“Yes we are.” She laughed. “And he even went shoe shopping with Mum and didn’t complain! It’s early days, we know that, but…fingers crossed. And that’s down to you two and your lovely food!”
“Petroc went shoe shopping? Fuck me!” Jake laughed as he picked up a piece of shortbread. Its aroma was amazing, and Jake wondered how Porthavel had managed to produce so many excellent bakers. “Well, they needed a nudge, didn’t they!”
But Zoe didn’t answer. Instead she was watching Locryn closely and chewing at her lip, her eyes unblinking as he lifted a piece of shortbread to his mouth and took a bite. She was waiting, Jake realized, for his verdict.
Locryn chewed thoughtfully and swallowed, taking his time, like a connoisseur sampling a fine wine. Then he announced, “That is excellent. Someone’s been practicing!”
“Yes!” Zoe bumped fists with David. “At last!”
“She’s been working on them for ages!” David said, affecting a world-weary tone. “And I’ve been doing all the washing up!”
Locryn poured tea into the two empty cups, taking another bite of shortbread as he did. Jake could see from Zoe’s expression that she hadn’t come here just to give biscuits though. There was a slight shadow in her eyes, and when she began to talk, the reason for it became clear.
“So, we’re getting married in a week and it’s been wild. Thanks to you two. I know this is just a telly program to you, Jake, but it’s been amazing to be part of it. And you’ve hardly shouted at anyone!” She reached out and took David’s hand. “And, Locryn, after we lost Dad, when it felt like the world was ending, just knowing you were there kept us going. Your café was a haven for us.”
“And that won’t ever change,” Locryn told her. “You’re the family I got to choose.”
David smiled at Zoe. “That’s it. Family. That’s what we want to ask.”
“I’d like you to give me away,” Zoe said to Locryn. “Would you think about it?”
But Locryn shook his head, his expression kind. “It should be Petroc. I know he’s already refused but he’ll regret it one day. I’m honored that you’d ask me, Zoe, and it’d be a true privilege, but he’s the only man for the job.”
“What if he says no again?” David asked, trepidation in his voice.
“He won’t,” Jake said, as he bit into the shortbread. “Fuck me, this is good!”
Locryn knitted his hands on the tabletop, the hitch in his breath at Jake’s words one that only Jake would hear. To their visitors he was nothing but Locryn, as proper as ever despite his state of undress. He looked to his lover and asked, “Do you think there’d be any mileage in making it a joint endeavor? Couldn’t Merryn and Petroc do it?”
“Either side of the bride?” Jake took another bite of the shortbread. Yes, it was still just as good. “Yeah, why not? Zoe, would you like that?”
“If I ask them together…” she murmured, then she turned to her groom. “Dave, would you dare say no to Mum? Would your dad?”
David chuckled, his cheeks turning red. “No, I bloody wouldn’t. And nor would Dad! I dunno, I reckon he’s in a romantic sort of mood at the moment. Bet he could be convinced now, especially if Merryn’s doing the convincing!”
“I’ll make you a deal.” Locryn unknitted his fingers and took another piece of shortbread. “If they still say no, I’d be honored to do it. But I’ve got an offer for you too. You don’t have to say yes, but I want you to promise to consider it.”
He rose from the table and crossed to the worktop, where a neatly handwritten envelope addressed simply to Zoe waited. Jake knew what it contained. It was the offer of a promotion to café manager, with all the attendant benefits that would bring, which were more generous than Jake could ever remember an employer offering him. But he’d never had an employer like Locryn.
“What’s this?” Zoe frowned, intrigued as she tore open the envelope and took out the similarly handwritten letter within. She and David read it together, their eyes growing wide as they did. Locryn said nothing but simply returned to his seat and took Jake’s hand, offering him a smile as he settled.
David slapped his leg, his knee jigging up and down. “It’s not April Fool’s Day, Locryn. What are you up to?”
“The café needs a manager because I want to spend more time baking and less time managing.” He bit into the shortbread, chewing and swallowing in his usual leisurely way. “Nobody else in the world would be half as good as you at the job, Zoe, but take all the time you need to consider the offer.”
“Can I just say yes now?” She laughed, then glanced at David, who was clearly as keen as she was. “I don’t need to think about it, Locryn. I want to do it!”
“Go on, say yes!” Jake insisted.
“Yes!” Zoe exclaimed. “Massive, massive yes! But only if you promise to keeping teaching me baking too. I’ve got a taste for it now, I don’t want to stop at shortbread.”
Locryn laughed. “It’s a deal. We’ll start both after the new year!”
Chapter Nineteen
Jake was halfway through a thick, toasted slice of Locryn’s homemade bread and jam when his phone rang. Even though it wasn’t quite nine in the morning, he was expecting one of the electricians working on the galleon to call about light fittings, so he put down his toast and answered without checking the caller’s name.
And wished he’d had.
“All right, tiger!” Fionn sounded as though she had already smoked her way through a pack of Woodbines. “How’s life in the back of beyond?”
“Bloody good,” Jake said. He reached across the table for Locryn’s hand and squeezed it. “How’s your leg? Hobbling about yet?”
“Yeah, squeezing my pot into my Jimmy Choos, you know how it is.” She laughed again, the sound deep and throaty. “So have I got a biiiiig announcement for you. You ready for it?”
Jake glanced back at his breakfast. This had better be good. “Did I get nommed? No, wait, you’re giving up the smokes?”
“My American wants you, with or without the monkey. He’s talking two hundred thou an episode, twenty episodes to kick off. They’re even willing to compromise on the electrocution angle if it brings you on board.” She coughed again. “The network can’t get enough of you losing your shit. You could probably get them to write a blank check!”
Jake tried to make a quick calculation but the numbers spun too fast for him to grasp them. They wanted him, they would spend vast amounts of money to have him, and… “They’d cut the electrocution?” With a grin for Locryn, he asked, “And I can have the monkey?”
Locryn silently applauded, guessing the gist of the conversation.
“They’ll cut the electrocution if you’ll give them the full-bore, big-bollocky shouting chef. They want to see tears and trembling. It’s all about the circus.” He heard Fionn take a drink and pictured the thick, treacle-like black coffee he knew she would be quaffing. “We need to get things bolted down and signed while they’re still hard for you, sweetie. How soon can you get here?”
“But I’m…” In Cornwall. Jake saw the numbers spin again. Maybe he could do it, just one series of yelling and bawling and carrying on, then he’d grab the money and run. “I can spare a day. If I get in the car now, I can be in London just after lunch.”
“And make sure you’ve got your passport in London. If it’s a yes, they want to jet over to the States on Friday night to meet the big bosses before they all fuck off for the Christmas break.” America? The wedding— “And before you mither me about the wedding, I’ve thought of it. Do the nosh on Thursday and fridge it ready for Saturday. Fly out Friday night and we can do a staged shoot when you get back. Nobody’ll know you weren’t there and we’ll get the guests to sign a non-disclosure. Okay? When you hit town, head straight for my office. And start dreaming of how you’re going to spend those dollars!”
Jake already was. He’d seen an old yacht stores building on the quayside in Porthavel, and he wanted to buy it and turn it into an open kitchen training college. And he
couldn’t do that on fresh air. And there was the old technical college he’d trained at, needing new kitchens. And the animal sanctuary down the road from Porthavel needed a new roof and a new van. If he did the series, he’d have the money for all of that and more.
He didn’t want to miss Zoe and David’s wedding, but they’d only known him five minutes. They wouldn’t miss him. He’d assembled a great team on the galleon and the day would work perfectly even if he wasn’t there. He didn’t need to be in Porthavel.
“I’ll do it,” Jake decided, his heart thudding in excitement. He gave Locryn’s hand one last squeeze and let go.
“Brilliant.” She laughed. “They’re talking about a three-year golden handcuff deal. If the first twenty take off, you’re looking at a long and happy life in the sun. If they don’t, they’ll be giving you a hefty goodbye payment. Catch you soon, gorgeous! Love to baker!”
“Three years?” Jake’s elation turned into a panic, but it was soon replaced by those spinning numbers again. He could just pop over to America every so often, shout at people with tomato-juice stains on their whites, slam pots and pans about and come back with enough money to do tremendous things. And he could open a restaurant on the Isle of Wight, too. And that one on the River Dee. And the Clyde had an appeal. Fuck it, he could open one on Shetland if he felt like it.
Jake Brantham could do anything.
The phone went dead. Locryn said nothing but instead waited for Jake, his face still wearing that little smile.
Of course he was happy for his boyfriend. Who wouldn’t be?
“I’ve got to go. Can’t bloody believe this is happening, but it is, so can you hold the fort today? I’ll drive back tonight. I’ll be fucking knackered, but all the shit’ll be worth it! They’re chucking a fucking shitload of money at me, and the things I’ll be able to do. Fuck me!” Jake took a deep breath. His thoughts were rushing. Cornwall’s stray cats and dogs were swirling in a giddy carousel with dream restaurants and smiling college students wielding frying pans and icing bags. “I’ll give you a bell from the car once I’m on the motorway. Sorry. I didn’t expect this, but it’ll be fucking amazing!”
Jake was out of his chair and he kissed the top of Locryn’s head. Then he grabbed his leather jacket from the hook on the door and his car keys jangled in the pocket.
“You can’t drive back tonight, you’ll be shattered!” Locryn told him as he followed Jake through the house. Dorothy wound around Jake’s feet too until Locryn stooped and gathered her into his arms. “What about the wedding? You’ll miss it if you fly on Friday, darling.”
“I’ll prep all the food in advance. Don’t worry. I don’t need to be there, and we can film it all again once I’m back from the States. No one’ll miss me. They’ll be too busy gawping at your fucking amazing cake!” Jake gave Locryn a quick kiss and fussed Dorothy at the same time.
Can I fucking multitask or what?
“Well, I’m sure they’ll pop on the wedding togs and plaster on a smile when Fionn tells them to.” That could almost be snippy, Jake thought, but Locryn was never snippy. And he was still smiling. Besides, he knew the villagers better than anyone, so if he thought they’d be happy to recreate the big day for the cameras, then he’d be right. “Good luck, darling, we’ll miss you.”
“You two have a great day!” Jake beamed. “See you both soon, and I’ll bring you a crappy souvenir, Loc! A ceramic London bus!”
Jake patted his pockets and, satisfied he had his keys, wallet and phone, bolted out to his car. The weather had taken a turn for the worst, the clouds dark and lowering, but it would brighten up once he was heading away from the coast.
“Cheerio!” Locryn lifted one of Dorothy’s paws and together, they waved Jake off. “We love you!”
“You two keep out of trouble!” Jake blew them a kiss, then he tooted as he drove away.
Jake changed the selection on his stereo. He wasn’t going to drive all that way listening to a babbling brook, so he chose his over-the-top 1980s power ballads selection instead.
And sang along.
Until, twenty minutes into his journey, he met the world’s slowest tractor.
“Fuck me,” Jake muttered. But ire was burning in him again and he hit the steering wheel with both hands. “Fuck me! Ride me fucking sideways, don’t you have a fucking second gear on that rusty heap of shit?”
But the tractor driver was a Porthavelen, he knew, and they weren’t given to rushing. Jake would have to wait until the flat-capped man in front decided that he was ready to relinquish the road.
After a couple of miles soundtracked by Steve Winwood, the tractor accelerated at last—and turned off into a field.
“Fuck’s sake!”
But at least the road was left clear, except for a lorry full of pasties ahead. Jake found a place to overtake and he sailed ahead once more.
It wasn’t a bad route, quite picturesque really. Maybe Jake would always associate winding lanes and rocky hillsides with Locryn.
Jake already missed him. But Locryn didn’t mind. He understood what it was like, being at the beck and call of telly people.
Jake settled into his drive, singing along, occasionally shouting at other drivers and unleashing the occasional toot-toot. It didn’t seem long at all before he could see the Tamar Bridge in the distance. And once he drove across it, he’d be leaving Cornwall behind him.
Jake turned down the music. The clouds, as dark as a fresh bruise, unleashed their promise of rain. Jake put the windscreen wipers on and as they squeaked back and forth, he had the panicky feeling he’d forgotten something.
He felt with one hand for his wallet, and found it in his pocket along with his phone.
So he hadn’t forgotten anything.
Tool.
But the feeling wouldn’t shift. Until Jake got nearer and nearer to the bridge and he finally remembered.
I haven’t told Locryn I love him.
Without taking a moment to think, Jake took the last turning off the dual carriageway, leaving a chorus of enraged hoots in his wake.
And now he was leaving the bridge behind him, heading back to Porthavel.
What a prat he’d been. What a fucking idiot. He couldn’t go to America. He couldn’t yell and scream on television. He didn’t want to. He’d only pass out again, maybe worse.
And besides, he had Locryn waiting for him in Porthavel. And Jake loved him.
Jake drove through pouring rain, his thoughts filled with Locryn. Every kiss, every smile, every moment they had spent in each other’s arms. He thought of Locryn’s cottage and the café and the galleon, he thought of Locryn’s bed and Locryn’s kitchen table. He thought of selling his warehouse flat and spending that money on animal sanctuaries and colleges and more. But most of all, he thought of Locryn because he loved him.
Once again Jake was on the coast road, the sea displaying its full fury. The rain near Porthavel had brought ferocious wind and waves like towering dark-glass mountains.
The goats were sheltering when Jake arrived at Locryn’s cottage, and when Jake made the dash from his car to the front door, he had to hold his leather jacket over his head like a cape.
He let himself in, the rain pattering on the floorboards as he went into the darkened kitchen. It was silent, save for the steady tick of the kitchen clock.
“Loc? Loc, it’s me.”
But as Jake went from room to room, each neat and clean and everything in its place, a dull sense of loss took over Jake.
I’ve really fucked up this time.
He braved the rain again to check the bakehouse, because didn’t Locryn say that baking made him happy?
But he wasn’t there either. The place was as lifeless as an unused film set.
So was Locryn down in the village?
Once he was out of the rain and back in the kitchen, Jake took out his phone, but before he glanced at the screen, he noticed something he hadn’t before. There was a rug rolled up, leaning against the wall.
&n
bsp; Then Jake saw it. The trapdoor down to the smuggler’s cave was open.
Jake used the light on his phone to help him navigate the dark stone tunnel, until he slipped in his haste and his phone burst apart on the rocks. He felt the rest of the way, his senses alert to the tang of the sea air and the soft roar of the waves, as distant as a shell held to his ear.
“Locryn!” Jake shouted.
His voice echoed and echoed and died. So he pushed on, sliding in the dark, swearing when he banged his knee, until finally he turned the corner and was in Locryn’s cave.
And there at the mouth of it, standing beside a blazing campfire, was Locryn. Dorothy was snuggled close to his chest and together they were watching the rain that hissed noisily against the choppy ocean. Jake could hear Locryn’s voice, soft and heavy with emotion, as he told the little cat, “We’ll look after each other, won’t we? And we’ll get lots of treats ready for Daddy when he comes to visit.”
“Locryn?” Jake’s voice was small, a hoarse, pathetic squeak after all his bellowing. He came a step closer. “Locryn, I…I…”
For a moment Locryn was unmoving then he turned, his expression disbelieving, as if he wasn’t sure that Jake was really there.
“Jake—” He smiled, but his blue eyes were filled with sadness. “You silly thing. What did you forget?”
Jake took another step, but didn’t come any farther. He wasn’t sure he deserved to.
“I…I forgot to tell you something.”
“I know where Dorothy’s treats are, don’t worry,” he teased, taking a step toward Jake. “Because what could be more important than Dorothy’s tummy?”
“Well, there is something. Although Dot won’t agree.” Jake smiled as he ran his hand through his wet hair. “Loc, I never said I love you. And I do. I really do.”
“Only say it if you mean it.” Locryn’s smile wobbled and disappeared. “It’s all right if you don’t. Caring about me’s lovely enough.”
“I got to the toll at the bridge, and I—I couldn’t leave. I don’t want that job. It’s a bloody joke. You said I have integrity, and what integrity would I have going off and doing that? What integrity would I have going off and leaving you?” Jake strode over the gap between them and held out his arms to Locryn. “I love you. I’m not telling you a fib, it’s true, Locryn.”
The Captain and the Baker Page 20
