The Little Village Bakery: A feel good romantic comedy with plenty of cake (Honeybourne Book 1)

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘Is it bad?’

  ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’ She let out a sigh. ‘I just wish he’d talk to me about it. This is Rich all over – brilliant company when things are good, but unable to let anyone in when he’s feeling low.’

  ‘I suppose he wants to spare you.’

  Jasmine let out a mirthless laugh. ‘I don’t call this sparing me. You can’t say two words to him at the moment without a look that could fry you on the spot. I’d take half his problems any day to avoid that. We’re supposed to be in this together, that’s what marriage is about.’

  ‘He’ll snap out of it once he gets his mojo back.’

  ‘God, I hope so. I just hope composer’s block is all that’s bothering him and it’s nothing more serious.’

  ‘Don’t you take any shit from that man.’ Dylan sipped his glass of beer. ‘You’re far too good for him and he knows it.’

  Jasmine fired a sideways look at her brother, but his expression betrayed not a hint of irony. ‘I think that’s the first time you’ve ever actually paid me a compliment,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t get used to it.’ He flashed a quick grin.

  ‘How are the renovations going?’ Jasmine asked. She was more tired from Rich’s recent frustrated moods than she cared to admit and suddenly felt the need to talk about something completely unconnected.

  ‘Really well. This time next week I reckon Millie will be able to make her next batch of pies for Doug in her own ovens.’

  ‘Seriously? That’s amazing!’

  ‘I mean, she won’t be anywhere near ready for business, but the kitchen should be plastered and the mains gas and electricity for it should be good to go. She keeps harping on about food standards inspectors and stuff, saying she can’t bake in there until she’s got her certificate, but the way I see it, she’s not actually trading yet, she’s just donating the food in return for favours, so I don’t see how she can get into trouble.’

  ‘She wants to do everything right,’ Jasmine replied sagely. ‘I can’t say that’s a bad thing. And she has put up with you for an entire week without throwing anything at your head… Things must be going well.’

  Dylan laughed. ‘We’ve got on better than I could have imagined.’

  They were quiet for a minute or two, only the sounds of squealing from the swings and birds in the outlying woods punctuating the silence. Jasmine waited for him to say something else, but his look had become distant as he gazed across the garden and out to the fields that bordered it.

  Jasmine finally broke the hush. ‘You do like her, don’t you?’

  ‘It’s crazy, but…’ He shook himself and grinned. ‘She’s a good laugh. Pretty fit too.’

  Jasmine sighed. It was as close to an admission of love as she was going to get from him. And it was more than she had ever heard from him about any woman before. ‘Pretty fit? She’s absolutely beautiful.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said with obvious longing in his voice. ‘Out of my league.’

  ‘Not if you’re deserving of her. It’s what’s inside that counts.’

  ‘Cliché alert…’ Dylan turned to her with a mocking grin.

  ‘Shut up. You know what I mean. If you like her, don’t mess it up by being a dick.’

  ‘How could you say that about your baby brother?’

  ‘Because I know him very well, that’s how.’

  ‘You adore me really.’

  ‘Sadly, that’s true. But it doesn’t mean that you’re not a dick sometimes.’

  ‘Aren’t all men?’

  Jasmine’s gaze travelled to the house, where she imagined her husband working feverishly in a dim, locked room. ‘Sometimes. These days quite a lot.’ She turned her attention back to Dylan. ‘I wondered if Millie would call tonight. We were supposed to be making plans for a craft fair in Lymington next week.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s getting a bit late for her now though.’

  ‘It’s only just gone nine,’ Dylan said, checking his own. ‘There’s still time. Unless she’s still with that woman who turned up today.’

  ‘What woman?’

  He shrugged. ‘Someone named Rowena. Said she was a friend of Millie’s from way back.’

  ‘Millie’s never mentioned her to me.’

  ‘Millie never mentions anything from her past,’ Dylan reminded her.

  ‘True… So what was this Rowena like? Let’s see if we can figure out whether Millie is an ex-KGB spy.’

  ‘To be honest, if I turned up on someone’s doorstep and made them look that pissed off I wouldn’t bother going back.’

  ‘Millie didn’t seem pleased to see her?’

  ‘Quite the opposite. And Rowena… Well, I can’t say I cared that much for her. She was creepy.’

  ‘Really?’ Jasmine’s expression was thoughtful as she watched the triplets, who were now playing some elaborate, made-up game of what looked like swing tag. ‘No wonder Millie hasn’t mentioned her before. I wonder what she wanted.’

  ‘I don’t know but her timing was lousy.’

  Jasmine shot him a sideways look. ‘I bet you were even less pleased to see her then.’

  ‘I can’t say I was that chuffed about it. I had to take a very cold shower when I got home.’

  ‘So, you really might be an item, you two?’

  ‘I think we could be getting there.’

  ‘And you mean what you say about not messing her around?’

  ‘Scout’s honour.’

  Jasmine smiled. ‘She’d make a fabulous sister-in-law.’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Dylan spluttered. ‘Steady on!’

  Jasmine erupted into a fit of giggles. ‘Oh my God, you’re so easy to wind up!’

  ‘Well bloody stop it. You want me to have a heart attack?’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. I’m glad if you like her and she likes you and you’re getting it together. I like her a lot myself and it would be great for us all to be able to spend time together. Just make sure this one lasts longer than a week, eh?’

  Millie paced the stone floor of the front shop. Her gaze went to the window for the fourth time that minute. Every time she expected to see Rowena’s mocking face at the window. The shadows on the bakery floor told her that the sun was setting. She had promised to see Jasmine this evening, but somehow she couldn’t seem to make herself venture out.

  What was Rowena planning? Millie had spent the rest of the day obsessing over it, all thoughts of her glorious moments with Dylan banished to make way for unease and fear. Rowena hadn’t tracked her all this way to leave her alone now that she had found her. Millie had run from her once and she wasn’t sure she had the strength to do it again – let alone the finances, now that she had sunk everything she had into the pile of dust and bricks that currently surrounded her. She could draw all the protective circles she wanted around herself, but she couldn’t stop Rowena’s acid tongue working its way through her friends and neighbours. The idea was terrifying. Rowena had the cunning, the vindictive streak and the power to destroy Millie’s life and it seemed like she had every intention to do just that. Even when they were friends, Millie had been a little afraid of Michael’s sister; she always had a slightly unhinged side to her that made Millie wonder about how far she would go for revenge if someone crossed her. It looked as though Millie was about to find out.

  There was a gentle knock and Millie’s heart raced before Dylan’s voice came through the letterbox. ‘Millie, are you there?’

  Heaving a sigh of relief, Millie opened the door a crack. Dylan seemed to do a double take. She guessed she looked as pale and strained as she felt, but couldn’t bring herself to care.

  ‘We were worried…’ Dylan said. ‘I mean, Jasmine was worried. You told her you would go over.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t feel well. Would you apologise to her for me?’

  ‘I don’t think she needs an apology. She just wanted to know you were ok.’

  ‘I’m fine, just a little under the weather. I’ll text her to apologise
.’

  ‘Anything I can do?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  There was a pause. ‘Want me to come in?’

  ‘No.’

  Another pause. Dylan looked at his boot as he scuffed it on the old brickwork like a child being told off. ‘Shall I come over tomorrow? I can finish work on the beams and maybe we can get the rest of that beer?’

  Millie shook her head. It was taking all her strength not to cry. She knew what she had to do. Rowena would stamp out any relationship that showed the tiniest promise of love, and her methods would be cruel. Millie had to stop anything with Dylan before Rowena got wind of it. In the end, it was the kindest thing to do, for Dylan’s sake, at least.

  ‘I think we should keep things on a professional level from now on. I don’t think you should do any more work for me until I can pay you properly.’

  Dylan’s mouth fell open. ‘I don’t understand…’

  ‘I’m sorry. But I think it’s for the best.’

  He looked hurt and it was a knife to Millie’s heart. She had to stay strong, though. ‘But today… I thought we had something… I really like you. I thought—’

  ‘It was a silly mistake,’ Millie cut in. ‘I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.’

  His expression darkened. ‘It did that alright. I’m sorry I thought otherwise.’

  And before she had a chance to reply, he had stalked off. Millie watched him go through his garden gate and disappear behind the hedge, her throat tightening. But there was no point in crying. It had to be this way.

  12

  Night had turned into day and Millie had been awake to witness it all. She had turned over every possibility, every solution to her problem, but short of hiring a hitman to take out Rowena (and that would use up valuable plastering money) she couldn’t seem to make anything fit. One thing was certain: when Rowena came knocking again, which she would, Millie didn’t want to be around to answer it. She dressed early and took a walk through the fields that bordered the village as the first light of dawn skimmed the treetops, savouring the dewy chill in the air that would soon burn away and trying to clear her head and calm her thoughts. She couldn’t be away from home all the time, but she could make it as difficult as possible for Rowena to find her. She wondered if she ought to go and apologise to Jasmine for not showing up the night before, and not even texting as she had promised Dylan she would. But she needed to keep Rowena away from the people she cared about, and if that meant cutting herself off from Jasmine for a while then that was what she would have to do. At least until she’d figured out a way to make Rowena see sense and forget whatever insane plan she was cooking up.

  Feeling fresher after her morning walk, Millie returned to the old bakery and collected some of the equipment she’d need to work at the pub. The plan had been to bake pies there for the lunchtime trade. The rest of what she needed she hoped they would have, otherwise it meant a trip into a larger town to buy it before she could start any cooking. She didn’t really mind that either, any excuse to be missing for a while was fine with her, but the landlord might not be so happy with the delay. She had left the ingredients in Doug’s large fridges the previous afternoon.

  When Millie arrived at the Dog and Hare she found that Doug had gone to a farmer’s market in a neighbouring village. His wife, Colleen, was already busy in the kitchen preparing vegetables, but she assured Millie that the kitchen was plenty big enough for them both and she was more than happy to have the company. As Millie gratefully dragged her own equipment in, feeling a frisson of excitement as she gazed around at the vast steel landscape of top equipment at her disposal instead of the dismal excuse for a kitchen that she had at the bakery, she couldn’t help but note that Colleen didn’t quite look herself. Whenever they’d bumped into each other before, Millie had thought that for a woman she guessed to be in her early fifties, Colleen looked youthful and glamorous. She was more reserved and thoughtful than her gregarious husband, but had a more genuine warmth to her that made Millie like her all the more. Today, Colleen’s make-up looked hastily applied over swollen eyes. Her clothes were obviously designer and as tasteful as always, but something about the way they had been thrown on didn’t seem quite right, as though Colleen hadn’t cared which top she teamed with which skirt. As they worked, mostly in silence apart from the humming of a radio in the background and the odd comment about the weather, or the state of the pub trade, Millie began to find these incongruous details about Colleen more and more distracting. She had troubles of her own, more than enough to go around, but Millie hated to see anyone else suffer. Other people’s troubles had a way of making hers melt into the background.

  Eventually, Millie could stand it no more. Even though she knew she might open up a whole Pandora’s Box of problems, she had to ask. ‘Is everything alright with you?’

  Colleen stopped dicing a carrot and looked up. Her bottom lip trembled.

  ‘Ignore me,’ Millie said, immediately regretting her question. ‘I’m always putting my foot in it and sticking my nose in where I shouldn’t.’ She had clearly tipped Colleen over the edge by asking and wondered now whether she had done more harm than good.

  ‘No…’ Colleen said, taking a deep breath and running a delicate finger beneath each eye. ‘I’ve always thought you seem a kind soul, and I know it now. Please don’t feel bad.’

  Millie nodded silently, waiting for more. But Colleen went back to chopping her vegetables. After a moment, Millie returned to poring over a dog-eared recipe book.

  ‘People used to say I was good looking,’ Colleen started to explain, hesitantly.

  Millie gave an encouraging smile. ‘You are. You always look lovely when I see you.’

  Colleen waved a dismissive hand in front of her face. ‘It’s all make-up now. The foundation gets thicker every year, the figure that bit harder to maintain. I’m not good looking anymore, just well preserved.’

  ‘Beauty is about more than looks. You’re beautiful on the inside and that shines through. And every new line is merely a record of each wonderful experience you’ve had in your life.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say. You’re still young and gorgeous.’ She sniffed. ‘I’ve seen the way all the men around here look at you, including my Doug… Like slobbering dogs watching their dinner put out.’

  Millie’s eyes widened.

  ‘Sorry, sorry,’ Colleen said quickly. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m not surprised they stare at you and I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m not myself today, ignore anything I say.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  ‘No…’ Colleen sighed. ‘Yes. I suppose I do.’

  Millie closed the recipe book and leaned against the worktop. ‘I’m all ears.’

  ‘I’m going to get a brandy and lemonade first. Doug can moan about his precious stock because I’m going to drink it dry this afternoon. Care to join me?’

  Millie nodded. A bit of brain-cell obliteration seemed like an appealing prospect for her too; it would certainly take her mind off her own woes. She watched, deep in thought, as Colleen disappeared to the bar to get their drinks.

  So, it seemed Doug was at the heart of Colleen’s distress. It was obvious, when she thought about it. Part of her wondered whether it was wise to get involved in a marital spat, but the other part of her knew that she couldn’t stand by whilst someone as lovely as Colleen was so upset. The least she could do was listen while she got it all off her chest.

  Colleen returned with two tall glasses, topped up with ice. ‘Doubles,’ she smiled, handing one to Millie. ‘Cheers.’

  Millie took a sip. It was still early but she was surprised how good a tall brandy and lemonade tasted at this time of the morning. Perhaps in her own fragile state she needed the warming, friendly alcohol as much as Colleen obviously did. Whatever the reason, it didn’t seem half as wrong as it ought to.

  ‘Doug told me last night that he didn’t love me. Just said it out of the blue after we’d locked up.
’ Colleen’s lip quivered again and she knocked back another swig of brandy to quell it. ‘He said he didn’t find me attractive anymore. We’re old, you know, but I thought married couples were supposed to accept that they’d grow old together and love one another for what’s in their hearts, not what their skin looks like.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Millie said. ‘That’s how I think it should be too. Does he think time has stood still for him while it’s marched on for you?’

  Colleen let out a mirthless laugh. ‘That’s a very good point. I don’t know. I asked him if he was having an affair and he said no. I asked if he wanted to have an affair and he said no to that too. He just doesn’t love me and that’s that.’

  ‘Maybe he’s in a rut and he’s mistaking that for something else. Maybe he just can’t see that he still loves you because you’re always here, running the pub, and you never get time for each other.’

  Colleen nodded. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘So, what’s going to happen now?’

  ‘He wants to put the pub on the market. We’ll sell it and go our separate ways.’

  Millie’s eyes widened. ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘He must have been feeling it for months and never said a word…’ Colleen sniffed. ‘I feel like such an idiot. Did it look obvious to everyone else that he wasn’t happy?’

  ‘Not one bit. You’re not an idiot. How could you know if he doesn’t tell you what’s in his heart? If he had said something at the beginning then perhaps you could both have worked on the marriage.’

  ‘Do you think it’s too late for that now?’

  ‘Do you? You know him better than me.’

  ‘I only know I love him dearly. I can’t let him go, not without a fight.’

  Millie paused, staring into the depths of her drink. A flashback came to her, like a slap in the face, of a moment in her own past. Hours later Michael was dead. She paled at the memory, the ice in her glass clinking against the sides as the tremors hit. Placing the glass on the worktop, she took a deep breath and looked up at Colleen, who seemed not to have noticed that anything was amiss.