The Little Village Bakery: A feel good romantic comedy with plenty of cake (Honeybourne Book 1) (11 page)

‘Yours is just fine. And I sold all my natural stuff yesterday anyway.’

He raised his eyebrows and let out a low whistle. ‘You sold it all? That’s a cracking start for you.’

She smiled, the first proper one of the morning. ‘It is. I can’t wait to get started on a new batch.’

‘What else do you make?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Apart from soap and shampoo? Do you make medicine?’

Millie’s smile slipped. ‘Why do you ask that?’

He shrugged. ‘Just what Rich was saying last night about Ruth Evans…’ He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. ‘Are you some sort of witch? Can you make potions and do spells and stuff?’

Millie stared at him for a moment and then forced out a laugh. ‘Don’t be daft.’

He leaned back and grinned. ‘That’s a shame. There are one or two uses I could find for a decent love potion.’

‘It doesn’t work like that,’ she replied, aware of the heat rushing to her face. ‘The knowledge I used to make Ruth’s remedy comes from ancient recipes and it needs to be treated with respect.’

Dylan held his palms up in a gesture of surrender. ‘Alright. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just wondered if that was the only thing you could make. If everything works as well as hers seems to have done, you could make a lot of money. I mean, have you seen how much shops charge for that homeopathic shit? Your bakery would be paid for in no time.’

‘I don’t feel right making money from it.’

‘Ok…’ he replied slowly, ‘don’t make money from it, make favours.’

‘You mean like we originally planned to do with my baking?’

‘Exactly. You get people to do jobs for you in return for whatever remedy or cure it is they want.’

‘Nobody would put their trust in a bottle of herbs,’ Millie replied doubtfully. ‘Not these days anyway.’

‘Ruth did.’

‘Ruth was desperate and she’s… Well, she’s Ruth.’

‘She’s also telling the whole village that you’re a miracle worker.’

The flush drained from Millie’s face and she paled three shades in as many seconds. ‘She is?’

He nodded. ‘You heard it from Rich last night.’

‘I thought he was exaggerating.’

‘He was straight up. You still have a lot to learn about Ruth, don’t you?’

‘Nobody believes her, though?’

‘I don’t know.’ Dylan rubbed a hand across his chin. ‘She looked pretty sprightly to me when I saw her yesterday. I haven’t seen her look that well in a long time. I’m no sucker, so if even I’m convinced that there’s something in it, then the less cynical residents will be lapping it up.’

‘You believe her?’ Millie squeaked.

He looked her square in the eye. ‘Yeah. I believe her.’

Millie stared at him. She didn’t know how to feel at this revelation. On the one hand, she was gripped by panic at the thought of her life unravelling all over again; on the other hand, she felt a swell of pride that Dylan actually took her seriously. Most people scoffed at the idea of her natural remedies, but Dylan seemed genuinely impressed and open-minded.

And at that moment, she didn’t think she had ever felt more attracted to him.

‘I don’t know…’ she mumbled, scraping her chair from the table. ‘If it’s all the same to you, I’ll have that shower now.’

S
he had wanted
to shower quickly and get out, but standing under the hot spray, Millie couldn’t help but be seduced by the sensation. Before she knew it, she had been messing about in Dylan’s bathroom for half an hour. It had been a long time since she had felt so clean and alert, she reflected, as she towelled herself dry and pulled on her not-so-fresh clothes again. Dylan’s offer to get working on the old bakery was more tempting than ever, if only so that she could put a real bathroom in.

It was as she made her way downstairs, hair still wet and cool against her neck in the summer heat of Dylan’s tiny cottage, that she heard voices in the kitchen and her stomach dropped.

Jasmine was having what sounded like a stern word with her brother. As Millie sheepishly pushed open the kitchen door, both occupants stopped mid-flow and turned to her. Both wore guilty looks and Millie guessed that she had featured strongly in their conversation.

‘Millie!’ Jasmine greeted, far too brightly. ‘How are you? Nicely hungover from last night, I hope.’

‘I’m better for a shower,’ Millie replied carefully, glancing from one to the other.

‘Jasmine has this outrageous idea that we spent the night rutting each other senseless,’ Dylan cut in with a lazy grin at his sister, the cockiness he had abandoned earlier with Millie now returned with a vengeance.

Jasmine glared at him and Millie paled.

‘Of course, I told her it was complete bollocks,’ Dylan added. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, his grin at Jasmine spreading. ‘I told her we had a perfectly innocent game of bridge before retiring to our own beds with a Horlicks.’

‘You think you’re so funny, don’t you?’ Jasmine hissed. ‘Why can’t you ever rein it in?’

‘Charming,’ Dylan said carelessly. ‘And I was going to make you a cup of tea. You can forget it now.’

Jasmine turned to Millie. ‘I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean any insult towards you, not for a minute, it’s just him…’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Millie said in a small voice. She rubbed at her temples, suddenly feeling exhausted and desperate for her own quiet space in the dust and cobwebs of the bakery. ‘If it’s all the same I think I’ll go and lie down at home. I am, as you rightly say, very hungover.’

‘Don’t go,’ Jasmine called as Millie headed for the back door.

Millie shook her head, tears starting to burn her eyes as she yanked at the handle. ‘Damn…’

‘Wait!’ Dylan said, leaping up from his chair. ‘Millie’s jacket is still in the other room.’ He disappeared down the hallway.

Millie was desperate to get out. Jasmine’s timing couldn’t have been worse. Jasmine crossed over to the door and placed a hand on Millie’s arm. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’

‘I didn’t sleep with your brother,’ Millie stuttered through the tears she was failing to hold back.

‘I know. And even if you had it wouldn’t make you a bad person. It’s just… I know him so well. He has a sort of track record with women.’

Millie turned and stared at her. ‘We’re two of a kind then. I have sort of a track record with men. Maybe we’re better suited than you think.’

‘I bet it’s not quite the same as his,’ Jasmine smiled. She pulled Millie into a tentative embrace. Sensing no resistance, she hugged tighter. ‘I don’t know what is in your past and I don’t want you to tell me until you’re ready. If that’s never then it’s fine by me. If you want to tell me tomorrow that’s fine too. I will never judge you and I’ll always be ready to listen.’

‘I know,’ Millie sniffed. ‘Thank you.’

Dylan returned waving Millie’s jacket at her. He stopped in his tracks at the sight of the two women locked in their hug.

‘Whoa… Do you want me to come back later or something? I don’t do all that hormonal touchy-feely stuff.’

‘Oh, shut up, Dylan, you twat,’ Jasmine groaned as she pulled away from Millie and straightened her blouse. ‘Just shut right up.’

M
illie had barely let
the door slam behind her when Jasmine launched at her brother. ‘What the hell are you playing at?’

‘I’m not. I like her.’

‘That’s what worries me.’

‘I really like her, Jas.’

Jasmine stared at him, the beginnings of a new sentence dying on her lips.

‘I really like her,’ Dylan repeated. ‘A lot. She’s… different from the other women I meet.’ His expression was earnest now, not the cocksure grin he usually wore.

Jasmine offered a silent stare as she mulled over his words.

‘Say something then,’ he insisted.

‘I have no idea what to say.’

‘That I have your blessing to try and get her to like me?’

‘I don’t think getting her to like you is the issue.’ Jasmine sat on a chair and blew a stray ringlet away from her face. ‘I can see that she already does. But I can’t say I’m entirely comfortable with the idea of you two being together.’

‘Jasmine… We’re both adults and, with respect, it’s actually none of your business. If she likes me and I like her, I don’t see what it has to do with you.’ He held his hand up to silence the protest. ‘And before you start shouting again, I understand that you’re trying to look out for me, but I really don’t need you to.’

‘It’s not you I’m looking out for,’ Jasmine replied darkly.

Dylan laughed. ‘Probably not. Just live your life and, for once, let me live mine the way I want to. Is that so much to ask?’

Jasmine looked at him thoughtfully. Perhaps he had a point. She couldn’t help it, but sometimes even she realised that she treated her brother like her fourth child. ‘Promise me you won’t screw her around?’

‘I won’t. But she’s never going to give me the tiniest chance if you keep telling her that I’m a waster, is she?’

‘You really do like her? Properly? Not just another conquest?’

‘Hand on heart. You know me better than anyone, Jas, surely you can see it.’

‘It isn’t just me you have to convince.’

‘I know that. But I’m ready to do what it takes to convince Millie too.’

Jasmine didn’t know what to make of this new development. She had thought that she knew Dylan completely, and then he went and did this. Perhaps he really was growing up after all.

M
illie had spent far too long
dwelling on her mortified exit from Dylan’s house that morning. At first she had wanted to scream and cry with frustration at how her bad decisions always seemed to complicate every situation, but then she had calmed down a little. She had even begun to see Jasmine’s interference as smothering. Who made her guardian of Millie’s personal life? How on earth did Dylan put up with the constant nagging? Even if Millie had chosen to sleep with him, what business was it of Jasmine’s? After all, they were two consenting adults, with no one to answer to but their own consciences. All these thoughts had hurtled through her head as she scrubbed viciously at the front windows, trying to work it all out. Her mood swung wildly between affection for Jasmine, the friend who was only trying to look out for her, and resentment for a bunch of village busybodies who seemed to think she was incapable of making her own decisions.

Finally, exhausted from her cleaning, her late night, her hangover, and her unreliable mood, she tipped the bucket of black water out into the street drains and wiped a hand across her forehead. The sun was high, a fierce orb again. It had been so long since the weather had been anything but sweltering that it was hard to remember what a cool day felt like.

Millie had just decided to head back to bed when there was a knock at the front door.

‘Hi… Peggy, isn’t it?’ Millie asked as she opened up, a look of faint surprise on her features. She had seen the woman around the village – in a place that small you had usually seen everyone around – but they had not exchanged more than vague pleasantries before. The only reason Millie knew her name was that Ruth had pointed her out once and whispered something about a scandalous affair with another woman, back in 1977, which had sent the village gossip chain wild. According to Jasmine, whom Millie had quizzed for a more reliable and less dramatic version than Ruth’s, the woman in question had been forced to leave the village and Peggy’s husband had followed shortly afterwards, too ashamed to stay. Peggy had never remarried or taken a new partner – male or female – but she had stayed in Honeybourne and the scandal had died down, as all scandals eventually do.

Peggy nodded, and then glanced up and down the deserted street before speaking. ‘I’m sorry to bother you but I wondered if you had a moment.’

‘Of course…’ Millie opened the door wider, her curiosity now piqued. ‘What can I do for you?’

Peggy stepped over the threshold. She fell silent as Millie closed the door, gazing about her at the dusty skeleton of the old building.

‘Wow, I haven’t been inside here for years. I remember when this was a thriving business.’

‘What happened to the owners?’

‘Clarissa and Joe Williams? They ran it for a good few years. But their children… Well, there’s not so much for young ones in Honeybourne, and a lot don’t stay. Sadly, the old bakery wasn’t enough to tempt them, and when Clarissa died, followed a year later by Joe, who keeled over pretty much where you’re standing now, they still weren’t persuaded to come back and take over the business. The lad is in Australia, as far as I know, and their daughter married a doctor in the French Alps. I suppose you wouldn’t come back to Honeybourne if you could live there, would you? The old place was run down, to be honest, long before Joe died, but folks still brought their trade in here out of loyalty to him and his wife. They were as loving a couple as you could meet.’

Millie gave a small smile. It explained a lot about the feeling of loyalty she had for the place. Walls that had soaked up so much love and happiness over the years were bound to retain some of that and beg for happy days again, and Millie was more attuned to the phenomenon than most – at least, she knew how to recognise it where others didn’t. It was just a shame that it was starting to look like it may be someone other than Millie to bring that love and happiness back. ‘So nobody has owned it since they died? How long ago was that?’

‘I’m not sure, but a good while. I think there was some trouble over the will, and it sat for a few years, then it took a few more to sell it… Somebody did buy it but I don’t recall what happened to them and they certainly didn’t ever live here. Don’t you know anything about the vendor from when you bought it?’

Millie shook her head. ‘It was all done through the agent. I didn’t have any contact with the seller at all.’

Peggy took another swift glance around the old walls. ‘It makes me so sad to see it now.’ She turned to Millie with a slight smile. ‘Are you really going to get it up and running again?’

‘I’m going to try,’ Millie replied.

‘I think people around here would like that. It’s all very well having the supermarket just outside the village but somewhere like this could be just what we need to put the heart back into our home – somewhere for people to meet and relax.’