Burned At The Bake

by Ashley Cain

  Chapter 1

  April Hart gave a sigh as she sank her weary body in to one of the yellow and white striped bench seats that lined the wall of the café. She looked around her at the room now empty of people. It had been a long and busy day but, finally, the last of the dinner customers had left. From the kitchen she could hear Miguel and Rachel clattering around as they loaded the dishwasher with the plates and glasses from dinner.

  The moon shone silver on the water as she looked out of the window at the sea. It was a calm night and the sea was relatively still. It had been dark for a couple of hours even though the time was not yet 10 o’ clock. The nights were really drawing in now, within a couple of weeks the holiday season would be over and the café would start getting quiet again. There had only been seven tables taken this evening, although April had been pleased to see that six of them had been taken by locals from the houses dotted on the hillside around Gull Bay. Since she had started opening her café on a Friday and Saturday evening, she had built up quite a reputation for providing well cooked, good quality, locally sourced food at a reasonable price. Hopefully the locals would continue to come to the café once the tourists had gone home.

  April had owned the café on the beach at Gull Bay for the last four years. Set apart from the cluster of houses and businesses that lined the harbour at the far end of the bay, the Bluewater Café, as it was now known, was the first building visitors arrived at when they navigated the small lane down the hill from the main road. Formerly known as Ruby’s, named after her grandmother who had owned it for fifty years, it had been a Jersey institution for all the wrong reasons. Set up in nothing more than a wooden shed as a café for the local fishermen who landed their catch in the bay, her grandmother had never taken the opportunity to grow the business to take advantage of the many tourists that ventured down in to Gull Bay. This and her unique blend of charmless customer service and lack of humour, coupled with a very limited menu meant that her customers had been limited to those few Jersey locals who had known her fisherman husband Jim, and continued to support his wife out of loyalty, unwary tourists who were too lazy to walk the few hundred yards to the busier harbour, and those curious individuals who wanted to see if the café, and the angry old lady who ran it, were really as bad as the reviews suggested.

  However bad business had been, her grandmother had eked out a living mainly because in fifty years she had spent very little money on updating the café, and no money at all on the small stone cottage that she lived in and which adjoined it. When she died, she had left both to April along with the contents of her savings account which amounted to a reasonable sum. For April who had just finished a degree in business and management at university in Manchester, and who was trying to work out what she could do with her life, it had come as both a bolt from the blue and a godsend. With the money she had converted the original wooden café and the stone cottage next door in to a large café with picture windows looking out over the beach and which could seat eighty people at maximum capacity on twenty-four tables. An extension at the back housed a large modern kitchen and store room. Renamed the Bluewater Café she had been so successful in building up the daytime trade with large hearty breakfasts for the fishermen in the early mornings, sandwiches of crab and lobster for the tourists at lunchtime, and coffee and homemade cakes which the locals enjoyed in the afternoon, that this year she had added evening meals to the service two evenings a week. But whilst spring and summers were always busy, often with customers queuing outside whilst waiting for a table to become free, it died off to almost nothing in autumn and winter unless she could offer something different from the other cafes in Jersey and which all vied for the local custom. April now had to make a decision as to whether or not that something was to continue to provide evening meals on a Friday and a Saturday.

  “A penny for your thoughts” Rachel sat down opposite her at the booth, a pot of coffee in her hand which she poured in to April’s now empty mug.

  “I’m just thinking that as we are coming to the end of the summer season, I need to decide whether I am going to continue opening for dinner on an evening” As she answered Miguel walked across to join them, and she saw a quick look of concern pass between him and Rachel. She thought she knew why.

  Rachel, with her long blonde hair and pale blue eyes, had only been working in the café since the beginning of the summer, and April had thought she had detected the start of a blossoming romance between her and Miguel. Miguel, who in his late twenties was a few years older than Rachel, was one of the two cooks that she employed. They had struck up an instant rapport as soon as they worked together on Rachel’s first shift, and in the months since he had often changed his shifts to ensure that he and Rachel were on duty together. Over recent weeks they had started to share a lift back in to St Helier, where they both lived, and April was sure that Miguel hoped that the friendship may turn in to something more. If she was going to reduce the times that she was open then it would have a direct impact on the hours that she could offer Rachel, and offer less opportunity for the two of them to work together.

  “Don’t worry Rachel, I will still need you to work throughout the autumn and the winter even if I stop the evening service” April spoke quickly to reassure her. She was a good worker, popular with the customers, and she didn’t want to lose her. “But as I explained at your interview, I may not be able to offer you as many hours as over the summer”.

  The reality was that for many people on the island of Jersey the work was seasonal. April was lucky in that Gull Bay was a working fishing port and the work never stopped for the fishermen. This, and the fact that it had a large carpark at the end of the harbour wall which acted as the starting point for a few cliff top walks, meant that locals would often visit the bay even in winter. On a cold winter’s morning there were always some customers who wanted a hot chocolate and a bite to eat. The shorter days though, and reduced footfall, meant that she did not need as many hours covering as normal. In the summer she stayed open in to the early evening even when she wasn’t providing a dinner service but, in the winter, she closed as the light faded which could be as early as the middle of the afternoon.

  “I know, but it is so expensive living here on the island that I could do with as many hours as you can give me.” Rachel looked downcast. “I didn’t realise how quickly the money can go here on the island. I thought I may be able to save money over the summer to help me if my hours were reduced but I haven’t been able to so I might have to get a second job. Are you really going to close on an evening, the candlelight suppers have been so popular?”

  It was true, April thought. The candlelight suppers were what had started her off providing evening meals. After a slow winter, where some days she had barely covered her costs, she had had the idea of putting on a special evening on Valentine’s day and had been inundated with bookings. She had followed it up with an event in March, which had been equally well attended, and had carried it on every month since, adding Friday evenings to the calendar from early summer. It would be a shame to stop them completely, they brought her in a huge profit even with the added staff costs.

  “Martha will be very disappointed if you stop the candlelight suppers”. Miguel had a twinkle in his eye as he spoke. “She will get withdrawal symptoms if she doesn’t see Mr Fletcher regularly”.

  “I don’t know why she likes him so much” Rachel shuddered “He is what I would call a player, how many women has he brought to the candlelight suppers in the last 6 months, three, four?”

  “I think it is four” Miguel laughed. “And never the same one twice. But he is very charming and more importantly, as far as many of the women are concerned, very rich. You know, I think Martha and him had a bit of a thing going a few
years back, Martha is only a few years younger than him”.

  Martha was one of the other waitresses that April employed, a single mother with two teenage sons. She always tried to make sure that she worked when there was a candlelight supper but April had a suspicion that, despite her obvious friendship with Ivan Fletcher, it was less to do with seeing him and more to do with the additional money that the extra shifts brought in. She would have worked tonight if they had been busier and had been distinctly annoyed when April had told her that she wouldn’t be needed, casting furious looks in Rachel’s direction. Despite her view that as the longest serving waitress she should have the pick of the shifts; April was scrupulously fair and shared the work out evenly amongst her staff. Martha had worked both evenings the week before and so it was Rachel who had been offered the hours first tonight.

  “She should have better taste than Ivan Fletcher” Rachel said dismissively “money isn’t everything. Seriously though April, you should consider keeping the candlelight suppers going over the winter. Ivan Fletcher spends over £100 each time he is in and I am sure that he would keep coming, he only lives up the road”.

  “It is certainly worth considering” April said, “but one candlelight supper a month is not going to make up for all your lost hours I am afraid Rachel”.

  “Maybe there is something else you could offer, theme nights perhaps, or maybe we could open a cookery school on some evenings. I am a trained baker you know”

  “How could I forget, the cakes that you bake are amazing” The fact that Rachel was a trained baker had been the reason that April had picked her out of the thirty people who had applied for the job as a waitress. There had been nothing really to choose between any of them, but the fact that Rachel could bake, and had brought a small frosted cupcake to the interview had sealed the deal. Not only did Rachel work as a waitress, but she also provided Rachel with a dozen cakes a week. The homemade cakes had proved very popular with the locals and she had many return customers come in every week to try a different one. Rachel was very creative, and as well as the typical Victoria sponges, chocolate cakes and coffee and walnut cakes, there were often one or two new ones each week that Rachel experimented with. The Pina Colada cake that she had provided this week had been especially well received and had gone down a treat.

  “That is a fantastic idea. We could give baking lessons during the evenings. Rachel could show people how to bake sweet cakes and pastries, and I could give lessons on pies and quiches. People always want something to do in Jersey over the winter. I’m sure that you would have lots of interest”. Miguel looked ecstatic at the thought.

  “I’ll think about it” It was certainly worth considering and there was a lot of truth to what Miguel had said about the locals looking for something to do on a winters evening. As an island that thrived on outdoor pursuits, the pace of life in Jersey slowed down over the winter months especially after dark. But April had a sneaking suspicion that Miguel’s enthusiasm for the baking lessons had less to do with trying to enhance the Bluewater café’s profits, and more to do with offering increased opportunities to spend time with Rachel. As much as April liked the two of them, and would only be too happy if they got together as a couple, she was not about to invest her hard-earned money in playing cupid. She grabbed her empty mug and headed for the kitchen. “Let’s lock up and head for home, we might be in for a busy Saturday tomorrow with it being the last weekend in August”

  Chapter 2

  April didn’t have far to go home. When her grandmother had left her the café and the adjoining old stone cottage, she had obviously intended to leave her granddaughter a business and a home. But April had decided to renovate the two, putting them together and creating a much larger café. This had presented her with the problem of where to live. Fortunately, a solution presented itself behind the café where the hill rose steeply. A short way up the hillside, a small landslide more than a century ago had formed a wide long shelf. On this her grandfather many years ago had built a wooden workshop and boatyard, reached by a natural gulley which had been paved over to make a wide ramp. With the help of an architect, and the builders who worked on the café, April had turned this in to a bijou little one bedroomed cabin, with an open plan living and kitchen area at the front and at the back a bedroom and small bathroom. She had created more space by building a raised terrace area at the side, the whole length of the cabin, which held chairs and a table. Panoramic picture windows afforded her a view of the whole of Gull Bay and the harbour beyond.

  April climbed the steps which led from the café to the cabin and on entering went to the fridge where she grabbed a bottle of white wine and took it, with a glass, out on to the terrace. The temperature had dropped and she wrapped her jacket around her as she put on the patio heater and sat down on one of the chairs next to the table. The evening was still and the only sounds were coming from a few late-night revellers outside the pub at the end of the harbour. There were a few lights on in the houses that dotted the hillside around Gull Bay but other than that it was dark. Pouring herself a drink she took a sip of the crisp cold wine, rolling the liquid around her tongue as she appreciated it. Beautiful flavours of apple and pear greeted her taste-buds. It was a local wine, expensive but excellent quality. It was the same wine that she served in the café as she believed in supporting the local businesses.

  She sat savouring the taste of the wine thinking of the conversation earlier. Even though Miguel and Rachel’s ideas were well meaning, she was not entirely sure that she shared their enthusiasm. There was a world of difference between selling cakes in a café and teaching people to bake. She wasn’t sure the two mixed well and, if she was as good a teacher as she was a baker, Rachel may end up turning half of Jersey in to master bakers resulting in no-one needing to visit the café for coffee and cake. What would have started out as a way to make money may end up costing her money in the end. She sighed. She didn’t want to dash their dreams too early but neither did she want to give oxygen to a pipe dream. Draining her glass, she picked up the bottle torn between having another small glass and going to bed. Knowing that she would not be able to sleep with so many thoughts drifting around inside her mind she poured herself another half glass. She would have to think of something. If Rachel got a second job, and whoever took her on discovered what a hard worker she was, then they may end up offering her more hours. And Rachel, no matter how much she may enjoy working at the Bluewater café couldn’t afford to stay out of loyalty and nor would April expect her to. At the end of the day enjoyment was no substitute for putting money in your pocket.

  Through the summer in addition to herself, and James and Miguel the two cooks who each worked four days on and four days off, she had five serving staff who did various hours between them. In the winter she only needed two people on at any one time during the day and although in previous years this had given her the opportunity to take some much-needed time off herself, she really didn’t need to keep all five. When she had hired Rachel, she had only intended to take someone on for the summer, but having been blown away by her skills as a baker, and having realised that having homemade cakes rather than bought in cakes was a real selling point, she had rashly promised to keep her on after the summer, albeit with reduced hours. She didn’t want to reduce her hours to the extent though that Rachel could not afford to stay and took herself and her amazing cakes somewhere else.

  If April was going to keep Rachel that meant that she had to make a decision about some of the others. Her attention wandered to the other serving staff. Martha, a single parent with two teenage sons worked full time throughout the year and took any additional hours that she was offered. Last winter she had point blank refused to work less than 40 hours a week and April, unwilling to lose her as in addition to being a hard-worker she was well known and popular with the locals, had taken more time off herself than she had planned in order to accommodate her. There was no way she would want to reduce her hours this year either as she had already been dro
pping very strong hints about how expensive the school uniforms were, and that one of her sons needed driving lessons. Jerome and Sylvain on the other hand may be willing to drop a couple of shifts and reduce their hours. They were brothers who always worked together and had worked in the cafe since she had inherited it from her grandmother. They never worked in an evening and were more than happy to end their shifts at 3.30 instead of 7 during the winter. April thought that they worked in other places as well as the Bluewater café, but she had never asked and they had never told. They were amenable, although April was very conscious that their willingness to accept whatever they were offered shouldn’t be abused. She decided to speak to them when they were next in, explain her predicament and ask them how many hours they wanted over the winter.

  That just left Hope. A frown crossed April’s face at the thought of Hope. When her grandmother had died, she had not only inherited the café, the cottage and the contents of her savings account. Her grandmother had also left her, whether deliberately or unwittingly, her best friend Hope. With the most inappropriate name in Gull Bay, her grandmothers’ oldest friend was well in to her eighties and had spent her life looking at every glass as though it were half empty rather than half full. She treated life as a constant struggle despite the fact that she was relatively well off having inherited a few vergees of land from her father, as well as a number of properties on the west of the island. Not that any of the money that this brought her ever seemed to be spent, for Hope lived in the same small harbour cottage that her and her former husband had been bought as a wedding present almost sixty years previously. It had not, as far as April could judge the one time that she had visited her just after her grandmother died, been updated very much since then. Hope had worked part time for her grandmother for as long as Ruby’s café had been in existence and had apparently promised her friend on her death bed that she would help her granddaughter for as long as she was alive. April was never quite sure whether that had been a blessing or a curse. The help took the form of working, in the loosest sense of the word, five mornings a week from breakfast to just before lunch. Her hours were inconvenient to say the least, as April had to try and fit the others shifts around them, but her suggestions that she may want to change them to a couple of full days had fallen on deaf ears for Hope had very selective hearing. Most of her working hours in the café were spent moaning at the fishermen about the changes to island life, the inconsiderate tourists who spoke too loudly and visited for too long, and her many ailments which necessitated her having to keep sitting down for a rest in the café every twenty minutes, but didn’t prevent her from going on a three-hour hike around the coastal paths. April had given up reminding her that there were customers to be served and tables to clear, and just tried to make sure that she was always on at the same time as Hope.