Summer at Little Beach Street Bakery

by Jenny Colgan

  ‘Your life is weird now,’ said Polly.

  ‘You’re the one whose most pressing future purchase is a FIREMAN’S POLE.’

  Dubose joined them as they left the lighthouse. He was wearing a pale grey shirt that Polly knew for a fact was Huckle’s, but she didn’t mention it.

  The air was warm and stiller than it had been recently as they walked companionably down across the rocks, Kerensa as usual in ridiculous shoes. Neil came fluttering up from the rock pool he’d been splashing in – his outdoor swimming pool, as Huckle called it. Kerensa bent down.

  ‘Hey, small bird,’ she said. Neil eeped at her. Kerensa was not his favourite. She never carried snacks and she didn’t like getting bird footprints on her expensive clothes.

  ‘You know, I saw a million puffins coming down here today. And do you know what they were doing? They were playing with their mates, right? Flocking and shagging and making noise and bouncing about all over the place. Have you got no mates? You haven’t got any mates, have you?’

  Kerensa straightened up.

  ‘Your bird’s weird. You need to sort him out with some friends or a girlfriend or something.’

  Polly stiffened.

  ‘He seems perfectly happy to me.’

  Neil hopped towards her feet and rubbed his head affectionately on her tights. His beak caught and he accidentally started a ladder in one of them. Kerensa rolled her eyes, but Polly just scratched him behind the ears, which he loved.

  ‘I’m just saying. He’s not a baby any more. Shouldn’t he be out and about more?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Dubose. ‘That bird needs to get laid.’

  ‘Well I’m not stopping him,’ said Polly in an injured tone. She got very defensive about Neil. ‘If he wants to meet a lady puffin, he can do that whenever he likes.’

  ‘How’s he going to meet one if you don’t take him to any flocking areas?’ said Kerensa. ‘Do they have Tinder for puffins? They could call it Flounder. Heh heh heh.’

  Polly sighed. She did wonder sometimes, in her heart of hearts, if she should have been stricter about taking Neil back to the sanctuary, once he’d escaped and come back to them. She did worry about thwarting his natural development by making him so dependent on them – he couldn’t hunt if his life depended on it, could barely fly and even by puffin standards had a distinctly rounded tummy. Plus if this new guy Malcolm was going to be absolutely determined that birds wouldn’t be allowed in the shop…

  ‘Did you just come down from your castle tonight to give me grief?’ she said to Kerensa.

  ‘Always,’ said Kerensa. ‘Did you come down from your tower tonight to give me a drink? Because I have to say, I’m feeling rather thirsty.’

  ‘Partaay!’ said Dubose.

  The Red Lion was already buzzing when they got there. It wasn’t the holiday season yet, but early and unexpected sunshine had meant extra day trippers, which meant happy workers, so nearly every table in the cobbled courtyard was full.

  Andy had a band playing, a bunch of fishermen from down the coast at Looe. There was a fiddler, an accordion player wearing a flat cap, a singer and a percussionist.

  ‘Fuck me, it’s the Mumfords,’ said Kerensa gloomily, but Polly enjoyed listening to the traditional shanties on a starry spring night within sight and sound of the sea. They did ‘Sir Patric Spens’ and ‘The Poorest Company’ while Kerensa went to the bar. She started shouting before she even got there, until the scared-looking bartender remembered her from last time and went to the back of the fridge where he kept her secret stock of decent Chablis, as opposed to the warm horse piss that made up their wine list the rest of the time.

  Polly went over and said hi to the Polbearne fishermen, including Jayden but not Archie, who had obviously gone home to his long-suffering wife and family, something for which she was extremely grateful.

  ‘How are things?’ she said.

  ‘Oh,’ said Sten, the tall Scandinavian. ‘New quotas are coming. The boat needs expensive work. The price of fish goes up and nobody wants it any more.’

  ‘But apart from that, fine?’ said Polly. The others nodded.

  Patrick the vet was at the next table.

  ‘Hey,’ said Polly, smiling. ‘Can I ask you a question?’

  Patrick looked at his whisky and soda with some apprehension. ‘Is this one of those ones where you pretend you’re asking about an animal the same size and weight as you but then it turns out it is you and you didn’t want to call the doctor?’

  The doctor was based on the mainland and only came to the island once a week or so, grumbling madly about access all the time, whereas Patrick lived here and often found himself approached for human advice. He couldn’t blame them, but he was terrified of accidentally giving advice that led to serious problems, so it wasn’t his favourite part of the job. He was semi-retired in any case, only saw the local animals from time to time.

  ‘Um, no,’ said Polly. ‘Does that happen a lot?’

  Patrick shrugged. ‘It’s been known. What is it? It’s not that bird of yours, is it?’

  Patrick had a fondness for Neil. The little puffin had tickled his fancy, even though he thought it was wrong of Polly to keep him as a pet.

  ‘I think he’s having social problems,’ began Polly. Patrick raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Actually, I’m not really a bird psychologist…’

  ‘He doesn’t have any bird friends. The seagulls are just big bullies, and the other puffins… I think they’re laughing at him.’

  ‘Well, stop making him wear a jacket.’

  ‘It was only that one time, when it was cold,’ said Polly.

  ‘And I still don’t think those wellingtons…’

  ‘No,’ admitted Polly. ‘Those wellingtons were a mistake, on balance.’

  Patrick let out a sigh.

  ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I did warn you this would happen.’

  ‘I know,’ said Polly, hanging her head.

  ‘You domesticated an animal that isn’t designed to be domesticated.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘It’s probably not too late to re-wild it, you know.’

  ‘Maybe I should domesticate another one to be his friend.’

  Patrick eyed her. ‘You will not!’

  ‘No. I won’t.’

  Polly sighed. ‘I just want him to have what’s best. And for the other birds to accept him.’

  Patrick nodded. ‘I know, Polly. But you know what you’d have to do.’

  Polly was still deep in thought when Kerensa came back, having finally got the barman to clean the glasses, plus dig out an ice bucket, plus let the wine breathe. She was pretty much all yelled out.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, nothing. Apparently re-wilding Neil would be difficult but not impossible.’

  ‘I’m sure he’s fine. Playing all by himself in his rock pool. Maybe he’ll think his reflection is a friend… Oh Polly, your face!’

  ‘Whoa,’ said Dubose suddenly, putting down his beer bottle. ‘Now who is THAT?’

  Polly and Kerensa turned around.

  At first Polly couldn’t make her out in the dark of the pub courtyard, lit only by strings of fairy lights that could make this bit of Mount Polbearne, the fishermen said, look like a cruise ship when you were out at sea.

  Then her mouth fell open. A young girl was walking towards them, wearing a soft Lycra dress that clung lightly to her slim figure. Her black hair was combed back and fell like a waterfall on to her shoulders; her eyelashes were so long they cast shadows on her cheeks, her dark eyes huge. The entire pub fell silent.

  ‘That’s… that’s Flora!’ said Polly in astonishment.

  Flora approached them. She looked like some beautiful witch girl.

  ‘Can I sit with youse?’ she said. ‘Only I missed the tide again.’

  ‘You may!’ said Dubose, jumping up and pulling out a chair for her. ‘I’m Dubose.’

  Flora looked at him without interest.

  ‘You look
beautiful,’ said Polly. She couldn’t help it: the transformation from dowdy, greasy-haired Flora, always staring at the floor and giving wrong change, into this goddess was overwhelming.

  ‘Oh, I know,’ said Flora in a flat voice. ‘People keep saying. It’s boring.’

  The girls exchanged looks of disbelief.

  ‘So are you from round here?’ said Dubose. ‘I’m from America!’

  He said this with a flourish. Flora looked up at him mournfully under her big lashes.

  ‘Oh,’ she said.

  ‘You’re fascinating,’ said Dubose, heading to the bar to get her a drink. As he did so, Polly noticed out of the corner of her eye the fishermen all gazing open-mouthed. Jayden was so pink she thought he was going to burst.

  ‘Does this… does this happen to you often?’ asked Polly.

  Flora nodded. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘But don’t you want to go and make it as a model or something?’ said Kerensa. ‘I mean, I could introduce you to some people…’

  Flora shook her head.

  ‘I just want to bake,’ she said. ‘That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. And people just want to take stupid photos. It’s rubbish.’

  Polly grinned. ‘I can’t believe I’ve wasted my life like this,’ she said, ‘when all I had to do was to be born unbelievably beautiful.’

  ‘It’s rubbish,’ said Flora. ‘People just bug you all the time.’

  ‘Is that why you never wash your hair?’ said Polly.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Flora. ‘Oh, also, I forget.’

  Suddenly, Jayden was at the table. He’d obviously had a couple of jars and plucked up the courage.

  ‘Hello, young ladies!’ His moustache was thicker than ever, his cheeks round and unusually pink.

  ‘Hello, Jayden!’

  ‘Hello, Miss Polly! Hello, Kerensa! Hello…’

  Jayden had completely lost the power of speech.

  ‘Did you want something?’ said Polly gently. Jayden, so incredibly charming and sweet with the older women of the town, was generally terribly unsuccessful with the opposite sex if they were younger than fifty. Turning red was something of a giveaway, although Jayden also turned red if he was warm, cold, excited, cross, tired or perturbed, so you couldn’t exactly rely on it.

  ‘I just… I couldn’t help hearing…’

  Jayden’s table was three noisy tables and a fiddle band away.

  ‘I couldn’t help overhearing that Miss Flora… might need a place to stay.’

  ‘That’s some pretty good bionic ears you’ve got going on there,’ said Kerensa.

  ‘Because, you know…’

  ‘Jayden, you live at your mum’s,’ said Polly.

  ‘Uh, thanks,’ said Jayden crossly. ‘We’ve got a spare room, you know. I’m only trying to be polite. I don’t know why everyone’s making such a big deal about it or getting so worked up about it, honestly. I didn’t even hear what was going on and even if I did I don’t even care, so there. And I don’t live at my mum’s. I lodge with an older woman. I pay rent. So actually I’m a young single man renting. It’s just coincidence that it’s my mum’s.’

  He stalked off.

  ‘Uh, yes please?’ said Flora, quietly.

  Jayden froze. Then he turned round incredibly slowly.

  ‘SERIOUSLY?’ he said.

  ‘Uh, yeah?’ said Flora.

  Jayden looked like he was going to faint. He flushed a brighter pink than ever, and his face was a mixture of delight and terror.

  ‘I’ll just tell my mum… I mean, my landlady. She can make up the spare bed.’

  He looked shyly at Flora and then back at the floor.

  ‘You can come and sit with us if you like.’

  ‘No thanks,’ said Flora, staring at the floor too.

  ‘Oh,’ said Jayden. There was a moment’s silence. ‘Okay. Phoning my mum.’

  As he sidled away from them, Polly burst out laughing.

  ‘Flora, I think you’ve pulled.’

  Flora looked unhappy.

  ‘I’ve always pulled,’ she said.

  ‘Well, I really feel sorry for your terrible, terrible problems,’ said Polly, smiling.

  ‘Did I go to the bar for ten seconds and miss out?’ said Dubose, smiling his nice white smile. His eyes were drawn to the entrance to the courtyard. ‘Oh well,’ he said, perking up.

  A slender figure was standing nervously underneath the eaves, scanning the busy tables. Polly glanced over, then waved heartily.

  ‘Aha,’ said Kerensa, taking another large gulp of her wine. ‘It’s the Merry Widow.’

  ‘Be. Nice,’ hissed Polly, composing her face.

  ‘Hey, I’m not the one who —’

  ‘Shut up.’

  Selina came over looking apprehensive.

  ‘I wasn’t going to come out,’ she said. ‘But I was sitting in there all alone… It’s quite spooky, isn’t it?’

  Polly nodded. ‘A little bit, but only at first. It’s quite useful knowing that nobody can get across from the mainland. Keeps all the baddies out.’

  ‘Or in,’ said Selina, glancing about. ‘I think I was half asleep. Then I heard the music, and thought I would come down.’

  ‘Well you’re here now,’ said Polly. Even compared to Kerensa, who was very slim, Selina was punishingly skinny, in a tight black top that emphasised her knobbly collarbones, and jeans that were falling off her.

  ‘Hi,’ said Selina directly to Kerensa.

  ‘Hello,’ said Kerensa, slightly stand-offishly, Polly thought. She really wanted them to get on; it would be much more fun. Plus it would be nice to have a new friend in the village. Kerensa was always heading off to the Monaco Grand Prix or Coachella; Muriel, between working in the grocer’s and looking after her new baby, couldn’t keep her eyes open for more than half an hour, and conversation with Flora had its limitations.

  ‘Can I have some of that wine?’ asked Selina. ‘Possibly quite a lot?’

  Kerensa softened a bit.

  ‘Are you going to screw up your face like Flora does?’ she said.

  ‘No,’ said Selina. ‘I’m going to neck it, then buy us some more.’

  Kerensa smiled. ‘Welcome.’

  Dubose leaned in and joined in the conversation.

  ‘How on earth did you end up married to a fisherman?’ he asked in genuine puzzlement.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Polly gently, sitting beside Selina. ‘We don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want to.’

  Selina shook her head.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Everyone pussyfoots around me all the time. I really, really want to talk about him.’

  Polly nodded.

  ‘Well,’ said Selina. ‘I was on holiday down here, staying in one of those really posh houses.’

  Flora suddenly brightened.

  ‘Are you one of the posh girls?’ she asked.

  ‘Not any more,’ smiled Selina. ‘Why?’

  ‘Oh yes, you should do that,’ said Polly to Flora. ‘Looking like that, you could marry Prince Harry or something.’

  Selina laughed so hard at this, Polly was worried she was going to choke. She also, Polly thought, had the look of a person who hadn’t laughed enough for a very long time, and wasn’t always entirely sure when it was appropriate.

  ‘Um, okay, do NOT marry a posh boy,’ said Selina. ‘Unless you like, you know, being their mummy, dealing with drug abuse, never ever knowing how they feel and having to stick things up their bottoms.’

  Flora looked horrified.

  ‘Seriously? All of them?’ asked Polly, fascinated. She didn’t know any posh people.

  ‘All of them,’ said Selina. ‘Every single one.’

  Flora bit her lip.

  ‘Are you joking?’

  ‘No,’ said Selina. ‘I would never joke about that.’

  ‘So you married Tarnie because… what, because you didn’t have to do any of that?’ said Kerensa, getting borderline hysterical.

  ‘Kerensa!’ said Polly. ‘Se
riously, watch it!’

  Selina shook her head.

  ‘Oh, I’m meant to talk about him,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘Therapist says so, and it’s costing me enough…’