Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 53
‘I don’t,’ he said. ‘I think you’re nice.’
‘Thank you, Jayden,’ said Polly.
They were coming in to the jetty and Polly hadn’t discovered half of what she needed to know.
‘So does he do this every summer?’ she demanded. ‘Find a newbie and go for it? Am I just this year’s model? Oh God, that island. He probably goes there all the time.’
Anyone less like a practised seducer than Tarnie she would have found hard to imagine. But then again, maybe that was his special skill. Making himself seem all rough and unsure, whilst knowing what he was doing the entire time.
Jayden shook his head firmly.
‘Neh,’ he said. ‘He’s scared stiff of Selina. I’ve never seen him do this before, honest.’
Polly glared at him.
‘It’s true,’ he said.
As the boat approached, Chris got out of the car, the breeze slapping spray against his forehead.
‘This your boyfriend?’ said Jayden.
‘Not quite,’ said Polly. ‘Good God, you’re all sex maniacs.’
She hauled herself up on to the jetty, furious but knowing she had to put it behind her for now, block it out of her head. It briefly occurred to her that if she had been tempted to feel a little bit smug when meeting Chris, that had now been well and truly kicked to the kerb.
Chapter Seventeen
Polly studied her ex, trying to ignore the ferment inside her. He looked different. Only three months apart, but it seemed longer. He didn’t look quite as pale and pasty as he had when the business was going under. His hair needed cutting, but it rather suited him a little longer. He had regained all the weight he had lost, and added a bit more, and the bags under his eyes appeared to be there for good. He was wearing an old checked shirt and jeans that looked slightly too small for him.
‘Hey,’ he said warily.
Chris for his part was struck by the change in Polly. She seemed distracted; rangier. Her skin had taken on a flattering light tan from being outside; her strawberry-blonde hair was casually pulled up in a ponytail, as if she didn’t care who saw her. Fronds tumbled round her face; the effect was pretty. She too was in old jeans, and a red T-shirt with powdery stuff on it; he assumed it must be flour. She looked younger than she had done; less strained. He felt a guilty stab, suddenly; he had had a lot to do with that.
‘Hey,’ she said. They looked at each other awkwardly, not sure what the right form of greeting was after so long apart. Then she said, ‘Come here, you’ and opened her arms, and he gave her a tentative hug. Polly noticed immediately the familiar smell of him; to Chris, Polly smelled different – there was a scent of baking, a hint of salt water.
‘Wow,’ he said finally. ‘You look really good.’
It suddenly struck Polly that she hadn’t made an effort for him coming. In the early days she would have made a big deal about getting done up for him; chosen what to wear carefully and put on lots of make-up. Now she only had a smear of lipstick on. She realised why – partly because it hadn’t occurred to her, and partly because of course she had thought she was dating somebody else – and felt immediately foolish. She tried to banish Tarnie to the back of her mind. She couldn’t think about that just now.
‘Er, well,’ she said. ‘Thanks. So do you.’
There was an uneasy pause, then Jayden coughed and reminded them that when the tide went out again he had to take a really awkward route round the headland, and Polly scampered down into the boat. Chris followed with his overnight bag, rather more clumsily.
‘So you’ve got your sea legs, then,’ he said, and Polly just smiled, whilst inside she wanted to die.
Jayden, obviously mindful of the trouble he’d caused already, was completely silent on the way back, with the result that it felt not unlike being rowed across the Styx by the ferryman. As they rounded the point into the bay, Polly looked at Chris, gratified by the expression on his face as the first rays of sunset hit the little town and made the slate and stone glow golden. The windows glinted, the cobbles shone, and the masts of the boats chimed.
‘Wow,’ he said. ‘Is this it? It’s really pretty.’
Polly smiled proudly. ‘I know.’
‘But you’re in the middle of bloody nowhere.’
Behind her, Polly could feel Jayden scowling.
‘That depends on where you’re standing,’ she said. ‘A lot of people like it this way.’
‘What’s it like in the winter?’
Polly thought back to the hammering storms and wild loneliness of earlier in the spring.
‘Cosy,’ she said quickly.
Chris looked unconvinced and took out his phone, seeming surprised when he couldn’t get a signal.
Jayden dropped them off without another word, just a slightly apologetic glance in Polly’s direction, which she didn’t reciprocate. One thing at a time. She didn’t know what she was going to do when she saw Tarnie, but it wasn’t going to be pretty.
‘I thought we might go for a drink,’ she said, wishing suddenly that there wasn’t just the one pub in the entire town. But Tarnie was over on the mainland anyway and she hadn’t heard from Huckle in weeks.
‘Perfect,’ said Chris. ‘Do they do fish and chips? I’d love some proper fish and chips.’
‘They certainly do!’ said Polly, glad that, so far at least, he didn’t seem to have come to Mount Polbearne just to give her a hard time.
They put Chris’s bag upstairs in the flat above the bakery. It had become a lot more cosy and pleasant since she’d started fixing up downstairs; the ovens kept it toasty warm, and it no longer felt damp and dank as it had done. She’d also – Tarnie had driven her – gone to the storage place one Wednesday afternoon and fetched her pictures, books and rugs, all the things Chris had never wanted in his minimalist paradise. There was now a warm red rug on the floor, and rows of books on rough brick and plank shelves, and some abstract landscapes that Chris had said looked like a child had done them, but Polly had liked them for exactly that reason. Cushions were scattered on the impeccable grey sofa. The effect was cluttered, but inviting and cosy.
‘Wow,’ said Chris, his face constricting. ‘Ha. This is a bit of a change from the Plymouth flat.’
Polly gave him a sideways glance.
‘I mean, it’s lovely.’
‘Thank you, Jayden,’ said Polly.
They were coming in to the jetty and Polly hadn’t discovered half of what she needed to know.
‘So does he do this every summer?’ she demanded. ‘Find a newbie and go for it? Am I just this year’s model? Oh God, that island. He probably goes there all the time.’
Anyone less like a practised seducer than Tarnie she would have found hard to imagine. But then again, maybe that was his special skill. Making himself seem all rough and unsure, whilst knowing what he was doing the entire time.
Jayden shook his head firmly.
‘Neh,’ he said. ‘He’s scared stiff of Selina. I’ve never seen him do this before, honest.’
Polly glared at him.
‘It’s true,’ he said.
As the boat approached, Chris got out of the car, the breeze slapping spray against his forehead.
‘This your boyfriend?’ said Jayden.
‘Not quite,’ said Polly. ‘Good God, you’re all sex maniacs.’
She hauled herself up on to the jetty, furious but knowing she had to put it behind her for now, block it out of her head. It briefly occurred to her that if she had been tempted to feel a little bit smug when meeting Chris, that had now been well and truly kicked to the kerb.
Chapter Seventeen
Polly studied her ex, trying to ignore the ferment inside her. He looked different. Only three months apart, but it seemed longer. He didn’t look quite as pale and pasty as he had when the business was going under. His hair needed cutting, but it rather suited him a little longer. He had regained all the weight he had lost, and added a bit more, and the bags under his eyes appeared to be there for good. He was wearing an old checked shirt and jeans that looked slightly too small for him.
‘Hey,’ he said warily.
Chris for his part was struck by the change in Polly. She seemed distracted; rangier. Her skin had taken on a flattering light tan from being outside; her strawberry-blonde hair was casually pulled up in a ponytail, as if she didn’t care who saw her. Fronds tumbled round her face; the effect was pretty. She too was in old jeans, and a red T-shirt with powdery stuff on it; he assumed it must be flour. She looked younger than she had done; less strained. He felt a guilty stab, suddenly; he had had a lot to do with that.
‘Hey,’ she said. They looked at each other awkwardly, not sure what the right form of greeting was after so long apart. Then she said, ‘Come here, you’ and opened her arms, and he gave her a tentative hug. Polly noticed immediately the familiar smell of him; to Chris, Polly smelled different – there was a scent of baking, a hint of salt water.
‘Wow,’ he said finally. ‘You look really good.’
It suddenly struck Polly that she hadn’t made an effort for him coming. In the early days she would have made a big deal about getting done up for him; chosen what to wear carefully and put on lots of make-up. Now she only had a smear of lipstick on. She realised why – partly because it hadn’t occurred to her, and partly because of course she had thought she was dating somebody else – and felt immediately foolish. She tried to banish Tarnie to the back of her mind. She couldn’t think about that just now.
‘Er, well,’ she said. ‘Thanks. So do you.’
There was an uneasy pause, then Jayden coughed and reminded them that when the tide went out again he had to take a really awkward route round the headland, and Polly scampered down into the boat. Chris followed with his overnight bag, rather more clumsily.
‘So you’ve got your sea legs, then,’ he said, and Polly just smiled, whilst inside she wanted to die.
Jayden, obviously mindful of the trouble he’d caused already, was completely silent on the way back, with the result that it felt not unlike being rowed across the Styx by the ferryman. As they rounded the point into the bay, Polly looked at Chris, gratified by the expression on his face as the first rays of sunset hit the little town and made the slate and stone glow golden. The windows glinted, the cobbles shone, and the masts of the boats chimed.
‘Wow,’ he said. ‘Is this it? It’s really pretty.’
Polly smiled proudly. ‘I know.’
‘But you’re in the middle of bloody nowhere.’
Behind her, Polly could feel Jayden scowling.
‘That depends on where you’re standing,’ she said. ‘A lot of people like it this way.’
‘What’s it like in the winter?’
Polly thought back to the hammering storms and wild loneliness of earlier in the spring.
‘Cosy,’ she said quickly.
Chris looked unconvinced and took out his phone, seeming surprised when he couldn’t get a signal.
Jayden dropped them off without another word, just a slightly apologetic glance in Polly’s direction, which she didn’t reciprocate. One thing at a time. She didn’t know what she was going to do when she saw Tarnie, but it wasn’t going to be pretty.
‘I thought we might go for a drink,’ she said, wishing suddenly that there wasn’t just the one pub in the entire town. But Tarnie was over on the mainland anyway and she hadn’t heard from Huckle in weeks.
‘Perfect,’ said Chris. ‘Do they do fish and chips? I’d love some proper fish and chips.’
‘They certainly do!’ said Polly, glad that, so far at least, he didn’t seem to have come to Mount Polbearne just to give her a hard time.
They put Chris’s bag upstairs in the flat above the bakery. It had become a lot more cosy and pleasant since she’d started fixing up downstairs; the ovens kept it toasty warm, and it no longer felt damp and dank as it had done. She’d also – Tarnie had driven her – gone to the storage place one Wednesday afternoon and fetched her pictures, books and rugs, all the things Chris had never wanted in his minimalist paradise. There was now a warm red rug on the floor, and rows of books on rough brick and plank shelves, and some abstract landscapes that Chris had said looked like a child had done them, but Polly had liked them for exactly that reason. Cushions were scattered on the impeccable grey sofa. The effect was cluttered, but inviting and cosy.
‘Wow,’ said Chris, his face constricting. ‘Ha. This is a bit of a change from the Plymouth flat.’
Polly gave him a sideways glance.
‘I mean, it’s lovely.’
