Summer at Little Beach Street Bakery (36 page)

She cried and cried for what felt like hours while Polly sat there stroking her hair, letting her tears soak her jeans, and they stared into the fire, waiting, waiting for the boys to come back in: hoping against hope.

 

 

‘Oh God, this woman has to come back,’ said Selina much later. ‘Because they leave… they leave SUCH a mess behind.’

‘Sssh,’ said Polly, looking around. ‘Sssh.’

‘He was a good guy, wasn’t he?’ Selina went on. ‘I feel like I’ve been hating him and blaming him all year.’

‘Did that make it easier?’

‘It did yesterday,’ said Selina. ‘If I could think of him as some awful prick, well then maybe I might miss him less.’

‘It makes perfect sense,’ said Polly. ‘But I miss him and I barely knew him. The boys on the boat still miss him so much they can’t even see straight. Look at Archie. I don’t think he’s slept a night through yet. Even Jayden… It’s like the solid ground beneath their feet melted away when we lost him.’

‘I just… I wanted him cut out, do you understand?’ said Selina. ‘I wanted him cut out of my brain, or my body, like an appendix. I’ve tried to drink him out, move him out, screw him out. And he won’t bloody go.’ She managed a half-smile.

‘That’s because you loved him,’ said Polly.

‘You know, when Lucas went for your bird,’ said Selina, ‘I was so scared. So scared that I’d lose a friend, that no one would talk to me again, that I’d be hounded out of town. Because I really have nowhere left to go.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Polly. ‘We need you here; everyone else that’s moved in has been a right cock.’

They both smiled a bit at this.

‘But I didn’t realise that I would have to share Tarnie with the whole town.’

‘You do,’ said Polly.

‘I have to learn to live with his ghost.’

They passed the bottle between them again.

‘You were living with his ghost anyway,’ said Polly. ‘Now you’re here, you just have to figure out how to cohabit in a friendly way.’

‘I’m sorry about your van,’ said Selina again.

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Polly. She looked around for Malcolm, but when the door opened, it was Archie who stepped into the Little Beach Street Bakery.

The man, whose name was Paul, and the little boy were curled up in front of the fire, piled with blankets. The man wasn’t talking, just staring into the fire. The little boy had, thankfully, fallen asleep, wrapped up and cosy, only the blue tip of his nose any indication of his ordeal.

The room fell silent. Archie stepped forward towards the man.

‘Excuse me, sir, but is your wife’s name Kristen?’

There was a long pause and everyone in the room fell quiet.

‘Um, yes.’ His voice was a rasping whisper.

The entire room held its breath. Archie nodded.

‘We found her.’

‘Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.’ Paul leapt to his feet, seizing Archie’s hand and pumping it up and down.

‘Coastguard picked her up by helicopter. She had the rescue kit?’

Paul nodded, tears streaming down his face.

‘Yes – we were trying to open it, to stay together: I got a flare out, then I was trying to light it and…’ His voice choked up and he could barely talk. ‘Then she just… she got caught by a rip, she got pulled out further and further away, and she had her lifejacket on, and was clinging to the box, and…’

‘It’s got a beacon in it,’ said Archie. ‘She must have figured out a way to set it off. Which I have to say is pretty good thinking when you’re being pulled out to sea by a rip tide. She was amazing, in fact.’

Paul leant forward, put his head in his hands and started sobbing.

‘It was such a beautiful day.’

‘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…

The last thing she remembered as she dozed off was a sudden dazzling halo of light as the lighthouse lamp came back on and swung around to the island, bringing safety once more.

 

 

Malcolm walked with his head down slowly past the pub, the windows lit with candles, the noise and the laughter steady and cosy. Flora and Jayden were huddled together, concentrating on something. He wondered what it was. Selina was laughing in the candlelight, her face looking young and carefree. The lighthouse beam illuminated Beach Street once more. They saw him outside, and nodded, but nobody invited him in, and he trudged on.