by Jenny Colgan
Polly remembered there had been an excited gossipy look on Selina’s face, but she hadn’t wanted to know about other people’s daft exploits—she had plenty of her own—and had just kept on working.
“No,” she said.
“Honestly?” said Kerensa. “I was too . . . Well. I didn’t want to . . .”
“Is this why you haven’t been in touch?” said Polly. “I thought it was because I was working too hard and didn’t make enough time for you.”
“God, no,” said Kerensa. “No. No. It wasn’t that.”
There was a long pause.
“I sort of . . . and it was only that one time, and I was really cross and a bit drunk and . . . Well. I. Well. I maybe . . . slept with someone else.” Kerensa hung her head.
Polly drew back, too shocked to speak.
“You did what?”
“I was really upset.”
“So upset you fell on a willy?” Polly immediately felt bad about saying that. “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. And also, sorry.”
Kerensa wasn’t listening; her face was full of pain.
“I don’t know what I was thinking. I was so annoyed and I went out to a bar and I had a couple of drinks and he happened to be there . . .”
Polly was shaking her head.
“Why didn’t you just come and see me and vent?”
“Because exactly this!” said Kerensa. “Because I tried and you were off being ooh blah blah blah the most loved-up person in the world, and also you would have been so judgy, so, like, oh Reuben bought you a new car and a big house, you should be completely grateful, 1950s housewife style, that someone else is making all your decisions for you, instead of my perfect life where I’m running a business and have a devoted partner who respects me!”
The tears were coursing down her cheeks now. Polly shut her eyes.
“But it’s okay now, though, right? It was a stupid mistake that came and then went away again. It doesn’t mean anything. You managed to deal with it and forget about it and just not do anything stupid like that again, right? You’re not here to tell me that . . .”
They both looked at the bump at the same time.
“Oh no,” said Polly.
“It was only once,” said Kerensa. “Well. One night.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve . . . I mean, I woke up and felt awful and came back, and we made up straightaway the next day. He flew back. We were fine. We ARE fine.”
She started to sob. Polly leaned over to hug her.
“Oh for CHRIST’S sake,” said Polly. She was surprised how overwhelmed with sadness she was; how upset. Selfishly, she’d hoped Kerensa’s joy—her presumed joy—would rub off on her, make her more ready.
“I know,” said Kerensa. “Can we just handle the fact that I’m a terrible, horrible person and kind of move on?”
Polly swallowed hard. Kerensa had always been there for her; had provided her with a home, for God’s sake, when she was bankrupt and had nowhere to go. She owed her everything. They were best friends. But this: this was so big. Huge.
“Tell me . . .” she finally managed to say. “Tell me he was short with red hair.”
Kerensa shook her head, tears spotted all down her cheeks.
“Nooo,” she said. “He was Brazilian. Six foot four. Quite hairy. Very hairy. Dark hairy.”
“Fuck a duck,” said Polly. “And can’t you find out?”
“Not till he’s born,” said Kerensa.
Silence fell.
“Did he look hairy on the scan?” asked Polly finally.
“It’s actually quite hard to tell,” said Kerensa.
And they sat there letting their tea get cold.
“You’re very quiet,” Huckle said later. “How’s Kerensa? We should have them over.”
“No we shouldn’t,” said Polly. She was making stollen and kneading it far more than it actually required, just for the happy thump of dough on wood, taking out her mood on it a little bit.
“What’s wrong?” said Huckle. She hadn’t seemed quite herself since he’d first mentioned this stupid wedding again, and the baby thing. He didn’t normally rush anything in his life; he hadn’t thought he was rushing this. He’d had a little vision of Polly pregnant, round and glowing like the moon; how beautiful she would look . . . and now she was hammering the bread board like she wanted to karate-chop it in two.
“Nothing. Busy. Work,” she said.
She knew this was unfair, and not a nice way to talk to Huck, but she couldn’t help it. Kerensa had sworn her to deepest darkest blood secrecy forever, particularly from Huckle. It would be beyond awful if he felt he had to tell Reuben. It was the kind of black-and-white way men looked at things, Polly thought: that it would be too unfair if a man had to raise a child who might possibly not be his own, even though the statistics suggested that that was the case for quite a lot of babies.
On the other hand, the entire situation was just a disaster. And even though it wasn’t Polly’s direct disaster, it felt strangely somehow as though it was; that into their safe, cozy little world a wolf had come, quietly padding over the snow in the dark woods of winter and lying down just outside their door.
Chapter Six
After a week, Huckle was still worried about Polly’s mood. She seemed withdrawn and a little strange about things. He hoped it wasn’t him. She had hurled herself into work with abandon. Perhaps it was his suggestion that they try for a baby. He’d thought it was a great idea. After all, surely it was the natural next stage? He’d made his decision; he’d crossed the world and decided to make his home here—a bit cold and drafty, but they could handle that. He loved their life, and he would love a baby. To Huckle, life was pretty simple. He just couldn’t understand why Polly was so confused.
Polly felt horrible, like her stomach had dropped out. She couldn’t imagine what Kerensa must be going through. She wanted to call her, text her, but she couldn’t think of the words. She was having trouble sleeping, which wasn’t like her at all—Polly slept like the dead normally, as Huckle had had cause to point out. And she could understand, couldn’t she? People made mistakes. Life was made up of loads of mistakes.
But she thought of Reuben, and his many, many kindnesses to her—he’d sent her the oven to start up in her first-ever bakery; he’d supported her when she’d gone out on a limb and bought a van; even when he didn’t have any money, he’d always been there for them, however annoying he might be sometimes.
How could she stand by and watch him care for a new baby that might not be his; that might not look anything like him? To be complicit in all that deception? And it could last for years. She wished in a way that Kerensa hadn’t told her.
But then she’d told her because she’d needed a friend—really really needed one. This was a true test of friendship. And Polly was failing it, right here, not even picking up the phone.
“You look like you’ve lost a penny and found a farthing,” said Jayden, bagging up a large collection of Empire biscuits. “I have no idea what that means, but my grandmother always says it and I don’t think it’s good.”
“Oh, just lots on my mind,” said Polly.
“Yeah, I know,” said Jayden. “They’ve started on you already, haven’t they? They’ve got to you.”
“What do you mean? Who’s got to me?”
“For the Christmas fair.”
“What Christmas fair?”
Jayden stared at her.
“Where were you last year?”
“I went to my mum’s. What are you talking about?”
“The Christmas fair,” intoned Jayden seriously. “Highlight of the Mount Polbearne social calendar. Revived, as all these things are, by Samantha and her All-Cornwall Social Committee.”
“I should have guessed,” said Polly. “What is it?”
The bell on the door rang, and Samantha herself bustled in.
“Ah, Polly!” she said, beaming. “I hoped I’d catch you.”
Polly didn’t point ou
t that there was absolutely nowhere else she was likely to be.
“Hi, Samantha,” she said. “Hello, Marina.”
The toddler looked up from her buggy and grinned gummily. She had inherited Henry’s high color, but it rather suited her; she was a rosy-cheeked, bonny little thing.
“Now!” said Samantha. “Here’s the thing. We’re reviving the Christmas fair.”
“So I hear,” said Polly.
“She’s been miserable about it all morning,” chipped in Jayden.
“Excuse me, I have not!” said Polly. Jayden and Samantha exchanged looks.
“So I wondered if perhaps I can put you down for a stall?” said Samantha.
“Um, what would that entail?” said Polly.
“Well, just what you normally do, but up in the village hall.”
Polly looked at her. “And I give you all the money?”
“Well, quite, that’s the point.”
“And it’s on a Saturday?”
Samantha nodded. “Yes! Then we get lots of people visiting from the mainland and they can do their Christmas shopping, do you see? We’re going to have all sorts—craft stalls and books and bric-a-brac!”
Polly nodded. The thing was, craft stalls and books and bric-a-brac were absolutely great and fine and everything, but this would be a whole day’s profits she’d be expected to donate, and it was tough enough to stay afloat as it was.
“And what’s the cause?” she said.
“Well, it was going to be the school development fund,” said Samantha. “But that all seems to have been sorted by that wonderful friend of yours with the loud voice, isn’t that magnif? So we’ll have to think of a new one.”
She turned and was on her way out again before Polly had time to give her an answer.
“I’m guessing that’s a yes,” said Jayden.
“Hmm,” said Polly. “It looks that way.”
“You know, you could ask other people to bake cakes and have a competition,” said Jayden. “On your stall. Without you in it, of course.”
Polly smiled. “Or Flora. She’d wipe the floor with everyone.”
“She would,” said Jayden, looking moist around the eyes. “But you know. Everyone else could get stuck in.”
“Wouldn’t it cause the most terrible fights and bad feeling?” said Polly.
“Totally,” said Jayden. “It’ll be hilarious.”
Polly picked up her phone and checked it, regardless of whether she’d got a signal. There was nothing from Kerensa. She felt horrifically guilty whichever way she looked at the situation, but the longer she left it, the worse it got. Then something occurred to her.
Selina, who’d gone out with Kerensa on that fateful evening, lived upstairs in Polly’s old flat. She was Tarnie’s widow and helped Polly out in the bakery from time to time. She was new to the village—even newer than Polly herself—and didn’t really know Polly’s friends all that well. She’d had a tough time getting over the death of her husband at such a young age, but living in the village had seemed to bring her some of the peace she’d been searching for. Polly didn’t think she’d be there forever, but for now it seemed to comfort her to be near Tarnie’s family and friends, even though she was a city girl born and bred. No wonder she’d jumped at the chance to take Kerensa out.
Selina tended to sleep late in the morning, so at about ten o’clock, Polly made a big fancy latteccino (the sort of drink most of the locals had absolutely no time for), put some hazelnut syrup in it and headed upstairs.
Selina was floating about in light loungewear. She’d done up the ratty old flat with its uneven floors and holes in the roof that let the rain in. Now, instead of the cozy cushions and warm rugs Polly had strewn around the place, it was a calm oasis of white walls and stripped-back wood, with what to Polly’s unpracticed eye looked like quite expensive art on the walls. Selina’s plump cat, Lucas, whom Polly had distrusted ever since he’d mauled Neil the previous year, lay resplendently on a cushion.
Selina was all right for money and was taking a kind of correspondence course in jewelry design on the mainland. Thankfully, Tarnie had had a really good life insurance policy, and though it didn’t make up for him not being there, not for a second, it was typical of his thoughtfulness that he had made sure she was looked after. Fishing was still one of the most dangerous professions in the world, even these days.
Polly still missed him terribly. She couldn’t imagine what it was like for Selina.
“Hey,” said Selina. “Is that for me! Oh wow, thanks!”
“And!” said Polly, producing a warm cheese twist from her apron pocket like a conjuror. “Don’t give any to Lucas; he looks fatter all the time.”
“No way!” said Selina. “You know, I have to hold my nose every time I go past the shop to stop myself going in and just guzzling everything. I thought I’d get used to it, but no. Fresh bread, every morning. It’s not fair!”
Selina was absolutely tiny and took being absolutely tiny extremely seriously. Polly’s theory was that she gave all her cravings to Lucas.
“I should say that given your willpower, you’re the best person in the world to live here,” she said. “Which is why you’re allowed a cheese twist every now and again.”
Selina looked at it severely.
“I’ll go halves with you.”
“You’re on,” said Polly.
“Is there skimmed milk in the—”
“Yes!”
“So, what’s up?” said Selina, as they sat down on the angular white sofa.
Polly bit her lip. “Am I that obvious?”
Selina nodded. “Yup. Otherwise you’d be up here all the time.”
“I’d like to come up more,” said Polly. “I’m just . . . I’m so busy.”
“I know,” said Selina. “I’m not.”
“I’d love you to work for us again in the summer, you know that,” said Polly.
Selina nodded. “So, anyway. What is it? If it’s the sodding Christmas fair, count me out.”
“But your jewelry . . .”
“I know,” said Selina. “I was slightly hoping I could make myself sound tough enough to be convincing to Samantha, but it won’t work, will it?”
Polly shook her head.
“You know she wants my entire profits for the day,” said Selina.
“Mine too,” said Polly.
“I mean, I wanted to do this for a job.”
“Exposure?” suggested Polly weakly.
“That’s what she said,” scowled Selina. “And you don’t need the exposure. You’re literally the only baker in town. What are people going to do, start getting their bread delivered by drone?”
“I quite like having someone bossy around,” admitted Polly. “I even miss Mrs. Manse.” Mrs. Manse had been the original, rather dragonish, owner of the Little Beach Street Bakery. “I just like the idea of someone else knowing exactly what’s to be done, and insisting that it is. I only get really worried when I don’t think anyone’s in charge.”
Selina nodded. “I know what you mean,” she said. “What are you doing for Christmas?”
Polly rolled her eyes. “Hopefully nothing.”
The previous year she and Huckle had gone to Polly’s mum, in her small house in Exeter. Polly’s mum was scared of anything out of the ordinary—Polly breaking up with her fiancé and moving to a tidal island to set up her own business had been quite a challenge for her—so it had been a quiet Christmas. Fortunately, though, she’d taken a shine to Huckle, who was very easy company and didn’t mind not doing very much, which was just as well given Polly’s mum’s reclusive nature. Polly knew that she should persuade her to come down and spend a few days in Mount Polbearne, but she was aware how hard she’d find it, and she hated making her mum unhappy.
“What are you doing?” she asked Selina. “Tarnie’s family again?”
Selina nodded. The awkwardness of the arrangement was far outweighed by the pleasure it brought Tarnie’s mother, having a co
nnection to him in the house. They would drink too much at dinner, and then sit afterward and watch old videos of him as a child, and then they’d watch the wedding video and everyone would cry for hours.
“Worst conceivable day of human existence,” said Selina. “But I tell you what: if there is a heaven, I’m getting in.” She took another sip of coffee. “Man, this is good. It’s nice to drink real milk once in a while. Although I’m probably lactose intolerant.”
“Probably,” said Polly.
“Oh my God, you’re agreeing with me even though you don’t believe in it!” said Selina. “How bad is this thing?”
“Right,” said Polly, steeling herself. “I really need someone to talk to. And Kerensa’s busy. I mean, I like you just as much… Um. Anyway. Listen. What do you think? I’ve got a friend back in Exeter. From school. You haven’t met her; I don’t see her very much. She’s married and everything. And now she’s pregnant. But. But she thinks it’s somebody else’s.”
“Oh my God,” said Selina, sitting up straight. “Is it Kerensa? From that night? Oh my God, it is, isn’t it? It’s Kerensa. The dates totally work.”
“What?” said Polly. “Of course it’s not Kerensa. Don’t be stupid. I just said someone you’d never met.”
“Yeah, but you’re forgetting I was there!”
“What? No, it’s not her! How could it be? She totally wouldn’t. It isn’t like her at all!”
Polly felt her face grow hot. Selina didn’t say anything, just kept watching her for a while.
“Okay,” said Polly. “Look, it’s my cousin, okay. The family is falling apart. Please, could you not mention it? I know some families are all right about this kind of thing, but not mine . . .” She looked down, but kept an eye on Selina to see if she was buying it. Thankfully, it seemed like she was.
“Okay,” Selina said eventually. She paused. “Is it you?”
“Of course it’s not me!”
“Only you have form.”
“Don’t bring that up,” said Polly, and she meant it. During a period of temporary estrangement from Selina, Tarnie had slept with Polly without telling her he was married. It had been awful for everybody. “Look, this is a nasty family problem, but I can take it elsewhere if you don’t want to treat it seriously . . .”