Summer at Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 21
Polly went over and said hi to the Polbearne fishermen, including Jayden but not Archie, who had obviously gone home to his long-suffering wife and family, something for which she was extremely grateful.
‘How are things?’ she said.
‘Oh,’ said Sten, the tall Scandinavian. ‘New quotas are coming. The boat needs expensive work. The price of fish goes up and nobody wants it any more.’
‘But apart from that, fine?’ said Polly. The others nodded.
Patrick the vet was at the next table.
‘Hey,’ said Polly, smiling. ‘Can I ask you a question?’
Patrick looked at his whisky and soda with some apprehension. ‘Is this one of those ones where you pretend you’re asking about an animal the same size and weight as you but then it turns out it is you and you didn’t want to call the doctor?’
The doctor was based on the mainland and only came to the island once a week or so, grumbling madly about access all the time, whereas Patrick lived here and often found himself approached for human advice. He couldn’t blame them, but he was terrified of accidentally giving advice that led to serious problems, so it wasn’t his favourite part of the job. He was semi-retired in any case, only saw the local animals from time to time.
‘Um, no,’ said Polly. ‘Does that happen a lot?’
Patrick shrugged. ‘It’s been known. What is it? It’s not that bird of yours, is it?’
Patrick had a fondness for Neil. The little puffin had tickled his fancy, even though he thought it was wrong of Polly to keep him as a pet.
‘I think he’s having social problems,’ began Polly. Patrick raised his eyebrows.
‘Actually, I’m not really a bird psychologist…’
‘He doesn’t have any bird friends. The seagulls are just big bullies, and the other puffins… I think they’re laughing at him.’
‘Well, stop making him wear a jacket.’
‘It was only that one time, when it was cold,’ said Polly.
‘And I still don’t think those wellingtons…’
‘No,’ admitted Polly. ‘Those wellingtons were a mistake, on balance.’
Patrick let out a sigh.
‘Look,’ he said. ‘I did warn you this would happen.’
‘I know,’ said Polly, hanging her head.
‘You domesticated an animal that isn’t designed to be domesticated.’
‘I know that.’
‘It’s probably not too late to re-wild it, you know.’
‘Maybe I should domesticate another one to be his friend.’
Patrick eyed her. ‘You will not!’
‘No. I won’t.’
Polly sighed. ‘I just want him to have what’s best. And for the other birds to accept him.’
Patrick nodded. ‘I know, Polly. But you know what you’d have to do.’
Polly was still deep in thought when Kerensa came back, having finally got the barman to clean the glasses, plus dig out an ice bucket, plus let the wine breathe. She was pretty much all yelled out.
‘What?’
‘Oh, nothing. Apparently re-wilding Neil would be difficult but not impossible.’
‘I’m sure he’s fine. Playing all by himself in his rock pool. Maybe he’ll think his reflection is a friend… Oh Polly, your face!’
‘Whoa,’ said Dubose suddenly, putting down his beer bottle. ‘Now who is THAT?’
Polly and Kerensa turned around.
At first Polly couldn’t make her out in the dark of the pub courtyard, lit only by strings of fairy lights that could make this bit of Mount Polbearne, the fishermen said, look like a cruise ship when you were out at sea.
Then her mouth fell open. A young girl was walking towards them, wearing a soft Lycra dress that clung lightly to her slim figure. Her black hair was combed back and fell like a waterfall on to her shoulders; her eyelashes were so long they cast shadows on her cheeks, her dark eyes huge. The entire pub fell silent.
‘That’s… that’s Flora!’ said Polly in astonishment.
Flora approached them. She looked like some beautiful witch girl.
‘Can I sit with youse?’ she said. ‘Only I missed the tide again.’
‘You may!’ said Dubose, jumping up and pulling out a chair for her. ‘I’m Dubose.’
Flora looked at him without interest.
‘You look beautiful,’ said Polly. She couldn’t help it: the transformation from dowdy, greasy-haired Flora, always staring at the floor and giving wrong change, into this goddess was overwhelming.
‘Oh, I know,’ said Flora in a flat voice. ‘People keep saying. It’s boring.’
The girls exchanged looks of disbelief.
‘So are you from round here?’ said Dubose. ‘I’m from America!’
He said this with a flourish. Flora looked up at him mournfully under her big lashes.
‘Oh,’ she said.
‘You’re fascinating,’ said Dubose, heading to the bar to get her a drink. As he did so, Polly noticed out of the corner of her eye the fishermen all gazing open-mouthed. Jayden was so pink she thought he was going to burst.
‘Does this… does this happen to you often?’ asked Polly.
Flora nodded. ‘Yeah.’
‘But don’t you want to go and make it as a model or something?’ said Kerensa. ‘I mean, I could introduce you to some people…’
Flora shook her head.
‘I just want to bake,’ she said. ‘That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. And people just want to take stupid photos. It’s rubbish.’
Polly grinned. ‘I can’t believe I’ve wasted my life like this,’ she said, ‘when all I had to do was to be born unbelievably beautiful.’
‘It’s rubbish,’ said Flora. ‘People just bug you all the time.’
‘Is that why you never wash your hair?’ said Polly.
‘Yeah,’ said Flora. ‘Oh, also, I forget.’
Suddenly, Jayden was at the table. He’d obviously had a couple of jars and plucked up the courage.
‘Hello, young ladies!’ His moustache was thicker than ever, his cheeks round and unusually pink.
‘Hello, Jayden!’
‘Hello, Miss Polly! Hello, Kerensa! Hello…’
Jayden had completely lost the power of speech.
‘How are things?’ she said.
‘Oh,’ said Sten, the tall Scandinavian. ‘New quotas are coming. The boat needs expensive work. The price of fish goes up and nobody wants it any more.’
‘But apart from that, fine?’ said Polly. The others nodded.
Patrick the vet was at the next table.
‘Hey,’ said Polly, smiling. ‘Can I ask you a question?’
Patrick looked at his whisky and soda with some apprehension. ‘Is this one of those ones where you pretend you’re asking about an animal the same size and weight as you but then it turns out it is you and you didn’t want to call the doctor?’
The doctor was based on the mainland and only came to the island once a week or so, grumbling madly about access all the time, whereas Patrick lived here and often found himself approached for human advice. He couldn’t blame them, but he was terrified of accidentally giving advice that led to serious problems, so it wasn’t his favourite part of the job. He was semi-retired in any case, only saw the local animals from time to time.
‘Um, no,’ said Polly. ‘Does that happen a lot?’
Patrick shrugged. ‘It’s been known. What is it? It’s not that bird of yours, is it?’
Patrick had a fondness for Neil. The little puffin had tickled his fancy, even though he thought it was wrong of Polly to keep him as a pet.
‘I think he’s having social problems,’ began Polly. Patrick raised his eyebrows.
‘Actually, I’m not really a bird psychologist…’
‘He doesn’t have any bird friends. The seagulls are just big bullies, and the other puffins… I think they’re laughing at him.’
‘Well, stop making him wear a jacket.’
‘It was only that one time, when it was cold,’ said Polly.
‘And I still don’t think those wellingtons…’
‘No,’ admitted Polly. ‘Those wellingtons were a mistake, on balance.’
Patrick let out a sigh.
‘Look,’ he said. ‘I did warn you this would happen.’
‘I know,’ said Polly, hanging her head.
‘You domesticated an animal that isn’t designed to be domesticated.’
‘I know that.’
‘It’s probably not too late to re-wild it, you know.’
‘Maybe I should domesticate another one to be his friend.’
Patrick eyed her. ‘You will not!’
‘No. I won’t.’
Polly sighed. ‘I just want him to have what’s best. And for the other birds to accept him.’
Patrick nodded. ‘I know, Polly. But you know what you’d have to do.’
Polly was still deep in thought when Kerensa came back, having finally got the barman to clean the glasses, plus dig out an ice bucket, plus let the wine breathe. She was pretty much all yelled out.
‘What?’
‘Oh, nothing. Apparently re-wilding Neil would be difficult but not impossible.’
‘I’m sure he’s fine. Playing all by himself in his rock pool. Maybe he’ll think his reflection is a friend… Oh Polly, your face!’
‘Whoa,’ said Dubose suddenly, putting down his beer bottle. ‘Now who is THAT?’
Polly and Kerensa turned around.
At first Polly couldn’t make her out in the dark of the pub courtyard, lit only by strings of fairy lights that could make this bit of Mount Polbearne, the fishermen said, look like a cruise ship when you were out at sea.
Then her mouth fell open. A young girl was walking towards them, wearing a soft Lycra dress that clung lightly to her slim figure. Her black hair was combed back and fell like a waterfall on to her shoulders; her eyelashes were so long they cast shadows on her cheeks, her dark eyes huge. The entire pub fell silent.
‘That’s… that’s Flora!’ said Polly in astonishment.
Flora approached them. She looked like some beautiful witch girl.
‘Can I sit with youse?’ she said. ‘Only I missed the tide again.’
‘You may!’ said Dubose, jumping up and pulling out a chair for her. ‘I’m Dubose.’
Flora looked at him without interest.
‘You look beautiful,’ said Polly. She couldn’t help it: the transformation from dowdy, greasy-haired Flora, always staring at the floor and giving wrong change, into this goddess was overwhelming.
‘Oh, I know,’ said Flora in a flat voice. ‘People keep saying. It’s boring.’
The girls exchanged looks of disbelief.
‘So are you from round here?’ said Dubose. ‘I’m from America!’
He said this with a flourish. Flora looked up at him mournfully under her big lashes.
‘Oh,’ she said.
‘You’re fascinating,’ said Dubose, heading to the bar to get her a drink. As he did so, Polly noticed out of the corner of her eye the fishermen all gazing open-mouthed. Jayden was so pink she thought he was going to burst.
‘Does this… does this happen to you often?’ asked Polly.
Flora nodded. ‘Yeah.’
‘But don’t you want to go and make it as a model or something?’ said Kerensa. ‘I mean, I could introduce you to some people…’
Flora shook her head.
‘I just want to bake,’ she said. ‘That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. And people just want to take stupid photos. It’s rubbish.’
Polly grinned. ‘I can’t believe I’ve wasted my life like this,’ she said, ‘when all I had to do was to be born unbelievably beautiful.’
‘It’s rubbish,’ said Flora. ‘People just bug you all the time.’
‘Is that why you never wash your hair?’ said Polly.
‘Yeah,’ said Flora. ‘Oh, also, I forget.’
Suddenly, Jayden was at the table. He’d obviously had a couple of jars and plucked up the courage.
‘Hello, young ladies!’ His moustache was thicker than ever, his cheeks round and unusually pink.
‘Hello, Jayden!’
‘Hello, Miss Polly! Hello, Kerensa! Hello…’
Jayden had completely lost the power of speech.
