The Little Village Bakery: A feel good romantic comedy with plenty of cake (Honeybourne Book 1) (4 page)

‘It’s not that,’ Jasmine elaborated, ‘it’s just that it’s a big place and it seems there’s an awful lot of building for you to be covering alone every day. When you’re baking, for example, who’s going to be in the shop?’

‘I’ll bake everything in the morning before I open.’

Jasmine blew out a thoughtful breath. ‘That sounds like a long day,’ she observed.

‘Long days are just what I need at the moment,’ Millie replied briskly, hauling the bucket of dirty water off the counter. She made her way to the street outside and sloshed the contents down the storm drain before returning and plonking the bucket back down.

‘Ignore me,’ Jasmine said, sensing the tension in the air. ‘I should learn to mind my own business.’

Millie leaned on the counter and her expression softened. ‘I’m sorry. Ignore
me
, I know you meant well. It’s just that I seem to be getting reminders from a lot of people these last couple of days that I haven’t thought this venture through very well.’

‘Oh?’

‘Your brother asked me about the building work yesterday. Call me stupid, but I sort of assumed that a lick of paint and some nice gingham bunting at the window would make the place good as new.’ She glanced up at the dusty beams. ‘I might be a bit wide of the mark there.’

Jasmine gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘I wouldn’t listen too much to Dylan. He’s hardly an expert. Maybe it’s not as bad as you fear?’

Millie shook her head. ‘I’m afraid he might be right.’

‘That’ll be a first.’

Ruth Evans returned with a tray. On it were three delicate bone china cups, filled with strong tea, and a pot of sugar. Millie and Jasmine shared a conspiratorial smile.

‘Staying for a while?’ Jasmine asked as Ruth tottered over to the counter and set the tray down.

‘Ooh, thank you, don’t mind if I do,’ Ruth replied as she took her cup and sat herself down next to Jasmine, who raised her eyebrows slightly at Millie.

Millie took a cup and handed it to Jasmine. ‘It seems a bit hot to be drinking tea in a stuffy old bakery,’ she said. ‘We ought to be in a lovely pub somewhere with ice-cold drinks.’

‘Tea cools you down,’ Ruth said serenely. She took a sip of hers and made a smacking sound with her lips.

‘Hmm,’ Jasmine replied noncommittally. ‘So…’ She turned to Millie. ‘Do you have a schedule to work to for the bakery?’

‘You mean to get up and running?’

Jasmine nodded.

‘I had one.’ Millie sighed. ‘But I think that’s gone out of the window. I had no idea of how much work I’d need to do before I could open.’ She peered over the rim of her cup at Jasmine. ‘I suppose you think that’s a bit idiotic?’

‘It’s your first business venture?’

‘This big, yes. I made occasion cakes to order from home before, just me and my little bitty oven. Nothing on this scale.’

‘Then you can’t be expected to make the right decision every time,’ Jasmine said. ‘I’ve made enough cocks-ups since I started the craft business. It’s a wonder I didn’t go bankrupt in the first couple of months. Things are just getting on an even keel now and I’m only just starting to feel confident in my business decisions.’

‘You have a craft business?’ Ruth put in.

Millie and Jasmine turned to her in some surprise, as though they had forgotten she was there.

‘I’ve been doing it for years,’ Jasmine smiled. ‘I thought you knew.’

‘I thought you were a barmaid at the Dog and Hare,’ Ruth said with a confused frown.

‘That was before I got married.’

‘Well,’ Ruth mumbled, ‘I don’t go in there, do I?’

Jasmine smiled patiently at her. ‘This is a lovely cup of tea, Ruth.’

‘Yes, that’s another one I owe you,’ Millie put in.

‘Oh, don’t worry, dearie, I don’t mind at all.’

Jasmine drained her cup and placed it carefully back on the tray. ‘I really should be getting some work done, otherwise I
won’t
have a craft business.’

‘Thanks for calling,’ Millie smiled.

Jasmine turned to go but then stopped at the door. ‘Tell me to mind my own business, but if you need to chat about anything business related – not that I’m any expert, of course – I’d be happy to. Why don’t you call one day this week while the kids are at school?’

Millie paused, but then smiled slowly. ‘That sounds nice, I might just do that.’

‘Great, let me know.’

‘I’d better get cracking too…’ Millie said, eyeing a pile of boxes stacked in a dusty corner. ‘Erm, Ruth…’

‘Oh, don’t mind me,’ Ruth said cheerfully. ‘You get on and I’ll sit quiet as a mouse and drink my tea here in this corner.’

Millie gave a helpless glance in Jasmine’s direction, who simply left them with a huge grin.

‘
Y
our dad is here
!’ Jasmine scooped up wax crayons and shreds of paper from the dining table. ‘Let’s hope he’s got good news, eh?’

‘I’ve had all my things crossed all day,’ Reuben said. Rebecca and Rachel nodded solemnly in agreement.

Jasmine looked up to see Rich in the kitchen doorway.

‘How did it go?’ she asked. They had agreed that whatever happened, Rich wouldn’t tell her on the phone, but wait until he got home so they could discuss it face to face. All day she had kept herself busy and promised herself that she would stay calm when he arrived home. But this job was a huge opportunity for him – for them all – and she was finding it hard to contain herself.

He gave a huge sigh. ‘Well,’ he began, ‘I might need some help drinking this…’ He produced a bottle from behind his back.

Jasmine flew across the room and flung her arms around his neck. ‘Is that champagne?’ she squealed.

‘I know it’s not good for bodies that are temples and all that, but we could let loose tonight to celebrate?’

‘Oh sod the detox!’ She kissed him. ‘You clever boy!’

‘I like to think so,’ he grinned.

T
he curtains billowed
in the gentle breeze that whispered through the open bedroom window. Jasmine lay naked across Rich’s damp chest, her legs tangled with his.

‘I think you’ve been practising,’ he said with a lazy grin. He stroked her hair back from her face and kissed her gently.

‘You’re not the only one who can be clever,’ Jasmine murmured back.

‘Gorgeous, funny, sexy as hell… What did I ever do to deserve you? I must have been very good in a previous life. In fact, I must have been a monk or something.’

Jasmine giggled. ‘I have no idea, but keep talking. I’m enjoying the compliments too much for you to stop now.’

‘Hmm, maybe I
should
stop; you’ll be getting ideas that you can do better than me.’

‘Never.’ She kissed his chest. ‘Besides, I’m not going to throw all those years of living with a pauper away just as he’s about to get stinking filthy rich.’

‘I wouldn’t say rich, exactly. It’s only one film score.’

‘But there will be more, once people hear how amazing you are.’

‘You think?’

‘Of course I do. And then you’ll be loaded.’

‘Oh, I see, you only want me for my non-existent money now.’

‘Hopefully, it won’t be non-existent for much longer.’ Jasmine was silent for a moment as Rich traced a gentle finger back and forth across her shoulder. ‘Just imagine…’ she began slowly, ‘actually having some spare cash. I know we have this house and our businesses and stuff, and we’re a lot better off than some, but to have that little bit spare to be more spontaneous in life…’ She sighed softly. ‘Wouldn’t it be lovely?’

Rich laughed and began to sing. ‘
All I want is a room somewhere, far away from the cold night air, with one enormous chair
…’

‘Ha ha.’ Jasmine nudged him playfully. ‘You’re
soo
funny.’

A
n hour
after Dylan’s builder friend had left the old bakery, having muttered and tutted his way around the building and then handed Millie a sheet of paper with very large numbers written on it, Millie sat in Dylan’s kitchen with a beer. Usually, she wasn’t one for beer, and certainly not in the kitchen of a man she was trying desperately not to be attracted to, but the day had been particularly stressful. Drunkenness and dangerously attractive men were the least of her worries. Dylan’s kitchen was spotless – an equally rare occurrence for him – but he seemed to be under the illusion that his day was about to get a whole lot luckier. The fact that he had also cleaned his bedroom and changed the sheets corroborated this.

‘What are you going to do?’ Dylan asked as he cracked open his own beer.

Millie sighed. ‘I have no idea. But I certainly can’t raise that sort of cash any time soon. And every week the bakery stays closed and I can’t earn eats into the small amount of start-up cash I do have. At this rate I’ll have a spanking new building but no money to buy even the tiniest bag of flour to bake anything.’

‘You can’t get a loan or anything?’

‘I don’t think so. I’ve already borrowed quite a lot of money for other expenses around the move and I don’t want to overstretch myself with no real income coming in just yet.’

Dylan took a gulp of his beer and looked at her thoughtfully. ‘It’s a tough one. I know how hard it was for Jas to find the start-up money for her business. It was only Mum and Dad… you know…’ His sentence trailed off.

‘I know,’ Millie said gently. ‘Of course, you’d both rather have your parents back than anything else in the world – anyone would. But I don’t have an inheritance of any description on the horizon. I can’t imagine where I could get that sort of cash from right now.’

‘How about raising it by doing what you do best?’

Millie frowned.

‘I mean,’ Dylan explained, ‘start selling your wares and turning over a bit of a profit to make the money you need.’

‘How am I supposed to do that with no working bakery?’

‘Bake here.’

Millie stared at him, her can halfway to her lips. ‘
Here
?’

‘Why not?’

She took a sweeping glance of the tiny kitchen. It was a ridiculous idea but she was touched by the gesture. ‘It’s very kind of you, but your oven is far too small. I’d only be able to make little batches and it would hardly cover the cost of your gas, let alone turn a profit. No, I need to get the bakery running so I can bake in the quantities that will make me proper money.’

‘Do you know what those quantities are?’

Millie tried not to be annoyed by the obvious practicality of his question. ‘I know it’s going to take more than a dozen fairy cakes.’

‘I just mean,’ Dylan pressed, seemingly oblivious to her irritation, ‘have you actually sat down and worked out concrete figures?’

‘Sort of…’

‘Jasmine can help you there if you need it.’

‘I know, she’s offered already. But I know she’s busy right now and I don’t want to bother her with that.’

‘If I know Jas, she’ll love getting stuck in. She’ll help anyone if she can.’

Millie shook her head. ‘I can’t ask her. She has her family and her own business to worry about.’

‘Then let me help. You can’t do everything on your own.’

Millie held him in a frank gaze. ‘Why?’

‘Why what?’

‘Why would you help me? You hardly know me.’

He shrugged, a lopsided grin creeping across his face. ‘I suppose I’m just that kind of guy.’

Millie took a thoughtful sip of her beer as she watched him take another gulp of his own.

‘I just don’t know what you can do,’ she said finally. ‘I don’t even know myself what to do next.’ She could feel tears burning her eyes. The bright new start she had dreamed of was crumbling around her. She swallowed the emotion back but not before Dylan was off his seat and on the chair next to her. He slipped an arm around her and she stiffened. Despite this, he pulled her closer. He smelt good – a clean, woody fragrance – and for a moment she could think of nothing but the image of them kissing.

‘Everything can be fixed,’ he said gently. ‘My old dad used to say that there was no point in worrying about anything; as long as you hadn’t killed someone, everything else in life could be mended.’

In an instant, her emotional defences shot up. Dylan was dangerous, no matter how attractive he was; he could easily screw her up – she had seen it in him the first time they met, and she had to remember that. She was letting him get too close right now.

‘I think I would have liked your dad,’ she said, trying to lighten a mood that was becoming far too charged for her liking.

‘He was pretty cool.’ Dylan stroked his thumb back and forth across her shoulder. Millie closed her eyes. God, it felt so good…

She shot up from her chair. ‘I have to go. So much to do.’

Dylan looked up at her, a mix of surprise and mild annoyance in his expression.

‘Right now? You haven’t finished your beer.’

‘You drink it. I need a clear head.’

She thrust it at him and then bolted for the door.

T
here was
a knock at the front door of the old bakery almost before Millie had closed it behind her.
Oh God, please don’t let Dylan have followed me across…

She stood and stared at it, holding her breath. Maybe if she didn’t answer he would go away.

‘Are you in there, Millie?’

Millie let out her breath as she recognised Ruth Evans’s phlegmy voice. With a rueful half-smile, she opened the door. Now that she thought about how she had reacted to Dylan’s friendly concern, she felt a bit idiotic. She had to learn to stop letting the past haunt her.

‘Hello, Ruth.’ Millie forced a brighter smile for her neighbour. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I saw you come across from Dylan’s house,’ Ruth said, eyeing Millie keenly.

‘His builder friend had just been round to give me a quote. We were discussing it.’

‘He doesn’t have a girlfriend you know. No betrothed…’ Ruth elaborated. ‘So he’s perfectly available.’ She let out a wistful sigh. ‘If only I were a few years younger… I’d love to get a good rogering from that one. I hear he’s quite energetic.’

Millie’s mouth fell open as she stared at Ruth.

‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’ Ruth continued, as though her wishful musings were nothing out of the ordinary at all.

‘I do have rather a lot of work to get on with,’ Millie replied, still staring at Ruth.

‘I won’t get in your way,’ Ruth said briskly as she sidled past Millie, who watched as the old woman took the window seat and folded her hands across her lap. ‘You can tell me all about it easily enough while you get on with your chores. I’ll just sit here.’

R
uth Evans had proved
as easy to get rid of as a rampant colony of nits. No matter how many hints Millie dropped, or how busy she made herself look, Ruth simply sat with her hands folded in her lap, firing question after question at her. Thankfully she didn’t wait for replies, but instead used the gap before Millie’s guarded responses to launch into convoluted anecdotes of her own. Eventually Millie stopped trying to reply and carried on with her work, Ruth’s chattering slowly morphing into a featureless background drone. Occasionally she made a small noise of agreement, or looked up and smiled absently at her elderly neighbour, but mostly her thoughts were pulled to a place she really didn’t want them to be. Two places, to be precise: Dylan, and the old bakery, otherwise known as the millstone round her neck.

Where on earth was she going to find the money she needed to get this business off the ground? Dylan had offered help, as no doubt others would, but although there was a part of her that was desperate to accept it, the stubborn part of her wanted to owe favours to no one. This was her venture, and hers alone to succeed or fail in. Bitter experience had shown that letting people get too close led only to heartache.

‘So I told him…’ Ruth stopped mid-sentence.

Suddenly aware of silence filling the room, Millie looked up sharply.

‘Are you alright, dear?’ Ruth asked.

Millie shook herself. Lost in her tumultuous thoughts, she hadn’t realised that she had stopped working and was staring out of the window. She hadn’t even noticed her eyes glazing over with unshed tears.

‘I’m fine, Ruth.’ She forced a smile. ‘Do you know what, I’m dying of thirst. I don’t suppose…’

Ruth pushed herself slowly to a shaky standing position. ‘Why didn’t you say so? I’ll go and make us a nice cup of tea. Back in a tick.’

As Ruth left, Millie sank to the floor and held her head in her hands.