Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 76
He spoke the last sentence in a monotone, staring at the floor, and Polly could only guess what it had cost him to say it.
She looked at Mrs Manse, who nodded once, abruptly.
‘Okay,’ said Polly. ‘Yes. I do need help. I need more stock. And you can sweep. Can you sweep?’
‘I’ve been sweeping up fish guts for years.’
‘Can you get up early in the morning?’
‘I never got to bed in my last job.’
Polly smiled. ‘As long as I can keep you from wolfing all the stock, I think this might work out all right.’
She stuck out her hand. ‘No cheek though, okay? Well, you can be a bit cheeky to the customers, but Mrs Manse is your boss and I’m your second boss, okay?’
Jayden looked at her hand in wonder, then pumped it up and down, beaming.
‘Yes! Totally! Yes! You won’t regret this!’ His face was completely transformed. ‘Can I start now? Let me sweep something.’
‘I will let you do that,’ said Polly, smiling back. ‘And I’ll teach you how to knead. And of course, Mrs Manse, anything he can do for you, any fetching and carrying, when he’s fully healed…’
‘I’m fine,’ said Mrs Manse shortly. In fact, the other bakery was open for far fewer hours these days, and Polly had seen confused-looking shoppers gazing at its bare cabinets more than once. The Little Beach Street Bakery was bringing in enough to allow Gillian to work less, and Polly could only think this was a good thing. It didn’t exactly help her decide when she could ask for a raise, but she was just too relieved that it was working out to complain at this point. Plus, Mount Polbearne’s other shops only stretched to fish and chips and buckets and spades. She wouldn’t have much to spend her money on anyway.
‘Well, in you come then.’
She led Jayden through the shop. She had asked Chris to print up some aprons in the same font as he’d done above the window, and she was also stocking some cards that advertised him as a sign writer, with a picture of the Little Beach Street Bakery on the front. Quite a few had been picked up by holidaymakers and daytrippers. Painting physical things rather than doing design online… that might just be the way forward for Chris, she thought. Well, she hoped.
She gave Jayden a tour of the baking area.
‘Wow,’ he said, watching her stoke the big wooden oven, check a rising batch that smelled heavenly, sniff the sourdough, splash in a little milk to a fresh batch. ‘There’s quite a lot involved in this.’
Polly gave him a look.
‘What did you think, that I just went to the back of the shop with a fishing rod and caught some bread?’
Jayden looked awkward.
‘Is that like a joke? Like one of your funny jokes and things? You may have to tell me if it’s one of those, so I can laugh.’
‘You don’t have to laugh,’ said Polly. ‘How does your leg feel? When will you be up to lifting things?’
‘I can lift things now,’ said Jayden. ‘Mostly I’m keeping the bandage on to impress girls.’
‘Oh good,’ said Polly. ‘Okay, in the morning…’ It suddenly struck her how lovely it was to be able to hand this work over. ‘In the morning I need you to bring in the new bags of flour from outside. Then dust and sweep every surface. And clean out the ovens – just the crumbs, though; leave the patina. That’s the slightly greasy stuff. It’s good for bread.’
‘Really?’
Polly looked at him.
‘Do you love my bread?’
‘I do,’ said Jayden.
‘Then I’ll get you on kneading… Oh my God, that means I can take a break. Then you can take a break! Jayden, this is going to be brilliant.’
Jayden grinned. ‘And I get to stay inside all day?’
‘All day,’ promised Polly.
‘And I don’t need to start till five thirty?’
‘Nope.’
Jayden smiled with pure happiness.
Things weren’t helped that first morning by a) Jayden not knowing where anything was or what the different types of bread were called or where the bags were or how to work the till, or b) every single local person who came in, which was most of them these days, having to stop for twenty minutes to have a full and detailed chat with Jayden about the accident, his new job, his poor mother’s nerves and his future prospects. Eventually Polly set him up in a corner to do chatting and handled all the serving herself. He could make himself useful in other ways.
Sure enough, she had him mopping when she finally noticed an awkward-looking man hovering near the doorway.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked.
The man, who had a rather spotty neck and slightly greasy dark hair and was wearing a suit and tie, coughed politely.
‘Er,’ he said. ‘I’m… I’m here about the bees?’
For a second Polly didn’t realise what he was talking about. Then she remembered.
‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘Hu —’
She realised, suddenly, crossly, that just saying his name made her feel bad.
‘I heard you were coming,’ she said shortly. ‘Actually, let me just wash my hands – Jayden, you wash your hands too,’ she commanded quickly. ‘Just do it every fifteen minutes, in fact.’
‘Roger,’ said Jayden, who was humming a little song as he mopped the kitchen. At this rate the Little Beach Street Bakery was going to be gleaming.
‘We close up at two,’ she said to the man. ‘Can you wait till then?’
The man nodded awkwardly, his Adam’s apple bouncing up and down. Then he went out and sat on the harbour wall, staring out to sea. Jayden and Polly could see him from the shop. It was rather peculiar.
‘He doesn’t look like a beekeeper,’ said Jayden.
‘What does a beekeeper look like?’ asked Polly, cross that she’d been thinking the same thing.
‘I don’t know,’ said Jayden. ‘Not like that. Can I have a sandwich?’
‘You can,’ said Polly. ‘Every day you can have a sandwich and one loaf for your mum, but no more, okay? You’re a growing boy, you’ll eat the profits.’
Jayden nodded and tore into a cheese croissant.
‘I will never get tired of these,’ he said with satisfaction.
Polly smiled. ‘I’ll show you how to make them, if you like.’
She looked at Mrs Manse, who nodded once, abruptly.
‘Okay,’ said Polly. ‘Yes. I do need help. I need more stock. And you can sweep. Can you sweep?’
‘I’ve been sweeping up fish guts for years.’
‘Can you get up early in the morning?’
‘I never got to bed in my last job.’
Polly smiled. ‘As long as I can keep you from wolfing all the stock, I think this might work out all right.’
She stuck out her hand. ‘No cheek though, okay? Well, you can be a bit cheeky to the customers, but Mrs Manse is your boss and I’m your second boss, okay?’
Jayden looked at her hand in wonder, then pumped it up and down, beaming.
‘Yes! Totally! Yes! You won’t regret this!’ His face was completely transformed. ‘Can I start now? Let me sweep something.’
‘I will let you do that,’ said Polly, smiling back. ‘And I’ll teach you how to knead. And of course, Mrs Manse, anything he can do for you, any fetching and carrying, when he’s fully healed…’
‘I’m fine,’ said Mrs Manse shortly. In fact, the other bakery was open for far fewer hours these days, and Polly had seen confused-looking shoppers gazing at its bare cabinets more than once. The Little Beach Street Bakery was bringing in enough to allow Gillian to work less, and Polly could only think this was a good thing. It didn’t exactly help her decide when she could ask for a raise, but she was just too relieved that it was working out to complain at this point. Plus, Mount Polbearne’s other shops only stretched to fish and chips and buckets and spades. She wouldn’t have much to spend her money on anyway.
‘Well, in you come then.’
She led Jayden through the shop. She had asked Chris to print up some aprons in the same font as he’d done above the window, and she was also stocking some cards that advertised him as a sign writer, with a picture of the Little Beach Street Bakery on the front. Quite a few had been picked up by holidaymakers and daytrippers. Painting physical things rather than doing design online… that might just be the way forward for Chris, she thought. Well, she hoped.
She gave Jayden a tour of the baking area.
‘Wow,’ he said, watching her stoke the big wooden oven, check a rising batch that smelled heavenly, sniff the sourdough, splash in a little milk to a fresh batch. ‘There’s quite a lot involved in this.’
Polly gave him a look.
‘What did you think, that I just went to the back of the shop with a fishing rod and caught some bread?’
Jayden looked awkward.
‘Is that like a joke? Like one of your funny jokes and things? You may have to tell me if it’s one of those, so I can laugh.’
‘You don’t have to laugh,’ said Polly. ‘How does your leg feel? When will you be up to lifting things?’
‘I can lift things now,’ said Jayden. ‘Mostly I’m keeping the bandage on to impress girls.’
‘Oh good,’ said Polly. ‘Okay, in the morning…’ It suddenly struck her how lovely it was to be able to hand this work over. ‘In the morning I need you to bring in the new bags of flour from outside. Then dust and sweep every surface. And clean out the ovens – just the crumbs, though; leave the patina. That’s the slightly greasy stuff. It’s good for bread.’
‘Really?’
Polly looked at him.
‘Do you love my bread?’
‘I do,’ said Jayden.
‘Then I’ll get you on kneading… Oh my God, that means I can take a break. Then you can take a break! Jayden, this is going to be brilliant.’
Jayden grinned. ‘And I get to stay inside all day?’
‘All day,’ promised Polly.
‘And I don’t need to start till five thirty?’
‘Nope.’
Jayden smiled with pure happiness.
Things weren’t helped that first morning by a) Jayden not knowing where anything was or what the different types of bread were called or where the bags were or how to work the till, or b) every single local person who came in, which was most of them these days, having to stop for twenty minutes to have a full and detailed chat with Jayden about the accident, his new job, his poor mother’s nerves and his future prospects. Eventually Polly set him up in a corner to do chatting and handled all the serving herself. He could make himself useful in other ways.
Sure enough, she had him mopping when she finally noticed an awkward-looking man hovering near the doorway.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked.
The man, who had a rather spotty neck and slightly greasy dark hair and was wearing a suit and tie, coughed politely.
‘Er,’ he said. ‘I’m… I’m here about the bees?’
For a second Polly didn’t realise what he was talking about. Then she remembered.
‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘Hu —’
She realised, suddenly, crossly, that just saying his name made her feel bad.
‘I heard you were coming,’ she said shortly. ‘Actually, let me just wash my hands – Jayden, you wash your hands too,’ she commanded quickly. ‘Just do it every fifteen minutes, in fact.’
‘Roger,’ said Jayden, who was humming a little song as he mopped the kitchen. At this rate the Little Beach Street Bakery was going to be gleaming.
‘We close up at two,’ she said to the man. ‘Can you wait till then?’
The man nodded awkwardly, his Adam’s apple bouncing up and down. Then he went out and sat on the harbour wall, staring out to sea. Jayden and Polly could see him from the shop. It was rather peculiar.
‘He doesn’t look like a beekeeper,’ said Jayden.
‘What does a beekeeper look like?’ asked Polly, cross that she’d been thinking the same thing.
‘I don’t know,’ said Jayden. ‘Not like that. Can I have a sandwich?’
‘You can,’ said Polly. ‘Every day you can have a sandwich and one loaf for your mum, but no more, okay? You’re a growing boy, you’ll eat the profits.’
Jayden nodded and tore into a cheese croissant.
‘I will never get tired of these,’ he said with satisfaction.
Polly smiled. ‘I’ll show you how to make them, if you like.’
