Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 78
‘So, er,’ said Dave. His spotty neck seemed worse than ever; he kept picking at it. ‘I mean, do you want to phone the temp agency?’
Polly sighed.
‘When’s the baby due?’ she asked.
‘September,’ said Dave. His face perked up a bit. ‘It’s a little girl. Our first. We want to call her September. My mum reckons it’s silly, but we like it. Because she’s going to be born in September, you see?’
Polly rolled her eyes.
‘Yes. I do see.’
She sighed again.
‘Okay, so I’m NOT going to phone the agency. But you can tell them they’re just to pay you for today, okay?, and that we don’t need anything else. Then get yourself to a building site; they’re recruiting in town, doing loads of renovations.’
This was true. House sales were picking up all over the area, and scaffolding was sprouting like mushrooms as people demanded roof conversions and open-backed indoor/outdoor kitchens.
‘Er huh,’ said Dave. ‘Only I’m a bit afraid of —’
‘Heights?’ said Polly.
Dave nodded. Polly smiled.
‘Okay, okay. Do you think you can find your way back to town?’
Dave looked doubtful.
‘Along the track, follow the signposts,’ said Polly patiently. ‘And good luck with the baby, okay?’
‘Thanks,’ said Dave wholeheartedly. ‘I mean it. Thanks so much.’
‘Off you go,’ said Polly severely. She watched him march away, looking around him curiously, then wiping his forehead with his suit sleeve and pulling off his tie. She shook her head, then suited up as Huckle had shown her. It hurt so much to remember them laughing together, and him trying to tickle her through the suit. Hadn’t there been something between them even then? Or had she imagined it all? Obviously, yes. She sighed. It was a physical pain.
She went down to the hives, glad that she hadn’t brought Neil, who would not have liked it at all, and tried to remember everything Huckle had shown her. She smoked down the hives to make the bees quiet, then cleaned out the dust, added some sugar syrup in case they were hungry and scooped up some of the lovely thick combs, ready for pulling out. It didn’t take long, and it was quiet and restful in the garden with the little bubbling stream babbling away to itself, and the occasional drifting dandelion puff. And even though she knew it was unutterably pathetic, demeaning, and everything she was trying so hard to get away from in her life, she felt closer to Huckle doing it. Even though it didn’t matter now, even though he’d gone – and might never come back – a tiny bit of her could pretend. He could be in the house now, having a nap. The motorbike was still there too…
She opened her eyes, cross with herself. This was stupid and wouldn’t get her anywhere. But at least she was keeping the bees alive.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The weeks passed, with no word from Huckle, but Polly simply carried on.
She was impressed by how well Jayden was doing. He was brighter than he’d seemed, and so happy and relieved not to be on the boats any more he bounced into work, his leg barely troubling him, heaving flour about with ease, taking care of all the cleaning, chatting nicely to the local customers and curtly with the incomers (he hadn’t travelled very widely).
Polly had upped her baking as a result, meaning the shop didn’t empty till three or later, which was fine because now they could both take breaks. And something else had happened too: a new restaurant – a proper restaurant, with white linen napkins and real glasses, not just bottles of Fanta – had opened up in one of the tumbledown buildings along the front. They got their fresh fish from the boats that had been hired or bought afresh with insurance money by the fishermen who were once again plying their trade along the harbourside – and their bread from Polly!
It had been very exciting. Samantha had come into the shop one morning, introducing the son of a friend of hers from London, announcing him as the most talented young chef, who was going to put Mount Polbearne firmly on the map – Polly had not commented on this – and urging him to try Polly’s speciality breads. To Polly’s huge gratification, he had pronounced them excellent, and put in a daily order that she baked along with the rest. Samantha, very kindly, had negotiated a fee on her behalf that was substantially more than Polly had been expecting, though when she saw the prices on the menu – the restaurant was called ‘Mount’s’ – she didn’t feel guilty. Living the quiet life she’d adopted here, and working incredibly hard, she was actually starting to make some money. Mrs Manse had agreed that she should have a share of the profits, and there was absolutely no doubt they were on the rise, for both of them. Polly was able to take all her restaurant earnings and put them away for safe keeping. It wasn’t much, but it was a real start.
She finally managed to grab lunch with Kerensa, who’d been mysteriously out of reach, only contactable occasionally on the telephone. She appeared to be in sex prison or something; whenever they spoke, she always sounded a bit breathless and half naked. They turned up at Mount’s, looking around it curiously. It had been an old bucket and spade shop that had gone bust without anyone bothering to remove the old fixtures and fittings, or pick up the post. Now it had been completely transformed; it had flagstone floors and cool white walls, white tables with little lemon trees on, and a glass frontage with a perfect view of the harbour. There was a new terrace too, where people could sit outside, but Polly and Kerensa stayed indoors, as it had been colonised by a group of very noisy people talking about Chelsea.
Kerensa looked awesome, Polly had to admit. She was suntanned, and had put on a little bit of weight, just enough to make her pleasantly rounded rather than over-worked- out; her eyes had a dreamy, sleepy expression and her skin was flawless. Polly saw what it was. She looked happy.
‘Look at you,’ Polly said. ‘You’ve vanished off the face of the earth. Because you’ve got a boyfriend! Reuben is your boyfriend!’
‘God no,’ said Kerensa. ‘No. He’s my… er, shag toy?’
‘Bleargh,’ said Polly. ‘That’s disgusting.’
Kerensa’s phone beeped with an incoming text. She glanced at it, gave an infuriatingly smug smile and put it face down.
Polly rolled her eyes.
‘Mash note?’
Kerensa took a sip of her sparkling water and changed the subject. ‘Goodness, this place is coming up in the world.’
Polly sighed.
‘When’s the baby due?’ she asked.
‘September,’ said Dave. His face perked up a bit. ‘It’s a little girl. Our first. We want to call her September. My mum reckons it’s silly, but we like it. Because she’s going to be born in September, you see?’
Polly rolled her eyes.
‘Yes. I do see.’
She sighed again.
‘Okay, so I’m NOT going to phone the agency. But you can tell them they’re just to pay you for today, okay?, and that we don’t need anything else. Then get yourself to a building site; they’re recruiting in town, doing loads of renovations.’
This was true. House sales were picking up all over the area, and scaffolding was sprouting like mushrooms as people demanded roof conversions and open-backed indoor/outdoor kitchens.
‘Er huh,’ said Dave. ‘Only I’m a bit afraid of —’
‘Heights?’ said Polly.
Dave nodded. Polly smiled.
‘Okay, okay. Do you think you can find your way back to town?’
Dave looked doubtful.
‘Along the track, follow the signposts,’ said Polly patiently. ‘And good luck with the baby, okay?’
‘Thanks,’ said Dave wholeheartedly. ‘I mean it. Thanks so much.’
‘Off you go,’ said Polly severely. She watched him march away, looking around him curiously, then wiping his forehead with his suit sleeve and pulling off his tie. She shook her head, then suited up as Huckle had shown her. It hurt so much to remember them laughing together, and him trying to tickle her through the suit. Hadn’t there been something between them even then? Or had she imagined it all? Obviously, yes. She sighed. It was a physical pain.
She went down to the hives, glad that she hadn’t brought Neil, who would not have liked it at all, and tried to remember everything Huckle had shown her. She smoked down the hives to make the bees quiet, then cleaned out the dust, added some sugar syrup in case they were hungry and scooped up some of the lovely thick combs, ready for pulling out. It didn’t take long, and it was quiet and restful in the garden with the little bubbling stream babbling away to itself, and the occasional drifting dandelion puff. And even though she knew it was unutterably pathetic, demeaning, and everything she was trying so hard to get away from in her life, she felt closer to Huckle doing it. Even though it didn’t matter now, even though he’d gone – and might never come back – a tiny bit of her could pretend. He could be in the house now, having a nap. The motorbike was still there too…
She opened her eyes, cross with herself. This was stupid and wouldn’t get her anywhere. But at least she was keeping the bees alive.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The weeks passed, with no word from Huckle, but Polly simply carried on.
She was impressed by how well Jayden was doing. He was brighter than he’d seemed, and so happy and relieved not to be on the boats any more he bounced into work, his leg barely troubling him, heaving flour about with ease, taking care of all the cleaning, chatting nicely to the local customers and curtly with the incomers (he hadn’t travelled very widely).
Polly had upped her baking as a result, meaning the shop didn’t empty till three or later, which was fine because now they could both take breaks. And something else had happened too: a new restaurant – a proper restaurant, with white linen napkins and real glasses, not just bottles of Fanta – had opened up in one of the tumbledown buildings along the front. They got their fresh fish from the boats that had been hired or bought afresh with insurance money by the fishermen who were once again plying their trade along the harbourside – and their bread from Polly!
It had been very exciting. Samantha had come into the shop one morning, introducing the son of a friend of hers from London, announcing him as the most talented young chef, who was going to put Mount Polbearne firmly on the map – Polly had not commented on this – and urging him to try Polly’s speciality breads. To Polly’s huge gratification, he had pronounced them excellent, and put in a daily order that she baked along with the rest. Samantha, very kindly, had negotiated a fee on her behalf that was substantially more than Polly had been expecting, though when she saw the prices on the menu – the restaurant was called ‘Mount’s’ – she didn’t feel guilty. Living the quiet life she’d adopted here, and working incredibly hard, she was actually starting to make some money. Mrs Manse had agreed that she should have a share of the profits, and there was absolutely no doubt they were on the rise, for both of them. Polly was able to take all her restaurant earnings and put them away for safe keeping. It wasn’t much, but it was a real start.
She finally managed to grab lunch with Kerensa, who’d been mysteriously out of reach, only contactable occasionally on the telephone. She appeared to be in sex prison or something; whenever they spoke, she always sounded a bit breathless and half naked. They turned up at Mount’s, looking around it curiously. It had been an old bucket and spade shop that had gone bust without anyone bothering to remove the old fixtures and fittings, or pick up the post. Now it had been completely transformed; it had flagstone floors and cool white walls, white tables with little lemon trees on, and a glass frontage with a perfect view of the harbour. There was a new terrace too, where people could sit outside, but Polly and Kerensa stayed indoors, as it had been colonised by a group of very noisy people talking about Chelsea.
Kerensa looked awesome, Polly had to admit. She was suntanned, and had put on a little bit of weight, just enough to make her pleasantly rounded rather than over-worked- out; her eyes had a dreamy, sleepy expression and her skin was flawless. Polly saw what it was. She looked happy.
‘Look at you,’ Polly said. ‘You’ve vanished off the face of the earth. Because you’ve got a boyfriend! Reuben is your boyfriend!’
‘God no,’ said Kerensa. ‘No. He’s my… er, shag toy?’
‘Bleargh,’ said Polly. ‘That’s disgusting.’
Kerensa’s phone beeped with an incoming text. She glanced at it, gave an infuriatingly smug smile and put it face down.
Polly rolled her eyes.
‘Mash note?’
Kerensa took a sip of her sparkling water and changed the subject. ‘Goodness, this place is coming up in the world.’
