Someone has circled certain dates in the diary. And when Iexamine it more closely, starting in January, I realise the circling occurs ona regular basis, twice a week. The same two days every week. Monday and Friday.
A faint bell is ringing in my head.
Mondays and Fridays, Mondays and Fridays...
Of course!Mondays and Fridays were the days Dylanwould go to his AA meetings.
My heart racing now, I scramble through the days fromJanuary onwards. If Dylanhasbeen staying at Sycamore House, why wasn’the here the day Lois, the estate agent, first called to look at the property soshe could list it for me, back in March? Lois would surely have told me ifsomeone was living here!
Then I look in the diary and it dawns on me that thecircling of dates actually stopped in mid-March. I flick through the pages,right through to the current day, but there’s nothing.
I slump back on the sofa, my head spinning, staring up atthe ceiling and wondering what it all means.
If this diarydoesbelong to Dylan and he wasattending AA meetings up until March, is it possible he found out that I wasplanning to put Sycamore House on the market?
Did he decide to move out before I could find him?
And if so, where is he now?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The following morning, I’m up and showered early andafter a quick breakfast of coffee, and a slice of granary toast and marmalade,I clean my teeth, grab my coat and bag, and drive over to Sunnybrook.
Anita and Katja are already there when I arrive, both as eageras I am to get started on our morning of baking and taste-testing.
There may have been a distinct autumnal nip in the air whenI stepped out of the house this morning, but as we begin the process of makingpuff pastry, choux pastry and a gorgeous, silky crème patisserie, thetemperature inside the True Loaf Baking School is soon rising with the heatfrom the ovens.
Katja also studied pastry for several years in London, althoughshe admits to feeling a little rusty because it was a good few years ago now.But before long, she’s happily agreeing that once you start, it’s surprisinghow quickly it all comes flooding back – making elegant, sophisticatedcreations with chocolate curls on top and spun sugar decorations.
‘A bit like riding a bike, then?’ says Anita, cutting upbutter to layer on the puff pastry she’s making.
Katja grins. ‘Yes. Except you don’t get saddle-sore withsitting for hours.’
I chuckle. ‘Speaking of sitting for hours, how’s Maddygetting on? Has anyone heard from her?’
Anita nods. ‘She’s coming in later to taste-test.Apparently, she’s really bored being at home all the time so she wants tohelp.’
‘For “help” read “have a nosey”.’ Katja grins. ‘I’ve told herwe’ve got a little welcome back surprise for her when she gets here.’
‘A surprise?’
Anita chuckles. ‘It’s under a cake dome in the fridge. Isuspect she thinks it’s a batch of her favourite pastries.’
I’m about to ask what it actually is, but Katja calls meover at that moment to check her pastry cream to make sure it’s the correctconsistency, which of course it is.
‘You’re a fabulous baker,’ I tell her. ‘You should have moreconfidence in yourself.’
She blushes a little at the compliment. ‘I suppose so. It’sjust I’m used to making scones and cakes and pastries for the café, but Irarely get the chance to make anything as intricate and elegant as this thesedays.’
I nod. ‘Same here. I’m really enjoying it.’
‘And it’s great practice for when you start your new jobdown in Bournemouth next month,’ points out Anita.
‘I guess so.’ I smile at her, feeling a strange littletwinge of regret at the thought of having to leave this little community, whereeveryone has made me so welcome.
We work well together, the three of us, and by lunchtime, amouth-watering array of fresh cakes and pastries are laid out on platters in agorgeous display, ready for our taste-testers, who are due at any moment.
Maddy is first to arrive, dropped off in the car by herboyfriend, Jack. She comes in on crutches and Jack pops his head round the doorand jokingly asks if there are any goodies going spare.
