Summer at Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 89

It could wait. They could wait. The diamonds that glinted in the ad: they looked so cold.
But here, with the heat and warmth of the rising bread, the golden evening, the perfect sky going down on a perfect summer’s day, when the winding streets of Mount Polbearne had been full of happy children with sandwiches and buckets and spades and ice creams, and cheerful, relaxed parents, and Jayden, taking time after the lunchtime shift to go and fondly polish the new and improved taxi boat Reuben had bought the town, only spoiling it slightly by suggesting the town might show its gratitude by electing him mayor or making him king or something… here, all Huckle felt was warmth, in the room, in his heart, in the smile of the strawberry-blonde girl with the dab of flour on the tip of her freckly nose, who even now was walking into the room, lighting up the room just by being there.
Epilogue
Polly stared at it. Jayden was crating up the van and didn’t see it.
‘Huckle!’
Huckle was awake, had got up when he smelled one of the many different coffee roasts Polly had been trying out in the kitchen for Nan the Coffee Van. Everyone was caffeinated all the time. He ran down the steps in twos.
‘What?’
Polly held it up. It had been lying on the front doorstep.
‘What is that?’
‘What do you think it is?’
Huckle rubbed his eyes.
‘A feather?’
‘A feather. Yes.’
Polly looked around.
‘An oily black feather. Who do we know who has oily black feathers?’
Huckle frowned. He’d thought this was kind of over.
Polly walked down another couple of steps. There was another one.
‘Oh Pol, come on, you don’t think…’
‘Who leaves a trail of black feathers?’
‘A sinister Yakuza gang,’ said Huckle. ‘Come on, I have three stops today, all beauticians, and you know what they’re like.’
Polly wasn’t listening. She’d gone round the far side of the lighthouse, past the little rockery made of shells some bored keeper had cultivated many decades ago. She vanished from view. There was a long silence. Huckle looked at the sun coming up. It had been the most glorious summer.
‘HUCKLE!!!!!!’
Huckle went round to the back of the lighthouse. There was nothing there, just rocks leading down to the other side of the headland, more lapping water.
He gasped.
‘No way.’
Silhouetted against the pink sky, Polly was bending down and staring, at a distance, but very, very intently, at a small, chubby bird with a yellow band around its foot.
The bird was staring back. Huckle wondered why Polly didn’t move forward, then he saw it.
The bird was in a nest.
Not only that, there was another bird there.
Not only THAT…
‘Bloody hell,’ he heard Polly say. ‘Is that an EGG?’
She put her hand out, and tentatively – glancing at the other bird, as if to check it was okay – the little puffin hopped out of the nest, then, with a highly familiar wobbly-toddler gait, marched up to Polly. Again glancing back at the nest, it carefully hopped on to her outstretched hand, then, a little more boldly, up her arm. Until, in a final swooping motion, Neil was on Polly’s shoulder, leaning in under her ear, eeping with all his might.
‘NEIL!!!!!!’
Huckle shook his head.
‘He came back,’ he said in disbelief.
Polly looked up at him, eyes shining.
‘Everyone came back,’ she said. ‘Oh my good lord.’ She rubbed Neil behind his ears. ‘Are you going to be a daddy? Goodness!’
Huckle couldn’t help it: he let out a guffaw of laughter.
‘Cor,’ he said. ‘Well. You were right.’
Polly smiled. ‘I know,’ she said proudly. ‘Well, I had my doubts.’
‘No,’ said Huckle stoutly, coming and putting his arm around her shoulders and tickling Neil’s feathers too. The other bird in the nest eyed them both, eeping crossly.
‘Mrs Neil,’ said Huckle. ‘It will be an honour to make your acquaintance. Once you look slightly less likely to peck my eye out.’
‘She’s nesting,’ said Polly, her eyes wet. ‘Oh Huckle, Neil brought his family home.’
‘No,’ said Huckle. ‘You are his family too. He brought his family together.’
He looked out at the rising sun and suddenly realised what he was about to do.
He glanced around desperately and saw a bunch of seaweed on the rocks. Aw, Jeez. It wasn’t the four-carat diamond, but for now, it was going to have to do. He knelt down and brought Polly with him, as if they were going to take a closer look at the nest without threatening the other bird. Neil hopped off Polly and over to the nest, to show it off.
‘Yes, it’s amazing,’ Polly was saying to Neil. Huckle grabbed the seaweed.
‘You’re amazing,’ he said. His voice didn’t come out right, it was all croaky. He cleared his throat and tried again.
‘You’re amazing,’ he said. ‘Polly. You.’
She looked at him.
‘Thanks, darling,’ she said. ‘But how incredible…’
Huckle’s voice wouldn’t stay steady.
‘You have to pay me more attention than Neil just this once,’ he said, wobbling. ‘Because whilst we’re down here…’
‘What?’ said Polly, still staring awestruck at her bird.
‘Um, well, I have asked Neil’s permission, and…’
Polly looked at him. He had coiled the seaweed into the shape of a ring.
‘What’s this?’
‘I wanted to get you… I wanted to buy you the biggest diamond ring there ever was, but…’
Polly shook her head. ‘But who cares about things like that?’
Huckle shrugged.
‘I just wanted the best for you… Anyway, it doesn’t matter… Oh, I’m not making a very good job of this, but… will you marry —’
Neil grabbed the end of the seaweed and tried to eat it. Huckle stared at Polly, his eyes damp suddenly. Polly grabbed the seaweed back.
‘No,’ she said quietly but firmly to Neil. ‘I love you and it is good to see you back and have you home. But no. You are not allowed to eat the most beautiful… the most wonderful…’
She broke down.