Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 33
‘Oh God,’ said Polly. ‘Oh God, that’s awful.’
Tarnie rubbed his neck furiously.
‘It was a long time ago,’ he said, looking at the photo again.
‘Did they… did they find…’
‘Nothing,’ said Tarnie. ‘Not a stick washed up. That’s unusual, you know. Normally… normally the sea brings them home. But not this time.’
‘How old were you?’ asked Polly.
‘Nineteen,’ said Tarnie shortly.
‘Oh my God,’ said Polly. ‘Oh my God, that’s awful.’
A thought struck her.
‘Oh my God,’ she said again. ‘She’s Jayden’s ghost. That’s what she was doing down there.’
The horror struck Polly and she sat down.
‘I saw her, you know. I saw her before. She wasn’t taking a random walk along the harbour. Jayden says other people have seen her too.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘She’s… she’s the ghost, Tarn. She goes down to the harbour and stares out to sea… I didn’t know what she was doing.’
Tarnie looked at her, confused. Polly clutched the picture in her hands.
‘I think she’s looking out for them,’ she said. ‘I think she’s still waiting for them to come home.’
Tarnie’s face turned glum and he nodded thoughtfully.
‘For a long time she wouldn’t accept it,’ he said slowly. ‘Sent the coastguard out so often they had to stop her doing it. She just said, over and over again, “They’re out there.” And people felt so sorry for her. It was always hard to make ends meet, and it suddenly got a lot harder. She got a little money from the union, used it to buy the bakeries back in the days when Mount Polbearne could support two; the old bakers had seen the writing on the wall, moved to the mainland like everybody else. It’s never been very good, but it’s all she has, all she’s ever had.’
‘I feel awful,’ said Polly, remembering the mean thoughts she’d had and words she’d said to someone who’d experienced worse than she could ever imagine.
‘I thought… you would think she’d have accepted it by now,’ said Tarnie, shaking his head. ‘It’s been nearly twenty years.’
‘Did she only have the one child?’ asked Polly.
‘Yes,’ said Tarnie. ‘Just Jim. He was the apple of her eye.’
‘She hasn’t given up,’ said Polly. ‘She’s still waiting for them.’
Tarnie looked round the small, confined space, at the picture she couldn’t even bear to have on the wall.
‘Now that is dreadful,’ he said in a quiet voice.
In silence they packed up the rest of the things Polly thought Gillian might need, then Tarnie took them to the hospital along with a large box of chocolates they found in Muriel’s shop. Polly waved him off feeling guiltier than ever, and vowing to make allowances from now on.
Chapter Eleven
That day, for the first time since she’d arrived, Polly started to bake with a completely clear conscience. To try to assuage her guilt over Gillian Manse, she set about making a little basket of goodies for her: sugar bread rings and brioches and pains au chocolat. It was busy, intricate work and she enjoyed it. Halfway through the afternoon, she took Neil over to the window.
‘Okay, come on then,’ she said sadly. Sunshine was glinting off the water, lighting up the port, and it looked beautiful outside. ‘Practise flying?’
Neil eeped crossly. She put him on the rim of the window and he hopped down to the floor again, looking for crumbs.
‘No more crumbs!’ she said, guiltily conscious of the brioche she’d given him. ‘You really are getting fat.’
She put him up on the window rim once more.
‘Now I don’t want to push you out,’ she said. ‘I’ve had enough of people falling off things for one day. But you really have to… you are really going to have to go. I have to take you back to this… Well, let’s not talk about it. But you do have to go. And you have to be ready.’
Amazingly, Neil eyed her suspiciously, then flapped his wings a little. His injured wing was good as new; you’d never have been able to tell anything had ever been the matter.
‘Yes!’ said Polly. ‘That’s it! Why don’t you fly out and catch a fish?’
Neil appeared to be looking at the sea quite intently. His little head tilted as the seagulls made loud throaty noises, involving themselves in some tussle or another. He moved his claws from side to side. Polly stopped flouring her surfaces and came over to watch properly. Down on the harbourside she saw the fishermen hanging out – no Tarnie – having a smoke and a chat. Jayden waved, and when he saw what she was doing, he cupped his hands out to the little bird.
‘Ne-il! Ne-il!’ they all chanted, to encourage him to come forward. Jayden was waving a fish head at him. Polly smiled.
‘See?’ she said. ‘It’s okay. On you go. On you go!’
She nudged him forward, very gently. Slowly at first, Neil lifted his wings, then, as gracefully as a slightly plump baby puffin can, launched himself sturdily into the air.
Polly clapped her hands together.
‘Go, Neil!’ she shouted. ‘Go, my boy! Go!’
He got a little nervous at that and fluttered his wings slightly too fast and bent over to the right, but the fishermen urging him on made him concentrate and he glided, rather jerkily and inexpertly, straight into Jayden’s hands, where a tasty piece of fish was waiting for him.
‘YAY!’ they all cheered.
‘Yay!’ echoed Polly inside the flat, grinning. ‘Hang on, let me get my camera.’
She grabbed her phone, and as Jayden directed Neil back up to her window and let him go again, she took a photo of him in mid flight, the boys laughing behind him.
After that, he wanted to fly up and down for pieces of brioche and fish all afternoon. Polly reflected that this probably wasn’t very good training for being released back into the wild, but consoled herself with the thought that it was good flying practice.
The brioches and pains au chocolat and sugar rings came out perfectly. Polly crept down with two baskets and left them for Tarnie, with strict instructions to share one of them with the boys and take the other to Mrs Manse in hospital. She had heard from him that they were keeping her in for a few days for observation, partly for her head and partly to check on her mental state. She was happy about this, but worried about Gillian’s shop. If it wasn’t cleaned up, they’d get mice, for sure. She spoke to Muriel in the grocery shop.
Tarnie rubbed his neck furiously.
‘It was a long time ago,’ he said, looking at the photo again.
‘Did they… did they find…’
‘Nothing,’ said Tarnie. ‘Not a stick washed up. That’s unusual, you know. Normally… normally the sea brings them home. But not this time.’
‘How old were you?’ asked Polly.
‘Nineteen,’ said Tarnie shortly.
‘Oh my God,’ said Polly. ‘Oh my God, that’s awful.’
A thought struck her.
‘Oh my God,’ she said again. ‘She’s Jayden’s ghost. That’s what she was doing down there.’
The horror struck Polly and she sat down.
‘I saw her, you know. I saw her before. She wasn’t taking a random walk along the harbour. Jayden says other people have seen her too.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘She’s… she’s the ghost, Tarn. She goes down to the harbour and stares out to sea… I didn’t know what she was doing.’
Tarnie looked at her, confused. Polly clutched the picture in her hands.
‘I think she’s looking out for them,’ she said. ‘I think she’s still waiting for them to come home.’
Tarnie’s face turned glum and he nodded thoughtfully.
‘For a long time she wouldn’t accept it,’ he said slowly. ‘Sent the coastguard out so often they had to stop her doing it. She just said, over and over again, “They’re out there.” And people felt so sorry for her. It was always hard to make ends meet, and it suddenly got a lot harder. She got a little money from the union, used it to buy the bakeries back in the days when Mount Polbearne could support two; the old bakers had seen the writing on the wall, moved to the mainland like everybody else. It’s never been very good, but it’s all she has, all she’s ever had.’
‘I feel awful,’ said Polly, remembering the mean thoughts she’d had and words she’d said to someone who’d experienced worse than she could ever imagine.
‘I thought… you would think she’d have accepted it by now,’ said Tarnie, shaking his head. ‘It’s been nearly twenty years.’
‘Did she only have the one child?’ asked Polly.
‘Yes,’ said Tarnie. ‘Just Jim. He was the apple of her eye.’
‘She hasn’t given up,’ said Polly. ‘She’s still waiting for them.’
Tarnie looked round the small, confined space, at the picture she couldn’t even bear to have on the wall.
‘Now that is dreadful,’ he said in a quiet voice.
In silence they packed up the rest of the things Polly thought Gillian might need, then Tarnie took them to the hospital along with a large box of chocolates they found in Muriel’s shop. Polly waved him off feeling guiltier than ever, and vowing to make allowances from now on.
Chapter Eleven
That day, for the first time since she’d arrived, Polly started to bake with a completely clear conscience. To try to assuage her guilt over Gillian Manse, she set about making a little basket of goodies for her: sugar bread rings and brioches and pains au chocolat. It was busy, intricate work and she enjoyed it. Halfway through the afternoon, she took Neil over to the window.
‘Okay, come on then,’ she said sadly. Sunshine was glinting off the water, lighting up the port, and it looked beautiful outside. ‘Practise flying?’
Neil eeped crossly. She put him on the rim of the window and he hopped down to the floor again, looking for crumbs.
‘No more crumbs!’ she said, guiltily conscious of the brioche she’d given him. ‘You really are getting fat.’
She put him up on the window rim once more.
‘Now I don’t want to push you out,’ she said. ‘I’ve had enough of people falling off things for one day. But you really have to… you are really going to have to go. I have to take you back to this… Well, let’s not talk about it. But you do have to go. And you have to be ready.’
Amazingly, Neil eyed her suspiciously, then flapped his wings a little. His injured wing was good as new; you’d never have been able to tell anything had ever been the matter.
‘Yes!’ said Polly. ‘That’s it! Why don’t you fly out and catch a fish?’
Neil appeared to be looking at the sea quite intently. His little head tilted as the seagulls made loud throaty noises, involving themselves in some tussle or another. He moved his claws from side to side. Polly stopped flouring her surfaces and came over to watch properly. Down on the harbourside she saw the fishermen hanging out – no Tarnie – having a smoke and a chat. Jayden waved, and when he saw what she was doing, he cupped his hands out to the little bird.
‘Ne-il! Ne-il!’ they all chanted, to encourage him to come forward. Jayden was waving a fish head at him. Polly smiled.
‘See?’ she said. ‘It’s okay. On you go. On you go!’
She nudged him forward, very gently. Slowly at first, Neil lifted his wings, then, as gracefully as a slightly plump baby puffin can, launched himself sturdily into the air.
Polly clapped her hands together.
‘Go, Neil!’ she shouted. ‘Go, my boy! Go!’
He got a little nervous at that and fluttered his wings slightly too fast and bent over to the right, but the fishermen urging him on made him concentrate and he glided, rather jerkily and inexpertly, straight into Jayden’s hands, where a tasty piece of fish was waiting for him.
‘YAY!’ they all cheered.
‘Yay!’ echoed Polly inside the flat, grinning. ‘Hang on, let me get my camera.’
She grabbed her phone, and as Jayden directed Neil back up to her window and let him go again, she took a photo of him in mid flight, the boys laughing behind him.
After that, he wanted to fly up and down for pieces of brioche and fish all afternoon. Polly reflected that this probably wasn’t very good training for being released back into the wild, but consoled herself with the thought that it was good flying practice.
The brioches and pains au chocolat and sugar rings came out perfectly. Polly crept down with two baskets and left them for Tarnie, with strict instructions to share one of them with the boys and take the other to Mrs Manse in hospital. She had heard from him that they were keeping her in for a few days for observation, partly for her head and partly to check on her mental state. She was happy about this, but worried about Gillian’s shop. If it wasn’t cleaned up, they’d get mice, for sure. She spoke to Muriel in the grocery shop.
