Summer at Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 87

There was a pause.
‘I don’t know why they say love means never having to say you’re sorry,’ said Polly suddenly. ‘I think it means having to say you’re sorry A LOT.’
Huckle nodded in agreement. Then he turned to her.
‘I really love you,’ he said. He smiled, and, suddenly, fingered his pocket.
Polly looked at him.
Suddenly, the bay, which had been completely free of boats – all shipping had been ordered to stay away from the region as a precautionary measure – was split apart by a roaring noise, and the tranquillity of the scene was shattered.
They both stared for a moment, then sat up straight.
‘Is that…’ said Polly.
‘Oh my God, it’s only the bloody Riva,’ said Huckle. Reuben’s beautiful Italian motorboat had been his pride and joy.
Polly craned her eyes against the sun.
‘Who is that?’
‘No way.’
Resplendent in too-tight red shorts, a vest top with a gold necklace and the ubiquitous bug-shaped Oakley glasses was Reuben, standing up at the front waving like mad; and next to him, wearing a fuchsia-pink dress that billowed in the wind, was Kerensa.
‘NO WAY!’
Polly and Huckle jumped up, waving, as Reuben and Kerensa slooshed the boat in with some style and tied her up at the jetty, with Huckle’s help.
‘What on earth?’ said Huckle. ‘Did you steal this?’
‘Nope,’ said Reuben, grinning broadly.
‘Ooh, chips,’ said Kerensa, helping herself to Polly’s. ‘Hey, what’s up?’
‘Um, there was a huge storm.’
‘Oh yeah, I heard about that in the papers. We were in London. Anything happen?’
‘Never mind,’ said Polly, who was suddenly far more interested in what they were up to. ‘What were you doing in London?’
‘Well,’ said Reuben, puffing out his little chest. ‘It was brilliant obviously being Kerensa’s sex slave…’
‘It was nice,’ agreed Kerensa. ‘But I couldn’t take that fricking micro-scooter one second longer. Man, it was a buzz kill.’
‘So,’ said Reuben, ‘I just invented something impossibly brilliant and sold it.’
They looked at him. There was a very long pause.
‘What is it?’ said Polly suspiciously.
‘If I could explain it to you, they wouldn’t pay me all that money for it, duh,’ said Reuben. ‘And I haven’t even been to Shanghai yet. You could go to jail for knowing.’
‘What IS it?’ said Polly.
Reuben rolled his eyes.
‘Okay, how deep is your understanding of the mathematics of quantum code in lithium inputs? Because I guess we’d start there.’
‘Okay, never mind,’ said Polly. ‘No. All I need to understand at this point is lighthouse maintenance.’
‘Which you don’t even need,’ said Huckle. ‘Because I am home and I am staying.’
He kissed her on the shoulder.
‘Oh yeah, Huckle’s home,’ said Polly, seeing as no one had mentioned it. Kerensa and Reuben just shook their heads.
‘What?’ said Polly, a touch of doubt in her eyes. They were both looking at him with furious expressions.
‘How could it have taken you so long, man?’ said Reuben. ‘Seriously, how could you even go without pipe for all that time?’
‘Don’t be vulgar,’ said Kerensa. ‘But really, Huckle, Reuben’s right: how the fuck could you stay away for so long?’
Huckle held up his hands.
‘I know, I know. I was an idiot.’
‘Unbelievable,’ said Kerensa. ‘Of course, Polly was fighting them off all over town.’
‘Of course I WASN’T,’ said Polly. ‘Duh.’
‘Sssh,’ said Kerensa. ‘I’m reminding him how incredibly attractive you are, in case he thinks about heading off again.’
‘Which I only did in the first place for that bloody van, I should point out.’
‘Yes, that van you earned the money for two days after you got there,’ said Kerensa. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter now,’ she went on. ‘Reuben! Buy my friend a bakery! And I’ll put you in sex prison again.’
‘I would like that,’ said Reuben. ‘Okay.’
‘No!’ said Polly. ‘We’ve been through this. I don’t want you to buy me anything. I want to make it on my own. And I can, Nan the Van and I are doing brilliantly. Well, we’re doing okay. We’re doing fine.’
They all turned to look at the Little Beach Street Bakery. Its facing had taken a real battering in the night, and the paint was peeling off one corner. It looked so sad. Inside, however, two people were moving about. Polly screwed her eyes up.
‘Well bloody hell,’ she said. ‘Looks like Jayden’s mum is in tonight.’
‘What do you mean?’
She indicated the two shadowy figures.
‘If Jayden’s mum is in, Jayden is out…’
If you screwed your eyes up, you could just make out, inside the dusty windows of the bakery, Jayden and Flora embracing passionately.
‘She’s going to miss that tide again,’ predicted Polly.
‘Jayden did an interview for the local news,’ said Huckle. ‘I saw them do it. They wanted you and I said I’d ask you. Then I forgot. Sorry.’
‘Oh God,’ said Polly. ‘I couldn’t think of anything worse. Thank goodness.’
Just then, a forlorn figure walked past them from out of the back door of the bakery. He was carrying a small case, and a petty cash tin. He stopped to look at Jayden and Flora, who didn’t even notice him, then carried on past the front door.
It was Malcolm. His face was downcast.
‘Hey, numbnuts!’ shouted Reuben.
‘Stop that, Reuben,’ said Polly. She couldn’t even hate Malcolm now, not after everything that had happened. Now that she had everyone back around her. It didn’t seem to matter now, how he had made her feel.
Malcolm had stopped, as if it was totally inevitable that everybody in Polbearne would call him a numbnuts.
‘What?’
‘How much for your bakery? That you’ve totally ruined.’
Malcolm snuffled. ‘It’s not my bakery,’ he said. ‘It’s my mum’s. She… she doesn’t want me working there any more.’