Rich laughed and began to sing. ‘All I want is a room somewhere, far away from the cold night air, with one enormous chair…’
‘Ha ha.’ Jasmine nudged him playfully. ‘You’re soo funny.’
4
An hour after Dylan’s builder friend had left the old bakery, having muttered and tutted his way around the building and then handed Millie a sheet of paper with very large numbers written on it, Millie sat in Dylan’s kitchen with a beer. Usually, she wasn’t one for beer, and certainly not in the kitchen of a man she was trying desperately not to be attracted to, but the day had been particularly stressful. Drunkenness and dangerously attractive men were the least of her worries. Dylan’s kitchen was spotless – an equally rare occurrence for him – but he seemed to be under the illusion that his day was about to get a whole lot luckier. The fact that he had also cleaned his bedroom and changed the sheets corroborated this.
‘What are you going to do?’ Dylan asked as he cracked open his own beer.
Millie sighed. ‘I have no idea. But I certainly can’t raise that sort of cash any time soon. And every week the bakery stays closed and I can’t earn eats into the small amount of start-up cash I do have. At this rate I’ll have a spanking new building but no money to buy even the tiniest bag of flour to bake anything.’
‘You can’t get a loan or anything?’
‘I don’t think so. I’ve already borrowed quite a lot of money for other expenses around the move and I don’t want to overstretch myself with no real income coming in just yet.’
Dylan took a gulp of his beer and looked at her thoughtfully. ‘It’s a tough one. I know how hard it was for Jas to find the start-up money for her business. It was only Mum and Dad… you know…’ His sentence trailed off.
‘I know,’ Millie said gently. ‘Of course, you’d both rather have your parents back than anything else in the world – anyone would. But I don’t have an inheritance of any description on the horizon. I can’t imagine where I could get that sort of cash from right now.’
‘How about raising it by doing what you do best?’
Millie frowned.
‘I mean,’ Dylan explained, ‘start selling your wares and turning over a bit of a profit to make the money you need.’
‘How am I supposed to do that with no working bakery?’
‘Bake here.’
Millie stared at him, her can halfway to her lips. ‘Here?’
‘Why not?’
She took a sweeping glance of the tiny kitchen. It was a ridiculous idea but she was touched by the gesture. ‘It’s very kind of you, but your oven is far too small. I’d only be able to make little batches and it would hardly cover the cost of your gas, let alone turn a profit. No, I need to get the bakery running so I can bake in the quantities that will make me proper money.’
‘Do you know what those quantities are?’
Millie tried not to be annoyed by the obvious practicality of his question. ‘I know it’s going to take more than a dozen fairy cakes.’
‘I just mean,’ Dylan pressed, seemingly oblivious to her irritation, ‘have you actually sat down and worked out concrete figures?’
‘Sort of…’
‘Jasmine can help you there if you need it.’
‘I know, she’s offered already. But I know she’s busy right now and I don’t want to bother her with that.’
‘If I know Jas, she’ll love getting stuck in. She’ll help anyone if she can.’
Millie shook her head. ‘I can’t ask her. She has her family and her own business to worry about.’
‘Then let me help. You can’t do everything on your own.’
Millie held him in a frank gaze. ‘Why?’
‘Why what?’
‘Why would you help me? You hardly know me.’
He shrugged, a lopsided grin creeping across his face. ‘I suppose I’m just that kind of guy.’
Millie took a thoughtful sip of her beer as she watched him take another gulp of his own.
‘I just don’t know what you can do,’ she said finally. ‘I don’t even know myself what to do next.’ She could feel tears burning her eyes. The bright new start she had dreamed of was crumbling around her. She swallowed the emotion back but not before Dylan was off his seat and on the chair next to her. He slipped an arm around her and she stiffened. Despite this, he pulled her closer. He smelt good – a clean, woody fragrance – and for a moment she could think of nothing but the image of them kissing.
‘Everything can be fixed,’ he said gently. ‘My old dad used to say that there was no point in worrying about anything; as long as you hadn’t killed someone, everything else in life could be mended.’
In an instant, her emotional defences shot up. Dylan was dangerous, no matter how attractive he was; he could easily screw her up – she had seen it in him the first time they met, and she had to remember that. She was letting him get too close right now.
‘I think I would have liked your dad,’ she said, trying to lighten a mood that was becoming far too charged for her liking.
‘He was pretty cool.’ Dylan stroked his thumb back and forth across her shoulder. Millie closed her eyes. God, it felt so good…
She shot up from her chair. ‘I have to go. So much to do.’
Dylan looked up at her, a mix of surprise and mild annoyance in his expression.
‘Right now? You haven’t finished your beer.’
‘You drink it. I need a clear head.’
She thrust it at him and then bolted for the door.
There was a knock at the front door of the old bakery almost before Millie had closed it behind her. Oh God, please don’t let Dylan have followed me across…
She stood and stared at it, holding her breath. Maybe if she didn’t answer he would go away.
‘Are you in there, Millie?’
Millie let out her breath as she recognised Ruth Evans’s phlegmy voice. With a rueful half-smile, she opened the door. Now that she thought about how she had reacted to Dylan’s friendly concern, she felt a bit idiotic. She had to learn to stop letting the past haunt her.
‘Hello, Ruth.’ Millie forced a brighter smile for her neighbour. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I saw you come across from Dylan’s house,’ Ruth said, eyeing Millie keenly.
‘His builder friend had just been round to give me a quote. We were discussing it.’
‘He doesn’t have a girlfriend you know. No betrothed…’ Ruth elaborated. ‘So he’s perfectly available.’ She let out a wistful sigh. ‘If only I were a few years younger… I’d love to get a good rogering from that one. I hear he’s quite energetic.’
Millie’s mouth fell open as she stared at Ruth.
‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’ Ruth continued, as though her wishful musings were nothing out of the ordinary at all.
‘I do have rather a lot of work to get on with,’ Millie replied, still staring at Ruth.
‘I won’t get in your way,’ Ruth said briskly as she sidled past Millie, who watched as the old woman took the window seat and folded her hands across her lap. ‘You can tell me all about it easily enough while you get on with your chores. I’ll just sit here.’
Ruth Evans had proved as easy to get rid of as a rampant colony of nits. No matter how many hints Millie dropped, or how busy she made herself look, Ruth simply sat with her hands folded in her lap, firing question after question at her. Thankfully she didn’t wait for replies, but instead used the gap before Millie’s guarded responses to launch into convoluted anecdotes of her own. Eventually Millie stopped trying to reply and carried on with her work, Ruth’s chattering slowly morphing into a featureless background drone. Occasionally she made a small noise of agreement, or looked up and smiled absently at her elderly neighbour, but mostly her thoughts were pulled to a place she really didn’t want them to be. Two places, to be precise: Dylan, and the old bakery, otherwise known as the millstone round her neck.
Where on earth was she going to find
the money she needed to get this business off the ground? Dylan had offered help, as no doubt others would, but although there was a part of her that was desperate to accept it, the stubborn part of her wanted to owe favours to no one. This was her venture, and hers alone to succeed or fail in. Bitter experience had shown that letting people get too close led only to heartache.
‘So I told him…’ Ruth stopped mid-sentence.
Suddenly aware of silence filling the room, Millie looked up sharply.
‘Are you alright, dear?’ Ruth asked.
Millie shook herself. Lost in her tumultuous thoughts, she hadn’t realised that she had stopped working and was staring out of the window. She hadn’t even noticed her eyes glazing over with unshed tears.
‘I’m fine, Ruth.’ She forced a smile. ‘Do you know what, I’m dying of thirst. I don’t suppose…’
Ruth pushed herself slowly to a shaky standing position. ‘Why didn’t you say so? I’ll go and make us a nice cup of tea. Back in a tick.’
As Ruth left, Millie sank to the floor and held her head in her hands.
5
‘It’s brilliant news, sis. I just hope you and Rich don’t forget your little brother when you’re living the high life on his blockbuster film earnings.’ Dylan was lounging on a mess of huge floor cushions on the bone-dry lawn of Jasmine’s back garden. The heatwave had continued all through the previous week and this evening was still sultry despite the lateness of the hour, the air heady with the scent of Jasmine’s namesake flowers crowding a trellis at the back door. Dylan took a sip of his beer.
Jasmine smiled at him, sitting on a pile of cushions herself and hugging her knees to her chest, a mass of curls tumbling around her bare shoulders. ‘I won’t hold my breath for the huge earnings. And I can’t imagine anyone could forget you, least of all me and Rich.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment. You’d be hard pressed to find a better brother, to be fair.’
‘And so modest too…’
‘Naturally.’
There was a pause. And then the thing that was on Jasmine’s mind tumbled out. ‘Do you see much of Spencer since he came back?’
‘Not this again. Yeah, I see him all the time.’
‘Not just around. Do you actually stop and talk to him?’
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’
She shrugged. ‘Just that you used to be so close and now…’
‘Now what? He’s busy all the time with his career anyway. He’s Mr Workaholic and all he talks about is school.’
‘That’s not true. And how would you know if you’ve barely spent any time with him?’
‘I’ve seen him in the pub.’
‘Aha!’ Jasmine gave a little cry of triumph. ‘So he doesn’t spend all his time marking books and thinking about school if he’s in the pub!’
Dylan gave a quick grin, but it faded almost as soon as it had begun. ‘We’ve both changed,’ he said.
‘It feels like more than that.’
Dylan raised his eyebrows in disbelief.
‘Ok, the fight, I know. But surely you’re grown up enough to get past that. You were so close once, and you said yourself it was a hot-headed mistake, and Spencer has never breathed a word to me since he got back about… Well, you know. Can’t we all just move on?’
‘We have.’
‘So you say.’
‘Can we drop this now? Spencer has moved on and so have I. There’s no animosity now, but don’t expect us to be best mates anymore.’
‘Not even for me?’
‘Why the sudden interest in Spencer?’ Dylan returned sharply. ‘What’s he said to you?’
Jasmine stared at him. ‘Nothing. Really. I just get the impression that he misses you.’
‘You’re kidding! He doesn’t care one way or another and I don’t blame him.’
‘I think he does. I think he’s lonely since he came back to the village and he could do with a friend.’
‘He’s got tons of friends. Everyone here loves him.’
‘It’s not the same as having a proper friend.’
Dylan tipped his head back and stared into the sky. ‘Right,’ he sighed, ‘well, if it means that much to you when I next see him around I’ll buy him a drink or something. Would that make you happy?’
Jasmine couldn’t decide if he was being sarcastic or not. ‘It would make me happy,’ she replied.
‘Good. I know you think love makes the world go round and we all need to live in peace and harmony or some such crap, so I’ll do my best.’
‘Ok,’ she said. ‘That’s all I’m asking for.’
Rich strolled from the house and out onto the lawn with a glass of beer. ‘Took me ages to get the kids to go down. They weren’t very impressed that they had to go to bed while Dylan was still here.’ He flopped next to Jasmine and kissed her on the forehead.
‘See,’ Dylan grinned, back to his usual self. ‘What’s the point of false modesty when everybody loves me?’
‘Dylan was just telling me that we mustn’t forget him when you’re rich and famous,’ Jasmine said, leaning her head against Rich’s shoulder.
‘I’m sure we can throw him a crust of bread from our golden chariot as we drive past. If he’s really good we’ll ask the driver not to splash him with mud like we do the other peasants,’ Rich replied.
Jasmine giggled. She reached for the glass of orange juice on the ground beside her.
‘So, what’s been going on in the world of Dylan?’ Rich asked. ‘Now the kids are in bed, you can give us the full adult version.’
‘Rich!’ Jasmine elbowed him. ‘I don’t want to hear those sorts of details about my brother!’
Dylan laughed. ‘I have no idea what you’re both talking about. I’ve been perfectly hermit-like in my little house – reading, cooking, cleaning, like a good Christian boy.’
‘So you’ve not attempted to charm your way into the affections of a certain new owner of the old bakery?’ Rich asked over the top of his glass.
‘There’s not much that stays secret around here, is there? She seems to have other things on her mind right now, though,’ Dylan said.
‘You mean she doesn’t fancy you?’ Rich asked. ‘Oh my God, we’ve fallen into some parallel universe where women don’t drop their knickers at the mere mention of Dylan Smith’s name!’
‘Unbelievable, isn’t it?’ Dylan grinned. ‘But,’ he continued, his expression more serious, ‘I think she’s in way over her head taking on that old wreck of a building… and I think she’s realised it too.’
‘You don’t think she can fix it?’ Jasmine asked, frowning. ‘But she seems so confident whenever I see her.’
‘I know. But my mate Bony had a look and he reckons there’s some serious structural work to be done on the place. I don’t think Millie bargained for that. She told me she didn’t even have a survey done – sold her old place, paid cash for this and packed her car up without a second thought.’
‘Ruddy hell.’ Rich took a gulp of his beer. ‘That woman has a set of balls bigger than mine.’
‘And that’s saying something,’ Dylan laughed.
‘She must be regretting that now though,’ Jasmine mused.
Dylan nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘But it can be done? The building’s not beyond repair?’ Jasmine asked.
‘No, but beyond her budget.’
‘Poor thing…’ Jasmine tugged a hand through her curls.
‘Poor thing?’ Rich scoffed. ‘She should have got a survey done. All her problems could have been avoided for the sake of a few hundred quid.’
‘Don’t be mean,’ Jasmine chided. ‘You’ve never made a silly mistake in your life?’
‘I didn’t mean that—’
‘Well what then?’
‘It’s a pretty big thing, buying a building, especially one you plan to live in and earn your living from. You’d think a survey would be the first thing to do.’
Jasmine gazed quietly acro
ss the lawn for a moment. ‘I’m going to see her tomorrow,’ she finally announced. ‘She’s part of our community now, and if we can help we should.’ She narrowed her eyes at her husband. ‘No matter how silly you think she is.’
‘You can try,’ Dylan cut in, ‘but she doesn’t seem very keen to accept help. I already told her that we’d do what we could, and she pretty much refused point-blank.’
‘She won’t think I’ve got an ulterior motive though, will she?’ Jasmine smiled wryly.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Dylan replied with mock innocence.
‘Did you wash your hair?’
‘Yes…’
‘That’s all anyone needs to know.’
Rich interrupted their verbal sparring. ‘I still don’t see what we can do for her though.’
‘In this village, there must be loads of people with different skills who can lend a hand. We just need to ask around, barter with them, see what we can get done for her for free or at a reduced price.’
Rich grinned. ‘A bit like one of those TV shows where the whole community fixes a playground for the kids out of bits of old rubbish.’
Jasmine laughed. ‘Sort of.’
Rich pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. ‘That is a very good idea. I married such a clever little girl, didn’t I?’
As Jasmine turned the corner, making her way to the old bakery on a meltingly hot Saturday morning, she was distracted by the sound of raucous laughter coming from Dylan’s garden. Changing her route, she peered over the hedge to find Dylan and Spencer sitting on the front step.
‘Hey,’ Jasmine called. She pushed open the gate and strolled towards them. ‘Something sounds funny.’
‘Jasmine!’ Spencer leapt up to fling his arms around her and kiss her on the cheek. But he pulled away quickly, and Jasmine caught a frown on her brother’s face. It was so fleeting that Jasmine wondered whether she’d seen it at all.
‘We’re just catching up,’ Dylan said, shading his eyes as he squinted up at his sister from the step.
The Little Village Bakery: A feel good romantic comedy with plenty of cake (Honeybourne Book 1) Page 5
