‘I suppose…’ she began slowly, ‘I can make remedies and things. You know, from old, trusted herbal recipes. And soaps and lotions – all natural. People tell me they work. And I would need somewhere to make them, but it wouldn’t require enormous ovens.’
Jasmine’s eyes widened, another chip held halfway to her mouth. ‘You can? But that’s brilliant!’
‘It is?’
‘I’ve been thinking about expanding the craft business to sell natural toiletries and things. I had thought I would learn how to make them, but never seemed to have the time. We could work together, it would be perfect.’
Rich looked up from his meal. For a moment, it seemed he would offer some argument, but as Jasmine shot him a warning glance, so subtle that only the two of them would understand what it meant, he put his head down again and shoved a forkful of steak into his mouth.
‘It would make craft fairs and markets a lot more fun if someone came with me,’ Jasmine continued. ‘I’m always bored standing there all day on my own, especially if we have a quiet one. You could sell your stuff alongside mine and we each keep what we make. We can split the hire of the stall between us.’ She smiled brightly. ‘You get to earn towards the bakery renovations, I get some company and halve my overheads in one fell swoop – everyone wins!’
‘It still won’t earn enough,’ Millie insisted.
‘Have you seen what people charge for that stuff?’ Dylan put in. ‘I’m sure you could turn a profit from some old bits of weed found in your garden.’
‘I don’t think it’s as simple as that,’ Millie laughed, in spite of herself.
‘What about internet sales too?’ Jasmine offered. ‘I sell my stuff on my own website, but also on eBay, Amazon Marketplace, Etsy – there are loads of outlets.’
Spencer raised his hand. ‘Is this as well as the crowdfunding and calling in favours from villagers?’
‘I don’t see why not,’ Jasmine said. ‘Every avenue should be explored.’
‘Only,’ Spencer continued, ‘that’s an awful lot of balls to juggle for Millie.’
Millie shot him a look somewhere between gratitude and annoyance. While she was grateful for Jasmine’s enthusiasm, she couldn’t help the foreboding now creeping over her that this venture was going to end badly. Spencer’s well-intentioned argument might have seemed misguided, but it could get her out of a potentially sticky situation.
‘I think it’s perfect,’ Dylan offered.
Jasmine beamed at him. ‘Of course it is,’ she replied airily. ‘It was my idea, after all…’
6
Millie sat on the cool floor of the bakery in the chalk circle she had drawn for herself. It wasn’t that she was in danger, but she was feeling vulnerable. As she sat surrounded by candles, their golden light flickering on her anxious features, the circle made her feel safe.
How was it that she had agreed in the end to Jasmine’s plans? Jasmine had once said that Dylan was the sibling with the gift of the gab, but now Millie wasn’t so sure. Whatever had happened, they had parted company at the doors of the pub, Jasmine a little flushed from her afternoon tipple and in something of a rush as she and Rich realised that the triplets were overdue to be picked up from their playdate at the house of school friends, with promises to start work on their new schemes the following day. Dylan was overseeing the online campaign, while Spencer and Rich would use their connections in the village to see what help they could source, leaving Jasmine and Millie to formulate a business strategy that would enable them to work successfully together. Working with Jasmine was the one aspect of the whole thing that Millie was really looking forward to. Already, ideas for new products were bouncing around her head. The first thing she had done when she got back to the bakery was to search her boxes for the books that contained all the knowledge she would need to make them.
Open in front of her now was one such book. But although she was diligently trying to read the page that explained how to recognise and use various British hedgerow plants in skin ointments, all that filled her mind was the dread of getting too close, of ruining more lives as she had done before. She really liked Jasmine and her family and friends, saw in her someone who could be a confidante and friend for life. But that made the fear greater still; it was an irrational fear, she knew that, and they said that lightning never struck twice, but it was hard to shake when letting people get too close had been so catastrophic before.
Jasmine woke early the next morning. The sun broke in through a gap in the curtains, throwing a slice of yellow light across Rich’s sleeping form. The day looked as if it was going to be as hot as the ones that had gone before. There had been drought warnings over the last couple of days, but no one took them seriously – after all, weren’t there drought warnings every summer? This time, Jasmine mused as she swung herself out of bed, if they didn’t have rain soon, the warnings might not be so empty.
It wasn’t until she was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of green tea that she thought to look at the clock. It had just gone five thirty. She raised her eyebrows, inwardly chiding herself for wasting another precious Sunday lie-in. It was always the same, whenever the excitement of a new adventure gripped her. Because that was what her plans with Millie represented – an adventure – and Jasmine secretly couldn’t wait to throw herself into it.
Her pencil tapped against the blank page of a notepad as she mulled over some ideas. She lifted her eyes to the kitchen window to gaze on the bright morning outside. What were the most important considerations of partnering with Millie? How would they organise themselves? Would they get along as business partners? Jasmine doodled on the paper, little balloons of thought that she connected with a scrawling mass of pencil lines. It was the way she thought best, through pictures and form rather than long, dry lists. There would be a list eventually, but for now it was all about inspiration.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Rich shuffling through the kitchen door, rubbing his eyes.
‘What’s wrong?’
Jasmine shrugged slightly. ‘I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep. Nothing to worry about.’ She cast an appraising eye over him as he yawned and dragged a hand through his messy hair. ‘You should go back to bed.’
‘Nah…’ Rich smiled as he dropped into a chair. ‘Sleep is for wimps.’ He stretched into an exaggerated yawn. ‘They say dawn is a good time of day to be inspired.’
‘You won’t agree with that come three o’clock this afternoon when you’re falling asleep at your keyboard.’
‘Very likely.’ Rich peered at his wife’s cup with a frown. ‘No coffee on?’
‘I just fancied something a bit fresher.’
‘I suppose I’ll have to make my own pot then.’
‘I’m sure you can manage – you are such a clever boy, after all.’
Rich smirked as he got up to fill the kettle. ‘So what woke you?’ he asked as he ran the tap.
‘This and that. Mostly that.’
‘That being Millie?’ Rich raised a questioning eyebrow.
‘That obvious?’
‘You’re forgetting how well I know you, Jasmine Green. I knew you when you were Jasmine Smith and you haven’t changed a bit. I know how excitable you get at the merest whiff of a new adventure.’
Jasmine laughed lightly. ‘Ok!’ She held her hands up. ‘You got me!’
‘I just…’ Rich turned to her and leaned against the sink. His expression became serious and he seemed to be weighing his words carefully. ‘I just want you to be careful.’
Jasmine took a sip of her tea and frowned.
‘I know you like Millie. But she’s only just arrived in Honeybourne and you hardly know her.’
‘I know enough.’
‘There you go!’ Rich rubbed a hand across his stubbled chin. ‘I love you for your willingness to see the good in everyone you meet, but…’
‘What?’
‘It’s not important.’
‘What?’ Jasmine’s voice rose,
but then she glanced at the doorway and lowered it again. ‘You might as well tell me now, because it’s obviously bothering you.’
Rich swallowed. ‘We don’t know anything about the woman. We don’t know where she’s from, what she did before she moved here – I mean, we don’t even really know why she moved here—’
‘To reopen the bakery, of course.’
‘But that’s not it, is it? Not really. The fact that this bakery was available at just the right moment might have brought her to this village out of a hundred others like it, but that’s not the reason she ran away from her old life.’
‘Ran away? That’s a ridiculous thing to say.’
‘I’m sorry, Jas, but everything about her says to me that she’s running from something. For a start, who buys a building that they’ve never even visited without at least getting a survey of some sort? That’s someone panicking. Which means she’s either done something really bad, or someone is out to get her, or both.’
Jasmine folded her arms tight. ‘Wow,’ she said coldly, ‘your capacity for instant psychological profiling is truly astonishing, Sherlock.’
‘Scoff all you want,’ Rich fired back, his hackles rising now, ‘but I know I’m right this time.’
‘You know nothing about her.’
‘And neither do you, but it hasn’t stopped you making judgements.’
‘I’m not the one passing judgements!’
‘But you have made a snap decision to trust her… with your livelihood, no less.’
Jasmine forced a short laugh. ‘It’s hardly my livelihood. She’s going to sell a few perfumes on a stall with me.’
Rich stared at her for a moment. ‘But it won’t end there, will it? You’ll get the bug and then there’ll be no stopping you until she’s fully embedded into our lives.’
‘Bug?’
Rich’s tone softened. ‘That bit of you – that wonderful, beautiful bit of you – that compels you to help every lost cause, take in every waif and stray, that makes you want to save everyone you think needs it…’
‘You knew what you were getting when you asked me to marry you.’
‘I’m not saying it’s a bad quality. But sometimes you need to step back and really examine the whole picture before you commit to helping someone.’
‘Well, I can’t do that now. I’ve already told Millie that we’ll help and I can’t go back on my word when she so clearly needs friends around her. The poor woman is all alone here.’
‘That was her choice.’
‘And that means she should suffer?’
‘I didn’t say that. But she knew what she was doing when she moved to a new village alone.’
‘Maybe she didn’t. Maybe she didn’t quite realise how hard it would be. You’ve never made a mistake?’
‘Not one that stupid, no.’
‘Argh! What the hell is wrong with you? It’s not like you to be this judgmental!’
‘I just don’t have time for idiots.’
‘You could have said as much over lunch in the pub. It would have saved me this argument now.’
‘That would have been a great idea. You’d have loved me questioning Millie in front of everyone. Don’t be so ridiculous. How could I have said anything there? You never give anyone a chance to express an opinion anyway.’
‘You were fine about helping Millie when we talked about it in the garden with Dylan.’
Rich ground his teeth. ‘That was then.’
‘What’s changed your mind?’
‘I’m too bloody busy trying to make money for this family, that’s what’s changed my mind.’
‘And I’m not?’ Jasmine shot him a challenging stare. She had made a promise to Millie, and she never went back on a promise. ‘If I have to do this thing alone, then I will. But I’d rather have you with me.’
Rich sighed. ‘I’m not going to sway you one bit on this?’
Jasmine folded her arms and shook her head. ‘No, you’re not.’
He made a move towards her but then stopped, letting his arms fall back down by his sides.
‘Just be careful how deep you get,’ he said quietly. ‘That’s all I ask.’
Jasmine pulled her denim jacket tighter as the wind roared across Salisbury Plain.
‘No matter how hot it is anywhere else, it’s always ruddy freezing up here.’
Millie laughed as she hugged herself. ‘I know what you mean. I never thought about bringing a jacket because it was so hot at home.’
‘It’s a wonder the druids didn’t have permanent hypothermia wearing those big dresses.’
Millie laughed harder, despite the chill that made her shiver. But then she stopped and stared, awestruck, as the path curved and ahead of them on the plain rose the majestic grey pillars of Stonehenge against the cornflower sky. ‘It never fails to make me feel strange, seeing them standing there all tall and mysterious, no matter how many times I see them,’ she murmured.
There was a chorus of ‘whoa’ and ‘amazing’ and sharp intakes of breath from the small group of children surrounding them.
‘It looks as though it’s having the same effect on the kids,’ Jasmine smiled.
Spencer bounded to the front of the group and faced them with an enthusiastic grin. But he wiped it from his face as he addressed them.
‘Ok… We have rules and I need you to listen up before we go on. If we stick to the rules, nobody goes wrong, nobody gets in trouble and everyone has a nice day.’ He glanced around, his stern-but-not-really gaze resting on every child’s face for a fraction of a second. ‘Everyone ok with that? Because anyone who isn’t can go and sit on the bus now and save me a job later.’
‘Ooh, get Mr Stricty-Pants Johns,’ Jasmine whispered to Millie with a giggle. ‘I’m almost tempted to go and sit on the bus myself, just in case I’m naughty by accident.’
Millie stifled a giggle of her own. Some of the children nodded; some replied, ‘Yes, Mr Johns.’
‘We are representing Honeybourne School,’ Spencer continued, ‘and we want people to think it’s a good school full of good children. So we don’t shout, we’re not rude, we don’t race about like idiots, and we don’t drop litter. We don’t touch the stones either…’ A slightly playful smirk crept across his face. ‘They’ve been standing here for thousands of years. It would be just my luck for a couple of my year fours to wrestle against one and topple the whole lot over.’
Some of the children dared a self-conscious laugh, but most of them looked at their teacher blankly.
‘Ok then…’ Spencer turned towards the path again, ‘follow me and we’ll go and see what our ancestors got up to in their spare time.’
The group followed as Spencer led with leggy strides, some of the children almost jogging to keep up. As they approached the stone circle, Spencer stopped and halted the group. He hopped from foot to foot lightly like a boxer getting ready for a sparring match – every inch of him seemed to be full of nervous energy.
‘Now, who can tell me anything about where the stones came from?’
Instantly, hands shot up in the group. Spencer pointed at a blonde girl. ‘Grace?’
‘Was it cavemen?’
‘It has been here for a long time,’ Spencer replied patiently, ‘but although that’s a good answer it’s not right. I’m looking for people not quite so far in our past.’
Hands shot up again.
‘Reuben…’ Spencer said, glancing for the briefest moment in Jasmine’s direction. Millie caught the strange, forlorn expression that was there and gone again in the same instant. Had she imagined it?
‘Merlin put them here,’ Reuben said, puffing his chest out, certain that his answer would be right.
‘Well… that is one legend around the stones. Some say Merlin moved them here from Ireland by magic. It’s one of many ideas over the years about the stones and how they got here.’
Reuben’s face fell.
‘It’s not a wrong answer, Reuben,’ Spencer said kindly. ‘Just n
ot the one I’m looking for.’
‘Bless,’ Jasmine whispered to Millie. ‘We’ve been reading legends of King Arthur together before bed. I think I need to explain to Reuben that it’s not real.’
‘I think it’s a brilliant answer,’ Millie said with sudden belligerence. ‘There’s nothing wrong with a mythical explanation for something. It’s not your son’s fault that the rest of the world is too short-sighted to see anything other than cold, hard logic as a reason for everything that happens.’
Jasmine stared at Millie, who simply fell silent and turned her attention to Spencer again, gazing at him as though her very existence depended on his next sentence.
‘When we get closer, I have some information that we’ll discuss, which might help us to uncover the mystery a bit more. We’ll go around the circle and look at every stone in turn. Each stone has a story…’ He stared at a dark-haired boy who had nudged his friend and laughed. ‘It might sound boring to you, Tom, but each stone did have a special meaning for the people who put them here. And we’re going to talk about that and what it means to us, even in today’s society.’
The boy stopped grinning and tried to look repentant as Spencer continued.
‘So, we’ll continue up to the path around the stones. When we get there, don’t go beyond the barrier keeping them safe!’
He began to walk again and the group trekked after him. Jasmine kept a close eye out for stragglers as they followed, while Millie was mesmerised by the circle that grew closer with every step. She’d always felt a deep connection to the spiritual side of life, and it was a part of her that defied explanation, though it was there all the same. Whenever she was faced with a sight like this, it overwhelmed her.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a tug on her sleeve. She looked down to see that Rebecca was gazing up at her. ‘Can I walk with you, Miss?’
Millie was a little taken aback by the request. She glanced up at Jasmine, who simply smiled. ‘Of course, but you don’t have to call me Miss.’
The Little Village Bakery: A feel good romantic comedy with plenty of cake (Honeybourne Book 1) Page 7