Christmas at Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 22
‘No, look. Can’t you donate to keep it open?’
‘No,’ said Reuben. ‘I’ll make them an offer for it, though. Hey, I could build a nice summer house there.’
‘A mile away from your actual house?’
‘That would be just about right for my parents,’ said Reuben. ‘Although I could probably still hear them. Plus, I could have both beaches. Hell, yeah, I can see this coming together.’
‘Nooo,’ said Polly. ‘Huckle, tell him.’
‘I think I’ve known Reuben long enough to never try to tell him anything.’
‘Well why don’t you buy it and move the sanctuary and put all the puffins somewhere else?’ said Polly.
‘What, and ruin someone else’s beach house? Yeah, good luck with that, taking ninety-five years to get through court and ruining everybody’s lives.’
Reuben’s second sandwich arrived and he fell on it with gusto.
‘See,’ he said. ‘One is good, but more is better.’
‘Reuben!’ said Polly in total dismay.
‘What?’ said Reuben. ‘I’m celebrating getting rid of those stinky puffins.’
By the time they’d finished lunch, the light was fading and absolutely nobody was talking to Reuben. They made their goodbyes in silence, Polly hugging Kerensa for a long time. As they headed back along the cliff path, Huckle looked at Polly with concern. They were approaching the puffin sanctuary, and as if by unspoken agreement, they both turned towards the entrance.
The place was just closing up as they got down there. Bernie and Kara were walking round checking water levels and fencing, to stop local wildlife getting at the birds.
‘Hey,’ said Bernard.
‘Hey there, is that Neil?’ said Kara. ‘Hello, little fella!’
Neil, who’d seemed to sense where they were, had hopped out on to Polly’s shoulder. Now he fluttered around the area cheerfully before returning to his perch, rubbing his head against her neck in case she was considering leaving him there again.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said, patting him reassuringly. ‘You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying here with me.’
‘Eep,’ said the little puffin.
‘How’s it going?’ Polly asked Bernard.
Bernard looked glum.
‘We tried to organise some Christmas parties here,’ he said. ‘We thought maybe offices would like to come down, you know.’
‘Come down and look at birds in the cold?’
‘Yeah,’ said Bernard. ‘For Christmas, like.’
‘In the dark and the cold? Look at birds on the sea?’
‘We’ve got a café.’
They had a horrible café, which sold cold greasy fish and chips to parties of schoolchildren under fluorescent lights. Polly looked at it.
‘Hmm,’ she said.
She looked at Huckle, and Huckle looked at her.
The room itself was actually rather nice: classically proportioned, with big windows overlooking the rocks and the ocean; birds flying everywhere. It had horrible formica tables and chairs. Polly wondered what it would look like with great big long traditional wooden tables and benches. And fresh baking and…
She shook her head. That was ridiculous. She didn’t want to expand. She couldn’t.
She thought about Flora, about to finish her patisserie course. She thought about the number of young unemployed there were in Cornwall. She heaved a sigh.
Huckle glanced at her. Polly mentally shook herself.
‘How much money,’ she said to Bernard, ‘do you need to see you through? If we could look at it again, maybe in the summer.’
Bernard looked momentarily startled, then delighted. Polly worried in case he thought she was rich. People did when they saw the bakery. She bit her lip.
Bernard named a figure. ‘It’d take us through to the summer,’ he said weakly. ‘And then, hopefully, it’ll pick up again with the season. Especially if we maybe changed our caterers…’
Polly blinked. It was a lot. It really was a lot.
She looked around the empty facility. The moon had come up – low, still, given the time of year, but it was a clear, cold evening, and the moonlight shimmered on the waves. Under the stars, slowly popping out even at this hour, she could see the birds dancing, whirring and diving in the sea, crossing the sky, the cold nothing to them with their heavy oiled wings. Up on the cliff there were nests on every available surface, thousands of birds banding together, chattering, diving, heading out for fish; small pufflings stamping up and down in that funny way they had that reminded Polly of toddlers wearing wellington boots.
She heaved a sigh and pulled out her phone.
‘What are you doing?’ said Huckle.
‘I’m invoicing Reuben in advance for catering his Christmas,’ said Polly.
He read over her shoulder; it was the exact amount the puffin sanctuary needed. He took the phone off her and adjusted the total.
‘What are you doing?’ said Polly.
‘It means we might get a holiday out of it,’ said Huckle, kissing her. ‘Cor, there’s no messing about with you when you’ve got an idea in your head, is there?’
‘Thanks for being so understanding,’ said Polly, nuzzling into him. ‘I don’t deserve you.’
‘You don’t,’ said Huckle. ‘But hey, here I am anyway. Dealing with the fact that my very, very, very busy fiancée has just taken on a massive extra job.’
‘Look on the bright side,’ said Polly. ‘If you sous-chef for me, you won’t have to spend any time talking to Reuben’s parents.’
Chapter Twelve
The next few days passed in a blur. Polly engaged Selina, who had a tendency to get distracted but when she applied herself was perfectly capable, and taught her, painstakingly, how to turn out perfect buns and rolls and croissants, doing most of the prep herself and leaving the selling to Jayden, who was desperate for any scrap of overtime he could get.
He was still planning on buying a ring for Flora when she got back from college. Polly still thought they were far too young, but didn’t mention it. In fact she was slightly admiring. The idea of organising anything as complex as a wedding was far too much for her to consider at the moment; Jayden’s confident attitude was impressive in its own way.
She knew she ought to buy Huckle a present, but she didn’t know when or how. Online stores didn’t really deliver to Mount Polbearne without a hefty surcharge, and even when they did, it was still something of an ordeal to deal with Dawson complaining about having to heave stuff across the causeway, so the best thing to do was to go to a big town. She managed finally to sneak an afternoon off with Kerensa. She was going to attempt some shopping in Exeter so she could go and see her mother, too.
‘No,’ said Reuben. ‘I’ll make them an offer for it, though. Hey, I could build a nice summer house there.’
‘A mile away from your actual house?’
‘That would be just about right for my parents,’ said Reuben. ‘Although I could probably still hear them. Plus, I could have both beaches. Hell, yeah, I can see this coming together.’
‘Nooo,’ said Polly. ‘Huckle, tell him.’
‘I think I’ve known Reuben long enough to never try to tell him anything.’
‘Well why don’t you buy it and move the sanctuary and put all the puffins somewhere else?’ said Polly.
‘What, and ruin someone else’s beach house? Yeah, good luck with that, taking ninety-five years to get through court and ruining everybody’s lives.’
Reuben’s second sandwich arrived and he fell on it with gusto.
‘See,’ he said. ‘One is good, but more is better.’
‘Reuben!’ said Polly in total dismay.
‘What?’ said Reuben. ‘I’m celebrating getting rid of those stinky puffins.’
By the time they’d finished lunch, the light was fading and absolutely nobody was talking to Reuben. They made their goodbyes in silence, Polly hugging Kerensa for a long time. As they headed back along the cliff path, Huckle looked at Polly with concern. They were approaching the puffin sanctuary, and as if by unspoken agreement, they both turned towards the entrance.
The place was just closing up as they got down there. Bernie and Kara were walking round checking water levels and fencing, to stop local wildlife getting at the birds.
‘Hey,’ said Bernard.
‘Hey there, is that Neil?’ said Kara. ‘Hello, little fella!’
Neil, who’d seemed to sense where they were, had hopped out on to Polly’s shoulder. Now he fluttered around the area cheerfully before returning to his perch, rubbing his head against her neck in case she was considering leaving him there again.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said, patting him reassuringly. ‘You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying here with me.’
‘Eep,’ said the little puffin.
‘How’s it going?’ Polly asked Bernard.
Bernard looked glum.
‘We tried to organise some Christmas parties here,’ he said. ‘We thought maybe offices would like to come down, you know.’
‘Come down and look at birds in the cold?’
‘Yeah,’ said Bernard. ‘For Christmas, like.’
‘In the dark and the cold? Look at birds on the sea?’
‘We’ve got a café.’
They had a horrible café, which sold cold greasy fish and chips to parties of schoolchildren under fluorescent lights. Polly looked at it.
‘Hmm,’ she said.
She looked at Huckle, and Huckle looked at her.
The room itself was actually rather nice: classically proportioned, with big windows overlooking the rocks and the ocean; birds flying everywhere. It had horrible formica tables and chairs. Polly wondered what it would look like with great big long traditional wooden tables and benches. And fresh baking and…
She shook her head. That was ridiculous. She didn’t want to expand. She couldn’t.
She thought about Flora, about to finish her patisserie course. She thought about the number of young unemployed there were in Cornwall. She heaved a sigh.
Huckle glanced at her. Polly mentally shook herself.
‘How much money,’ she said to Bernard, ‘do you need to see you through? If we could look at it again, maybe in the summer.’
Bernard looked momentarily startled, then delighted. Polly worried in case he thought she was rich. People did when they saw the bakery. She bit her lip.
Bernard named a figure. ‘It’d take us through to the summer,’ he said weakly. ‘And then, hopefully, it’ll pick up again with the season. Especially if we maybe changed our caterers…’
Polly blinked. It was a lot. It really was a lot.
She looked around the empty facility. The moon had come up – low, still, given the time of year, but it was a clear, cold evening, and the moonlight shimmered on the waves. Under the stars, slowly popping out even at this hour, she could see the birds dancing, whirring and diving in the sea, crossing the sky, the cold nothing to them with their heavy oiled wings. Up on the cliff there were nests on every available surface, thousands of birds banding together, chattering, diving, heading out for fish; small pufflings stamping up and down in that funny way they had that reminded Polly of toddlers wearing wellington boots.
She heaved a sigh and pulled out her phone.
‘What are you doing?’ said Huckle.
‘I’m invoicing Reuben in advance for catering his Christmas,’ said Polly.
He read over her shoulder; it was the exact amount the puffin sanctuary needed. He took the phone off her and adjusted the total.
‘What are you doing?’ said Polly.
‘It means we might get a holiday out of it,’ said Huckle, kissing her. ‘Cor, there’s no messing about with you when you’ve got an idea in your head, is there?’
‘Thanks for being so understanding,’ said Polly, nuzzling into him. ‘I don’t deserve you.’
‘You don’t,’ said Huckle. ‘But hey, here I am anyway. Dealing with the fact that my very, very, very busy fiancée has just taken on a massive extra job.’
‘Look on the bright side,’ said Polly. ‘If you sous-chef for me, you won’t have to spend any time talking to Reuben’s parents.’
Chapter Twelve
The next few days passed in a blur. Polly engaged Selina, who had a tendency to get distracted but when she applied herself was perfectly capable, and taught her, painstakingly, how to turn out perfect buns and rolls and croissants, doing most of the prep herself and leaving the selling to Jayden, who was desperate for any scrap of overtime he could get.
He was still planning on buying a ring for Flora when she got back from college. Polly still thought they were far too young, but didn’t mention it. In fact she was slightly admiring. The idea of organising anything as complex as a wedding was far too much for her to consider at the moment; Jayden’s confident attitude was impressive in its own way.
She knew she ought to buy Huckle a present, but she didn’t know when or how. Online stores didn’t really deliver to Mount Polbearne without a hefty surcharge, and even when they did, it was still something of an ordeal to deal with Dawson complaining about having to heave stuff across the causeway, so the best thing to do was to go to a big town. She managed finally to sneak an afternoon off with Kerensa. She was going to attempt some shopping in Exeter so she could go and see her mother, too.
