Wishes & Waves at the Cornish Bakery (Escape To… The Cornish Bakery #25)
Chapter One
‘Fab! Thanks, mate! Thanks so much.’ Tilly rolled her eyes as the BMW driver continued on without a care in the world. He’d probably not even heard her if the music blaring out from his open windows was anything to go by.
Turning down the road to her right, she stretched out her fingers from the steering wheel.
She should have stopped at the last service station she’d passed.
After four hours of driving, she was feeling it, but she’d be there soon.
According to the SatNav, Penworth Bay was just down the road.
Not that she had a clue what she was going to do when she got there.
Reaching across, she turned up the fan, hoping to make a dent in the heat. One day she’d treat herself to a new car with air-con.
She laughed at herself. New car! She didn’t even have anywhere to sleep tonight, let alone somewhere to call home. Nope, the bailiffs had made sure of that this morning.
Slowing to a stop at a junction, she threw the clothes which had dropped into her lap onto the heap of belongings behind her.
She’d taken what she could fit in her small car; everything else would either be held somewhere for her or dumped.
She wasn’t quite sure what she’d been told, she’d just been on autopilot since the moment she’d heard the thump at the door.
The thump at the door which had changed her life within minutes.
Turning left, she tapped the pads of her fingers in time to the song she was listening to - Downtown by Petula Clark - Aunt Gwen’s favourite and Tilly’s favourite pick-me-up on a tough day too. And she needed Petula’s optimism more than ever today. She’d need an all-out miracle.
Here she was, Penworth Bay. As she drove past the welcoming sign, Tilly wound down the windows and took a deep breath in.
She could smell the salty aroma of the sea, stirring memories of visiting Littlehampton as a child.
Sun, ice cream and a little keyring keepsake from the little shop by the estuary.
She drove past beautiful, thatched cottages until the road turned to cobbles beneath the tyres and a row of shops came into view, a haberdashery, a bakery and a little cafe amongst others.
She smiled. This looked like quite the quaint old Cornish seaside village Aunt Gwen had described it as Her aunt had always been good with words, and the stories she’d woven about Penworth Bay had been so detailed and felt so real that Tilly had almost been able to picture herself walking down the winding streets herself, taking in the ocean views with her eyes and breathing in the fragrance of freedom with her lungs.
Coming to a car park, Tilly drove in and found a little spot overlooking the beach, the old seawall the only barrier between her car bumper and the drop to the sand below.
Perfect. She glanced to her left and watched as people lounged at the collection of tables and chairs arranged outside a restaurant, Baywater Delights, enjoying a late lunch or early evening meal.
They looked as though they didn’t have a care in the world.
And they probably didn’t. Not right now.
They were likely on holiday, enjoying a break from their gruelling jobs and their reality back home.
Huh, not that she’d complain if she did have a job. She swallowed as a lump formed in her throat, and she looked out of the windscreen towards the ocean below. Yes, a job would be good, but what would be better was to have her aunt back with her, to be caring for her still.
She sighed. ‘Yep, I know, Aunt Gwennie. I know I promised you I’d move on. I promised you I’d find my place in the world and follow my dreams, but it’s trickier than it sounds.’
Tilly picked up the scrunched napkin she’d squashed into the cupholder after she’d grabbed lunch at a fast food drive-thru and dragged it across her face, hoping the tomato ketchup she’d wiped from her t-shirt with the napkin didn’t transfer to her skin.
She didn’t think her aunt had had a clue about how difficult it would be for someone who had been out of the workforce for seven years to get a job.
Tilly herself hadn’t. She’d naively thought that potential employers would be impressed by all the transferable skills she’d learned whilst caring for her aunt or the loyalty she’d shown her.
But nope, each and every one of the one hundred and fifty-four jobs she’d applied for over the past five months had rejected her application on the grounds that she didn’t have enough experience. How was she supposed to get experience if no one would give her a chance?
Opening the car door, she sighed as she realised her front tyres were not only outside the confines of the parking bay but were also sitting at an unforgivable angle across the white line. Great. No wonder she couldn’t get a job; she couldn’t even complete the simple task of parking in a bay.