Page 14 of Tricks & Treats at The Cosy Cornish Bakery

‘Gloves on, then. And don’t pick up anything natural, remember.’

Chloe took the gloves from her and pulled them on. She held up her hands, now encased in thick beige, and looked down at her indigo designer jeans. ‘If only I’d known, I would have co-ordinated the rest of my outfit.’

‘You look catwalk ready as it is, as well you know. Now get a shifty on. We’ve only got two hours. Don’t forget to keep facing the sea.’

‘Oh, come on, Ginger. I grew up here, remember.’

‘Yeah, and I bet you’ve forgotten how quickly the tide comes in.’

An hour in, Chloe was exhausted. She’d thought she was fit – she spent enough time and money at the gym – but her back and thigh muscles ached from the continual bending and crouching. Looking at the others in the distance, all older than her by some margin, she envied them their fitness. Stretching her back into an arch, she gave Ginger a pleading look.

‘Want a break?’ Ginger asked. ‘Perch on that rock and then we’ll swap over.’ She peered into the collecting bag. ‘There’s a depressing amount of takeaway cups and crisp packets. Some of those look as if they date from decades ago.’ She shook her head in despair. ‘We’re filling up our planet with rubbish.’

‘People ought to take it back with them.’ Chloe eased herself cautiously onto the flat part of the rock. It was damp and seaweedy and would stain her jeans but she didn’t care. It was too good an opportunity to sit down. She thought of all the takeaway coffees she’d bought on her commute in London. She’d never considered where they might end up. The sight of all the squashed and sticky cups they’d found seemed obscene in this beautiful beach setting. ‘They should be put in a bin.’ Easing her stiff back, she added, ‘Tourists, probably.’

‘A lot of it gets blown out of the recycling boxes up in the village so we can’t always blame the trippers.’ Ginger looked up to where The Sanctuary could be seen standing proud against the headland, its grey slate roof gleaming in the sun. She sighed.

‘Something wrong? That is, apart from the obvious.’ Chloe spread her hands to indicate the bag of litter.

‘Roof,’ Ginger replied succinctly.

Chloe followed her gaze. Squinting up, she asked, ‘What’s wrong with it?’

‘I doubt it’ll survive another Wheal Kitty winter. I lost a load of slates in the last storm. Got it patched up but Roger the Roof said the whole thing needs replacing. The Sanctuary’s over a hundred years old and it’s the original roof. Done well to last this long. Every time we get a westerly, I hold my breath for the sound of slate tiles sliding off. I’ve got damp coming in at one corner as it is. Just as well it’s my room and not a guest bedroom.’

‘Will it be expensive?’

‘I’m in a conservation zone. I have to replace like for like.’ Ginger gave Chloe a withering look. ‘What do you think?’

‘Want a loan?’

‘I couldn’t possibly, Chlo.’

‘Of course you could. I negotiated a generous redundancy. I aim to get an equally well-paid job in the not-too-distant future. What’s the problem?’

‘I’d still have to pay you back at some point. And there’s no guarantee you’ll walk straight into another job. Besides, won’t you need to invest in the bakery? I thought you had plans for it?’

Chloe snorted. ‘I had one or two vague ideas. So has Pammy. And Pammy’s plans involve doing nothing. Don’t think that’ll cost anything.’

‘Well, it’s an incredibly kind offer and one I will consider, I promise, but I’ll say no for the moment.’

‘No probs.’ Chloe shrugged. ‘Just let me know if you change your mind.’ She scanned the headland again, blinking against the strong sun. A figure strode from The Sanctuary and along the coastal path towards the beach. He waved at them.

‘Is that your megastar waving at you?’

Ginger put a hand up and waved back. ‘It is. I mentioned to him about the beach clean. He seemed interested.’

‘He’s missed an hour. Does that mean he only gets half a bacon roll at Pinky’s?’

Ginger laughed. ‘Doubt if he’ll actually join in. Probably wouldn’t want to get recognised.’

Chloe looked around at the other members of the beach cleaning team. ‘I shouldn’t think he’s running that much of a risk. Now, if it was Monty Don, it might be a different matter. He’d get mobbed for geranium cuttings.’ She shot up, brushing sand off her behind. ‘This is exciting. A real-life Hollywood star hits boring old Wheal Kitty Cove.’ She clapped her gloves together to rid them of sand.

‘Have you had enough of a rest?’

‘Yeah, let’s make our way back to the weighing point and maybe we’ll bump into Mr Ralph en route.’

Ginger pointed to a knot of plastic netting Chloe had missed. ‘You still happy to pick up?’