The Baker's Daughter (12 page)

‘Can I help you carrying things through?' Rona asked.

‘No, no, lassie. You sit there.' Mrs Scott waved away Rona's offer. ‘But it's nice of you to want to help.'

It was a real farmhouse high tea—a steak pie, followed by scones and fruit loaf and a sponge cake fresh from the oven, with a strong brew of tea.

Rona tried to eat everything, but she found she had little appetite, and glancing across at Callum, saw that he wasn't eating much either.

‘You've
an awful wee appetite,' Mrs Scott (‘Call me Jess') said cheerily. ‘My, but we'll soon put a bit of weight on you.'

She was eager to know about Rona's family, though of course most people on the district knew Maclaren's the baker's, and how he'd lost his wife when Rona was still at school, and how Aunt Lizzie had come to look after them all, and how she'd been away lately helping her sister-in-law.

‘You'll be used to running a house,' said Jess approvingly, as Rona helped to clear the table.

Callum's father, who had been silent for most of the time, became more talkative as he showed Rona the stable, the byre, and the barn where the dogs greeted her.

‘Get down!' he told them. ‘See this one, Fly, Callum's brother, Bob, is training him. We're hoping to enter him for the trials. He's doing well, he was the best of the litter.'

Rona liked Callum's father, and his bright, bustling little mother. It would have been good to get to know the brothers who were both silent and looked at her warily, but had shaken her by the hand and muttered a greeting.

But Callum was a little distant—there was still this awkwardness between them. She thought, ‘I deserve a holiday. And why not? It isn't as if we were engaged or anything.'

‘I'll run you back,' he said.

‘There's no need.'

‘Father
lets me have the van sometimes if I need it.'

‘Thank you,' she said formally.

As he dropped her at the house, she said again, ‘I enjoyed the afternoon, and meeting your family.'

She remembered Jess's words, as she said goodbye. ‘Now you'll come and see us again soon, mind.'

But she did wonder if she would be visiting the farm again—ever.

A DREAM HOLIDAY

Rona missed Callum's visits to the shop, and their weekly trips to the pictures or the café. But it was a good idea, she told herself, to have a break.

Their relationship had become a matter of routine. ‘We had got used to each other,' she decided. ‘There was no excitement, and there weren't any surprises about our friendship.' Maybe he would meet someone else. And she'd be glad for him.

Anyway, there was enough to think about—the holiday to plan for, and it was a hectic time in the shop now that the holidaymakers had arrived.

Angus was kept busy baking rolls and pies for the people in the holiday homes and
caravans.

Rona couldn't help feeling a little guilty about going away just at this time. ‘Are you sure you'll manage without me?' she asked her father anxiously.

‘Of course we will. And your Aunt Lizzie's here to help,' he said.

That was another thing. Aunt Lizzie had been in rather a strange mood since she returned from helping Maisie. Rona couldn't understand it.

Sometimes her aunt seemed quite remote, as if she were thinking of something else entirely. And she was quieter too—she didn't snap at Doug and Rona the way she used to, and she seemed somehow less critical of Rona than she had been in the past.

‘Have you noticed anything about her?' Rona asked her brother.

He shook his head. ‘Can't say I have.'

That was just like Doug, Rona thought, exasperated. He never noticed anything about anyone. But if it was a matter of an odd sound in a car engine, or recognising a car number plate, that was a different matter.

Rona shrugged. No use asking Doug—and Father had enough to think about, but there was definitely something very strange about Aunt Lizzie. Could she be ill?

Rona tried to put her concern to one side. Aunt Lizzie was as busy as usual in the shop, and wouldn't have welcomed questions. ‘When
I
come back from holiday,' Rona promised herself, ‘I'll try to find out what's the matter.'

She couldn't wait for the week's holiday. Together the two girls had made a shopping trip to Dundee, where Rona had bought a bright blue one-piece swimsuit.

‘I've never had anything so smart,' she said gleefully. ‘It's so much nicer than that old ruched bathing suit I've had for ages.'

She splashed out, too, on a pair of peep-toed sandals. ‘Only a week to go,' she said, counting.

*        *        *

Right from the first day, the holiday was all they'd expected. Queuing with other campers at a long desk to pay for their week's hoard, Rona felt that the holiday had really begun as they were handed the keys of their chalet.

‘It doesn't really matter if it rains,' said Nancy, looking at the programme, ‘there's so much to do.'

But it didn't rain. Each day seemed sunnier than the last. There was tennis, and swimming, and entertainment, it seemed round the clock, and in the evenings the ballroom was turned into quite a magical place, with fairy lights and a wonderful band playing the very latest tunes.

The girls soon met up with other holidaymakers of their own age and there was no shortage of partners at the dances. And of
course
all the time, the entertainment staff were on hand to make sure that everyone enjoyed the holiday.

But it was in the mail room, an unlikely spot, that Rona met Jake.

She was buying stamps to send her postcards home when she turned and bumped into someone.

‘Oh, sorry!'

‘No need to apologise.' He was smartly dressed in a navy blazer with a neckerchief.

His hair was slicked back and she caught a whiff of some pleasant after-shave.

‘I've seen you around,' he said. ‘Weren't you at the concert last night?'

And that was how it started. ‘Perhaps you'll be going to the dance this evening?'

‘My friend and I—we go dancing every night,' Rona said ‘We're having such a good time.'

‘Then I'll keep an eye out for you this evening,' he said with a smile.

As she left the mail room, having almost forgotten to stamp her cards and put them in the box, she glanced back and caught him looking after her.

‘I met someone,' she told Nancy over lunch in the huge dining room.

‘That's quick,' Nancy laughed.

‘He's going to watch for us at tonight's dance,' said Rona.

‘For you—you mean,' Nancy teased her.

‘Well
. . .' Rona blushed.

She knew she was looking her best that evening, in a crisp cotton dress—white printed with a pattern of small violets. She wore her new sandals and had made up carefully, with just a dusting of powder and a new Natural Rose lipstick. A quick spray of Chypre toilet water and she was ready.

‘You do look nice,' said Nancy admiringly. ‘So who's this in aid of?'

‘No-one special,' said Rona firmly, but she did hope that the handsome stranger would be at the dance.

It was about half-way through the evening when he suddenly appeared at her side.

‘Remember me? Would you like to dance? I'm Jake. And you are?'

‘Rona.' She smiled at him. It was a quickstep—her favourite. He was a good dancer. Such a change, she thought from the young men she'd danced with up to now.

She'd winced as one trod on her toes, with a, ‘Sorry, I'm not a very good dancer.'

Rona had smiled forgivingly. She'd keep out of his way in future.

But Jake, he was different. At the end of the dance, he took her back to the side of the hall. ‘And the next dance?'

Rona hesitated. ‘I'm with a friend,' she said.

‘The girl in the green dress? You were standing together.'

‘Yes, that's Nancy.'

‘Well,'
he said, ‘you don't need to worry about her. It looks as if she's having a very good time.' He nodded towards a group where Nancy was at the centre, laughing and chatting.

‘So, let's go and have a drink.'

‘Lemonade, please, or orange squash,' Rona pushed back a lock of hair. ‘I'm thirsty.'

‘Wait there. I'll be back.'

She watched him making his way through the dancers, carrying two bottles of lemonade.

He was, she decided, the most handsome man she'd ever met—only medium height, but he had dark curling hair and in profile looked very like one of her favourite film stars, but she couldn't decide which one.

‘Now,' he said, as he found them a couple of chairs, ‘tell me how you're enjoying your holiday and what you've been doing.'

‘Oh, everything,' she said happily. ‘Playing tennis, swimming, watching all the competitions—the children's fancy dress to the knobbly knees contest.' She smiled. ‘There never seems to be a moment to spare.'

‘So it's your first time at the camp?'

Rona nodded. ‘I'm so glad we came here.'

‘I'm glad too.' He smiled at her. ‘So tell me, Rona, where are you from and what do you do? No,' he held up a hand. ‘Let me guess. You're maybe something in advertising, or you're a model? Yes that's it—you're a model.'

Rona shook her head. ‘No, I'm not—though
I'd
like to be.'

‘So what's your line of business?'

Rona hesitated. ‘I help in a family business.'

‘I knew it,' he said. ‘Bright as well as beautiful.'

Rona blushed. Why had she not said that she worked in the family baker's shop?

‘And you?' she said hastily.

‘Oh, I'm in the entertainment business.' he said. ‘But let's talk about you. You really are most attractive.'

‘I'd like to dance again.' Rona finished her lemonade.

‘Then may I?' he said. ‘Unless of course you've promised someone else.'

‘Oh, no.'

Jake took her hand and led her on to the dance floor. ‘We dance well together, don't we?'

From then on they danced every dance together, until the slow dreamy tune,
Goodnight, Campers
, signalled that the evening was over.

He put his arm round her as they walked back to her chalet. ‘Listen, Rona,' he said, ‘you mentioned you'd like to be a model.'

‘Just a dream,' said Rona hastily.

‘But for a start, why don't you enter the beauty contest? It's tomorrow afternoon. Think about it. You'd be sure to win.'

‘I don't know,' Rona hesitated. After they'd said goodnight and later when she was taking
off
her make-up and getting ready for bed, she thought, Why not?

She looked in the mirror and her eyes seemed to have an extra sparkle. Well, it had been a wonderful evening I wonder if I dare, she thought. But then there was no-one here—no Father, no Aunt Lizzie, no Doug to say, ‘Don't'. There was nothing to stop her.

I will enter the contest, she decided.

AN ANNOUNCEMENT FROM AUNT LIZZIE

As the girls lined up for the parade, Rona began to have misgivings. ‘I hate the thought of walking round the pool and everyone watching me,' she said. ‘Why did I ever let Jake persuade me into this?'

But it was too late now, so she gave a nervous smile to where Nancy was sitting among the spectators and stole a quick glance at the other contestants.

There was one dark-haired girl in a pure white swimsuit. I could never look like that, Rona decided. Still, she thought, now that she was here she would just have to do her best.

Walk slowly, she'd been told, hold the card with your number in front of you, and smile at the judges.

So Rona stood as tall as she could and held
her
card, number 12, in front of her. The girls set off, walking round the pool, and Rona remembered to smile at the judges—two men from the entertainment staff and one of the girls who had organised the event.

She smiled, feeling nothing like as carefree as she looked, and kept on smiling, until she had been right round the pool.

‘There. That's over.' She had caught a glimpse of Nancy, applauding like mad, and Jake standing at the back of the crowd, giving her a thumbs-up.

‘We'll be announcing the results in just a few minutes,' the announcer's voice came over the tannoy. ‘And then we'll see who the lucky girl is. So just have patience, folks. Will it be your favourite? We'll just have to wait and see!'

Well, anyway, I'm glad I bought the new swimsuit, thought Rona. The other girls all looked so smart.

She was only half listening when the announcer bounded up to the microphone and called out, ‘At last, folks! Here we are. In third place, number fourteen.'

A slim red-haired girl left the small group and walked towards the judges' table.

‘In second place, number five. Come along—number five. And finally the winner . . . number twelve.'

‘That's you!' the dark-haired girl nudged Rona. ‘On you go. Congratulations!' She
wasn't
over-sophisticated at all, thought Rona, as the girl smiled at her.

Quite bemused and convinced that the judges had made a mistake, Rona slowly made her way to the dais. The three judges shook her hand and the entertainments girl draped a sash over Rona's shoulders. There was an outburst of applause, and Rona waved shyly. She couldn't believe this was happening to her.

‘Now for the photos.' At first Rona had her picture taken on her own and then with the judges. ‘Your name and address please,' said the organiser. ‘We'd like a picture in the local paper!'

‘Oh, please,' said Rona shyly. ‘I don't think ...'

‘The folk in your town will be thrilled to see Miss Nineteen Fifty-Three,' the girl assured her.