Summer at Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 68
‘He wants me to bake for him!’ said Flora, pinkening. She set off after him, and Kerensa and Polly watched her go.
‘Cor,’ said Polly. ‘That “treat ’em mean keep ’em keen” thing works in strange ways.’
She stared out over the horizon. A great storm appeared to be blowing up, black clouds pushing hither and thither. She frowned at it.
‘That doesn’t look very nice.’
‘I know,’ said Kerensa glumly.
‘Want to stay over? You’ve missed the tide.’
‘No, I’ll wait for the next one. I wish Reuben still had that damn boat and could just come and pick me up. That is the one thing I miss. And the helicopter.’
‘It’ll take him a while on the micro-scooter.’
‘Don’t diss the micro-scooter,’ said Kerensa. ‘He’s lost about nine pounds on that thing.’
‘What, through shame?’
Kerensa smiled. ‘You should know by now that Reuben doesn’t do shame.’
She linked arms with Polly.
‘Come on, let’s go halves on a small glass of cider.’
Later on, Polly waved Kerensa off across the causeway. The tide was going out, but the waves were still splashing over the top of the cobbles. Kerensa was a good and unfazed driver though, and pushed the little Datsun she’d been reduced to through without incident.
Polly frowned at the sky and kept her fingers crossed that the power would stay on if there was a big storm. It was the time of year for it: they’d had a couple of very hot days now, but there was still a lot of cold air circling round in the system. The lighthouse itself never went out, of course – it had a back-up generator – but the rooms were on the mains, and sitting in the dark above the sea frankly wasn’t a lot of fun, unless Huckle was there, in which case it was a ton of fun.
The clouds kept gathering, and there was a strong feeling of electricity and static in the air without anything actually happening. It was getting warmer, and the clouds had a purply mustard streak that Polly didn’t like at all. She decided to ring Huckle quickly.
‘Hey,’ she said before he could get a word in. ‘Sorry about yesterday.’
‘Nobody said this was going to be easy,’ said Huckle straight away. ‘That’s okay. You’re allowed to feel like you’re alone. But you know, you’re not.’
‘I know,’ said Polly. ‘Kerensa told me that. And Jayden, too. Then Selina rang, and —’
‘See!’ said Huckle. ‘You are totally surrounded by all your mates at all times. I don’t have a friend in the world out here! Except for…’ His voice trailed off.
‘Except for who?’
‘Well, I see Candice a bit, you know. Only friendly kind of thing.’
Polly felt a sudden clutch of nerves. She’d never met Candice, but she knew that a) she was incredibly fit and blonde and beautiful, from a photograph she’d come across, and b) she had broken Huckle’s heart completely and utterly before Polly had met him, so much so that he’d had to move to another continent to get away from her. He said he was totally over it, but men say a lot of things.
‘Well obviously,’ said Polly, her heart thumping in her chest. There was a pause. ‘Do you see her a lot?’
‘I see her AND HER FIANCÉ RON from time to time, yes.’
‘And what does she think you should do?’
It was then that Huckle made his fatal mistake.
‘Well, you know, she’s a businesswoman…’
Polly went completely silent. There was a very long pause.
‘And what am I?’ she said finally. ‘A hobbyist?’
Huckle felt exasperated and guilty.
‘Polly,’ he said. ‘You have to stop this.’
‘Stop what? Running a shop?’
‘No! Trying to catch me out! Ever since I left, you’ve been trying to find hidden meanings in what I’m saying. Blaming me for stuff we both agreed to do.’
‘I’m not doing that!’
‘That’s exactly what you’re doing.’
‘Well, I’m very tired.’
The exhaustion showed in Huckle’s voice.
‘We’re all tired, Poll. You have to try a little harder.’
‘You’re not the one sat here all alone in —’
‘In a lighthouse, I know. The lighthouse you insisted on buying despite that estate agent and surveyor begging you not to. The lighthouse that needs thousands and thousands spent on it to make it even vaguely habitable. The lighthouse in which we camp. The lighthouse you wouldn’t dream of leaving for five minutes to come and spend time with me. The lighthouse that by the way has more than one room, which is more than I’ve got, because my life is on the farm now, and I live in a single bed in a spare room the size of a box. For you. But please, go on about it some more.’
Polly had never heard Huckle so angry. It took so much to wind him up; she’d kind of taken it for granted that he would always be mellow, and absorb her moods. This was new and a bit shocking.
She swallowed hard.
‘Can you come home?’
‘Not yet,’ said Huckle. ‘Can you come here?’
‘It’s the middle of the summer season.’
‘Well then,’ said Huckle, ‘we’ll just have to carry on.’
And there was a tiny little pause, in which both of them worried, just for a split second, whether or not they could.
Chapter Twenty
Huckle couldn’t help being annoyed with Polly. She was at home with all her mates, her business was going well, everything was totally fine. Why did she have to be so cross with him all the time, really? Then he’d come upon Clemmie in the kitchen, bent over, sobbing her heart out over the stove. He’d run to her, petrified, thinking something was wrong with the baby. But she was scared, that was all. He had cursed and said he was absolutely emailing Dubose, and she had begged him not to, and he had wanted to kick the wall in frustration. Instead, he’d gone back to the accounts: hay, corn, feed stocks. This was a good farm. There was no reason why Dubose couldn’t make a good happy living here, a good happy life. None at all.
Polly tossed and turned half the night, then finally gave up around three and got up and started kneading and twisting fresh dough, as usual the only thing that could calm her down. She wanted to call Huckle, but what would happen? Another fight?
‘Cor,’ said Polly. ‘That “treat ’em mean keep ’em keen” thing works in strange ways.’
She stared out over the horizon. A great storm appeared to be blowing up, black clouds pushing hither and thither. She frowned at it.
‘That doesn’t look very nice.’
‘I know,’ said Kerensa glumly.
‘Want to stay over? You’ve missed the tide.’
‘No, I’ll wait for the next one. I wish Reuben still had that damn boat and could just come and pick me up. That is the one thing I miss. And the helicopter.’
‘It’ll take him a while on the micro-scooter.’
‘Don’t diss the micro-scooter,’ said Kerensa. ‘He’s lost about nine pounds on that thing.’
‘What, through shame?’
Kerensa smiled. ‘You should know by now that Reuben doesn’t do shame.’
She linked arms with Polly.
‘Come on, let’s go halves on a small glass of cider.’
Later on, Polly waved Kerensa off across the causeway. The tide was going out, but the waves were still splashing over the top of the cobbles. Kerensa was a good and unfazed driver though, and pushed the little Datsun she’d been reduced to through without incident.
Polly frowned at the sky and kept her fingers crossed that the power would stay on if there was a big storm. It was the time of year for it: they’d had a couple of very hot days now, but there was still a lot of cold air circling round in the system. The lighthouse itself never went out, of course – it had a back-up generator – but the rooms were on the mains, and sitting in the dark above the sea frankly wasn’t a lot of fun, unless Huckle was there, in which case it was a ton of fun.
The clouds kept gathering, and there was a strong feeling of electricity and static in the air without anything actually happening. It was getting warmer, and the clouds had a purply mustard streak that Polly didn’t like at all. She decided to ring Huckle quickly.
‘Hey,’ she said before he could get a word in. ‘Sorry about yesterday.’
‘Nobody said this was going to be easy,’ said Huckle straight away. ‘That’s okay. You’re allowed to feel like you’re alone. But you know, you’re not.’
‘I know,’ said Polly. ‘Kerensa told me that. And Jayden, too. Then Selina rang, and —’
‘See!’ said Huckle. ‘You are totally surrounded by all your mates at all times. I don’t have a friend in the world out here! Except for…’ His voice trailed off.
‘Except for who?’
‘Well, I see Candice a bit, you know. Only friendly kind of thing.’
Polly felt a sudden clutch of nerves. She’d never met Candice, but she knew that a) she was incredibly fit and blonde and beautiful, from a photograph she’d come across, and b) she had broken Huckle’s heart completely and utterly before Polly had met him, so much so that he’d had to move to another continent to get away from her. He said he was totally over it, but men say a lot of things.
‘Well obviously,’ said Polly, her heart thumping in her chest. There was a pause. ‘Do you see her a lot?’
‘I see her AND HER FIANCÉ RON from time to time, yes.’
‘And what does she think you should do?’
It was then that Huckle made his fatal mistake.
‘Well, you know, she’s a businesswoman…’
Polly went completely silent. There was a very long pause.
‘And what am I?’ she said finally. ‘A hobbyist?’
Huckle felt exasperated and guilty.
‘Polly,’ he said. ‘You have to stop this.’
‘Stop what? Running a shop?’
‘No! Trying to catch me out! Ever since I left, you’ve been trying to find hidden meanings in what I’m saying. Blaming me for stuff we both agreed to do.’
‘I’m not doing that!’
‘That’s exactly what you’re doing.’
‘Well, I’m very tired.’
The exhaustion showed in Huckle’s voice.
‘We’re all tired, Poll. You have to try a little harder.’
‘You’re not the one sat here all alone in —’
‘In a lighthouse, I know. The lighthouse you insisted on buying despite that estate agent and surveyor begging you not to. The lighthouse that needs thousands and thousands spent on it to make it even vaguely habitable. The lighthouse in which we camp. The lighthouse you wouldn’t dream of leaving for five minutes to come and spend time with me. The lighthouse that by the way has more than one room, which is more than I’ve got, because my life is on the farm now, and I live in a single bed in a spare room the size of a box. For you. But please, go on about it some more.’
Polly had never heard Huckle so angry. It took so much to wind him up; she’d kind of taken it for granted that he would always be mellow, and absorb her moods. This was new and a bit shocking.
She swallowed hard.
‘Can you come home?’
‘Not yet,’ said Huckle. ‘Can you come here?’
‘It’s the middle of the summer season.’
‘Well then,’ said Huckle, ‘we’ll just have to carry on.’
And there was a tiny little pause, in which both of them worried, just for a split second, whether or not they could.
Chapter Twenty
Huckle couldn’t help being annoyed with Polly. She was at home with all her mates, her business was going well, everything was totally fine. Why did she have to be so cross with him all the time, really? Then he’d come upon Clemmie in the kitchen, bent over, sobbing her heart out over the stove. He’d run to her, petrified, thinking something was wrong with the baby. But she was scared, that was all. He had cursed and said he was absolutely emailing Dubose, and she had begged him not to, and he had wanted to kick the wall in frustration. Instead, he’d gone back to the accounts: hay, corn, feed stocks. This was a good farm. There was no reason why Dubose couldn’t make a good happy living here, a good happy life. None at all.
Polly tossed and turned half the night, then finally gave up around three and got up and started kneading and twisting fresh dough, as usual the only thing that could calm her down. She wanted to call Huckle, but what would happen? Another fight?
