Summer at Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 42
‘I know,’ said Archie. ‘Hunger strike is quite a difficult sell, to be honest.’
He looked sad.
‘Their sausage rolls taste of poo,’ he said. ‘You know, I am trying and trying and trying in this town. We’re all trying to adapt, to move on, to adjust. And now this happens. I can’t run a good fishing boat on poo rolls! I can’t inspire and lead my men on this!’
‘I’ll try my best,’ said Polly. Huckle shot her a warning look. The plan was not to tell anyone what they wanted to do. They didn’t put it past Malcolm to block it in some way.
‘Well try harder,’ said Archie.
Polly watched him go.
‘I worry about him,’ she said.
‘You worry about everyone,’ pointed out Huckle, accurately.
They wandered up the little main street.
‘I’ll just…’
‘You shouldn’t,’ said Huckle. ‘It’ll make you upset.’
‘I just want to see.’
She popped her head round the door of the old Polbearne bakery. Flora was standing there looking as sullen as ever. She was back in slouchy, greasy mode, her shoulders bent, her hair in her eyes, her bottom lip sticking out ferociously. Polly had to squint to see the stark, angular beauty that was there underneath; it was a good disguise.
Flora was dressed up in a ridiculous maid’s outfit – black dress, white apron, frilly mob cap – which made her look like a cross between an under-housemaid and a strip-o-gram. She was standing in front of packets of pallid pastries, looking thoroughly bored.
‘Hi, Flora.’
‘Oh, hello, madam,’ mumbled Flora.
‘It’s just me,’ said Polly. ‘Polly.’
‘I have to call everyone madam now,’ said Flora.
‘Oh well, that will definitely make up for the terrible food,’ murmured Huckle.
‘How are things?’ said Polly.
Flora shrugged. ‘Everyone keeps coming in going blah blah blah, where’s Polly, this is horrible, I think I’ve been poisoned,’ she said. ‘Then they don’t come in any more. Malcolm is very cross.’
Polly tried not to be pleased about this. She glanced back at Huckle.
‘Do you think he might give me my job back?’
‘I think he might have done,’ said Huckle, ‘if you hadn’t told him he was a pig.’
‘Everyone wants to call their boss a pig,’ said Polly. ‘Come on, if you can’t make a big fuss when you’re being sacked and storm out going “You’re a pig!” you’re not really a human being.’
‘What are you? A pig?’ said Huckle.
‘No! It’s emotional distress! It’s good to let it out! He’ll understand.’
‘He thinks this is all your fault,’ said Flora. ‘He thinks you’ve turned the town against him.’
‘I think he did that the first time he said “This town is total shit’’,’ said Polly. ‘And started selling people plasticine masquerading as food.’
Flora offered Neil a little piece of plastic bun. He sniffed at it, pecked at it briefly, then backed away.
The bell tinged behind them and Polly and Huckle turned guiltily. Malcolm was standing there. At the sight of them his face went purplish around the jowls. It wasn’t a good look on him.
‘WHAT HAVE I SAID ABOUT BIRDS IN THE SHOP?’ he hollered. He turned to face Polly. ‘And you’ve got a cheek, turning up here again.’
Polly flushed bright red. She hated confrontation of any sort.
‘I was checking up on Flora,’ she said.
‘Don’t you worry about Flora,’ said Malcolm. ‘And stop bloody poisoning the town against me.’
‘Actually I think you’re the one who —’
Huckle put his hand on her arm.
‘We haven’t said a thing, sir,’ he said, politely. ‘Polly feels awful that she brought mucky stuff into a food preparation area, don’t you, Poll?’
Polly swallowed hard.
‘Um, yeah,’ she mumbled. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘In fact,’ said Huckle, ‘I think she’d probably come back and work for you. Buck things up again, if you wanted that.’
Polly blushed bright red to the tips of her ears. She was furious with Huckle. On the other hand, if there was just the tiniest chance that he didn’t have to go away, they had to take it, no matter how humiliating it was for her.
Malcolm smiled, relishing the fact that they’d come back to beg. He’d hoped for this.
‘Ha! Not a chance,’ he said. ‘Run my business into the ground with her messing around the place? Not bloody likely. Ha! Oh no, when the summer season starts up, that cash will be all mine, and I’m not risking that. SO sorry, but you must understand. Health and safety is health and safety! Political correctness gone mad, I call it, but you must understand, my hands are totally tied.’
Polly felt her own hands clench into fists.
Malcolm, thoroughly overexcited, turned to Flora with a lascivious look on his face.
‘You’re looking quite lovely today, my dear. I do like that new uniform.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Flora sullenly.
‘Can you do the curtsey?’
Flora bobbed reluctantly, to Polly and Huckle’s amazement.
‘Piiiiggggg!’ whispered Polly under her breath, and Huckle uncharacteristically gave her a small pinch.
‘Hush,’ he said.
‘Okay, bye,’ he said loudly, as Polly clearly didn’t trust herself to speak. He shepherded her out the door.
‘That man is such a PIG!’ shouted Polly at the top of her voice. ‘All he does is RUIN things. Horrible, horrible man! He’s starving the fishermen to death and he’s enslaved Flora and he’s racist!’
‘How do you figure he’s racist?’ said Huckle.
‘Oh everyone knows that anyone who says “political correctness gone mad” is just itching to be allowed to say something racist.’
Huckle wisely ignored this.
‘To be fair, Flora doesn’t seem massively less happy than she did before,’ he pointed out.
‘I wish you hadn’t asked for my old job back,’ said Polly, kicking at a stone in the road. ‘It was humiliating.’
‘I know,’ said Huckle. ‘I’m sorry. I just wanted to be a hundred per cent absolutely sure and positive that it was going to play out that way.’
He looked sad.
‘Their sausage rolls taste of poo,’ he said. ‘You know, I am trying and trying and trying in this town. We’re all trying to adapt, to move on, to adjust. And now this happens. I can’t run a good fishing boat on poo rolls! I can’t inspire and lead my men on this!’
‘I’ll try my best,’ said Polly. Huckle shot her a warning look. The plan was not to tell anyone what they wanted to do. They didn’t put it past Malcolm to block it in some way.
‘Well try harder,’ said Archie.
Polly watched him go.
‘I worry about him,’ she said.
‘You worry about everyone,’ pointed out Huckle, accurately.
They wandered up the little main street.
‘I’ll just…’
‘You shouldn’t,’ said Huckle. ‘It’ll make you upset.’
‘I just want to see.’
She popped her head round the door of the old Polbearne bakery. Flora was standing there looking as sullen as ever. She was back in slouchy, greasy mode, her shoulders bent, her hair in her eyes, her bottom lip sticking out ferociously. Polly had to squint to see the stark, angular beauty that was there underneath; it was a good disguise.
Flora was dressed up in a ridiculous maid’s outfit – black dress, white apron, frilly mob cap – which made her look like a cross between an under-housemaid and a strip-o-gram. She was standing in front of packets of pallid pastries, looking thoroughly bored.
‘Hi, Flora.’
‘Oh, hello, madam,’ mumbled Flora.
‘It’s just me,’ said Polly. ‘Polly.’
‘I have to call everyone madam now,’ said Flora.
‘Oh well, that will definitely make up for the terrible food,’ murmured Huckle.
‘How are things?’ said Polly.
Flora shrugged. ‘Everyone keeps coming in going blah blah blah, where’s Polly, this is horrible, I think I’ve been poisoned,’ she said. ‘Then they don’t come in any more. Malcolm is very cross.’
Polly tried not to be pleased about this. She glanced back at Huckle.
‘Do you think he might give me my job back?’
‘I think he might have done,’ said Huckle, ‘if you hadn’t told him he was a pig.’
‘Everyone wants to call their boss a pig,’ said Polly. ‘Come on, if you can’t make a big fuss when you’re being sacked and storm out going “You’re a pig!” you’re not really a human being.’
‘What are you? A pig?’ said Huckle.
‘No! It’s emotional distress! It’s good to let it out! He’ll understand.’
‘He thinks this is all your fault,’ said Flora. ‘He thinks you’ve turned the town against him.’
‘I think he did that the first time he said “This town is total shit’’,’ said Polly. ‘And started selling people plasticine masquerading as food.’
Flora offered Neil a little piece of plastic bun. He sniffed at it, pecked at it briefly, then backed away.
The bell tinged behind them and Polly and Huckle turned guiltily. Malcolm was standing there. At the sight of them his face went purplish around the jowls. It wasn’t a good look on him.
‘WHAT HAVE I SAID ABOUT BIRDS IN THE SHOP?’ he hollered. He turned to face Polly. ‘And you’ve got a cheek, turning up here again.’
Polly flushed bright red. She hated confrontation of any sort.
‘I was checking up on Flora,’ she said.
‘Don’t you worry about Flora,’ said Malcolm. ‘And stop bloody poisoning the town against me.’
‘Actually I think you’re the one who —’
Huckle put his hand on her arm.
‘We haven’t said a thing, sir,’ he said, politely. ‘Polly feels awful that she brought mucky stuff into a food preparation area, don’t you, Poll?’
Polly swallowed hard.
‘Um, yeah,’ she mumbled. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘In fact,’ said Huckle, ‘I think she’d probably come back and work for you. Buck things up again, if you wanted that.’
Polly blushed bright red to the tips of her ears. She was furious with Huckle. On the other hand, if there was just the tiniest chance that he didn’t have to go away, they had to take it, no matter how humiliating it was for her.
Malcolm smiled, relishing the fact that they’d come back to beg. He’d hoped for this.
‘Ha! Not a chance,’ he said. ‘Run my business into the ground with her messing around the place? Not bloody likely. Ha! Oh no, when the summer season starts up, that cash will be all mine, and I’m not risking that. SO sorry, but you must understand. Health and safety is health and safety! Political correctness gone mad, I call it, but you must understand, my hands are totally tied.’
Polly felt her own hands clench into fists.
Malcolm, thoroughly overexcited, turned to Flora with a lascivious look on his face.
‘You’re looking quite lovely today, my dear. I do like that new uniform.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Flora sullenly.
‘Can you do the curtsey?’
Flora bobbed reluctantly, to Polly and Huckle’s amazement.
‘Piiiiggggg!’ whispered Polly under her breath, and Huckle uncharacteristically gave her a small pinch.
‘Hush,’ he said.
‘Okay, bye,’ he said loudly, as Polly clearly didn’t trust herself to speak. He shepherded her out the door.
‘That man is such a PIG!’ shouted Polly at the top of her voice. ‘All he does is RUIN things. Horrible, horrible man! He’s starving the fishermen to death and he’s enslaved Flora and he’s racist!’
‘How do you figure he’s racist?’ said Huckle.
‘Oh everyone knows that anyone who says “political correctness gone mad” is just itching to be allowed to say something racist.’
Huckle wisely ignored this.
‘To be fair, Flora doesn’t seem massively less happy than she did before,’ he pointed out.
‘I wish you hadn’t asked for my old job back,’ said Polly, kicking at a stone in the road. ‘It was humiliating.’
‘I know,’ said Huckle. ‘I’m sorry. I just wanted to be a hundred per cent absolutely sure and positive that it was going to play out that way.’
