Christmas at the Little Village Bakery

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘It must be tough being famous.’

  ‘What can I say?’ Rich grinned as he went off to find out what Frank wanted.

  ‘It’ll be something to do with scrumpy, no doubt,’ Jasmine said, watching Rich go with a shake of her head. ‘Anyone would think we lived in twenties America the way they sneak around with that stuff.’

  ‘You want to come and get cakes?’ Rachel asked Tori, Reuben and Rebecca nodding eager agreement. Tori offered a quick glance at Spencer, who nodded encouragement, and she was led away to where Dylan was beckoning with a tray of baked goodies.

  ‘She’s lovely,’ Jasmine said to Spencer as they watched Tori go.

  ‘Yes, she is.’

  ‘You’re happy?’

  Spencer looked sharply at her. ‘Of course. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I just wanted to know. I’m still allowed to care about you… You look well.’

  ‘So do you.’

  ‘Oh, I look like a working mother of three, so you can stop lying,’ she laughed. ‘But you look great. Life in America suits you.’

  ‘I like it, but I don’t know that I want to stay there forever.’

  ‘That could be a problem.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Have you talked about it?’

  ‘Sort of. I don’t think either of us dares to say what we really want.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘I want to come home. But this isn’t Tori’s home and I don’t think there would be enough in Honeybourne for her.’ Spencer hesitated. Should he be telling Jasmine this? But something wouldn’t let him stop. There was something about Jasmine that invited confidence, whether it was right or not. ‘She’d be alright at first, but it wouldn’t last.’

  ‘You love each other?’

  ‘Yes, of course we do.’

  ‘Then you’ll make it work.’

  Spencer gave her a thin smile. ‘I wish I could feel that confident about it.’

  ‘You’re not sure you love her enough?’ Jasmine asked.

  ‘Of course I do!’

  ‘Then what?’ Jasmine pressed, seemingly unconcerned by the sudden irritation in his tone.

  Spencer let out a long sigh. He knew Jasmine didn’t mean to pry, and she wasn’t the sort of woman who passed judgement on the choices of others. If she was asking, it was out of genuine concern and there was no need to take his feelings of confusion out on her. He softened his tone. ‘It’s just a tough call, isn’t it?’

  ‘But if you loved her enough nothing else would matter.’

  He gave her a small smile. ‘You always could see right through me.’

  ‘You’re like a brother to me. Of course I do.’

  Like a brother. How Spencer had once hated to hear those words from her and yet it was all he’d ever heard… apart from that day she had visited him, after the thunderstorm in which he had almost lost his life, vulnerable and confused about her feelings and not in a place where it was right to tell her how he felt, how he would always feel about her. He could have kissed her then and she would have let him. She might even have fooled herself into thinking she loved him, and he might even have been happy for a while, but it would have been a lie. He had seen enough to know that Jasmine loved Rich and that would never change, no matter who else challenged it. And so he had turned her away, had made the decision to leave Honeybourne and to try to forget about Jasmine Green. It had been the right choice, but there had been times when he wondered about what might have been.

  He noticed Ruth sitting at a table close by, eagerly following their conversation. Shit! Why did that woman have to be so damn good at unearthing secrets? And why was she always there at the worst possible moments? Spencer wondered just how long she had been listening and how much she had worked out from what she had heard. Most importantly of all, would she repeat any of it to Tori?

  He had just made the decision to take her to one side and try to hint, as subtly as he could, that she needed to keep anything she’d heard to herself, when Frank Stephenson called for order and the whole café fell silent. The meeting was about to start, and it looked as though everything else would have to wait.

  Chapter 3

  When Darcie had hoped to be given shifts at the pub, this wasn’t what she’d had in mind at all. She glanced across to where Dylan sported a white apron tied over his jeans, chatting to the owners of the newsagent as he pulled a pint. God, he made looking good seem so easy, and the sound of his relaxed laughter sent a pulse of longing through her that made her face burn with shame. How had this happened? She had volunteered to take a couple of shifts a week, after Millie had reassured her that they could manage at the bakery without her, and before she knew what was happening, Dylan had ended up doing the same ones after his sister had told him she would be happy to stay with Millie on the evenings he was missing. Darcie had aired some reservations about her ability to work behind a bar, of course, but she had done so believing that Colleen, or perhaps Jasmine, who had done it before, would help her out. The last person she wanted (and also, perversely, the only person she wanted) there was Dylan. But the whole point had been to get away from him. Now she was stuck in purgatory.

  She spun around as Colleen tapped her on the shoulder.

  ‘Everything alright?’

  ‘Oh… yes…’ Darcie stammered. She handed over the food order that she now realised she had been holding for five minutes while she stared at Dylan and cursed her luck. At least the pub wasn’t too busy tonight, because she was sure she would have been no help at all if it had been. ‘A couple of pies and gravy for that table over there…’ She pointed to two old men playing cards, half pints of bitter in front of them.

  ‘Jim and Saul,’ Colleen observed with a faint smile. ‘They love Millie’s pies. I suspect it’s because they love Millie but it’s all the same to me as long as the money goes in our till.’

  ‘Why don’t they just buy them from Millie and eat them at home?’ Darcie asked, instantly realising it was the wrong thing to say.

  Colleen simply raised her eyebrows. ‘Why do any of the regulars not stay at home? I don’t know and I don’t want to, as long as they keep us open.’

  Darcie frowned as Colleen took the food order slip and went off to the kitchens. She didn’t know Colleen all that well, but she had never found her quite so cynical and easy to dislike. She supposed that it was stressful, your husband being in hospital with two broken legs over Christmas, a whole troupe of strangers coming into your pub night after night trying to run it for you while you had to keep smiling for the customers. Colleen didn’t look her usual immaculate self either, and that only made Darcie certain that it wasn’t Colleen’s usual attitude.

  Her thoughts were distracted by Dylan’s laughter again. This time he was chatting to a slim blonde, probably around his age. She could hear him calling her Amy. Amy… Darcie seemed to recall the name from somewhere. She’d heard it mentioned before but she couldn’t quite place where and why. Judging by the way Amy was flicking her hair and thrusting her chest out, she was quite partial to Dylan herself, and although he was obviously enjoying the attention, Darcie could tell that he wasn’t interested. His loyalty to Millie only made him more attractive. At least if he was a cheating git, like the boyfriend she had left back in Millrise, who had taken it upon himself to seduce practically the only friend she had, Darcie might have been able to hate him instead of longing to be at the receiving end of that loyalty.

  He turned to the CD player behind the bar and flicked it on. Instantly, Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’ blasted out and Amy clapped her hands with glee.

  ‘Ooh, I love this one!’ she squeaked, and proceeded to croon it to Dylan in a way that made it hard for Darcie to decide whether she wanted to punch her in the face or throw up. She was just thankful that Millie wasn’t there, although she suspected the only reason Amy was brave enough to flirt so outrageously was for just that reason.

  ‘Well, it’s not long, so I thought it was about time we got the Christmas chee
r back in this place,’ said Dylan, grinning.

  ‘Five sleeps and counting!’ Amy said in a stupid baby voice that was obviously meant to be sexy but just made her sound like she’d been hypnotised by the Teletubbies. ‘What’s going to be in your stocking?’

  ‘No idea,’ he said. ‘I don’t think I’ve been good enough for presents. What’s going to be in yours?’

  ‘My legs!’ she squealed and collapsed into fits of giggles.

  Dylan glanced across at Darcie with a knowing smile. He sidled across.

  ‘Pissed as a fart,’ he said in a low voice, angling his head at Amy who was still snorting at her own joke. ‘Never could hold her booze.’

  ‘Do you know her well?’

  Dylan coloured at this question. Darcie had never seen him look embarrassed in that way before. ‘She’s lived here for a few years.’

  ‘Is she married? I never see her with a man.’

  ‘Her husband works away a lot. I think he’s in Düsseldorf or somewhere right now… Some boring finance job or other – I forget.’ He lowered his voice. ‘She goes a bit stir crazy when he’s away. I think she needs a lot of… Anyway, he’s not home right now, but I expect he will be any day.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Have you had a go at pulling a pint yet?’ he asked. It was obvious he wanted to change the subject. Perhaps it was best to let him.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Want me to show you how to do it properly?’

  ‘Don’t you just pull the tap?’

  ‘If you want more head than beer you do, but nobody will want to pay you for it. There’s a little knack to getting just the right head. Here…’ He scooped up a pint glass from the shelf behind him and handed it to her. ‘Tip it this way,’ he said, placing his hands over hers as she held the glass beneath the beer tap.

  She froze at the contact, barely able to breathe. This was her wildest dream and yet her worst nightmare all rolled into one. His hands were hot as they covered hers, and he moved closer to get a good grip. It was as if he was charged with sexual magnetism, and she could feel it moving through her. The fact that he didn’t seem to notice the effect he was having on her made him even sexier.

  ‘Pull on the tap,’ he said, ‘gently. Make sure the beer runs down the inside of the glass as you keep it at an angle… See?’

  She watched the glass fill up, but she could think of nothing but his smell and the feel of his hands over hers.

  Then he moved away as the beer reached the rim of the glass. ‘You can stop the tap now.’ He looked up at her with a grin. ‘There you go – you’ve just pulled your first perfect pint.’

  ‘What shall I do with it?’ Darcie asked, feeling a little dazed by the whole experience now that it was over.

  He took the pint from her and put it to his lips. ‘No point in wasting it,’ he said, and winked as he knocked half of it back.

  She watched him plant the glass on the bar as one of the men – Jim or Saul, Darcie had no idea which was which – came to order another drink. Thank God there had been plenty of volunteers at the meeting so she wouldn’t have to work at the pub too often. Perhaps she could sort out another buddy to come with her next time, but right now, she needed this shift to be over, and quick.

  Spencer pushed open the doors of the Dog and Hare, Tori’s hand clasped in his, with Rich bringing up the rear. Jasmine had stayed at the bakery with Millie and Oscar, the triplets were all at a slumber party with a school friend, and Rich had been given special leave to come and take the piss out of Dylan as he attempted to be a decent barman. At least, that was how Jasmine had put it. Spencer would really rather have had a quiet night in with Tori, particularly as it was their last night before the parents arrived, but when he’d taken the phone call from Rich, he had found himself persuaded. Rich seemed really far too keen for their company and Spencer didn’t dare say no for fear of offending him. The truce between the two men looked solid from the outside, but Spencer wondered just how much of his revelations on the night of the thunderstorm Rich still recalled. Even so, he seemed to be offering the olive branch and, in view of the fact that Spencer had made it clear he wanted to steal his wife that night, any token of forgiveness wasn’t something to be sniffed at. And at least Jasmine wasn’t with them, because Spencer hadn’t been able to get her face from his mind after they had left the bakery, and he knew that he had to. He wasn’t sure whether seeing her a lot might make things easier or worse in the long run.

  The three of them stamped the snow from their boots at the door and then made their way to the bar, where Dylan greeted them with a broad grin. He looked odd and out of place at that side of the bar, and it was even stranger to see Darcie a few feet away serving a customer, as though Spencer had fallen into some parallel universe. But the threadbare tinsel and paper chains that festooned the bar and the cracked baubles hanging on the tree – some of which, Spencer was sure, were older than he was, as he could not recall a single Christmas when he hadn’t seen the same decorations hanging there – reminded him that he was very definitely in his own universe, though it might possibly have gone a bit mad. This was the place his dad had brought him for his first pint when he turned eighteen, as his dad had done a generation and a different landlord before. It was the place where Spencer had announced his intention to take off to university to his parents, Lewis and Jenny, and where they had bid farewell to the village in a party to end all parties before travelling to Barcelona for a new phase of their lives and careers. The Dog and Hare had been a part of Honeybourne almost since its founding and had seen wars and scandals aplenty. A quiz machine bleeping in the corner was the only concession to a modern drinking establishment; otherwise, the place was as unassuming and traditional as Spencer had always known it to be.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Rich said, ‘Dylan is working here and yet the building is still standing. It’s a Christmas miracle.’

  ‘Oi!’ Dylan laughed. ‘I have permission to kick out troublemakers tonight so you’d better be nice to me because no other pub will have you.’

  ‘There is no other pub in Honeybourne,’ Spencer said. ‘You’d better do as he says, Rich, or it’ll be special brew in the newsagent’s car park.’

  ‘I think I’ve been barred from there too,’ Rich grinned.

  ‘What can I get you?’ Dylan asked, looking very deliberately at Tori. ‘I’m asking you because I’ve a feeling I won’t get any sense out of these two for at least half an hour after they’ve stopped making fun of me.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Tori smiled. ‘What do you drink in these parts?’

  ‘Despite appearances, we do have bottled beers that probably won’t be a million miles from what you drink at home. Stronger, if anything, but not bad.’

  ‘I feel I should have something English,’ Tori said.

  ‘How about a snakebite?’ suggested Rich.

  ‘Snakebite and black,’ Dylan said.

  ‘What the hell is that?’ Tori asked.

  ‘Cider, lager and blackcurrant cordial,’ Spencer replied. ‘Guaranteed to have you vomiting before you’ve emptied your first glass, so you might want to stick with the beer.’

  ‘Oh!’ Tori said. ‘A challenge! In that case, hit me with the snakebite, boys!’

  ‘I knew there was a reason I liked you!’ Rich said. ‘Jasmine would be proud of you for not letting the side down.’

  Spencer’s gaze wandered as Dylan prepared Tori’s drink and Rich poked fun at him. Darcie had been watching them, but she quickly looked away as his eyes met hers. He got the feeling that she needed a friend, and if he was right about her feelings towards Dylan, then perhaps there was no better qualified friend than him. After all, who knew more about unrequited love than he did?

  While Dylan and Rich shared their banter, he moved down the bar towards her. ‘How are you finding it?’

  Darcie looked up from the pad she was doodling on. ‘Sorry…’ She blushed. ‘Did you want to order some food?’

  ‘No, thanks. I jus
t wondered how you were finding your first shift as a barmaid.’

  ‘Oh… It’s ok.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t want to make a career out of it?’

  ‘It’s getting used to all the different drinks people ask for.’

  ‘You’ll pick it up in no time.’

  ‘Have you ever done it?’

  ‘When I was a student I did a couple of weeks in a bar in Bournemouth.’

  ‘You’ll find it easy when it’s your turn, then.’

  ‘I’ll have to remember it all first – it was a long time ago,’ Spencer smiled. ‘How are you finding life in Honeybourne? I expect it’s a world away from home, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s very different. In Millrise, you knew your neighbours and the people you worked with, but that was it. Here, everyone in the village knows who you are.’

  ‘It can be a bit daunting at first, can’t it? I even felt that a bit when I came back from university. I went from being able to mind my own business to being everyone’s business, whether I liked it or not. But they’re good people and there are a lot worse places to live.’

  ‘Oh, I can see that. I mean, look at the way everyone is helping to run the pub. And Millie told me how everyone helped to get the bakery up and running. I can’t think of anywhere else that would happen.’

  Spencer nodded vaguely. He couldn’t help but wonder what else Millie might have told Darcie about her time in Honeybourne when she first arrived. Now she was as much a part of the village as anyone else, but it hadn’t always been so. Perhaps it was better to avoid the subject, just in case he put his foot in it.

  Rich wandered over and placed a glass in front of Spencer. ‘I got your usual, as you were missing.’

  ‘Hi, Darcie,’ Tori said, joining them with a nasty-looking drink clutched in her hand. She took a sip and grimaced. ‘Wow!’

  ‘Pretty disgusting, eh?’ Spencer said. ‘Serves you right for not being warned.’