Page 65 of Tricks & Treats at The Cosy Cornish Bakery

‘I don’t understand,’ he said helplessly.

‘No, that’s the trouble, you never do!’ Chloe surged to her feet. She went to leave but was prevented by a mass of people coming into the bar from the lounge. She sat back down again. ‘Shit. What now?’

‘It’s the announcement of the competition winners.’

‘Is that what gets this village excited?’ Chloe knew she was behaving appallingly but the mix of alcohol along with her anger was too much for her to control herself. She knew Nik didn’t deserve to be the victim of her rage, but he was there and the embodiment of all the men who had let her and Ginger down. He was Ryan, Jasper and Josh all rolled into one. Even Ziggy messed her about. ‘Hasn’t anyone got anywhere else to be tonight? Is this what passes as culture in this godforsaken shithole? Fuck. I can’t wait to get out.’ Aware Nik was staring at her open-mouthed she subsided back onto her seat and accepted any escape was temporarily thwarted. She listened to the announcements, keeping a surly back to the bar where Liam stood with a microphone.

‘Great to see so many of you in here tonight,’ he began. ‘I know you’re all panting to know the winners of the competitions but first I need to do some thank-yous…’

Chloe zoned out as Liam pontificated on. She stared at her empty glass, too embarrassed to meet Nik’s eyes, wishing she hadn’t finished her wine.

‘…and the winner of the pumpkin carving competition is Lara Purkiss. Think we can all agree the depiction of the tree of life is pretty brilliant. Lara’s only nine and her mum and dad say she did all the carving herself.’

‘Yeah, I bet,’ Chloe muttered. She screwed her eyes shut for a moment trying to drive the cynicism and foul mood away. She opened them again to see a small child go up to collect her cheque and a cup. She had brown pigtails and pink glasses and reminded Chloe of herself. She softened. If Lara was anything like she’d been as a child she probably had carved the entire pumpkin without help. Her parents were always too busy running the bakery to deal with crafts. Lara gave a charming, gap-toothed grin, clambered onto a chair in order to be seen better and made a speech. Nothing like me, then. I wouldn’t have had the confidence to do that.

After the applause had died down, Liam made yet another rambling, pompous speech and then announced, ‘And the winner of the Scarecrow Competition is… Chloe Pengelly of the Pengelly Family Bakery!’

‘Think you’ve won, Chloe.’ Nik nudged her when she didn’t move. ‘Congratulations,’ he said, his voice edged with cool. ‘Looks like this godforsaken shithole has awarded you a prize.’

Someone took Chloe’s arm and dragged her to where Liam stood in front of the bar. He wore a slightly too tight Captain Titan T-shirt and an ear-splitting grin. ‘Ah, the little lady in question. Congratulations to Chloe Pengelly!’

Chloe looked towards where Pinky was propping up the bar. Was he upset at not winning, or had he realised the bakery scarecrow inadvertently resembled him? He looked over, unconcerned, slurped his pint and gave her a thumbs up. She relaxed a little and then jumped a foot as Liam’s arm slid around her waist.

‘See,’ he whispered into her ear, unpleasantly close. ‘Do the right thing in this village and you get places. I put a word in for your entry.’ He sniggered and it revolted her. ‘Look after me and I’ll look after you. It’s how things work round here. Or had you forgotten?’

Chloe squirmed away and, too late, saw Nik banging through the pub door. She went to run after him to apologise for her atrocious behaviour. To explain. But the well-wishers crowded round her. By the time she’d escaped, there was no sign of him and the only sound was of a furious sea, the noise of which surged up and filled Beach Lane.

Once again Nik marched off his anger on the walk back to his flat. ‘This is becoming a habit,’ he mumbled, ‘a bad one. And the commonality is Chloe bloody Pengelly.’

What was her problem? Just when he thought they’d edged closer, were becoming friends and maybe even something else, she released that spiky, vindictive side of her. And this time it had been directed at him. And for what?

Stomping up the steps and throwing open the door, he headed for the kettle. He was English enough to seek the comfort tea brought in a crisis. Shoving the kettle under the tap to fill it, he stared through the kitchen window at the black sea outside. It was wild tonight. Churning and noisy. Usually it soothed him, but tonight the relentlessness got under his skin. Irritated. Made him unsettled and uneasy. Perching on the stool next to the kitchen table he ran his hands through his hair, loosening it from its ponytail. His body felt tight. Aroused. Groaning, he acknowledged his foul mood had nothing to do with the sea and everything to do with Chloe Pengelly. It was useless. Even when she clearly hated him, he had feelings for her.

‘Have some pride, man,’ he muttered. ‘Walk away. She’s clearly not interested. Couldn’t give a toss.’ As the kettle boiled, he glanced at the calendar. One week. One more week before he left for Sweden. Could he avoid Chloe for seven days? Was it even possible to avoid her in a village this small? If it wasn’t, he had no idea how he’d react. The woman was driving him crazy.

One more week before Sweden beckoned. And he had someone there who he knew would welcome him. No questions asked. No mental gymnastics. Without the hot and cold trickery of Chloe. But he sighed, if there was no ice, where was the fire, the passion? Groaning again, he ignored the tea and went in search of something stronger.

CHAPTER 32

‘Don’t know what’s wrong with the old furniture,’ Pammy complained. ‘Got years of use in ’em.’

Chloe shut the café door against the November cold and turned back to her. She drew in a breath and put her hands on her hips, ready for battle. ‘True. But don’t you think the new stuff looks better?’ Against the café’s newly painted yellow walls the simple white chairs and tables looked fresh and inviting. She’d spent the best part of today overseeing the removal of the old furniture and getting the new furniture in place. Another day had been spent at the Town Hall in Polveanan sorting out permissions for the table outside and, while there, she’d looked into planning permission for the awning. A yellow and turquoise striped one she hoped. The place was coming together at last. She’d learned change took time in Wheal Kitty and had had to bite down on her impatience.

‘And don’t know about those daubs on the wall.’ Pammy huffed, put one arm under her bosom and shoved it up disparagingly.

‘The abstract seascapes? I think they’re cheerful. On loan from Tregarrick House. If they’re not popular with the punters–’

Pammy’s bosom rose higher.

‘I mean, customers, they can be returned to the art gallery.’

‘Art gallery my arse. Sell a load of over-priced stuff and nonsense. Only emmets got the money.’

‘Well,’ Chloe began, reining in her irritation in the face of Pammy’s negativity, ‘tourists will form most of our clientele once the new holiday season begins.’

‘Just as well we got the winter to stay quiet and recover.’

‘Just as well.’ Chloe paused and changed tack, remembering Ginger’s advice about catching more flies with honey. ‘You’ve worked so hard in here, Pammy. I really appreciate it.’