Page 23 of Tricks & Treats at The Cosy Cornish Bakery

‘Oh yeah.’ Chloe nodded earnestly. ‘We all thought you were so cool. You might have been terrified of talking to us, but I remember being too overawed to even approach you.’

He gave a belly laugh. ‘It’s extraordinary how others see us, compared to how we see ourselves. I’m glad we’re able to talk to each other now.’

Chloe met his smile. ‘So am I.’

‘And how are you getting on with Dulcie?’

‘Do you have to spoil a perfectly nice evening?’

He shook his head, smiling. ‘I really don’t understand why you don’t get on with your family. They all seem pleasant enough to me. Dulcie gets on well with my mother. They’re good mates.’

‘Let’s just say I’m very different to my family.’

He gave her an intense look. ‘Are you? Strange, I think you’re very similar.’

‘Similar?’ Chloe exploded. ‘In what way?’

‘Perceptive. Direct. You always say what you think.’ He paused, screwing his face up. ‘A little spiky, maybe?’ he added, hesitantly.

‘I don’t think I’m like that at all,’ Chloe protested, ‘but, as you say, people can be many-layered.’ She met his eyes. Close up they had green flecks. They reminded her of something… a breed of dog. A husky, that was it! Whenever she encountered one, she always had the strangest feeling they could see into her soul. Feeling her face heat, she lowered her gaze to examine a dribble of hardened candle wax on the table in front of her. She began to pick it off absently. So, he had her down as perceptive, always saying what she thought? If I said what I was thinking now, surf boy, think you’d be shocked. She suppressed a smile.

‘Are you discussing the bakery?’ Ginger leaned forward, interrupting. ‘What’s the plan, Chlo?’

Chloe shook herself. She’d enjoyed talking to Nik but was glad to pull herself back to practical matters. Putting the back of her hand to her cheek, she was alarmed to feel the blush. Get a grip, Chloe. Draining her glass, she put it decisively on the table. ‘Think it would make sense to do the painting first. It’s only the café that needs doing. The kitchen and prep area are fine. I’ll have to get some quotes.’

‘No need to do that,’ Nik put in. ‘That’ll take forever. We could get together and do it ourselves.’ He looked at Ginger questioningly. ‘Couldn’t we?’

‘I’m up for it. When?’

Chloe was lost for words momentarily. She couldn’t imagine any of her London friends ever jumping to volunteer like this. ‘I don’t know,’ she floundered. ‘I’ve got to decide on a colour and buy the paint. Sunday is the only day it’s shut all day so–’

‘Sunday it is, then,’ Ginger decided.

Chloe wondered how much Prosecco on top of the mulled cider she’d drunk. ‘Oh, okay.’

‘What’s this about Sunday?’ Josh asked, putting a hand on Ginger’s shoulder and peering over.

‘We’re getting up a posse to paint Chloe’s bakery,’ Ginger explained.

‘Sounds fun. Want some help?’

‘Josh,’ Chloe protested, ‘you couldn’t possibly want to spend a day painting.’

‘Why not? Sounds fun.’

Nik opened the second bottle with a flourish. ‘Always thought,’ he said as he filled their glasses, ‘the more the merrier. Let’s drink to that!’

CHAPTER 13

‘This is fun!’ Ginger sat down behind a table groaning with second-hand books and greeted her fellow salesman. ‘Hi, Pinky. How are you?’ The man was looking ruddy-faced and healthy this morning, in his unofficial uniform of brightly patterned shirt and Bermuda shorts, a cap on top of his wiry, snowy hair. ‘And hello, Demelza.’ The parrot shifted on her owner’s shoulder and glared at Ginger from one beady eye. She was beautiful but Ginger didn’t entirely trust her; the curved dark beak looked lethal.

‘Morning, Ginger. I’m doing all right, maid. Good turnout. Lucky we got ourselves a bit o’sun.’

‘GOOD MORNIN’, VIETNAM!’ Demelza bellowed and fluffed out her grey feathers.

Ginger jumped and Pinky laughed. ‘We was watching that last night, weren’t we, girl? Good film.’

Demelza shoved her beak into the man’s collar in agreement, and Ginger thanked her lucky stars the parrot hadn’t said anything rude. There were children about; Demelza’s vocabulary was extensive, specialising in imaginative insults. She sipped ginger and lemon tea from her flask and watched the scene in front of her unfold. The village held its autumn book fair every September. On Ticky Tacky Green in front of The Smugglers Inn, people were erecting trestle tables, setting out their stalls, and having a chat in the early morning sunshine while gathering round the patio heaters. It was a popular annual event marking the beginning of autumn when the villagers claimed Wheal Kitty Cove back for themselves after the tourist season. Orange and white bunting fluttered around, and each table bore several pumpkins and gourds donated by Tregollen Farm to be raffled off. Straw bales were heaped around for people to sit on. It was a bright, breezy day but not quite warm enough yet, and Ginger shivered more deeply into her fleece. She pulled her crocheted beret further down over her ears.