Page 12 of Tricks & Treats at The Cosy Cornish Bakery

There was a loaded silence. Then Ginger said, ‘Can I give you a word of advice?’

‘Sure. I suppose.’

‘You might find things operate differently round here.’

‘No shit, Sherlock, but in what way?’ Chloe concentrated on chasing a dribble of wine on the scruffy wooden table. She knew she sounded sulky.

‘Don’t be like that, Chlo. I’m trying to help.’

‘I know.’ Chloe forced a smile. ‘Sorry. So, what are you saying?’

‘Pammy is a skilled baker. At what she does. She doesn’t do fancy, but she bakes and sells what people round here want. Simple white loaves, a nice farmhouse with a crust, a wholemeal. She sells the basics in the café and people know what they’ll get. It’s a tried and trusted business.’

‘That’s what she said. So far you haven’t said anything she hasn’t.’

‘If you fire her, you’ll have to get someone new in.’

‘And?’ Chloe gazed at Ginger questioningly, not sure what she was getting at.

‘Have you had a look at the house prices round here? People can’t afford to buy. And rents are high because of the holiday market.’

‘Tell me about it. The cottage I’m renting from Pinky’s brother is costing me a fortune.’

Ginger shook her head, exasperated. ‘I don’t know why you’re not staying at your mum’s.’

‘Value my sanity too much. You were saying?’

‘Yes. What was I saying?’ Ginger tugged on a lock of hair, frowning. ‘Oh yes. What I’m trying to say is imagine having a job down here and trying to meet the rent you’re paying. The sort of wages paid in the village don’t allow for mortgages or most rentals. Of course, you could drive into Truro where there’s a wider choice of employment but then you have to finance a car as the bus service is a bit hit or miss. In the summer, driving’s a nightmare on the clogged roads anyway, with all the tourists.’

‘You’re not being very positive. It’s not like you.’

‘It’s the reality of running a business here, Chloe. Hardly any public transport, narrow lanes that get stuffed when someone towing a caravan can’t reverse. Some are lucky and land a council house, some move up country like you did, most stay in the family home. It doesn’t exactly encourage new people to move in for work. I think if you annoy Pammy, you’ll cut off your nose to spite your face, as my dear old mum says. There’s a small pool of employable people in the village and getting someone to travel in from Truro isn’t going to be feasible.’

‘What do you suggest?’

‘Instead of going in all guns blazing, let it lie for a while. Make some sourdough yourself. See if it’s really as easy as the vids make out. Maybe practise and get it right for the summer season when the tourists arrive. And be nice to Pammy. She’s been running that bakery for your mum for a long time. She knows what she’s doing. You catch more flies with honey.’

Chloe was just about to say she hadn’t the time, that she didn’t know how long she was going to be around, and certainly didn’t plan on still being in the village next summer when a man’s voice sounded. ‘A white wine and a pint of cider?’

Chloe looked up. It was Nik.

‘Liam’s busy at the bar so I said I’d bring them over.’

‘Thank you.’ She felt heat flush her face. ‘I didn’t see you come in.’

‘Only just arrived,’ he added cheerfully. ‘Thought I’d cadge a game of darts but it’s rammed in here so I’ve ended up behind the bar instead.’ He put the glasses down and collected the empties. ‘On me.’

‘Thank you.’ Chloe watched as his silky hair fell forward, escaping its ponytail, as he bent down. It should look ridiculous but, on him, it didn’t.

‘Hi, Ginger. You okay?’

‘Hi, Nik. Yes, thanks. I’ll be down at the beach clean tomorrow.’

‘Good to know. Need all the hands we can get. Pinky’s putting on tea and bacon rolls for all volunteers afterwards.’

Ginger raised her new pint in salute. ‘You can count on me.’

‘See you at seven, then. No later, the tide won’t wait for latecomers. Would you like to come, Chloe?’