Summer at Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 50
Polly nodded.
‘I’ll come and look at the van with you. But your job now is to charm City Hall into granting you that trading licence. Print out pictures of the van. Even if you don’t get it, I think the fact that it looks so pretty will help you a lot. And you’re only asking to set it up in a car park, after all. I can’t see it will be that much of a problem; they let ice cream vans come past, don’t they?’
‘Not up to town,’ said Polly, thinking of the terrible blow it would be to both Muriel’s shop and the chippy if their precious Wall’s concessions were challenged. Cornetto money from the hot days of summer kept them going right through the deep storms of winter. And she was trying to do this to someone else’s business.
‘Well, speak to them anyway. Then they’ll probably need to inspect the van.’
‘You know a lot about this,’ said Polly.
‘No,’ said Reuben. ‘I’m just assuming they might like to check from time to time to make sure you’re not selling rat juice. Were you planning on selling rat juice?’
Polly shook her head. Reuben got up, then carefully shook out his wallet and left enough money to cover his own coffee. Polly did the same with her cordials.
‘Gotta respect the small businesses, man,’ said Reuben, patting the door frame of the café as they left. ‘Gotta respect ’em all.’
He gave Polly a light kiss on the cheek.
‘Right. I’m off home. Talking about business plans always makes me feel sexy.’
Polly rolled her eyes and followed his gaze. Parked behind the café was a tiny, glittering, incredibly expensive-looking micro-scooter.
‘Seriously?’ she said.
‘Oh yeah,’ said Reuben. ‘Totally. I hid it in a hedge. Okay. What are you?’
Polly smiled at him. He’d been a proper tonic.
‘Um, awesome?’
Reuben shook his head and got on his scooter.
‘Nope.’
Polly was confused.
‘What then?’
‘FUCKING AWESOME!’ he screamed, scooting away in his ridiculous trainers, highly expensive three-quarter-length trousers and designer sunglasses. As he vanished down the vertiginous hill narrowly missing a woman struggling with a huge buggy, Polly heard a faint echo on the breeze.
‘FUUUUUCKKKKIIIINNNNGG AWWWWWEEEESSSOOOOMMME!’
Chapter Fourteen
In the event, once Polly had printed out all the forms at the library in Looe, it wasn’t nearly as complicated as she’d expected. The lady at the council had looked at her briefly, run through her application and told her that they would have to have a proper council bin nearby, that any rubbish or extra seagull infestation would result in a review, that they would need a health and safety certificate publicly displayed and that it would be for a three-month trial period only. Her spot would be in the side entrance to the car park: no entry to Mount Polbearne itself, which was a World Heritage Site and needed to be treated like one. She could also have one picnic table, as long as it didn’t protrude more than fifteen centimetres into the public roadway; she would be liable to spot inspections at any point, and could operate between the hours of eight and four, seven days a week. All for thirty-five quid.
Polly nodded, unable to believe it could be quite so straightforward. Those weeks of lying around feeling sorry for herself seemed such a waste now; could this possibly work? Might it? She’d rung the sellers of the van, who, yes, still had it, and was steeling herself to go and negotiate. Reuben had offered to go with her, but Polly had figured that whilst she personally thought Reuben was ace, sometimes the first impression he gave wasn’t entirely the best way to get a nice friendly deal out of people.
‘Oh,’ said the council woman. ‘And you’ll have to wear a hairnet.’
Polly looked at her.
‘Seriously?’
‘I don’t make the rules,’ said the woman. ‘Well, I do, obviously, make some of the rules.’ She smoothed down her cerise suit jacket, which looked too warm over her floral frock. ‘But in this instance, it comes from far higher up. Yes, higher up even than me!’
‘A hairnet?’ said Polly. Suddenly her image of a lovely scenic little van with gorgeous chic food and even a place to sit and eat whilst staring out at the sea took on a slightly dowdier perspective. A hairnet really hadn’t been in it.
The woman looked at her sternly.
‘Is a hairnet going to be a deal-breaker?’
‘No,’ said Polly quickly. ‘But is it —’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay,’ said Polly. ‘What about, like, really natty little baseball caps?’
‘We’re not in the business of giving out licences to the uncommitted,’ said the woman, hanging back from handing over the forms.
‘Yes. All right, all right. Thank you so much. I’ll do absolutely everything.’
‘You certainly will!’ said the woman. ‘Or we have instant authorisation to shut you down. Good luck!’
Polly was on a train, en route to Penzance. She was speaking to Huckle on the phone. Jayden had given her a lift to the mainland in the taxi boat that morning, whilst the causeway was underwater.
‘Got nowt else to do,’ he had pointed out gloomily. Sales had absolutely fallen off in the bakery and he wasn’t allowed to chat to customers now, so he spent most of the day just staring out to sea. He was still pretty glad he wasn’t out there, but it was becoming a close-run thing, particularly when he saw the lads coming in of a morning, laughing and joking and giving him a terrible slagging for his nasty sausage rolls.
Malcolm wasn’t much better, complaining about how lazy and useless Jayden was, then disappearing for a couple of days, coming back smelling of old booze. And he spent much more time in the other bakery. Jayden suspected he was trying to chat up Flora. He himself had got absolutely nowhere with her, but he still felt she could do better than that sleazy jackass.
The cheery grin had gone from Jayden’s features as he puttered Polly across to the mainland. It was a windy morning, sunny, but with a chill breeze that necessitated a warm cardigan for emergencies.
‘Bring something good back,’ he said to Polly. ‘Sort it out.’
He turned pink.
‘If it… if it goes well… can I come and work with you again?’
‘Of course,’ said Polly, who hadn’t in the slightest figured out how she could possibly manage to do everything herself, but equally couldn’t see how there could be two full-time jobs in it either.
‘I’ll come and look at the van with you. But your job now is to charm City Hall into granting you that trading licence. Print out pictures of the van. Even if you don’t get it, I think the fact that it looks so pretty will help you a lot. And you’re only asking to set it up in a car park, after all. I can’t see it will be that much of a problem; they let ice cream vans come past, don’t they?’
‘Not up to town,’ said Polly, thinking of the terrible blow it would be to both Muriel’s shop and the chippy if their precious Wall’s concessions were challenged. Cornetto money from the hot days of summer kept them going right through the deep storms of winter. And she was trying to do this to someone else’s business.
‘Well, speak to them anyway. Then they’ll probably need to inspect the van.’
‘You know a lot about this,’ said Polly.
‘No,’ said Reuben. ‘I’m just assuming they might like to check from time to time to make sure you’re not selling rat juice. Were you planning on selling rat juice?’
Polly shook her head. Reuben got up, then carefully shook out his wallet and left enough money to cover his own coffee. Polly did the same with her cordials.
‘Gotta respect the small businesses, man,’ said Reuben, patting the door frame of the café as they left. ‘Gotta respect ’em all.’
He gave Polly a light kiss on the cheek.
‘Right. I’m off home. Talking about business plans always makes me feel sexy.’
Polly rolled her eyes and followed his gaze. Parked behind the café was a tiny, glittering, incredibly expensive-looking micro-scooter.
‘Seriously?’ she said.
‘Oh yeah,’ said Reuben. ‘Totally. I hid it in a hedge. Okay. What are you?’
Polly smiled at him. He’d been a proper tonic.
‘Um, awesome?’
Reuben shook his head and got on his scooter.
‘Nope.’
Polly was confused.
‘What then?’
‘FUCKING AWESOME!’ he screamed, scooting away in his ridiculous trainers, highly expensive three-quarter-length trousers and designer sunglasses. As he vanished down the vertiginous hill narrowly missing a woman struggling with a huge buggy, Polly heard a faint echo on the breeze.
‘FUUUUUCKKKKIIIINNNNGG AWWWWWEEEESSSOOOOMMME!’
Chapter Fourteen
In the event, once Polly had printed out all the forms at the library in Looe, it wasn’t nearly as complicated as she’d expected. The lady at the council had looked at her briefly, run through her application and told her that they would have to have a proper council bin nearby, that any rubbish or extra seagull infestation would result in a review, that they would need a health and safety certificate publicly displayed and that it would be for a three-month trial period only. Her spot would be in the side entrance to the car park: no entry to Mount Polbearne itself, which was a World Heritage Site and needed to be treated like one. She could also have one picnic table, as long as it didn’t protrude more than fifteen centimetres into the public roadway; she would be liable to spot inspections at any point, and could operate between the hours of eight and four, seven days a week. All for thirty-five quid.
Polly nodded, unable to believe it could be quite so straightforward. Those weeks of lying around feeling sorry for herself seemed such a waste now; could this possibly work? Might it? She’d rung the sellers of the van, who, yes, still had it, and was steeling herself to go and negotiate. Reuben had offered to go with her, but Polly had figured that whilst she personally thought Reuben was ace, sometimes the first impression he gave wasn’t entirely the best way to get a nice friendly deal out of people.
‘Oh,’ said the council woman. ‘And you’ll have to wear a hairnet.’
Polly looked at her.
‘Seriously?’
‘I don’t make the rules,’ said the woman. ‘Well, I do, obviously, make some of the rules.’ She smoothed down her cerise suit jacket, which looked too warm over her floral frock. ‘But in this instance, it comes from far higher up. Yes, higher up even than me!’
‘A hairnet?’ said Polly. Suddenly her image of a lovely scenic little van with gorgeous chic food and even a place to sit and eat whilst staring out at the sea took on a slightly dowdier perspective. A hairnet really hadn’t been in it.
The woman looked at her sternly.
‘Is a hairnet going to be a deal-breaker?’
‘No,’ said Polly quickly. ‘But is it —’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay,’ said Polly. ‘What about, like, really natty little baseball caps?’
‘We’re not in the business of giving out licences to the uncommitted,’ said the woman, hanging back from handing over the forms.
‘Yes. All right, all right. Thank you so much. I’ll do absolutely everything.’
‘You certainly will!’ said the woman. ‘Or we have instant authorisation to shut you down. Good luck!’
Polly was on a train, en route to Penzance. She was speaking to Huckle on the phone. Jayden had given her a lift to the mainland in the taxi boat that morning, whilst the causeway was underwater.
‘Got nowt else to do,’ he had pointed out gloomily. Sales had absolutely fallen off in the bakery and he wasn’t allowed to chat to customers now, so he spent most of the day just staring out to sea. He was still pretty glad he wasn’t out there, but it was becoming a close-run thing, particularly when he saw the lads coming in of a morning, laughing and joking and giving him a terrible slagging for his nasty sausage rolls.
Malcolm wasn’t much better, complaining about how lazy and useless Jayden was, then disappearing for a couple of days, coming back smelling of old booze. And he spent much more time in the other bakery. Jayden suspected he was trying to chat up Flora. He himself had got absolutely nowhere with her, but he still felt she could do better than that sleazy jackass.
The cheery grin had gone from Jayden’s features as he puttered Polly across to the mainland. It was a windy morning, sunny, but with a chill breeze that necessitated a warm cardigan for emergencies.
‘Bring something good back,’ he said to Polly. ‘Sort it out.’
He turned pink.
‘If it… if it goes well… can I come and work with you again?’
‘Of course,’ said Polly, who hadn’t in the slightest figured out how she could possibly manage to do everything herself, but equally couldn’t see how there could be two full-time jobs in it either.
