The Little Village Bakery: A feel good romantic comedy with plenty of cake (Honeybourne Book 1) (12 page)

‘There’s the Dog and Hare, isn’t there?’

Peggy smiled. ‘Not everyone drinks alcohol, though. Are you planning to open the café up again as well as the bakery?’

‘I was going to try it, see how much demand there is. I just have to work out the practicalities. Like staffing; I don’t think I’ll be able to do it all and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to afford help at first.’

‘I think there’ll be a lot of demand for a café though. And in the summer you might get passing trade from people travelling through to holiday destinations on the coast.’

‘I certainly haven’t planned that far ahead!’ Millie laughed.

‘You must be wondering why I’ve come,’ Peggy said.

‘A little bit.’

‘I… well… I got chatting to Ruth Evans yesterday evening…’

Millie stiffened. Why hadn’t she seen this coming? Of course it was about Ruth. ‘So I was wondering if you could help me,’ Peggy said, desperate hope in her expression as she watched Millie carefully. ‘I know Ruth said you didn’t want everyone knowing and I won’t tell a soul, but I’d be ever so grateful if you could give me something.’

Millie sighed. ‘I want to help, but it really isn’t that straightforward.’

‘So you can’t?’ Peggy’s bottom lip actually wobbled. Millie didn’t think she had ever seen anything quite so pitiful but if Peggy’s act had been premeditated, it got the desired effect. Millie’s heart went out to her. She let out another, even heavier sigh. Because when people said they wouldn’t tell a soul, that usually meant they would probably only tell three or four souls, who would in turn tell another three or four souls, so that the soul count rose exponentially until the entire county of Hampshire knew about her cures. Knowing all this didn’t change the fact that Millie would end up helping Peggy, because, despite wanting to keep people at arms’ length, her conscience simply wouldn’t allow her to do anything else.

‘What is it I can help with?’ she asked wearily.

‘I have the most terrible migraines,’ Peggy said, a grateful smile lighting her face. ‘They began when I was a teenager. I can’t tell you how I’ve suffered over the last forty years.’

‘Don’t you have medication for them?’

‘Oh yes, but it doesn’t often work. It dulls the pain, but it’s still there.’

‘What causes them?’

‘The doctors say it’s idiopathic. I’ve lost count of the number of consultants who have fired that word at me.’

‘They can’t find a reason and they don’t want to sound stupid so they give you a lovely Greek medical word that essentially means nothing,’ Millie clarified.

‘Exactly.’

She was thoughtful for a moment. ‘What you need is something to treat them at the root, to eradicate them for good.’

‘You could do that?’

‘There are never any promises. But I can try.’ Millie glanced across at the pile of boxes containing her equipment and books. ‘I’ll need some time to put something together. Can you come back later today?’

Peggy nodded like an eager child. ‘What time?’

Millie considered what she would need. Without consulting her books, there were herbs she knew would have to be scavenged from the nearby hedgerows and woodlands. ‘After six should do it.’

‘Thank you so much,’ Peggy said as Millie subtly herded her towards the door. ‘Thank you so, so much…’

‘Honestly, it’s nothing. I just hope I can help you. Remember, I can only try and it may not work.’

‘I know, but it’s the trying that matters. It’s so kind of you. Ruth said you were lovely and she’s right.’

Millie felt the blush rise to her cheeks. ‘Please, don’t mention it. I’ll see you this evening, alright?’

Peggy beamed at her before turning for the street; somehow, her step a little lighter in leaving than when she had first arrived. Millie watched her go. She sincerely hoped that she could help; she didn’t think she could stand the look of disappointment on Peggy’s face if she failed.

P
eggy had duly returned
at one minute past six, her eyes bright with hope. It turned Millie’s stomach to see it. What she did was not an exact science and not always reliable, and although the ingredients she used were entirely natural, there was always the possibility – however remote – of side effects; though she tried not to dwell on the consequences of that.

During the afternoon, as she had been scouring the local hedgerows for plants, Millie had been accosted no less than three times by people who had heard Ruth’s story. One of these was the local GP, wanting to know what she had given Ruth and issuing a veiled warning that she should not be meddling in matters that modern medicine was more equipped to deal with. Whilst the rebuke left Millie smarting, she couldn’t help but see his point. The other two were villagers who had their own ailments and problems and expressed hope that Millie would be able to help.

What could she do? The fear of becoming too involved in people’s lives – of being a danger if they came to rely on her and she was unable to help – was still as real here as it had been back in Millrise. But she needed an even better reason to refuse to help. She was beginning to learn that Michael’s death would haunt her for ever, but perhaps the best she could hope for was that she’d be able to keep the ghost locked away so that it didn’t invade every moment of her life. So she told each hopeful villager that she would research a remedy and see what she could come up with. In return, they had pledged assistance with the bakery in whatever small way they could. Millie suspected that their help would be more reliable than hers, no matter how small, but when people asked her for aid she found it hard to say no.

A
nother scorching week
had passed in which Millie had become the proud owner of new curtains for every window of her home, skirting boards and a new counter for the shop, courtesy of her neighbours. They weren’t exactly going to get the bakery running but they were a start. Millie had no idea whether the remedies she had given them were working, but they reassured her that they felt one hundred per cent better and she was happy to see them believe it. Her mother had often said that believing was half the battle and Millie was inclined to agree.

Millie was watering the begonia-filled hanging baskets when she heard a nervous cough. She turned to see Spencer regarding her with a hesitant smile.

‘Spencer! Aren’t you meant to be filling the youngsters of Honeybourne full of wisdom?’ Millie glanced at her watch, surprised to see that the day had somehow slipped away from her and it was just after five.

His smile broadened. ‘I decided that was a thankless task long ago. Now it’s just about crowd control… If I can stop one boy a day from picking his nose and flicking the contents at the girl in front then I count that as a success.’

‘Can you stay for a bit?’

‘That sounds nice. Here…’ Spencer took the rusted watering can from her. ‘Let me finish this for you.’

She gave a grateful smile. ‘I’ve got soft drinks – though they’re not very cold, I’m afraid. I’m trying not to run too many appliances at a time until the place is rewired, in case I blow it up, so the fridge is on a strictly need-to-cool basis, enough to stop my food going off and that’s it. Or I could make you a cup of tea.’

‘A soft drink is just fine,’ he replied, reaching up to the next basket. He leapt back with a sharp cry as the stream of water ran down the side of the can, down his arm, and soaked the front of his shirt.

Millie giggled. ‘I should have warned you that the can is a bit temperamental. I think there’s a leak somewhere.’

‘How come it hasn’t soaked you?’

She shrugged. ‘I’ve worked out the knack.’

‘At least it’s cooled me down.’ He gave her a sheepish grin as he wiped a hand down the dark stain on his shirt. ‘It’ll soon dry.’

As she pulled glasses from a cupboard, Spencer followed her in with the watering can.

‘They’re all done,’ he said. ‘Where do you want this?’

‘It can go out the back.’ She pointed to a small, paved yard beyond the back window. It was deep in shade, bordered on all four high walls by lush, rambling clematis and honeysuckle, all the more beautiful for growing wild over the years. Millie had considered cutting them right back when she moved in, but soon decided that she rather liked their unruly freedom and so left them as they were. ‘We could sit out there too, if you like. It’s a lot cooler than out the front and, if you’ll excuse the obvious pun, it’s like a bloody oven in here.’

Spencer laughed. ‘Sounds great.’

‘You’ll find a couple of folding chairs stacked against the shed,’ she called after him as he made his way through the back door.

‘No problem,’ he called back.

She couldn’t say why, but Millie felt a certain rush of pleasure that Spencer had sought her out. He never turned up without Dylan or Jasmine – he always seemed a little too shy for that – and when he did come along with them, although he was pleasant and charming company, he always let the others lead the conversation. She followed him outside with their drinks.

‘I had no idea this little garden existed,’ Spencer said as Millie found him already settled on a floral canvas chair. ‘It’s amazing. Fancy living here all my life and not realising that the bakery had more than just a boarded-up front.’

Millie smiled as she handed him a glass. ‘It’s hard to see beyond all the grim work that needs doing to the place.’

‘I suppose it takes someone of vision,’ Spencer agreed. ‘And that does seem to be you. Lucky for Honeybourne that you arrived, eh?’

‘I’m not so sure about that. I’m going to do my best to make it home, but sometimes it seems like I’ve set myself an impossible task.’

‘Dylan’s helping you, isn’t he?’

Millie nodded. ‘I can’t say that I’m comfortable with the idea but he’s insisting.’

‘You should snap his hand off. It’s not often Dylan offers anyone favours.’ Spencer paused and took a sip of his drink. He glanced over the top of his glass at Millie, then lowered it, opened his mouth to speak before closing it again and regarding her in silence, his expression slightly less assured than it had been a moment before. There was history with Spencer and Dylan; Millie sensed it. In fact, anyone who spent more than ten minutes in their company could see it. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to ask, though.

‘I do realise that there may be an ulterior motive,’ she replied instead with a wry smile. ‘That’s partly why I’m uncomfortable with the whole situation. So you needn’t worry about saying it.’

‘I know Dylan. He means well and I don’t think even he realises that everything he does seems to come with a condition attached.’

Millie sighed. ‘That said, I do need all the help I can get here.’

‘He’ll do a good job too. It takes a long time to galvanise him into action but once he sets his mind on something he does it properly and he doesn’t give up.’

‘I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse,’ she replied, her mind flitting back to the drunken night where Dylan had made his interest in her very obvious. And she hadn’t exactly put him off. But his lips had been so wonderfully soft and warm, and his arms safe and strong, and his torso lean and muscular… and she had been so lonely for so long…

‘He’s a jack-the-lad but he’d never do anything to hurt you,’ Spencer said, interrupting her thoughts, ‘at least, not intentionally. He’s a good kid really.’

‘You make it sound like you’re about ninety.’

Spencer laughed. ‘I do feel like that sometimes after a day at work. And there are times when our little age gap feels very big.’

‘Like he’s having all the fun?’

‘Something like that.’

‘But what you do matters. If he disappeared tomorrow who would even notice? I mean, Jasmine would, obviously, but would the world be a vastly different place without him?’

‘You’d miss him…’ Spencer said carefully.

‘Only as a neighbour,’ she replied with equal care.

‘I bet you’re wondering why I’ve come over,’ he said brightly. A little too brightly, Millie reflected. She had seen that glossing over of an inner sadness a thousand times. Spencer, she realised with a jolt, was lost and lonely, just like she was.

‘Enlighten me,’ she said.

‘The kids are doing a citizenship project this term about respecting others with different religions and beliefs. We’ve looked at all the usual stuff – Christianity, Hinduism, Islam… but I thought it might be interesting to study some more obscure beliefs too. I know…’ He paused. ‘When we went to Stonehenge that day I got the feeling that you knew rather a lot about that sort of thing…’

‘You are allowed to say it.’

‘I was reading about Wicca. I wondered if that was something that you knew about.’

‘A little. I’ve read a lot of mythology and books about alternative beliefs.’ Millie’s admission surprised even her. But there was something about Spencer that invited trust. She felt a kindred spirit in him, someone who would respect her beliefs and her views on the world.

‘Do you think the kids would benefit from hearing about it?’

‘It’s a fairly complex bunch of ideas to explain to them at their age and I’m no expert. I suppose I could gen up and give them a brief insight, but it’s only as much as you could do yourself.’

‘I still think you’d know more than me.’

Millie smiled. ‘Do you mind very much if I don’t? It’s not that I’m trying to be unhelpful, it’s…’ Her sentence trailed off. She didn’t have an excuse good enough apart from one that she didn’t want to share.

Spencer was thoughtful for a moment as he took a long draught of his lemonade. ‘It’s ok.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Millie… I hope you don’t mind me saying but sometimes I feel as though you need a friendly ear to offload things. I’d like to listen if you wanted to share.’

Listen to what
? Millie wondered. Did he mean he wanted to know more about her immediate problems, or could he sense something more, and simply want to help shoulder the burden of her past? Once it was out, there was no taking it back. It was tempting, because never being able to talk about it was eating her from the inside out, but every time the words formed in her mouth something stopped her. What if he thought badly of her once he knew the truth? What if he told everyone else what she had done, the awful, fatal mistake that had sent her running from her old life to a tiny village in Hampshire? Would they drive her away again if they knew?

From beyond the open back door, Millie suddenly thought she heard a faint knock. She cocked her head to listen and it sounded again almost immediately.

‘I should probably go and see who it is,’ Millie said, her stomach dropping. The queue of villagers wanting a remedy was growing longer by the day.

Spencer nodded and she got up.

A few moments later she returned with Dylan. He stopped, a half-frown on his face, a beat of silence as he clocked Spencer.

‘I just came around to ask for Millie’s help,’ Spencer said uncertainly.

Millie looked between them in some confusion. She could detect that undercurrent again, and now it was impossible to ignore. On the surface their friendship seemed to be old and solid, but something wasn’t right. Millie reached for the answer as she watched them both exchange some kind of subliminal dialogue, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

‘Struggling to get the top off your jam?’ Dylan said with a grin.

‘Are you?’ Spencer fired back, ‘as you seem to be here too.’

‘I, my friend, am not here for Millie’s help. I have come to offer mine.’

‘Dylan,’ Millie interrupted, ‘we were just having a drink. Can I offer you one?’

‘What have you got?’ Dylan dragged an extra chair from against the wall and opened it out to take a seat.

‘No alcohol I’m afraid, but I can do cloudy lemonade.’

Dylan shrugged. ‘I suppose I’ll have to be a good boy this afternoon then. Lemonade is fine by me.’

When she returned, they were laughing and joking and she wondered whether she had imagined the moment of awkwardness and distrust between them.

‘I saw Ruth Evans today,’ Dylan said, taking his glass with a nod.

‘Oh?’ Millie replied.

‘She said that Peggy Nicholls had been to see you too and that you gave her another one of your hippy potions.’

‘It was nothing,’ Millie excused. ‘She said she suffered from migraines and all I gave her was a simple herbal painkiller.’

‘According to Ruth, Peggy is completely cured. I wouldn’t call that nothing.’

Millie forced a laugh. ‘She can’t know that after a few days. Migraines come and go – everyone knows that.’

‘I’m telling you,’ Dylan insisted, ‘you should think about selling them. You’d make a lot more money than you do on soap and cakes.’

‘And you’d also get sued by the first unscrupulous customer who decided they could prove you were a charlatan,’ Spencer cut in.

Both Millie and Dylan turned sharply towards him.

‘You know I’m right,’ Spencer continued. ‘Either that or someone will say that your potion has done more harm than good. People are out to get what they can in this world and I’m afraid someone as nice as you would be a prime target, Millie.’

‘As nice as me…’ Millie said with a half-laugh. ‘You mean someone as gullible and soft?’

‘You know that’s not what I mean. But I think you should keep this stuff to yourself. Keep it small, amongst friends.’

Millie sipped her drink. Spencer had a point. She’d already known it but hearing it from someone else only reinforced her fears. Already things were getting out of hand.

‘I think Spencer is right,’ she said.

‘Seriously?’ Dylan spluttered.

‘So what’s your take on it?’ Spencer said, smiling, but his tone a little less forgiving.

‘I think she’s missing a golden business opportunity.’

‘Yeah,’ Spencer said, ‘because you know so much about business.’

‘I just think you’re being overcautious. I don’t see the point in throwing away a chance like this. It could make you way more money than slaving over hot ovens all day and it wouldn’t be nearly as much work.’

‘It could also lose you a lot if things go badly,’ Spencer said.