £5,500 to £4,000. But if she could get it for £5,000, she could always say she had argued and debated the issue for ages but he simply wouldn’t budge. Obviously Huckle wouldn’t really believe this, but it was her plan nonetheless.
‘So,’ said Evan, ‘I’m not letting it go for less than two thousand pounds.’
‘What?’ said Polly, thinking she’d misheard. ‘Two thousand?’
‘Eighteen hundred and that’s my final offer,’ said Evan. ‘Just get that thing out of my sight.’
‘But you can’t sell it for that!!’
‘Okay, sixteen hundred if you’ve got cash and the paperwork.’
‘No, no, I mean, that’s far too cheap.’
‘To pass on a curse,’ said Evan, sombrely. ‘I think you will end up paying far more than money.’
‘Yes, but even so,’ ordered Polly. ‘Two and a half grand. Otherwise I’m stealing off you.’
‘You are delivering me,’ said Evan. ‘Two two-fifty.’
Polly rolled her eyes.
‘Two thousand four hundred,’ she said. ‘And that’s my final offer.’
‘Done,’ said Evan glumly.
Polly leant over to shake his hand.
‘No, thank you,’ said Evan. ‘You carry the dark mark now.’
‘Let me just pay you,’ said Polly, suddenly quite anxious to get out of there. She had bought a cheap-day return, but couldn’t believe she wasn’t actually going to have to use the other half of it. ‘You don’t want a ticket to Looe as well, do you?’
Evan shuddered. ‘Oh God, we did the Looe Beach Festival,’ he said. ‘Someone threw up cider scrumpy all over our serving area. We ended up getting fined for putting down so much bleach we killed all the surrounding wildlife.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Polly reached for her bag and tried to get up without looking like she was rushing out of there.
‘Anyway, I have to go,’ said Evan. ‘I’ve got a World of Warcraft tournament.’
‘Right, fine, don’t let me keep you,’ said Polly, trying to surreptitiously draw the right money out of her wallet without calling attention to the fact that she actually had much, much more in there.
Evan brought out the logbook – the van was indeed absolutely brand new, three years old, straight out of the factory, major services all up to date, MOT. Polly couldn’t believe her luck. He looked at her as he went to sign it.
‘This is your last chance,’ he said.
‘I’m going to risk it,’ said Polly.
‘You’re brave,’ said Evan. ‘Really brave. I would say good luck, but that… that isn’t possible. I just hope you don’t die trying.’
‘Thanks,’ said Polly, as they finished the transaction.
She looked for him out of the back window. He was watching her drive away, shaking his head mournfully at her foolish hubris.
‘Come on, Nancy,’ said Polly, patting the wood-effect steering wheel. ‘Let’s see if us girls can’t make a better job of it.’