Summer at Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 82
‘Did you not look at the shipping forecast?’ said Archie.
Paul shook his head.
‘No, I thought… I mean, I’m an experienced sailor, but I’ve never seen anything like this.’
‘It blew up fast,’ said someone, and there was general muttered agreement.
‘You weren’t the only ones caught tonight,’ said Archie. ‘But you were the damn luckiest, that’s for sure.’
Paul nodded, tears squeezing out from under his closed lids, as he hugged the little boy close to him. Selina handed him the whisky bottle.
‘They don’t know when they can get to us,’ said Archie.
Just as he said that, there was the flip-flip-flip of a helicopter overhead, its powerful beams illuminating the window of the Little Beach Street Bakery, lighting up its dusty, empty windows.
The medics bustled and made busy with Paul and the little boy. Muriel patted Polly’s shoulder, understanding how difficult it was for her, even now, to be back in her old bakery. The faces of the Polbearnites were smiling and happy, making way for the professionals, chatting to each other about the miraculous recovery of the woman who’d gone into the water.
‘Do you know what?’ said Muriel gently to Polly. ‘Tonight, everyone was saved. Thanks to you, everyone came home safely. I think Mount Polbearne is finally healing.’
Polly swallowed hard. Her ribs suddenly felt sore, and a massive bone-weariness swept over her.
‘Do you really think so?’
Muriel nodded. ‘And I think you should go and get some sleep. There’ll be a lot of questions tomorrow. You should get your head down now, whilst you can.’
Jayden stormed into the bakery, head held high, chest puffed out proudly.
‘Jayden, I need a word with you,’ said Polly weakly, but Jayden waved her off. He marched, pink-faced and damp, straight up to Flora, who was standing by the back wall.
‘Flora,’ he said. ‘I know you’re too beautiful to look at. But I don’t care. I am a fantastic rescuer and a good baker too, and I want to talk about baking with you and do baking with you and make amazing things with you. And do other stuff too but we can get to that. I like you absolutely just for you. So. Um.’
He slightly ran out of steam. ‘Would you like to go to the pub?’
‘All right,’ said Flora shyly.
Polly thought Muriel’s advice was the best she’d ever heard. Storm or no storm, she’d sleep through this. She got up carefully. Suddenly a medic was standing in front of her.
‘You were in the boat?’
‘I’m fine,’ said Polly. ‘Just tired.’
‘Well I’m going to check you over in any case. And you’ll need to see your own doctor in a few days. Make sure you’re not traumatised.’
‘Traumatised by what?’ said Selina. ‘We’re fine. It was brilliant fun actually.’
And weirdly, thought Polly, Selina did look fine. Revitalised, as if her crashing experience had given her more energy, not less. There was a sparkle back in her eyes.
The medic ignored her and carried on examining Polly.
‘Yup, just as I thought. Bruised ribs. Want to come with us?’
‘For some bruised ribs?’
‘Some people like going in helicopters.’
‘Well that’s nice,’ said Polly. ‘But no thanks. I’ll take some paracetamol if you have it.’
The medic quickly and expertly bandaged her up and handed her a packet of aspirin.
‘There you go. Couple of those every two hours, you’ll be right as rain.’
‘I know,’ said Polly in a resigned tone. ‘We get a lot of rain.’
‘Polly Waterford?’ said a voice. A short, chubby middle-aged man was standing there, with a wide-eyed lad next to him.
‘Uh, yeah?’ she said, exhausted.
‘Hi. We’re here to fix your lighthouse. We hitched a lift with the big boys.’
‘I got to go on a helicopter,’ said the young lad. ‘It were amazing. In the storm and everything.’
‘See?’ said the medic.
‘Fine,’ said Polly. Her shoulders were dropping. ‘Okay, right, be right with you.’
The whisky was passed round again, but Polly didn’t want any more.
‘Can’t you just go on your own, mate?’ said Jayden, full of new-found swagger. ‘It won’t be locked. Will it, Pol?’
Polly shook her head and waved her hands.
‘No, it isn’t locked, but I have to come over anyway.’
Suddenly the idea of having to climb all those stairs again, back in the cold lighthouse, before she even looked at the damage that must have been done to it, seemed a little overwhelming.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ said Selina. ‘You’re staying right here. Upstairs. It’s warm and cosy, and there are clean sheets on your old bed. Or there will be in about ten seconds.’
‘Where are you going to sleep?’ said Polly in surprise. Selina smiled.
‘I couldn’t sleep now for any money. Also, Andy’s opening up,’ she added. ‘He says nobody’s getting any sleep in the storm anyway, so he might as well make some money. You want to come?’
‘No,’ said Polly. ‘Oh God, I would love to sleep, though.’
‘Up you go,’ said Selina. ‘Don’t wait up! I’ll sleep on the sofa when I get in.’
‘Are you sure?’
Selina smiled, and the two girls hugged and left, and the other villagers clapped them as they went.
It was the oddest thing, to go back to what had once been her flat, only to find it all different. It smelled different: perfume and body lotion and a whiff of cat litter, although Lucas was nowhere to be seen on such a night.
Exhausted, Polly grabbed a rug off the sofa and went to the old chair by the window she used to sit in. It was still very windy and wet outside, but the thunder and lightning had passed on, out to sea. The worst was very definitely over. She looked up. At the top of the lighthouse, the men had already set up torches and were clearly beginning to work. Out on the harbour, the helicopter was taking off, Paul and Josephus safely aboard. It was rather thrilling to see it rise in the air seemingly right in front of her nose. Still no light, of course, in the village, nor on the coast. Now that the helicopter had gone, they were plunged back into gloom. She could hear, though, cheerful noises coming from the pub. They were celebrating. And she should be celebrating too. They had come through the storm. They had saved that little family – goodness, she still felt shaky about that. She knew she would have to sit down and process everything. But for now, in this dark little corner of the world, she felt suddenly overwhelmed by tiredness. There would be no bread tomorrow. Just this once. Just this once…
Paul shook his head.
‘No, I thought… I mean, I’m an experienced sailor, but I’ve never seen anything like this.’
‘It blew up fast,’ said someone, and there was general muttered agreement.
‘You weren’t the only ones caught tonight,’ said Archie. ‘But you were the damn luckiest, that’s for sure.’
Paul nodded, tears squeezing out from under his closed lids, as he hugged the little boy close to him. Selina handed him the whisky bottle.
‘They don’t know when they can get to us,’ said Archie.
Just as he said that, there was the flip-flip-flip of a helicopter overhead, its powerful beams illuminating the window of the Little Beach Street Bakery, lighting up its dusty, empty windows.
The medics bustled and made busy with Paul and the little boy. Muriel patted Polly’s shoulder, understanding how difficult it was for her, even now, to be back in her old bakery. The faces of the Polbearnites were smiling and happy, making way for the professionals, chatting to each other about the miraculous recovery of the woman who’d gone into the water.
‘Do you know what?’ said Muriel gently to Polly. ‘Tonight, everyone was saved. Thanks to you, everyone came home safely. I think Mount Polbearne is finally healing.’
Polly swallowed hard. Her ribs suddenly felt sore, and a massive bone-weariness swept over her.
‘Do you really think so?’
Muriel nodded. ‘And I think you should go and get some sleep. There’ll be a lot of questions tomorrow. You should get your head down now, whilst you can.’
Jayden stormed into the bakery, head held high, chest puffed out proudly.
‘Jayden, I need a word with you,’ said Polly weakly, but Jayden waved her off. He marched, pink-faced and damp, straight up to Flora, who was standing by the back wall.
‘Flora,’ he said. ‘I know you’re too beautiful to look at. But I don’t care. I am a fantastic rescuer and a good baker too, and I want to talk about baking with you and do baking with you and make amazing things with you. And do other stuff too but we can get to that. I like you absolutely just for you. So. Um.’
He slightly ran out of steam. ‘Would you like to go to the pub?’
‘All right,’ said Flora shyly.
Polly thought Muriel’s advice was the best she’d ever heard. Storm or no storm, she’d sleep through this. She got up carefully. Suddenly a medic was standing in front of her.
‘You were in the boat?’
‘I’m fine,’ said Polly. ‘Just tired.’
‘Well I’m going to check you over in any case. And you’ll need to see your own doctor in a few days. Make sure you’re not traumatised.’
‘Traumatised by what?’ said Selina. ‘We’re fine. It was brilliant fun actually.’
And weirdly, thought Polly, Selina did look fine. Revitalised, as if her crashing experience had given her more energy, not less. There was a sparkle back in her eyes.
The medic ignored her and carried on examining Polly.
‘Yup, just as I thought. Bruised ribs. Want to come with us?’
‘For some bruised ribs?’
‘Some people like going in helicopters.’
‘Well that’s nice,’ said Polly. ‘But no thanks. I’ll take some paracetamol if you have it.’
The medic quickly and expertly bandaged her up and handed her a packet of aspirin.
‘There you go. Couple of those every two hours, you’ll be right as rain.’
‘I know,’ said Polly in a resigned tone. ‘We get a lot of rain.’
‘Polly Waterford?’ said a voice. A short, chubby middle-aged man was standing there, with a wide-eyed lad next to him.
‘Uh, yeah?’ she said, exhausted.
‘Hi. We’re here to fix your lighthouse. We hitched a lift with the big boys.’
‘I got to go on a helicopter,’ said the young lad. ‘It were amazing. In the storm and everything.’
‘See?’ said the medic.
‘Fine,’ said Polly. Her shoulders were dropping. ‘Okay, right, be right with you.’
The whisky was passed round again, but Polly didn’t want any more.
‘Can’t you just go on your own, mate?’ said Jayden, full of new-found swagger. ‘It won’t be locked. Will it, Pol?’
Polly shook her head and waved her hands.
‘No, it isn’t locked, but I have to come over anyway.’
Suddenly the idea of having to climb all those stairs again, back in the cold lighthouse, before she even looked at the damage that must have been done to it, seemed a little overwhelming.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ said Selina. ‘You’re staying right here. Upstairs. It’s warm and cosy, and there are clean sheets on your old bed. Or there will be in about ten seconds.’
‘Where are you going to sleep?’ said Polly in surprise. Selina smiled.
‘I couldn’t sleep now for any money. Also, Andy’s opening up,’ she added. ‘He says nobody’s getting any sleep in the storm anyway, so he might as well make some money. You want to come?’
‘No,’ said Polly. ‘Oh God, I would love to sleep, though.’
‘Up you go,’ said Selina. ‘Don’t wait up! I’ll sleep on the sofa when I get in.’
‘Are you sure?’
Selina smiled, and the two girls hugged and left, and the other villagers clapped them as they went.
It was the oddest thing, to go back to what had once been her flat, only to find it all different. It smelled different: perfume and body lotion and a whiff of cat litter, although Lucas was nowhere to be seen on such a night.
Exhausted, Polly grabbed a rug off the sofa and went to the old chair by the window she used to sit in. It was still very windy and wet outside, but the thunder and lightning had passed on, out to sea. The worst was very definitely over. She looked up. At the top of the lighthouse, the men had already set up torches and were clearly beginning to work. Out on the harbour, the helicopter was taking off, Paul and Josephus safely aboard. It was rather thrilling to see it rise in the air seemingly right in front of her nose. Still no light, of course, in the village, nor on the coast. Now that the helicopter had gone, they were plunged back into gloom. She could hear, though, cheerful noises coming from the pub. They were celebrating. And she should be celebrating too. They had come through the storm. They had saved that little family – goodness, she still felt shaky about that. She knew she would have to sit down and process everything. But for now, in this dark little corner of the world, she felt suddenly overwhelmed by tiredness. There would be no bread tomorrow. Just this once. Just this once…
