The Little Village Bakery: A feel good romantic comedy with plenty of cake (Honeybourne Book 1) (3 page)

‘I mean it,’ Jasmine said, suddenly serious. ‘It’s a disaster waiting to happen.’

Dylan put his can down and ran a hand through his hair. ‘How can you possibly know that?’

‘Please, Dylan. Just don’t.’

Dylan grimaced. ‘You’re not Mum. And even Mum wouldn’t have told me who to go out with.’

‘I’m not telling you who to go out with; I’m just telling you that it will end badly.’

Dylan took a swig of his Coke and winked at Jasmine, the old cockiness returning as if to prove her point. ‘We’ll see.’

A
n hour
later Jasmine headed back out into the sunshine, quite undecided what sort of mood she was in. Conversations with Dylan often made her feel like that – a strange mixture of disapproval and envy at the way he seemed to sail through life without a care for what it may throw his way. She knew he was vulnerable and lonely, but he presented himself as emotionally bulletproof with an uncanny ability to look on the bright side of life. It was oddly attractive, as his long string of discarded girlfriends could testify. Their mother had often expressed a wish for him to settle down with a nice girl, and Jasmine understood that more than ever as she watched him grow older in his self-imposed emotional bubble. She often wondered how she would feel watching Reuben grow into a man like Dylan, and the idea saddened her in a way she couldn’t put into words.

‘Hey, Jasmine!’

Jasmine looked up from her reverie to see Millie waving from across the square. She was dressed in old jeans and an oversized denim shirt, her sleeves rolled up to reveal dirty forearms and her hair scraped into a floral headscarf. Even in her scruffs, she looked dainty and radiant in a way that was almost unreal.

‘Hey to you too,’ Jasmine called back, crossing the road to meet her. Given that Millie had been the subject of a difficult conversation only an hour before, Jasmine felt a strange mix of emotions at seeing her. The woman had made quite an impression on Jasmine the previous day, and she couldn’t help the broad smile that spread across her face, but that nagging voice at the back of her mind tempered it. Knowing Dylan as she did, he wouldn’t be easily persuaded to give up on Millie now that he had targeted her, and God only knew what sort of trouble might be in store for all of them. Jasmine smoothed her features as the two women met outside the bakery.

‘I never really thanked you properly for all your help yesterday,’ Millie said warmly. She seemed a good deal more relaxed than she had when Jasmine and Rich had left her the previous evening.

‘It was nothing,’ Jasmine smiled. ‘Rich loves a damsel in distress; you wouldn’t have been able to keep him away if you’d tried.’

‘And what’s your excuse?’

‘I have to make sure he doesn’t drop anything.’

Millie laughed. ‘You did a cracking job then.’

‘How’s it going in there?’ Jasmine angled her head at the open door of the building, where an unsteady tower of boxes was just visible amongst a floor full of assorted clutter.

‘Oh, it’s still got about fifteen years’ worth of dust in every room, the ovens are coated in enough grease and grime to waterproof a Viking longship and I’ve had to get an eviction order for the larger spiders… but I think it’s ok.’

‘Did you sleep here last night?’ Jasmine asked with a grimace.

‘Well… the man from over the road – who, incidentally, has the worst chat-up lines I’ve ever heard – offered me his bed, but I thought I’d take my chances with the mice over here.’

‘Dylan?’ Jasmine asked more sharply than she’d meant to.

Millie paled. ‘He lives in the white cottage… Oh God, you know him? I mean… he said he’d sleep on the sofa… I didn’t mean anything when I said he was…’

Jasmine inwardly chided herself. She’d overreacted, as she knew she would. Dylan was a grown man and she had to keep reminding herself of that. She shrugged apologetically. ‘He’s my brother. I can’t say which side of the family gave him the silver tongue, but it certainly didn’t pass to me.’

‘He helped me move a few things this morning. He’s very nice. I didn’t mean to say anything bad. I didn’t know he was your brother, but even if I had…’

Jasmine put up a hand to stop her. ‘Don’t worry. I know exactly what he’s like.’

Millie glanced back to her open door and then back at Jasmine, and an awkward silence descended on them.

‘I’ll let you get on,’ Jasmine said.

Millie chewed on her lip. Then she nodded. ‘I probably should make a start on those grotty ovens.’

‘If you need anything,’ Jasmine said as she turned to leave, ‘me and Rich live in the last barn conversion at the edge of the village. You can’t miss us,’ she smiled, ‘we’re the ones with the huge metal sculpture of Poseidon in the front garden.’

M
illie turned back
from the stark sunshine into the dim gloom of the bakery. Damn it, why did she always say the wrong thing? Now she’d upset Jasmine, the first woman she had met in the village, who she had instantly warmed to; someone she felt could be a kindred spirit. If she was going to make a new life here in Honeybourne and leave her troubled past once and for all, a friend like Jasmine could be just what she needed.

With a sigh of resignation, she turned her attention to the interior of her new home. What she needed right now, she mused as she surveyed the mess of the main shop and calculated how much work there still was to do, was some serious, full-on Mary Poppins magic. But sadly, life didn’t work like that. So she would have to roll her sleeves up and shift things with her hands like everyone else. And after the terrible night’s sleep she’d had, maybe the best place to start would be the bedroom after all. She could have the ovens and kitchen clean and neat, but it would be pointless if she was too tired to run the business. More than ever she was beginning to wish that she’d waited, looked for a partner to take the business on with her. It was a huge enterprise, much bigger than the celebration cakes that she had made to order from her small, homely kitchen up in the midlands. She must have been an idiot to think she could run this alone. She didn’t even really know how to keep her books in order, let alone all the other things she’d need to do – public liability insurance, food hygiene, advertising, business banking and a list of sundries as long as her arm. Her cosy idea of making cakes in a rural idyll was crumbling around her already, like the rafters above her head which were crumbling away from centuries of being gnawed by woodworm.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a rap at the doorframe. Millie span round to see Jasmine’s brother grinning at the open door.

‘Sorry, me again. I just had to get rid of my sister before I could pop back over.’

‘As I told you earlier, kind as your offer is, I can manage to clean and unpack and you really don’t need to bother yourself.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Dylan stepped over the dusty threshold and folded his arms as he leaned against the doorway, backlit by the bright sun. ‘That might be true, but I’m rattling around over the way doing nothing. Imagine how guilty I’ll feel knowing that I’m on my backside with a can of Stella while you’re lugging huge boxes around all alone.’

‘I didn’t realise Jasmine was your sister,’ Millie replied, steering the conversation away. Much as she needed help, she wasn’t sure that she wanted it from Dylan. Somehow, his easy charm and confidence scared her.

‘Jas?’ He turned his face in profile and stroked his jaw. ‘Could you not see the striking family resemblance?’

‘I can now.’

He grinned. ‘I suppose it’s the pink hair that threw you. And the curls. And the nose piercing. Maybe the breasts too,’ he added with mock thoughtfulness. ‘As I don’t have any of those, I can see why people are confused at first.’

Millie couldn’t help but smile. ‘I can see it now. She’s prettier than you though.’

‘Damn that woman!’ Dylan clicked his fingers. ‘No wonder Rich Green wouldn’t marry me.’

Millie crossed her arms and surveyed him. ‘You never stop the act, do you?’

‘Nobody would laugh if I did. And what else is there in life but laughter?’

Millie crossed over to a box and peered inside. ‘I’d offer you a cup of tea, but I have no idea which box contains the kettle and no electricity to boil it with.’

‘Then let me make one for you.’

‘No, I—’

‘Don’t worry, you won’t have to come into my house.’ He pretended to shudder.

‘Actually, definitely don’t come to my house. I’ll bring you a cup over. How does that sound?’

Millie paused for a moment, frowning. Then she smiled slightly. ‘That does sound nice.’

‘Right.’ Dylan turned to leave, but then stopped and turned back. ‘I hope you’re not too thirsty though, because I have to go to the shop first. I’m clean out of milk… and tea… and possibly sterile crockery too.’

And with that, he bounded out of the door and into the bright street outside, leaving Millie to shake her head in wonderment.

M
illie was
elbow deep in a box of cleaning products as Dylan walked back in half an hour later with two mugs.

‘As promised,’ he grinned.

‘Oh, that’s so sweet of you.’ Millie wiped her hands on a cloth hanging from her belt and wandered over to the counter.

‘I bet you’re gasping, aren’t you?’

‘Actually, Miss Evans who lives a few doors up came by and said hello. She offered to make me a drink so… I’ve already had one,’ Millie replied sheepishly. She couldn’t help but laugh as Dylan’s face fell, it looked so pitiful.

‘I could manage another one,’ she added.

He handed her a mug. ‘I might have known old Ruth Evans would have sniffed you out. I’m surprised she wasn’t round here yesterday, she doesn’t miss a thing that goes on in the village.’

‘Apparently she was particularly troubled by her irritable bowel yesterday and was…’ Millie grimaced, ‘
a slave to her toilet seat
.’

Dylan laughed and plonked himself on an old wooden bench in the bay window as Millie leaned on the shop counter. ‘That’s Ruth,’ he said. ‘She doesn’t miss a trick but she also thinks that everyone else wants to know her business, no matter how grim it is. You should have heard her go on about her hysterectomy. I was only nine when she had it done; the words I learned that week scarred me for life, I can tell you. I’m as interested in the female reproductive system as the next man, but I don’t need
that
much anatomical detail.’

Millie couldn’t help but giggle, despite being aware that she was giving out the wrong signals by doing it. There was no doubting that Dylan, with his lithe figure and twinkling eyes full of mischief, had a magnetism that was hard to ignore. Her gaze fell on the contours of his chest, showing in subtle relief through the fabric of his loose T-shirt. Where his sister was all comfortable womanly curves and soft edges, Dylan was taut and angular, not a spare inch of fat to be seen. Even his jawline looked as though it had been hewn from stone, like some classical statue. Millie shook herself as she became aware of her sudden silence and Dylan regarding her with a quizzical expression.

‘Sorry, thinking about all the stuff I have to do here,’ Millie explained. ‘I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll have to hire some help.’

‘You weren’t seriously thinking of tackling the building work yourself?’ Dylan spluttered.

‘What does that mean?’ Millie replied with sudden coldness. ‘I’m a woman so I can’t do DIY?’

‘No, no, of course not.’ Dylan held his hand up in a gesture of surrender. ‘But I wouldn’t tackle all this myself.’ He glanced up at the wooden beams above them. ‘It looks like a huge amount of structural work.’

‘You think?’ Millie asked, a note of anxiety creeping into her bravado.

‘Didn’t your survey pick it all up?’

‘Well… I didn’t have a survey…’

‘You needed one for the mortgage, right?’

Millie bit her lip. ‘I didn’t need one because I paid cash from the sale of my house.’

Dylan shook his head slightly. ‘You still should have got a survey done.’

Millie paused. Now probably wasn’t the time to tell Dylan that she’d simply had a
good feeling
that the shop would be ok, and that she was on the run from the miserable life she was so desperate to leave behind. ‘It was a lot of money that I thought would be better used setting up the business.’

‘That’s all very well, but you can’t run a business if your premises are falling down.’

‘I know that,’ Millie snapped. She wasn’t stupid, so why were Dylan’s observations making her feel that way?

Dylan studied her for a moment, unperturbed by her outburst. ‘I have some mates who might be able to help. They’re cheap as chips and will do a decent job.’

‘But I don’t even know what needs doing.’

‘Why don’t I call them? They can come and take a look, list what needs to be done, and then at least you’ll know. It’s a start, right?’

Millie nodded uncertainly. She had come to Honeybourne with the intention of starting afresh, with no obligations and no ties to anyone but herself, and already she was running up moral debts and favours that would need to be returned, or at the very least acknowledged. But then she looked around at the state of the old bakery – her new home – and had to admit that she was going to need help, whether she liked it or not.

‘Ok, that would be good, thanks.’

‘I’ll phone them when I’ve finished my brew.’

Millie took a sip of her drink. ‘They are proper builders, aren’t they?’

Dylan frowned. ‘What do you take me for?’

‘Sorry, it’s just… This is my whole life, right here in this falling-down building. I have nothing else.’

‘Don’t be so sure about that,’ Dylan winked. ‘You have me.’

‘
R
ebecca says
Mr Johns is looking for volunteers to help with the school trip next week.’ Rich looked over his paper the next morning as Jasmine buttered some toast and handed it to Reuben, the only child still at the table finishing breakfast. He was always the last one ready for school, simply because his appetite was so much bigger than that of his sisters.

‘Oh yeah, that’s right.’ Reuben nodded before cramming a triangle of toast into his mouth.

‘I remember last time I volunteered,’ Jasmine said. ‘Somebody was sick all over me on the back seats of the coach…’ She gave a meaningful glance towards Reuben, who blushed.

‘Sorry, Mum.’

‘Come on, Jazzy, you can’t be too hard on him. I was travel sick all the time when I was eight.’

‘It’s obviously you I have to blame then, for my ruined Monsoon dress,’ Jasmine observed as she turned a pretend frown onto her husband. ‘I had to make an awful lot of lanterns to get the money for that.’

‘When I’m rich and famous, I’ll buy you a whole shop-full of Monsoon dresses,’ Rich grinned in return.

‘You’ve been saying that for fifteen years.’

‘Never say never, my sweetness. This time next year we could be millionaires.’ Rich shook his paper and began to read again.

‘Please, Mum,’ Reuben said. ‘The other kids love it when you help out.’

‘Really?’

Reuben nodded vigorously. ‘You’re the coolest mum in the village.’

Jasmine laughed as she put the lid on the butter. ‘Thank you, my gorgeous boy, but that’s not saying much. After all, it’s a very small village.’ She ruffled his hair as he folded the last of his toast into his mouth and swallowed hard.

‘Now, go and get changed before we’re late again and Mr Johns gives
me
detention.’

Reuben grabbed a spare slice of toast from Jasmine’s abandoned portion and scampered obediently away.

‘It’s scorching again.’ Jasmine turned her eyes to the kitchen window, where the sun bounced off the stark white frame and a bee tapped at the glass a few times before bumbling off to find some flowers.

Rich looked up from his paper and followed her gaze. ‘I know. I would pick the hottest week of the year to go and sit in some stuffy bloody office. On a normal day I could be lounging around in the garden humming to myself.’

‘It’s only today. You need to nail this deal that Ollie’s worked so hard to set up.’

‘Of course, and I intend to. It’s practically in the bag anyway; they really like what they’ve heard already. Today is about formalities, and then tomorrow I’ll have a lovely contract for a film score about a romance set in nineteenth-century Greece, with English village rain for inspiration.’

‘I doubt it’s going to be raining any time soon. Doug at the pub says the long-range forecast is more of the same. Besides, I’m sure a man of your creative power can easily overcome a little obstacle like rain, if Doug turns out to be wrong.’ Jasmine balanced a pile of plates and cups as she made her way to the sink and plopped them into a bowl of soapy water. Rich followed her across the room and folded his arms around her waist from behind, nuzzling into her neck, while she tried to wash up.

‘Rich, I need to get these finished quickly, I’m not even dressed yet and you can’t take the kids in today.’

‘I know,’ he said lazily, his breath hot in her ear. Tucking his hand into her pyjama bottoms, he lightly worked his way down to her crotch as he kissed her neck. ‘But this won’t take long…’

Jasmine gasped, a slow smile spreading across her face, heat spreading through her loins as he stroked her.

‘The kids…’ she said, gently pulling his hand out and then turning to flick him with suds.

Rich grinned. ‘Alright. But don’t think I won’t get you later.’

She kissed him, her insides fizzing with anticipation. ‘If you can catch me, you can have me.’

‘Oh, I’ll catch you alright…’ Rich pumped his arms like a bodybuilder as he walked away laughing.

‘You’re a bad man, Richard Green,’ she called after him.

‘What’s Daddy done now?’ Rebecca appeared at the back door.

Jasmine frowned. ‘What were you doing in the garden? You’re meant to be upstairs getting ready for school.’

‘I am ready. I went out to feed Clarice.’

‘The rabbit could have waited till I fed the chickens. Right now I need you to sort yourself out.’

Rebecca gave her mum a quick, meaningful glance up and down. ‘You still have your pyjamas on.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t have if other people would let me get on. Now go and make sure Rachel and Reuben are dressed, would you, there’s a good girl.’

Rebecca wandered obediently off. Jasmine watched her go. Although the children were triplets, they weren’t completely alike. Rebecca was slightly taller than the other two, and had also been the biggest when they were born. She was darker than the others and her hair had a natural curl to it. Rachel and Reuben looked more like twins, with Rebecca the older sister, both of them with sandy hair the shade of Jasmine’s own natural colour, but straighter like Rich’s, and darker eyes than Rebecca’s brownish-green. With no medical intervention, Jasmine had conceived the three of them completely naturally and had made quite a splash locally when the news got out. Rich had been so proud, they had joked about his
mighty sperm
for months down at the Dog and Hare. They certainly had got a ready-made family. It had been hard work at first, but, as Jasmine had often commented with a laugh, they would never have to potty train again after this batch. A year earlier, Kate Stephens had given birth to twins and when the local paper got wind of the story, the village was dubbed ‘the most fertile village in Hampshire’ in an evening headline.

Jasmine shook herself and returned to washing up the breakfast dishes. Often, Rich took the kids to school so that she could get an early start working, but today she was already behind schedule and the school run was going to make that worse still.

A
fter the morning
greetings and a few exchanged bits of gossip in the playground, the bell rang for the start of the school day and Jasmine was kissing the triplets goodbye. Just as she had watched them go in through the doors, a man in his late twenties rushed out, making his way towards her with a broad smile.

‘Morning, Spencer! Or should I say
Mr Johns
while we’re at school?’

‘Hey, Jas,’ Spencer grinned. ‘Did the kids mention anything to you about helping out on the school trip?’

‘They said something about it this morning…’

‘And?’

Jasmine chewed her lip as he waited earnestly for her reply, his huge blue eyes fixed on her under long black lashes.

‘I am kind of busy in the workshop at the moment. Summer is when most of the craft fairs and fêtes are.’

‘We’re really stuck, Jas. How about I call one Saturday and help you out in the workshop to make up for it?’

‘
Spencer Johns
, I saw what sort of stuff you produced in art at school. There is no way I’m letting you loose in my workshop. I’d trust Dylan first, and that’s saying something!’

Spencer laughed. ‘How is Dylan these days?’

‘The same old Dylan.’

Spencer’s smile seemed a little sad to Jasmine. It pained her to see that things lurking in their past might still be fresh in his mind. ‘I hardly see him lately,’ he mused. ‘I suppose he’s got more interesting friends to spend time with.’

‘Hmm, there was a time when he idolised you. Remember when he used to follow you all over the village showing you his Top Trumps cards?’

Spencer laughed. ‘I do. I suppose it was the older kid thing, not because I was remotely cool. Funny how the tables turn, though, isn’t it?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, now I’m never able to get an audience with
His Grand Coolness
, and he obviously thinks I’m a huge nerd for going into primary school teaching.’

‘Why don’t you ask Dylan to help on the trip? He’s hardly got anything else to do.’

‘Dylan? I’d have to stuff cotton wool into the ears of all the kids.’

‘I’m sure he could behave for an hour or so. Go on, why don’t you ask him? He was saying only yesterday how he wanted to turn over a new leaf and become an upstanding member of the community or something. Please ask him. For me? I hate to see you two still at odds.’

A shadow crossed Spencer’s features. The banter had gone, and he was tense, brooding. The hairs on Jasmine’s neck prickled and she couldn’t quite say why, but the sight of him like that worried her.

‘I really don’t think he’d want to help me out,’ Spencer insisted.

‘What is it with you two? You’ve been back in Honeybourne for a year and you still can’t just move on? Has something else happened? Has he said anything, because if he has—’

Spencer held his hand up to stop her. ‘Nothing happened. I guess he’s got his other friends now and I’m not really the sort of person he wants to hang out with anymore.’

‘I had hoped we could put all that stuff behind us,’ Jasmine said.

‘I think we have. It’s just that things can’t be the same as they were. You understand that, surely?’

‘But
we’re
ok, right?’ Jasmine asked uncertainly. ‘I mean, I know we haven’t really talked about it much since you got back but…’

‘Of course we are.’

Jasmine held him in a measured gaze. He’d left Honeybourne, travelled the world and trained to be a teacher before he’d finally returned. That was enough time to sort his head out, wasn’t it? But sometimes she had a nagging feeling that he was still hiding an awful lot of pain.

‘So, what do you think about next week?’ Spencer pressed, appearing to rally himself to brightness again.

‘Next week?’

‘The trip…’

‘Oh, Spencer—’

‘Please, Jas. It’ll be a laugh for me if you come, and the kids love you, and you’ll be doing me such a massive favour.’

Jasmine let out a huge sigh. ‘Alright then.’

‘Thanks so much, you’re a star.’ Spencer made a move to hug her, and then seemed to check himself as he glanced at the windows of the school building. Instead, he gave her an awkward smile.

‘Sucker is more like,’ Jasmine smiled back.

‘You said it.’ He started towards the building; the caretaker was waiting for him to come in so he could lock the main door.

‘Oh…’ Spencer spun around and called to Jasmine as she turned to leave. ‘If Rich can come and help out, even better.’

‘You know how to push it, don’t you?’ Jasmine shouted in return.

Spencer simply grinned as he disappeared into the building.

J
asmine wasn’t really
sure why she had felt the need to take the detour that led her past the old bakery as she walked home from school, but she was suddenly gripped by an urge to see if Millie was ok. When she got to the open door, she could hear voices. She peered in to see Millie vigorously scrubbing at the counter with a cloth, her jaw clenched and teeth gritted. She was clearly out of breath and struggling to be civil; Ruth Evans was sitting on the bench in the bay window, watching Millie work and sipping tea, looking for all the world as though she was at an afternoon luncheon at the WI.

‘So I told the doctor,’ Ruth was saying, ‘I told him that if there was any more vaginal discharge, I would be suing him for medical negligence. I mean, that sort of thing can ruin your life. Not to mention how much laundry it makes…’

Jasmine popped her head in. Millie stopped mid-scrub and looked up.

‘Not interrupting anything, am I?’ Jasmine asked, with a wry smile at Millie and a barely perceptible nod of the head in Ruth’s direction.

‘Not at all!’ Millie squeaked with such eagerness that Jasmine wondered whether she would leap over the counter and kiss her. ‘The more the merrier! Tea?’ she added in a voice that was definitely laced with more than a touch of hysteria.

‘I’d love a quick one,’ Jasmine said.

‘Oh Ruth, you know that I don’t have electricity yet. Would you be an angel and get Jasmine a tea from your house?’

‘Oh hello, Jasmine,’ Ruth said as she gripped the windowsill and pushed herself up on her arthritic legs. ‘Did that water infection clear up?’

‘I didn’t have a water infection.’

‘Didn’t you? I could have sworn it was you.’

‘Not me.’ Jasmine shook her head.

‘Oh…’ Ruth looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘How’s your mum?’ she finally asked brightly.

‘Ruth…’ Jasmine said gently, ‘Mum and Dad died, remember? It was quite a while ago too.’

‘Oh gracious, so they did. Lovely woman, your mother. Always had time for a chat.’ She looked at Jasmine, her frown suddenly clearing. ‘Tea?’

‘Tea would be fabulous, Ruth.’

Ruth shuffled out past Jasmine with an amiable smile.

‘Oh dear God, thank you for rescuing me,’ Millie said as soon as Ruth was out of earshot.

‘Not at all. I’ve heard every one of those stories enough times to write them verbatim. You develop an uncanny knack of letting them wash over you after a while. And you learn how to handle her. You’ll get there one day.’

‘I hope that day comes quickly,’ Millie frowned. ‘Because I’m in serious pain here.’

‘She means well.’

‘She’s perfectly lovely,’ Millie agreed. ‘It’s just that I’m not so keen to hear about her vaginal discharge.’

‘Yes,’ Jasmine agreed, ‘perhaps she ought to know you for a whole week before she shares that sort of intimate detail.’

Both women giggled. Jasmine took Ruth’s seat in the window. ‘How’s it going here?’

‘Cleaning is about all I can do right now,’ Millie said, dropping her cloth into the bucket and wiping a hand across her brow. ‘There’s lots of repair work to be done, but first I need to get rid of the dirt so that I can actually see what needs repairing.’

Jasmine gave the place a sweeping glance with raised eyebrows. ‘You want to be careful, the dirt might be the only thing holding the place together.’

‘I know,’ Millie smiled.

‘Please don’t be offended,’ Jasmine began slowly, ‘but I’ve been thinking about your situation. Are you planning to run this place entirely alone?’

‘Yes, why not?’ Millie replied somewhat defensively. ‘I have run a business before.’