Page 32 of Tricks & Treats at The Cosy Cornish Bakery

Dulcie bustled through, red-faced, and put a bowl of salad on the table. ‘There’ll be lovely buttery garlicky bread, too. Can’t have spag bol without. Gone cold out there tonight. Winter drawers on.’ She winked at Hannah.

‘Winter drawers on!’ they chorused.

‘You’ve gone to a lot of trouble, Mum,’ Chloe said, ignoring the in-joke. She eyed her sister and was certain she hadn’t lifted a finger towards the meal.

Dulcie beamed. ‘Nice having my girls here and the kiddies. Shame Tyler couldn’t make it.’

‘He’s doing a taxi shift, Mum. He’s picking me up later,’ Hannah said. ‘Put a portion in a Tupperware, will you? Save him cooking when he gets home.’

‘No problemo.’

‘Can I do anything to help, Mum?’ Chloe asked.

‘Oh no, you sit there and enjoy your wine.’ Dulcie flapped a hand. ‘Have a catch up with Hannah.’ She trundled back into the kitchen, heaving herself up the step, humming ‘Jean Genie’.

Chloe sat, paralysed. She had nothing whatsoever in common with her sister and, as far as she was concerned, blood was most definitely not thicker. Had it been Ginger sitting here, they would have been chatting non-stop. Eventually she fell back to asking about the children. ‘Maddy and Isaak doing okay at school?’

‘Suppose.’ Hannah shrugged. ‘Parents’ evening coming up. Not sure we’ll bother going, though.’

‘Aren’t you curious about how they’re doing?’

‘I know Isaak’s good at football and Maddy likes reading. Don’t need to know anything more.’

‘What about schools?’ In London the few acquaintances she had who were parents were obsessed with getting their offspring into the best school.

‘Maddy’ll go to Polveanan High next year. Didn’t do us any harm, did it? And Isaak’s only eight. Long time before he moves on.’ Hannah refilled her glass. She was in a strange, brittle mood. ‘You definitely taking over the bakery, then?’

‘Only temporarily. Going to see it through its rebrand–’

‘Rebrand,’ Hannah interrupted, scoffing.

Chloe ignored her. ‘And get a manager in. Then I’ll return to London.’

Hannah stared. ‘Does Mum know about this?’

‘Not yet. I’ve only just decided. But she’s aware I’ll go back to London at some point.’

‘Might be an idea to tell her then, about this rebrand and manager malarkey. That place means the world to her.’

‘No, it doesn’t. It was Dad’s baby. It came down to him through his side of the family. It used to cause them all sorts of arguments. Mum could never cope with the amount of time he had to spend there. That’s why they employed Pammy. You’re too young to remember them fighting over it.’

Hannah swallowed more wine. ‘Yeah and much good it did Dad working all hours. Got him a heart attack and an early death, didn’t it?’ She pointed her glass. ‘You’re just like him. Perfectionist. Nothing’s bloody good enough. Still think you should stay and take it on permanently, mind.’

‘Or you could, if it means so much to you?’

Hannah snorted. ‘I’ve got a job.’

‘A part-time one.’

‘And two children. And a husband who works shifts.’

‘You could both take it on. Give up your jobs and really make something of the place. It’s got loads of potential. You’d have to do a few courses, though.’

‘You and your big ideas and your learning stuff. You know I’ve never been one for exams.’

‘Only because you could never be bothered. And you’re bringing up your children the same way. The world doesn’t owe anyone a favour, Hannah. You have to prove yourself by getting some qualifications. Work hard. Get somewhere. Don’t you want better for Maddy and Isaak?’ Chloe knew she’d gone too far but there was something about her sister’s complacency that infuriated her. How could she be happy with so little? ‘There’s a big world out there. Don’t you want your children to see it?’

Hannah leaned forward, her eyes glinting. ‘You want to spend your life grafting like Dad? You do it and jump into that grave, they’ll have one ready for you at St Petroc’s. I’ve seen the world, Chloe. Went to Tenerife once. Don’t beat Cornwall.’ Her voice lowered dangerously. ‘And don’t you dare criticise my children,’ she hissed. ‘Leave them out of it.’