Christmas at the Little Village Bakery

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘America is so big that most of them will probably never even manage to see the whole of their own country,’ Tori agreed, climbing from the passenger door.

  Jenny shot her a sideways look as she locked the car. ‘It’s an incredible country. I suppose it would be quite a wrench to leave it… If you choose to come to England once you’re married, that is.’

  Tori looked up at the store, neon lights announcing the wealth of goods inside. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have with Jenny, at least not until she was certain of things herself. The more she heard about Spencer’s past, the more she felt that living in America, away from reminders of that, might be the best decision for their future. She was quickly beginning to realise that the man she had been dating there was a different one to the man she had seen in his home village. Perhaps there was too much history here. But she also realised that he was bound to Honeybourne in the same way she was to her home, and it would be a wrench for him to say goodbye to it forever, just as it would be for her. She could talk to him, persuade him of the sense of her argument, and he would undoubtedly compromise for her – but was that fair to him?

  ‘It looks busy in there,’ she said, looking towards the store.

  ‘You wouldn’t think anyone would be daft enough to come out in this weather to shop. I’ve travelled the world and seen dictatorships, poverty, incredible displays of courage, selfless acts of love, some of the strangest customs from the furthest reaches of the globe first-hand… but the British propensity to shop still never fails to surprise me. If the end of the world was announced right now, there’d be a queue for cut-price televisions.’

  Tori laughed. She liked Jenny and Lewis a lot. They had clearly made Spencer the man he was, but in so many ways they were very different from him – they were more outspoken, freer with opinions, less empathic. But they were witty and intelligent and curious about the world, just like Spencer. She wasn’t sure what her parents would make of Jenny and Lewis, though, and that might just present a huge problem.

  The garage door was wide open, The Who blasting from an old CD player as Lewis worked on his moped.

  ‘It’s like you were never away,’ Spencer said, smiling as he leaned on the doorframe.

  ‘I wish I could say the same to you,’ Lewis replied, blowing dust from a large nut. ‘My poor scooter has almost seized up with nobody riding it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have ridden it if I’d been at home.’

  ‘But you would have started it up occasionally.’

  Spencer frowned, but said nothing.

  Lewis straightened up. ‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘I know you’ve got more important things to worry about.’

  ‘Don’t remind me. Is Mum back with Tori yet?’

  ‘Not yet. Your mum is very vocal about how much she hates chain shops, but get her in one and the transformation is incredible. She’s quickly seduced by all those materialistic things she says she doesn’t need – she’ll probably come back with armfuls of very unethical toiletries and Jammie Dodgers.’

  ‘Probably,’ Spencer laughed. ‘Although I can help her out with the biscuits if she does.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘It’s perishing in here. Don’t you want the heater on? I can fetch it out and put some oil in.’

  ‘I’m ok – worked up a good sweat on this bike.’ He wiped his hands on a rag, silently appraising his son for a moment.

  ‘What?’ Spencer asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

  ‘Your mum thinks you’re having doubts.’

  Spencer blinked. ‘About what?’

  ‘About Tori.’

  ‘She said that?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Of course I’m not. That’s ridiculous!’

  Lewis scratched his head. ‘See, you say that, but women are good at spotting these things. We Neanderthals lumber about the place pointing at shiny objects and grunting, but the women… they’re taking it all in. A woman would probably know it before you did, and your mother in particular is rarely wrong.’

  ‘She’s wrong this time.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Dad…’ Spencer warned.

  Lewis held his hands up in a gesture of defeat. ‘I’m only telling you what she said – don’t shoot the messenger. If you say it’s all good then it’s all good. We just wanted you to know that if you need to talk then we’re here for you.’

  Spencer’s mind went back to all the times during the last couple of years when he had needed to talk and they weren’t there. What about those times? But it seemed churlish to say it, and perhaps it was as much his fault – with his innate need to bottle things up and spare others from what he viewed as an imposition – as it was theirs for being in another country. If he had asked, they probably would have helped.

  ‘So, this date for the wedding,’ Lewis continued, ‘it’s a definite?’

  ‘Sort of… I suppose so.’

  ‘You don’t sound sure of that.’

  ‘It’s just that we haven’t really made any concrete plans yet.’

  ‘Well, when you do, don’t forget to whistle if you need some cash to make it happen. I know it’s traditional for the bride’s family to pay but it’s all bollocks if you ask me.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad. I missed you and Mum, you know that?’

  ‘I expect you did.’ Lewis turned his attention back to the bike. ‘You’ll miss us a heck of a lot more if you’re in America for good.’

  ‘Tori’s close to her parents too. She’d find it just as hard to leave them, and I’m already used to being without you. I’d miss you, but I never said I couldn’t cope.’

  ‘And you think she wouldn’t be able to cope without her parents?’

  ‘She’s never had to – that’s what I’m saying.’

  Lewis nodded to himself as he ran a cloth over the mudguards. ‘You know how to make a man feel guilty, don’t you? That’s one trick you picked up from your mother.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. I’m just stating facts. Your science brain loves facts, remember?’

  Lewis looked up with a grin. ‘Got me there. So I can tell your mum that you’re happy and sure and this is all going to happen?’

  ‘Yes, absolutely,’ Spencer replied, with more conviction than he felt. Maybe if he said it enough times, and with enough feeling, it might become the truth.

  In the end, there hadn’t seemed much point in staying in Salisbury. Darcie had already finished her Christmas shopping a week before, such as it was, and she didn’t have a lot of money to spend on anything else. The wooden stalls of a continental market lined the streets, selling hand-knitted woollen gifts and home-made toys, roasted chestnuts, sugared doughnuts, hog roast sandwiches and fragrant mulled wine, and while they made Darcie feel more festive than she had done so far this year, there hadn’t been a lot she needed from any of them. She’d been true to her promise to Millie and Dylan and done her best to make the most of the time off she’d been granted: she’d mooched around the shops for an hour or so, gone to see the cathedral and the river, but then she just wanted to get back to the bakery.

  Part of her had hoped she’d see Nathan again in town, even though he’d got off the bus a couple of stops before the city centre, but she didn’t. That hardly stopped her thoughts straying to him every once in a while, though. The more she pictured his cute smile and the way his hair flopped cheekily over one eye, so that he had developed an adorable habit of blowing it out of his way, the more she wanted to call that phone number. It wasn’t as simple as that though – it never was with her. The idea, despite being appealing, also made her feel nervous and flustered. She wasn’t good in social situations, especially with people she didn’t know, and she always seemed to do and say the wrong things. He was a law student, he was smart and educated… What would he want from a girl like her who had no education, no decent job and no real knowledge of the world? She had nothing to offer in the long term, and anything short-term she wasn’t interested in giving. One-night stands
, even short-term flings, weren’t her style. She was looking for commitment. Would she get that from someone like Nathan?

  As she sat on the bus, just after lunchtime, she pulled out the scrap of paper with his phone number on it. The sunshine of the morning had quickly been swallowed by cloud and it had started to snow again, so fine that it was hardly more than rain, but the sky promised more to come. The town flashed by, a festive whirl of coloured lights and bright shop displays, people hurrying to and fro, making last-minute preparations so that Christmas Eve could come and they’d be able to sit with their friends and family, wine on the table and carols on the CD player, and know that everything was as perfect as it could be. The bus stopped and a woman with a toddler climbed on and sat in the seat in front of Darcie. The child was eating hot doughnuts, and Darcie could smell the sugar on the air. She smiled awkwardly as the little boy leaned over the seat and grinned at her, his face covered.

  ‘Hello… Are those doughnuts nice?’

  ‘Sit down,’ the woman scolded, and pulled him back onto his seat.

  Darcie turned her attention back to the window. Then she looked at the phone number in her hand again. Without another thought, she keyed it into her phone, saved the contact, and then sent a text.

  After some discussion on the phone about the current weather in England and the fact that the British authorities just didn’t seem able to make even the largest roads traversable when faced with a flake of snow, Tori’s parents had decided that they would make their own way to Honeybourne from the airport to save her and Spencer driving in potentially treacherous conditions. Spencer wasn’t sure whether this made things better or worse for him, but at least it saved them a long and awkward car journey together, even if it did mean his stomach churned as he sat around waiting for them, suddenly with a lot more time to dwell on what could go wrong and not a lot to take his mind off it. They were currently in the Dog and Hare, having checked on the room they’d asked Colleen to reserve for the Dempseys at least four times now.

  Tori’s phone bleeped. She looked up at Spencer and then opened the text. ‘The taxi has just pulled into Honeybourne!’ she squealed.

  Spencer looked over the coffee cup he was holding. It felt weird drinking coffee in the Dog and Hare, but it seemed sensible to lay off the booze, at least until he’d had another crack at Tori’s parents and persuaded them he wasn’t a complete loser, which he was pretty sure holding a pint of beer as they arrived wouldn’t do. It had seemed easier to meet them here too, as this was where they’d be staying until after Christmas and, just for now, his own parents had stayed at his house to give them a bit of breathing space before complicating things further. Thankfully, the pub was quiet. He wasn’t sure that a couple of teetotal lawyers would have been quite so keen to stay there had they seen it the previous night. And if it got rowdy again tonight… well, it wasn’t worth thinking about just yet. He’d have to have a word with his mum and dad about it, that was for certain, as they’d instigated most of the rowdiness in the first place.

  ‘That’s brilliant,’ he said, trying to sound more enthusiastic than he felt, which wasn’t very difficult under the circumstances. ‘They made good time on the motorway then.’

  Tori leapt up from her seat and went to the window, hugging herself as she gazed out.

  ‘Have you heard from them?’ Colleen shouted from across the bar where she was wiping down the beer taps.

  ‘Yes!’ Tori said, spinning around to face her. ‘Nearly here!’ She flipped around to watch the window again.

  Spencer shot Colleen a helpless smile, and she sent one back that was rather more vague and less loaded with subtext. He took a deep breath, wishing now that he had taken one of Millie’s potions away. At least he might have been fooled into being calmer, even if it was all hokum, as some believed. Instead, he only felt sick, and chanced a glance at the cigarette machine as he wondered if this was a good time to start smoking.

  Ten minutes later, Tori ran for the door. She yanked it open and threw herself into the arms of a tall, greying man, immaculately dressed in suit and tie with navy woollen coat, looking for all the world like he was on his way to a business meeting despite the fact that he was on holiday.

  ‘Daddy!’ she cried.

  She’d seen her parents quite recently back in Boulder, and Spencer wondered vaguely at the enthusiasm of the greeting. Perhaps she was as nervous about the visit as he was, but where he was all edginess, her nerves manifested as unreasonable excitement.

  The greeting was followed by ‘Mommy!’ and a similar hurling of herself at a woman every bit as distinguished as her husband – a stately blonde who looked as though she was no stranger to the Botox needle and also dressed in a long woollen coat, a white blouse and pencil skirt beneath.

  ‘I’m so happy you could both come!’ Tori squeaked breathlessly. ‘I just know you’re going to love England!’

  The way they both looked around the pub, it seemed very much as if they had already decided they weren’t going to like England one bit. And then they turned as one as Spencer stood from his seat and made his way over. The grin was stapled to his face, and it felt as though it might crack if he didn’t hold it still. If they had looked disappointed in the pub, they looked positively devastated to lay eyes on him as Spencer held out his hand to shake.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Dempsey,’ he said, ‘a pleasure to meet you again.’

  With a great deal of formality, they both shook hands with Spencer. It was a world away from the warm greeting his parents had afforded Tori the day before.

  ‘This is where we’re staying?’ Mr Dempsey asked as he gave the pub another once-over.

  ‘Isn’t it quaint?’ Tori asked. ‘It’s the only place in the village, you know.’

  ‘I know,’ said Mrs Dempsey. ‘I checked. The nearest good hotel is miles away.’

  There was a tone of derision in her voice that got Spencer’s hackles rising. They had just arrived and within a matter of seconds had managed to make clear their dislike of not only him, but also his home, which hurt a lot more. The nearest good hotel might be miles away, but right now he was very tempted to drive them straight to it and dump them there. If they were unhappy now, they were going to be livid when they found out it was Spencer’s turn on the bar that night.

  Colleen wandered over, seemingly oblivious to the disapproval of her pub. She gave them a warm smile. ‘Hello, welcome to Honeybourne. I’m the landlady and I’m here all the time, so if you need anything, night or day, just let me know. Would you like to see your room?’

  ‘Where are the suitcases?’ Spencer asked, looking around.

  ‘The rudest cab driver ever refused to bring them in,’ Mrs Dempsey said. ‘They’re out there on the sidewalk, and I had to beg him to even get them out of the trunk for us.’

  ‘That’s British hospitality for you,’ Spencer said, doing his best to smile in what he thought might be a relaxed and jovial manner, but nobody else seemed to get the joke. He let out a small sigh. ‘I’ll get the cases in.’

  First there were too many stairs and no lift, then their room wasn’t big enough, then the shower was too small, then there was too much noise from downstairs. Spencer wondered when the Dempseys were ever going to stop complaining and find something nice to say about their accommodation. It wasn’t exactly the Hilton, but they could have been a lot worse off, and at least it was homely and friendly – two things that Spencer valued quite highly if he was staying in a new place. Colleen bore it all with impressive fortitude and grace, and Doug even got called from his sick bed to pitch in as best he could with entertaining their guests. By the time Spencer had left them to settle in and have a few hours alone with Tori, he was gladder than he could say to no longer hear their whining voices in his ear. If they had turned around and demanded to be taken straight back to the airport, he would have quite happily obliged. Though he would be forced to spend the evening in their company, at least he would have the distraction of serving behind the bar at the Dog
and Hare. He hoped that trade would be brisk so he could escape them as often as possible.

  ‘Have they arrived?’ Jenny asked as Spencer shuffled into the living room and dropped into an armchair. He blew out a long breath and raised his eyebrows at his mum. ‘That bad?’ she asked with a faint smile.

  ‘I’d been prepared for them to be a bit… disorientated,’ he replied, trying to be as tactful as possible. ‘But they’re, well, “high maintenance” is maybe the phrase I’m looking for.’

  ‘Pains in the arse is what you mean,’ Lewis cut in as he emerged from the kitchen with two mugs. ‘I’ve just made a cup of tea – do you want one?’

  Spencer nodded gratefully. ‘That sounds amazing. How about a padded cell too while you’re at it? Or some earplugs?’

  ‘I suppose it’s all a bit different from what they know at home,’ Jenny said as her husband handed her a mug and then disappeared back into the kitchen. ‘Honeybourne must be a bit of a culture shock.’

  ‘That doesn’t give them the right to be rude about everything.’

  It was Jenny’s turn to raise her eyebrows.

  ‘Yes,’ Spencer confirmed her silent question. ‘They’re pretty obnoxious, and being away from home hasn’t improved that. Fabulous in-law material. I don’t know how the hell they managed to produce a girl as sweet as Tori.’

  ‘Do you think this might have some bearing on your decision to move to America?’ Jenny blew on her tea before taking a sip.

  ‘Mum, I haven’t decided to move to America.’

  ‘It sounded that way earlier darling.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry if it did, but nothing has been decided yet.’

  ‘I sense some friction over it… and I’m guessing that Tori will win, because you’re a people pleaser and you always back down.’

  ‘There’s no winning or losing, Mum. We need to work out what’s best for us in the long run, and I’m trying not to be swayed by my feelings too much. I think Tori will do the same. We’ll look at the finances, and the possibilities of where our kids will grow up if we have any, and what that will mean for their futures—’