Christmas at Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 45
‘Yeah, well, you’re the one who told me not to.’
‘Well obviously I was wrong,’ said Polly, trying to be breezy.
‘You weren’t wrong,’ growled Flora. ‘I was black affronted up there.’
‘Oh my sweet pea,’ sighed Jayden. ‘I love you so much.’
‘I’m going home,’ said Flora.
‘I’ll come with you to talk you round,’ said Jayden eagerly, and looked at Polly.
‘Sure, you can go,’ she said wearily. She’d stay and clear up. It was fine. She had nothing more pressing to do.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Polly went outside. The sky was low and it was utterly freezing. She walked forward a little, just pleased to be out of the crush and the pressure and the noise inside, even though the party was starting to wind down. Even models and actresses had mums somewhere who needed them home for Christmas morning, she reflected. Sleek black cars were pulling up to the doorway; people were clutching the goody bags Santa had given everyone. Thankfully there were other people to help clean up, and she might leave a lot of it to them; Polly felt utterly exhausted.
She wandered across the busy driveway and round to the side of the house, with its path down to the private beach. It was so beautiful there, so calm and peaceful as the noise from the house receded and she could hear the heavy black waves pounding on the beach. She sighed. Christmas Eve. And this year had started out so promisingly…
‘Hey.’
She turned round. Kerensa was walking along wrapped in a huge blanket, wearing a shapeless pair of black pregnancy trousers and a huge oversized hoody that did nothing to minimise her enormous bump.
‘There you are!’ said Polly. ‘Everyone’s been worried sick! Reuben didn’t even do one of his speeches!’
‘Well thank heavens for small mercies,’ said Kerensa. Polly went closer. Kerensa was shivering with the cold.
‘Come inside,’ said Polly. ‘You’ll freeze. It’s not good for you to be out here like this.’
‘Are all those people gone?’ said Kerensa. ‘I just feel like I can’t face it. That they’ll all stare and judge me and… Oh God, I don’t know what’s happened to me. I don’t know.’
Polly grabbed her friend’s arm.
‘You’re punishing yourself,’ she said. ‘And you don’t even know if you have to.’
‘Oh, I have to,’ said Kerensa.
Polly took her hand. It was icy cold.
‘Come on,’ she said firmly. ‘Inside. We’ll go through the tradesmen’s entrance. None of that lot will think to look there.’
‘Thanks for opening up,’ said the tall blonde man, sitting in the chilly puffin café.
‘It’s all right,’ said Bernard. ‘I didn’t know where else to go either.’
They glanced around.
‘You know, if your girlfriend can help,’ said Bernard, ‘it will make all the difference to us. All of it.’
Huckle nodded. He stared out of the window; there was a hint of snow in the heavy clouds above. It looked like it might unleash itself at any moment.
‘I mean, she’ll be a total hero,’ said Bernard.
‘Yeah, yeah, I know. She’s a total hero. She helps everyone. Yeah, that’s great. Thanks.’
‘Are things all right between you two?’
Huckle picked up his beer and put it down again.
‘Ah, well. You know. Life gets complicated.’
‘You don’t need to tell me,’ said Bernard. ‘I’ve got two million puffins to rehouse.’
They clinked glasses miserably.
‘Happy Christmas,’ said Bernard. ‘Who knows where we’ll be next year?’
‘Surely it can’t be worse than this,’ said Huckle. Outside the puffins flew and danced in the sky. They all seemed to be having a great time.
‘I’ve got some frozen chips in the freezer,’ said Bernard. ‘Want me to stick some on?’
‘Sure,’ said Huckle, sighing. He glanced at his phone. No messages.
But he didn’t need to speak to her; he knew exactly what she’d be doing: bustling through the kitchen, her cheeks pink from the heat of the stove, a tendril of that lovely pale hair cascading down her face, sleeves rolled up, checking everything was coming out on time, arranging delicious morsels on plates, yelling at Jayden, ticking over, completely immersed, completely sure of herself. But never, ever too tired or busy not to look up at him in total delight every time he walked through the door.
He missed it so much it felt like a physical pain.
He thought back over the last evening. They had been strange and awful all at once. He drank some more beer. Even his parents had been out of reach, which wasn’t like them. He sighed again.
‘Something up?’ said Bernard, coming back with the chips. Huckle wasn’t hungry, but he took one listlessly. It was soggy. Bernard really, really needed someone to help with his catering.
‘Nothing.’
‘Seriously? Because, you know. It’s late. And you’re here.’
‘Yeah,’ said Huckle.
‘You know,’ said Bernard, ‘anyone who wants to save a puffin sanctuary… I think they’re a pretty good bet.’
Huckle smiled ruefully.
‘She just… I mean, she just doesn’t want to get married, I don’t think.’
‘Hmmm,’ said Bernard. ‘Maybe she’s more like that fox Selina. Cunning. Treating you mean and reeling you in like a swordfish.’
‘A swordfish?’ said Huckle. ‘Anyway, she’s not like that.’
‘Hmmm,’ said Bernard again.
There was a pause.
‘Bernard, could I ask you something?’
And he never told Polly afterwards that it had been Bernard, of all people, the puffin man, who’d confirmed what she’d been telling him all along: that it was absolutely none of his fucking business.
‘You go back. Tail between your legs. And you smile and be really, really nice to the puffling. Baby. I mean baby.’
He paused.
‘And that minxy girlfriend of yours… I’d close that deal, if it’s making you this crazy.’
‘Hmmm,’ said Huckle. ‘That’s one point of view. Or maybe… maybe she just doesn’t want to marry me. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I should cut my losses now.’
‘Well obviously I was wrong,’ said Polly, trying to be breezy.
‘You weren’t wrong,’ growled Flora. ‘I was black affronted up there.’
‘Oh my sweet pea,’ sighed Jayden. ‘I love you so much.’
‘I’m going home,’ said Flora.
‘I’ll come with you to talk you round,’ said Jayden eagerly, and looked at Polly.
‘Sure, you can go,’ she said wearily. She’d stay and clear up. It was fine. She had nothing more pressing to do.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Polly went outside. The sky was low and it was utterly freezing. She walked forward a little, just pleased to be out of the crush and the pressure and the noise inside, even though the party was starting to wind down. Even models and actresses had mums somewhere who needed them home for Christmas morning, she reflected. Sleek black cars were pulling up to the doorway; people were clutching the goody bags Santa had given everyone. Thankfully there were other people to help clean up, and she might leave a lot of it to them; Polly felt utterly exhausted.
She wandered across the busy driveway and round to the side of the house, with its path down to the private beach. It was so beautiful there, so calm and peaceful as the noise from the house receded and she could hear the heavy black waves pounding on the beach. She sighed. Christmas Eve. And this year had started out so promisingly…
‘Hey.’
She turned round. Kerensa was walking along wrapped in a huge blanket, wearing a shapeless pair of black pregnancy trousers and a huge oversized hoody that did nothing to minimise her enormous bump.
‘There you are!’ said Polly. ‘Everyone’s been worried sick! Reuben didn’t even do one of his speeches!’
‘Well thank heavens for small mercies,’ said Kerensa. Polly went closer. Kerensa was shivering with the cold.
‘Come inside,’ said Polly. ‘You’ll freeze. It’s not good for you to be out here like this.’
‘Are all those people gone?’ said Kerensa. ‘I just feel like I can’t face it. That they’ll all stare and judge me and… Oh God, I don’t know what’s happened to me. I don’t know.’
Polly grabbed her friend’s arm.
‘You’re punishing yourself,’ she said. ‘And you don’t even know if you have to.’
‘Oh, I have to,’ said Kerensa.
Polly took her hand. It was icy cold.
‘Come on,’ she said firmly. ‘Inside. We’ll go through the tradesmen’s entrance. None of that lot will think to look there.’
‘Thanks for opening up,’ said the tall blonde man, sitting in the chilly puffin café.
‘It’s all right,’ said Bernard. ‘I didn’t know where else to go either.’
They glanced around.
‘You know, if your girlfriend can help,’ said Bernard, ‘it will make all the difference to us. All of it.’
Huckle nodded. He stared out of the window; there was a hint of snow in the heavy clouds above. It looked like it might unleash itself at any moment.
‘I mean, she’ll be a total hero,’ said Bernard.
‘Yeah, yeah, I know. She’s a total hero. She helps everyone. Yeah, that’s great. Thanks.’
‘Are things all right between you two?’
Huckle picked up his beer and put it down again.
‘Ah, well. You know. Life gets complicated.’
‘You don’t need to tell me,’ said Bernard. ‘I’ve got two million puffins to rehouse.’
They clinked glasses miserably.
‘Happy Christmas,’ said Bernard. ‘Who knows where we’ll be next year?’
‘Surely it can’t be worse than this,’ said Huckle. Outside the puffins flew and danced in the sky. They all seemed to be having a great time.
‘I’ve got some frozen chips in the freezer,’ said Bernard. ‘Want me to stick some on?’
‘Sure,’ said Huckle, sighing. He glanced at his phone. No messages.
But he didn’t need to speak to her; he knew exactly what she’d be doing: bustling through the kitchen, her cheeks pink from the heat of the stove, a tendril of that lovely pale hair cascading down her face, sleeves rolled up, checking everything was coming out on time, arranging delicious morsels on plates, yelling at Jayden, ticking over, completely immersed, completely sure of herself. But never, ever too tired or busy not to look up at him in total delight every time he walked through the door.
He missed it so much it felt like a physical pain.
He thought back over the last evening. They had been strange and awful all at once. He drank some more beer. Even his parents had been out of reach, which wasn’t like them. He sighed again.
‘Something up?’ said Bernard, coming back with the chips. Huckle wasn’t hungry, but he took one listlessly. It was soggy. Bernard really, really needed someone to help with his catering.
‘Nothing.’
‘Seriously? Because, you know. It’s late. And you’re here.’
‘Yeah,’ said Huckle.
‘You know,’ said Bernard, ‘anyone who wants to save a puffin sanctuary… I think they’re a pretty good bet.’
Huckle smiled ruefully.
‘She just… I mean, she just doesn’t want to get married, I don’t think.’
‘Hmmm,’ said Bernard. ‘Maybe she’s more like that fox Selina. Cunning. Treating you mean and reeling you in like a swordfish.’
‘A swordfish?’ said Huckle. ‘Anyway, she’s not like that.’
‘Hmmm,’ said Bernard again.
There was a pause.
‘Bernard, could I ask you something?’
And he never told Polly afterwards that it had been Bernard, of all people, the puffin man, who’d confirmed what she’d been telling him all along: that it was absolutely none of his fucking business.
‘You go back. Tail between your legs. And you smile and be really, really nice to the puffling. Baby. I mean baby.’
He paused.
‘And that minxy girlfriend of yours… I’d close that deal, if it’s making you this crazy.’
‘Hmmm,’ said Huckle. ‘That’s one point of view. Or maybe… maybe she just doesn’t want to marry me. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I should cut my losses now.’
