Summer at Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 66

They were picnicking in the fine weather out on the seafront by the harbour wall. Archie was fixing nets, rocked on top of his boat by the gentle swell, helped by Sten the Scandinavian. It was painstaking work. The sun was blazing.
Polly’s only problem now was capacity, in her own ovens and in the van itself. Whatever she made, she would sell. Holidaymakers were coming from far and wide: the local caravan park had let her put up a flyer, and now people would troop down with their flasks and sit outside the van on the rocks. Dog-walkers came past every day and made a morning collection, and the Mount Polbearne residents kept up their regular shopping lists via Muriel. It was all going incredibly well. Polly just needed somebody to share it with.
They both turned round. They weren’t sitting next to the Little Beach Street Bakery; Polly didn’t want to risk Malcolm coming out and shouting at her simply for existing in the same postcode, if Mount Polbearne even had a postcode. They were along the harbour a bit, but they could already hear the voice coming out of the shop, roaring.
It was Jayden, tearing off his apron, his round face totally red. He threw the apron back into the shop and marched out.
‘I quit, you absolute utter bastard!’
‘Uh-oh,’ said Polly. She had never seen Jayden cross in her entire life.
‘I quit, and nobody is going to work for a bastard like you!’
Polly jumped up and went towards him.
‘Are you all right, sweetie?’
‘He’s a bastard!’ said Jayden, marching straight up to them, out of breath and beside himself with distress. ‘Oh. Is that a toasted teacake?’
‘It is,’ said Kerensa. ‘And you can have it if you sit down and tell us every sordid detail.’
But Malcolm had already appeared in the doorway and, looking back at him, Polly reckoned she could already see the source of the problem, and what had been going so very wrong.
Malcolm had his arm possessively around Flora’s neck.
Polly gasped in astonishment. Flora looked as blank and unconcerned as she usually did, but Malcolm’s blubbery lips were open in a smile of triumph, and he stroked the girl’s shoulder smugly.
Polly shook her head in disbelief.
‘No way,’ she said. ‘She prefers Malcolm? How dare he lay his filthy paws on that beautiful girl?’
Jayden looked very close to tears.
‘What happened, Jayden? It’s not just because he’s her boss, is it? He didn’t insist or anything?’
Jayden shook his head.
‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s because she said she was tired of all the poetry and the flowers and stuff. I thought girls liked poetry and flowers.’
‘Flora is not like other girls.’
‘No.’ Jayden sighed. ‘You know what HE did?’
Polly shook her head again.
‘He bought her a mixer.’
‘She wants to bake,’ said Polly. ‘Is he going to let her? She could save the shop if he lets her bake.’
‘No, it’s just for fun. She’s not allowed to bake in the shop.’
‘THAT MAN!’
‘Did you know he plays the trumpet?’
‘I did know that,’ said Polly.
‘He’s been serenading her! Under her window!’
‘With a trumpet?’
‘All I can play is the spoons.’
‘Lots of people like the spoons,’ said Polly, trying to be reassuring.
‘Flora said she thought the spoons were rubbish,’ said Jayden. ‘I don’t think she liked the trumpet much either. But she liked the mixer. Also she said he talks to her, whereas everybody else just dribbles.’
‘Oh Jayden,’ said Polly. ‘That is bloody rotten news. I am so, so sorry.’
Jayden sniffed loudly.
‘I don’t care,’ he said. ‘It’s all crap what they sell anyway. Disgusting. It’s making everyone constipated, all that terrible white stuff. It doesn’t do anybody any good. Bungs up your insides. I hope it bungs up his insides,’ he said bitterly, glancing back at the Little Beach Street Bakery. He hung his head. ‘She was SO beautiful,’ he said mournfully.
Polly thought of the beautiful Flora. She had always kind of assumed that being beautiful would be a short cut to everything, not just a mixer.
‘Why won’t he let her bake in his shop?’ said Kerensa, shaking her head.
‘He said he didn’t want her to mess up her beautiful hands,’ said Jayden. ‘But you’re going to keep taking all his business, aren’t you?’ he added hopefully.
‘Well I tell you what, I don’t feel guilty about that any more,’ said Polly, who’d been the victim of too many bruising early-morning attacks. ‘But even more so now, knowing I won’t be doing you out of a job.’
‘Can I come and work for you?’ said Jayden. ‘Can I come to your van? I haven’t been allowed to visit it. Malcolm banned everyone. Sorry about that.’
‘That’s okay,’ said Polly, although she did think a little regretfully of those first few days without even the hint of a friendly face. ‘I understand. But Jayden, I don’t have enough business yet to pay you properly… I can probably let you do a few mornings and a bit of cleaning, but that’s about it. And I don’t even know if it’s going to keep up.’
‘Of course it is,’ said Kerensa. ‘All you needed was for people to discover how brilliant you are. Now that they have, you’re away!’
Polly smiled. ‘Thanks, K.’ She touched her hand.
‘I’ll do it,’ said Jayden. ‘I’ll shovel up all your mucky stuff. Then I’ll dump it on his doorstep.’
‘You will not,’ said Polly. Even though it was no longer hers, she still loved the beautiful soft grey of the Little Beach Street Bakery frontage; it was quite lovely, even if she couldn’t set foot over the threshold any more.
‘Okay,’ said Jayden. He added quietly to himself, ‘Maybe in his car.’
‘If you could do an early-morning shift,’ said Polly. ‘But it really isn’t much, I’m so sorry.’
‘I don’t mind,’ said Jayden. ‘Anything is better than working for that demon.’
Kerensa smiled at Polly.
‘When’s Huckle coming back?’
Polly’s slightly more buoyant mood deflated instantly.