Chapter 28
28
The Hideaway, St Aidan
Stampedes and a sugar rush
Tuesday
W ho knew nervous baking was a thing? Having had the thirty-second chat with Mum that told me nothing but left me so I can’t sit still, I headed for the kitchen and made two batches of M&M cookies, and a double batch of brownies, and afterwards I felt a whole lot calmer.
Then I spend a soothing evening drooling over pictures of baking on Insta, and by nine I’m back in the kitchen. This time I do a blondie tray bake try-out and a carrot cake with a wiggly cream cheese topping and only then do I feel tired enough to curl up with Shadow and go to sleep.
It’s only after our walk along to Comet Cove the next morning, as I’m slicing it into slabs, that the extent of my over-production hits me.
The cookies and brownies are destined for next door, but as I’m off to Kit’s shortly for my first morning of work the rest are homeless for now. As I get out my phone to take a couple of photos of the baked goods with Ivy’s chequered linen napkins, I’m thinking about my chat with Mum. Clemmie and Nell are always raving about the St Aidan Facebook For sale and wanted page, and if I’m serious about getting myself out there, I have very little to lose. It takes a few seconds to write my post and upload my photos, and a moment later it’s live.
Take a stroll to the Little Cornish Kitchen Beach Hut, and serve yourself.
Today’s treats: Bakewell blondies and pecan and carrot cake
FlorenceMay@TheHideaway
ONCE THEY’RE GONE, THEY’RE GONE!
ENJOY!
All that’s left to do is to put them on trays under glass domes on the steps to the deck, with serviettes, price tickets and a money jar. And then I’m ready to go to Kit’s.
As Shadow and I arrive at Latitude One ten minutes later the door opens for us as we cross the porch. I stride past Rye and down the studio, put my bags on the desk and smile at Kit, who is slumped in a leather sling chair balancing a pencil on his finger.
‘So how are you guys this morning?’
Rye has followed me and peers over my shoulder. ‘If those are brownies, I’m all good.’ He wiggles his eyebrows as I slide the containers towards him. ‘If it’s not too much trouble, could we have the same again for two days’ time?’
At first, after the campfire incident, I was bringing them as gifts but since they’d started insisting on paying for them, the orders had been ramping up.
I can’t help commenting. ‘Considering the mountains of cake you two eat you’re both very slim. Would you like to share your secret?’ I’ve always loved eating, but lately if I so much as look at a Danish pastry my jeans seem to shrink two sizes.
‘Our secret ?’ Rye blows out his cheeks. ‘Damn! I knew it couldn’t last. Seeing as you’re onto us, I’ll come clean. I have been using brownies for staff meetings, but only because they put everyone in a better mood. And guests might have had the occasional one too, when they were in my office.’
‘I was joking !’ I’m shaking my head in disbelief. ‘Why is a top hotel outsourcing chocolate cake?’
Rye gives a guilty shrug. ‘Chef is a purist who refuses to make it and yours is an exceptionally tasty example.’ He nods across at Kit. ‘And ignore Kit, his face is as long as a wet weekend, but he’ll cheer up now you two are here.’
I look from one to another and give a silent curse that Kit is even more beautiful with an expression like a storm cloud. ‘Was it a heavy Thursday night?’
Rye pulls a face. ‘I wish.’
Kit notices my querying gaze. ‘Rye is dedicating a hundred per cent of his time to getting the hotel up and running, so late nights and socialising are off the table.’
I’m shocked. ‘So you don’t go out at all? ’
Rye shrugs. ‘Not unless it’s linked to the hotel or the fire station.’
‘So relationships are out of the question?’ Asking for a friend here, obviously.
He nods. ‘It’s a small price to pay.’ He must have picked up on my horrified expression. ‘It won’t be for ever. Once the occupancy rates rise the pressure will ease.’
I’m biting my lip, feeling bad for Plum. ‘And how are those going?’
Rye takes a breath. ‘Truthfully? It’s been a slower start than we’d hoped, but we’re working on that as we speak.’
Damn for Plum. But a silent thumbs-up for me, and another for Mum that her advice is already proving to be valuable. If I’d been at home instead of here at work, I’d have missed this conversation. I’m no expert on industrial espionage, but by St Aidan standards what I’ve just picked up feels like pure gold.
Kit takes an envelope out of his back pocket and slaps it on the table. ‘And my reason not to be cheerful was some unfortunate post.’
I pull out a glass biscuit jar and push it towards him. ‘Will cookies help? I hoped they might keep the clients happy.’
Kit gives a sour laugh. ‘Only if they’re big enough to sweeten a long and arduous separation.’
I pull the top off the jar. ‘You’d better take two.’
Rye waves as he sets off down the studio, brownie boxes in hand. ‘I’ll catch you both later.’
As we watch him stride out to the porch Kit bites into his biscuit and lets out a long sigh. ‘Some days it feels as if the unravelling is out of all proportion to the relationship. When I think back to what I had before Vee and I got together, then think of what I’m taking to the future, the comparison is dire.’
All I can do is put my surprise to one side and sympathise. ‘I’m sorry, I’d assumed it was amicable.’
He tugs his fingers through his curls. ‘I wanted to be fair and now I’ve been taken for every penny. I know if I’m bitter, I’m losing twice over, but some days, it’s hard not to be.’ He shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry, this must seem like whining about nothing to someone who’s had health problems.’
I rarely bring this up, but now he has I may as well say it. ‘When you’re ill the trick is to only think about the moment you’re in, and make sure you enjoy the arse off it.’
Kit nods. ‘I can’t argue with that.’
It was a tough time, but at the same time it was rarefied and pure, because so much that wasn’t important in life fell away. ‘Someone sent me this poem, about not looking too far down the road. How there’s no need to know what’s around the corner until you actually get there.’ I look up at Kit and hope he connects with the manly imagery. ‘You could always give that a try?’
‘I could.’
‘So forget about whatever crap that letter is promising to rain down on you, throw yourself into making today’s rings instead, and you might even have fun when you thought it was impossible.’
I can feel a smile spreading across my face as I remember. ‘Being ill taught me to enjoy every day, but it turned out to be small things that counted more than big ones. Fresh bread in a sandwich, a robin coming to eat the crumbs in the park, clean laundry, an ice-cold can of Coke – they might sound like clichés, but they were what got me through, and I live for those same things now. Once you know they work, it’s amazing how many you can cram into a day.’
‘So that’s why you’re a happy bunny, Florence Flapjack-face?’
I laugh. ‘Flapjack is another one.’
He taps his pencil on the glass. ‘The ring of the jar. Better still when it’s filled with baking.’
I smile at him. ‘It’s a game. The better you get at playing it, the more your mood lifts.’ I dip into my bag and bring out a bunch of buttercup flowers from the florist I bought for the desk and the coffee table. ‘Ranunculus are another of my things, especially when they’re multicoloured like these.’ The pinks and yellows and peachy oranges of the blooms are resonating in the shaft of sunlight coming in from the vertical window.
He smiles. ‘With you and your flowers, it’s already a better day.’ He stops to look more closely at me. ‘That’s a great dress too.’
Down the line I’m aiming to move into shorts, but for this week I’ve dug out some bright floral mini dresses. As I give the hem a swirl there’s a considerable expanse of thigh above the suede boots I chose to look smart. ‘It’s not too short?’
‘Hell no!’ Kit gives a cough. ‘I mean, whatever you’re comfortable with is good by me.’ He blows out his cheeks. ‘I feel such a hypocrite, pretending to believe in love with letters like this in my pocket.’ He slides it back in and taps his bum.
I grin across at him. ‘On the upside, if those are new jeans, you’re looking the part.’ Dark denim with rips might be great news for trade, but less good for my somersaulting stomach.
As he gets up he positions his hand for a fist pump. ‘So, here’s to a great morning!’
Our hands are about to collide when a tap at the door stops us in mid-air.
As a face appears from the porch, I know I’m on. I cover the length of the studio in three bounds, and thrust out my hand.
‘Hi there, I’m Florence Flapjack, you must be the ten o’clock couple for Kit the metallurgist at Forever Together Love2Love?’ It’s not quite perfect, but it’ll have to do.
The freckled face I’m looking into isn’t showing any recognition, so I try again. ‘You’re here for your rings?’
The person looks hopeful. ‘We’re signed into the hotel on the liquid diet, and we’re looking for cake?’
The second person looks equally pale but lowers her voice. ‘We saw a note in the visitors’ book saying if we were desperate to try at the beach hut?’
I point towards The Hideaway. ‘Next one along, you’ll find serve-yourself carrot cake and blondies on the steps. Just leave the money in the jar.’
They let out a collective groan of relief. ‘Thanks, you’re a life saver!’
It’s only as they hurry off that I realise Shadow is curled up under the desk and hasn’t even opened an eye.
‘Did you say blondies ?’ Kit is coming towards me.
‘I did. Bakewell tart ones.’
His pupils go hazy as he checks his phone. ‘We should have a few minutes before the clients arrive. I’ll go and grab us a couple.’
Now I’m here, about to start work, I’m thinking back to yesterday and all the unexpected insights I gathered. As a sudden stab of worry hits my chest I have to ask. ‘You haven’t only asked me to work here to further David Byron’s quest to take over Cornwall?’
Kit’s face falls. ‘Why would you think that?’
I shrug. ‘The stakes are high with property development. When it’s my home David’s set his sights on, I feel quite vulnerable.’ After Kit’s openness about his own problems, it’s suddenly easier to share my concerns about this.
His arm slides around my shoulders, and he squeezes me into a hug. ‘It’s nothing to do with anyone else – I asked you because you’re great at what you do and I like having you around.’ He lets his arm drop and sounds more serious. ‘Obviously it’s a sound business decision too.’ His face cracks into a smile. ‘And then there’s the baking.’
‘Thanks, that’s reassuring.’ I can’t argue with how sincere he sounds.
His smile fades. ‘No one is trying to be underhand, Floss. How would it be if I promise to share any relevant news as soon as I get it?’
‘Fabulous. Mum doesn’t usually date, that’s all.’ I can’t ask for more than that. ‘If there are any left, the blondies are on me.’
His eyebrows go up. ‘Is there a shortage?’
I laugh. ‘There were only twelve – the first of my new “when they’re gone, they’re gone” selections.’
‘Shit. Those people sounded desperate. I’d better hurry.’ He’s already across the porch.