The Little Village Bakery: A feel good romantic comedy with plenty of cake (Honeybourne Book 1) (6 page)

‘Stonehenge is a wonderful place, full of magic,’ Millie said earnestly, forgetting herself for a moment. ‘I mean, if you believe in magic,’ she added, blushing slightly.

‘I happen to think so too,’ Spencer said. ‘I don’t necessarily know a lot about it but I think that anything so spiritually important to the people who built it has its own kind of magic, y’know?’

Millie beamed at him. It was as though a light switch had gone on inside her. This was safe ground. Surveys and building work and bookkeeping were a mystery to her, but the things under the surface of the world that others didn’t see, these were the things that felt like old friends. ‘I haven’t been to Stonehenge in years,’ she said warmly.

‘Spencer needs help on the trip,’ Jasmine cut in. ‘You said so, didn’t you, Spence?’

‘The more the merrier as far as I’m concerned,’ he replied. ‘We always need all the help we can get.’

‘I don’t know…’ Millie began. ‘I have a lot to do myself.’

‘I’m going,’ Jasmine said. ‘And it would do you good not to think about the bakery for a few hours.’

‘Why don’t I strike you a deal?’ Spencer offered. ‘What if I pop back when I’m done planning, to help you clear out, and then you come with us next week? I can’t promise I’ll be
strong like lion
,’ he said, putting on a fake macho voice, ‘like my mate Dylan here, but I can scrub a floor with the best of them.’

‘Or, how about you stay and help now,’ Jasmine cut in, ‘and I’ll print you some stuff off about Stonehenge at home and bring it to the pub for you? I’m at home knocking about with the kids anyway and Rich will be locked away in the study working his musical magic. I might as well be doing something useful.’

‘That is tempting…’ Spencer smiled. ‘Honestly, Jas, where were you when I was at uni? I could have done with someone researching for me then.’

Jasmine laughed. ‘I’ll bet you could.’

‘Sounds like a plan to me,’ Dylan agreed.

‘And if the boys are helping you today, Millie, that means you can join us on the trip to Stonehenge,’ Jasmine continued.

Mille paused for a moment before letting out a sigh. ‘I suppose I can’t refuse an offer like that.’ She frowned. ‘Won’t I have to have police checks and things if I’m out with the children on your trip?’

‘As you’re not alone with them there’s no need for all that. We just need your address and date of birth and we’ll be good to go.’

‘Maybe
I
should come to Stonehenge…’ Dylan said thoughtfully.

‘
You’d
need police checks,’ Jasmine shot back. ‘And they’d all come back with a great big red
no way
stamped on them.’

Dylan’s face split into a huge grin. ‘The kids would come back from the trip way cooler than they went.’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ Jasmine said with a sideways glance at her brother.

T
hree hours
later and the ground floor of the old bakery was a lot clearer than it had been when Millie arrived. She could see the actual stone flags of the floors, and upstairs, although her bedroom was still a luxury spider retreat, at least she had progressed from mattress on floorboards to the outrageous decadence of an assembled bed, complete with legs and headboard. Not only that, but she also had a flat-pack wardrobe that was no longer flat; if only, she mused, she could find the boxes that contained the majority of her clothes and shoes to fill it. So far, the few clothes she had stuffed into a small suitcase had been enough to tide her over.

Having Dylan and Spencer over had also meant that she didn’t have to listen to Ruth Evans prattling on when the old lady called just after eleven. Dylan had charmed the old woman into submission, and she had fallen into silent and awestruck contemplation of his perfect form as he moved debris and boxes and fixed bits of furniture together, whistling and shouting instructions to the less capable Spencer. Despite his practical shortcomings, Spencer was a welcome addition to the crowd that filled the old bakery that morning, for what he lacked in practical skills, he more than made up for in intelligent conversation. Millie could have listened to him talk about books he had read and films he had watched all day. Spencer was the bridge between the three. While he was there, Millie felt safe having Dylan around, like Spencer was a filter who neutralised all the sexual angst that invaded her thoughts when her neighbour was near. And Spencer was attractive, in his own way, but it was something altogether less frightening. He didn’t stare at her in the hungry way that most men did.

‘So, Spencer,’ Millie began as they stopped to down the cups of tea Ruth had carefully brought over on a tray. ‘You haven’t told me about yourself.’

Spencer shrugged. ‘There’s not much to tell. I’m a teacher by day and a boring git by night.’

‘There must be more than that,’ Millie laughed. ‘What do you do to relax? You must have hobbies. Is there a Mrs Johns?’

Dylan looked up sharply, but neither Millie nor Spencer seemed to notice.

‘No Mrs Johns. No prospective Mrs Johns. And before you ask, no
Mr
 Johns either.’

‘Not still pining after Lucy Pryce are you?’ Dylan asked. Millie couldn’t be sure, but there was something like a note of forced jollity in his voice.

‘No,’ Spencer replied quietly. ‘I don’t have time to
pine
after anyone these days.’

‘Me neither,’ Millie said briskly, suddenly aware of a tension in the room. ‘All work and no play makes Millicent Hopkin a very dull girl indeed.’

‘Oh, I’m sure you could never be dull,’ Dylan said cheerfully.

And then, almost in the same instant, everything was back to normal. Had Millie imagined that sudden chill between Dylan and Spencer? It was as if the moment had never happened.

Spencer looked at his watch. ‘We should get cleaned up; Jasmine will be at the pub soon.’

J
asmine and Rich
were in the Dog and Hare, both with pint glasses in front of them half filled with bitter. If Millie hadn’t thought them to be the happiest, most perfect couple she had ever met, she could have sworn their body language betrayed an interrupted argument. Dylan didn’t seem to notice anything, however, and simply berated his sister as he, Spencer and Millie approached their table.

‘I thought you were detoxing?’

Jasmine laughed. Whatever words she might have been having with Rich obviously hadn’t affected her too much. ‘I am. But you can’t come to the Dog without having a little taste of its finest, can you? I mean, it would offend Doug.’ As if to prove her point, she lifted her glass and took a long draught, placing it back on the table again with a satisfied smack of the lips.

Millie threw her a slightly awestruck look. She had never met a woman who managed to look so pretty and womanly downing a pint of bitter before.

‘I’m beginning to think this detox of yours is a myth,’ Dylan replied, eyeing her up with a wry smile.

‘Me too,’ Rich said. ‘I bet she’s stuffing ice cream morning and night when I’m not there.’

Jasmine gave him a playful slap.

It was the first time Millie had been in the pub. It was just how she imagined a village pub should be: warm wooden panelling lined the room, hung with portraits of local dignitaries from days gone by along with watercolour landscapes; the bar area was shelved – row upon row of pewter and glass tankards sitting alongside various bottled spirits. The sun slanted in through sash windows, dust motes dancing in the beams of light like tiny galaxies. There was a rich, beefy smell, and Millie guessed that some sort of meat and ale pie was on the lunch menu. Her stomach growled as she suddenly realised how hungry she was.

‘I’m starving,’ Spencer said, voicing Millie’s thoughts, ‘how about we grab menus before we do anything else?’

‘That’s the best idea you’ve had today,’ Dylan said.

W
ith fragrant plates
of hearty pub food in front of each of them, Jasmine called for the table’s attention.

‘Millie,’ she began, ‘I know that you’re going to say no to all of my suggestions. So let’s get it straight right now that I am not going to take a blind bit of notice of any refusal you make.’

Rich cocked an eyebrow. ‘Trust me, she’s not lying, Millie – I’ve seen it in action.’

Jasmine nudged him. ‘Oi!’

‘Just saying…’

‘He’s got a point,’ Dylan put in.

‘Shut up!’ Jasmine scolded. ‘I’m trying to chair a serious meeting here.’

‘
Chair a meeting
? You’ve been watching too much
Apprentice
.’ Dylan rammed a forkful of chips into his mouth with a grin.

Jasmine sighed and turned to Millie again. ‘Me and Rich were talking it over this morning and we made a list of everyone we could think of who might be able to help with the bakery renovations, or anyone who might know someone who could help. And we think a lot of them would be happy to help for reduced rates, maybe even in return for services or pledges of payment later on, when you’re on your feet…’

Millie held her hands up to halt the discussion. ‘Please, I can’t ask people to do all this for me. I’ll sort things at the bakery myself. It might take a little longer, but I won’t be a charity case.’

‘It wouldn’t be charity. You’ll still pay people, but in different ways.’

Millie took a sip of her juice. ‘How?’

‘Well,’ Jasmine resumed patiently, ‘what about this, for instance: we were chatting to Doug the landlord here, earlier, and he said he could do with help in the kitchen at dinnertimes. In return, he knows someone who might be able to restore your windows. You can cook?’

‘I can
bake
,’ Millie replied. ‘But it’s not the same as cooking. And I imagine I’d have to make an awful lot of meals to repay a service like that.’

‘What about if you make pies and puddings and sell them to him, then you can pay his friend with the money you make?’

‘Which brings me back full circle to the original problem – I have nowhere to bake in that sort of quantity.’

Jasmine continued unperturbed. ‘There are plenty of people with kitchens who could let you use them.’

Millie thought for a moment. ‘I don’t want to sound ungrateful, really I don’t, but I need a well-equipped, decent-sized kitchen to make anything commercially.’

‘We’ve got a huge kitchen, haven’t we, Rich?’ Jasmine turned to her husband, who nodded slowly. He stole an uncertain glance at Millie. ‘And I’m sure whatever equipment you need you must have in your boxes at the bakery. Could you transfer them to ours for a while? You can use the kitchen during the day when I’m in the workshop and Rich is in his music room.’

‘I couldn’t impose on you like that. And besides,’ Millie added, doubt in her tone, ‘I still don’t think it’s quite the sort of kitchen I need.’

‘What about if you use Doug’s kitchen? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.’

Millie shook her head. ‘Even if we did that it’s still a drop in the ocean compared to what I need to get the bakery shipshape.’

Jasmine looked at the others, who were all silently tucking into their meals as they followed the conversation.

‘Any ideas from the boys?’

Spencer shrugged. ‘We always need help in school, but I can’t think of any way that could benefit the bakery.’

Dylan’s face suddenly lit up. ‘What about a crowdfunding scheme?’

Millie frowned. ‘What’s crowdfunding?’

‘You know, like people do for films and music. You set up an internet account –in our case, we could keep it local – and people pledge money if they think it’s worth supporting. You set a target of how much you need. Getting the bakery back would benefit the whole community and this way would be a much more businesslike approach.’

Millie glanced uncertainly at each of them. ‘What if people don’t want to pledge, or we don’t raise enough?’

Jasmine nibbled on a chip. ‘You must be able to do things other than bake?’

Millie could do things, things that none of them could do, things she suspected not many would even consider were possible. But they were things that she wouldn’t dare share with them – she didn’t want the people of Honeybourne to have any reason for mistrust, she’d had quite enough of that back in her old life.

‘I suppose…’ she began slowly, ‘I can make remedies and things. You know, from old, trusted herbal recipes. And soaps and lotions – all natural. People tell me they work. And I would need somewhere to make them, but it wouldn’t require enormous ovens.’

Jasmine’s eyes widened, another chip held halfway to her mouth. ‘You can? But that’s brilliant!’

‘It is?’

‘I’ve been thinking about expanding the craft business to sell natural toiletries and things. I had thought I would learn how to make them, but never seemed to have the time. We could work together, it would be perfect.’

Rich looked up from his meal. For a moment, it seemed he would offer some argument, but as Jasmine shot him a warning glance, so subtle that only the two of them would understand what it meant, he put his head down again and shoved a forkful of steak into his mouth.

‘It would make craft fairs and markets a lot more fun if someone came with me,’ Jasmine continued. ‘I’m always bored standing there all day on my own, especially if we have a quiet one. You could sell your stuff alongside mine and we each keep what we make. We can split the hire of the stall between us.’ She smiled brightly. ‘You get to earn towards the bakery renovations, I get some company and halve my overheads in one fell swoop – everyone wins!’

‘It still won’t earn enough,’ Millie insisted.

‘Have you seen what people charge for that stuff?’ Dylan put in. ‘I’m sure you could turn a profit from some old bits of weed found in your garden.’

‘I don’t think it’s as simple as that,’ Millie laughed, in spite of herself.

‘What about internet sales too?’ Jasmine offered. ‘I sell my stuff on my own website, but also on eBay, Amazon Marketplace, Etsy – there are loads of outlets.’

Spencer raised his hand. ‘Is this as well as the crowdfunding and calling in favours from villagers?’

‘I don’t see why not,’ Jasmine said. ‘Every avenue should be explored.’

‘Only,’ Spencer continued, ‘that’s an awful lot of balls to juggle for Millie.’