The Little Village Bakery: A feel good romantic comedy with plenty of cake (Honeybourne Book 1) (2 page)

‘Hey, it’s emotionally draining!’ Rich put three plastic beakers out onto the worktop. ‘Besides, I have been moving boxes as well.’

‘I think you’ll find we moved most of the boxes.’ Jasmine paused. ‘Perhaps we should have invited her for dinner. I bet she doesn’t have anywhere to cook yet.’

‘Who?’

‘Millie.’

Rich waved his hand vaguely. ‘I’m sure she can get a takeaway and sit on her floor. It’s what everyone else does on their first night in a new place.’

‘Yes, but everyone else isn’t alone in a tumbledown old bakery for their first night in a village where everyone is a stranger.’

‘Don’t you think it would be a tad over-friendly?’

‘Inviting her for dinner?’

‘It’s a bit forward – we only met her today.’

‘That’s never stopped you before.’

Rich stopped pouring juice and looked up at Jasmine. ‘I know… there’s something about her… I don’t know… something I don’t quite trust.’

‘Really?’ Jasmine rifled in a drawer for cutlery. ‘I thought she seemed lovely. It’s not like you to form negative opinions so quickly.’

‘She seemed evasive.’

‘You were being too nosey, that’s why.’

‘It’s my natural friendliness and easy-going charm that you’re confusing with nosiness there.’

‘Have you ever thought that some people might be immune to your easy-going charm?’

‘What!’ Rich grinned. ‘How could you say that? It worked on you.’

Jasmine raised her eyebrows. ‘I think we established a long time ago that I’m not like other people.’

‘That’s true, my sweetness.’ Rich bounded across the kitchen and caught her in his arms again. ‘And that’s why I love you.’

Jasmine giggled as she kissed him. ‘Nutter.’

M
illie sneezed
as she brushed a cobweb away from her hair and gazed around the dreary room. She felt sticky all over from the damp heat blowing through the open window. The sun was beginning to sink now, but the evening was still sultry. No wash-down in the cracked old sink that served as her luxury bathroom yet though, at least not until she had cleaned it, turfed out the huge spider (any creature that big should be paying council tax) and got the water back on. When she had seen the old bakery for sale online, it had seemed like the perfect move for her, but now she didn’t feel so sure. Her judgement wasn’t always sound, at least, not lately. Perhaps she should have come to view the place before she bought it… She looked around the bare walls and cracked ceiling – had the tarot cards got it wrong? This certainly didn’t look like the place for a successful new start. And she hadn’t even dared to look at the ovens that she’d need in order to make a living yet. She let out a huge sigh.

‘I’m here now,’ she announced to the empty room, ‘so I suppose I’ll just have to make the best of it.’

Idly, with the toe of her ballet pump, she traced a circle in the dust of the old tiled floor and then stepped into it. Was Honeybourne somewhere she could be safe? She glanced at the pile of boxes lined up against the wall. She might not be able to locate all the things she needed to settle down for the night, lost as they were in the bottom of various unopened boxes, but she could locate the nearest supermarket, as she had passed it in the van that morning. A bottle of wine with a sandwich felt like a good idea. Grabbing her keys, she headed for the door.

Just as she was locking up, a deep voice hailed her. ‘Evening.’

Millie looked up to see a man, somewhere in his mid-twenties, dressed casually in a pair of loose jeans and grey T-shirt, smiling down at her. He looked familiar, although she couldn’t say why – something in his smile and the natural, fearless warmth of his gaze.

‘I didn’t mean to make you jump,’ he said apologetically. ‘I noticed your van outside earlier and wondered if someone had moved in. I was going to knock, but you beat me to it by coming out. I live just over there, you see…’ He pointed across the green, past a small duck pond. Millie followed his finger to a tiny stone cottage.

‘The little white place?’ she asked.

‘That’s the one.’

‘Just you?’

‘Oh yes. It’s so small I struggle to fit a broom in there with me, let alone other human beings.’

Millie smiled politely but offered no reply.

‘I suppose I should let you get on then…’ the man added awkwardly, clearly sensing Millie’s reluctance to engage in any meaningful conversation.

‘I’m sorry, I’m very tired and I really need to get some food before I pass out.’

‘The supermarket’s miles away. There’s a convenience store a bit closer. Or I could bring you something over to see you through until morning? It’d be no trouble.’

‘I’d rather get my own, if you don’t mind.’

‘Of course…’ He hesitated. ‘Or you could come over… for a welcome drink and a sandwich. I mean, I can’t promise cordon bleu but—’

Millie stopped him with a hand in the air. ‘Really, it’s very kind but I’ve got so much to do here still…’

‘Right, sure. Well, if you need anything, I’m just over there. Don’t worry about disturbing me, just knock any time.’

‘Thanks. I will.’

He gave her a little nod of the head that was almost like an old-fashioned bow. ‘Don’t forget now.’

‘I won’t.’

Without another word, Millie pocketed the bakery keys and walked to the rental van she was still using, sensing the man’s eyes on her back as she went.

Men
. Millie had had quite enough emotional trauma with men to last her a lifetime. Attractive though Mr White Cottage was (and there was no denying that his floppy sandy hair, soft hazel eyes and athletic physique were all very desirable attributes), it was best to steer well clear. Some said that she had brought the misfortune upon herself, but a great deal of heartsease had been employed in mending her last broken heart, and she still wasn’t sure it was fixed completely. That wasn’t a place she wanted to go again.

‘
D
ylan phoned
, by the way, when you were in the bath last night.’ Rich popped his head around the doorway of the workshop the following morning. The day promised to be as hot as the previous one, and already, just after nine, the sun blazed in through the tiny windows of the outhouse.

‘Did he say what he wanted?’ Jasmine asked, looking up from the delicate metal rose she was shaping.

‘Not really. I told him you’d phone him back.’

‘Honestly, he lives three yards away,’ Jasmine muttered as she bent back to her work. ‘He could just come round.’

Rich grinned. ‘That would consume far too much energy.’

‘I know. If that boy took life at a slower pace, he’d be going backwards.’

‘You love him really.’

‘To bits. It’s just that he’s infuriating.’

‘You’d better call him though.’ Rich’s voice trailed off as he went back into the main house. ‘I don’t want him thinking I didn’t tell you. And you’d better have a word about
the thing
as well…’

‘What thing?’ Jasmine called back. She knew what thing, of course, but she was inexplicably irritated by the fact that Rich had brought it up. They’d had a whole hour of discussion over
the thing
only the night before. Her family wasn’t perfect, but there was no need for him to keep rubbing it in. His wasn’t so bloody perfect either. She knew she had to and she fully intended to speak to Dylan about
the thing
in her own time, without being nagged. Not that it would do any good.

When Rich failed to reply, she picked up a tiny pair of pliers, twisting a sliver of metal on her rose with a practised and precise motion. Leaning back, she examined it from a distance for a moment before bending her head back to twist at a second section. She worked for a few moments more, delicately moving bits of the sculpture here and there, until she was satisfied with the way it looked.

‘Right, Mr Lazy Bum,’ she said, putting the piece to one side and checking her watch, ‘let’s go and see what you want this time.’

J
asmine knocked
at the door of the tiny cottage. The sun burned the back of her bare neck as she waited in the doorway, the lazy drone of bees and the perfume of the honeysuckle reaching her from the sprawling climber that wound up the side of the house. If someone wanted an image of the perfect British summer’s day, Jasmine was pretty sure it would look like this. It seemed like a good day to be out visiting, despite all the work that was piling up in her outhouse at home. Perhaps it would be better to tackle it later anyway, when the kids had gone to bed and it was cooler; there had to be some perks to being your own boss.

When she had waited for a few minutes and nobody answered the door, Jasmine knocked again, more forcefully this time. Knowing Dylan, he’d been on some all-night gaming bender and was still in bed, or worse, he might have a random girl in there. It was none of her business, of course, but the idea of that irked her. What gave him the right to live like that? Why couldn’t he grow up and take some responsibility for his life, like the rest of the population had to, instead of behaving like a lazy adolescent? He was her brother, and she loved him dearly, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t angry with him from time to time. She had to be honest, though, and wonder whether it was the not working that bothered her, or the fact that he could easily afford not to work after inheriting his half of their parents’ estate. He was choosing to live like some sad playboy whereas she and Rich had ploughed her half into their respective businesses and now had nothing to show for it apart from long hours to pay the mortgage and keep the kids in shoes.

A familiar voice interrupted her musings and she turned to see Dylan coming up the path from behind her.

‘Bloody hell, is your bed on fire this morning?’ Jasmine called, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun as she watched him approach.

Dylan grinned. ‘If you must know, I was doing my charitable deed for the day.’

‘Now I know there’s something wrong with the world. What was this? Ade ran out of beer? Julian needed the number of a good dealer?’

Dylan’s grin turned to a frown. ‘Alright, enough of that…’ he said, glancing around warily, despite the fact that the nearest house was too far away for anyone to hear their conversation. ‘I was across the road with Millie.’

‘That was quick work, even for you; she only moved in yesterday.’

‘It’s not like that,’ Dylan said as he rifled in his pocket for a key. ‘Are you coming in or have you just come to pass judgement on my social life?’

‘A bit of both. Rich said you phoned. And I wanted to ask you round for dinner.’

‘We have phones and emails and allsorts, you know, to save your legs.’ Dylan opened the door and Jasmine followed him into the cool, slate-tiled hallway.

‘I’ll go then if you’re going to be like that.’

‘Don’t take it so personally. I just meant that you’re taking time out of your work schedule just to see me.’

‘Well…’

‘I know. You promised Mum one day when you were having a deep and meaningful conversation that you’d always look out for me. It’s funny how she never had any of those conversations with me.’

Jasmine frowned as they went into the kitchen and she noted the dishes piled up in the sink, a bluebottle doing lazy circuits of the topmost pot. There was a faintly worrying smell too, like meat that was just going off. Jasmine tried not to think about it and hoped it was coming from Dylan’s bin and not from his larder. By now, she knew better than to lecture him about his domestic affairs; he never listened and she always ended up sounding like a grade-A nag, something that went against her whole nature. Dylan, seemingly oblivious to Jasmine’s discomfort, headed for the fridge.

‘Want something cold?’ he asked as he yanked it open.

‘What have you got?’

‘You want beer?’

‘Dylan, it’s the middle of the day…’

Dylan pulled his head from the fridge and grinned at his sister.

‘Very funny,’ Jasmine sighed. ‘So what
have
you got?’

‘Cola, cola, or cola.’

‘Nothing else?’

‘Um… flat cola…’

‘You know I don’t drink that crap.’

‘I didn’t know you were coming. And Threshers were clean out of wheatgrass-with-added-hippy-essence juice.’

‘Don’t you at least shop with the idea that you might get visitors, and that maybe you should have something for them when they call?’ Jasmine flopped down at the table and folded her arms. ‘A simple glass of orange juice would have sufficed.’

‘Cool kids don’t shop.’

Jasmine tried to frown, but after a second or two, couldn’t help a small smile. Despite how frustrating he could be, there was something infectious about Dylan’s personality. Infuriatingly, he
was
cool; there was no other word for him. Everything he did, everything he said, was effortlessly charming and impressive. ‘So what were you doing across the way with Millie?’ she asked, changing the subject as Dylan sat opposite her and cracked open a Coke can.

‘Oh, this and that.’

‘Meaning?’

‘I was helping her move some boxes.’

‘You were actually helping someone do manual work?’

‘I’m not completely useless, you know.’

‘You are completely lazy, however.’

Dylan laughed. ‘You underestimate the power of an attractive woman, sis.’

Jasmine rolled her eyes. ‘I wondered when that would come into the equation. I don’t think you’ll get anywhere there. She seems far too mature and level-headed to fall for your corny chat-up lines.’

‘You can’t blame me for trying though.’ Dylan peered over the top of his can as he sipped his drink.

‘I wish you wouldn’t. Don’t you ever get bored of chasing conquests?’

‘I’m just looking for the right woman.’

‘Yeah. That’s why the only women in this village not on your radar are me and old Ruth Evans.’

‘That’s harsh.’

Jasmine paused. ‘Ok. Let me put it this way – have you been shagging Amy Parsons?’

‘What?’

‘Amy Parsons. Pretty… blonde… a bit gullible…’

‘That’s charming. I thought you liked her.’

‘I do, but she must be gullible if she fell for one of your chat-up lines.’

He leaned back in his seat and folded his arms. ‘Go on then. Who’s been blabbing?’

‘Nobody. Her son, Jake, is in the same class as the triplets, or had you forgotten that? Kids talk; they share all sorts of secrets. Jake told Reuben that you went round to their house on Saturday night. He said he woke up because he heard a noise and went out on the landing to see you there with his mum. He said you were laughing and wrestling. Amy told him to go back to sleep and then he heard you and Amy laughing some more and jumping up and down on the bed…’ Jasmine raised her eyebrows. ‘Did you have fun jumping on the bed with Amy? How do you think I feel when Reuben comes home and tells me things like that – my child hearing that sort of thing about his uncle? Not only that but he told Rich too.’

‘Reuben doesn’t know what it means,’ Dylan retorted, but Jasmine wondered if she detected the faintest blush. There was something immensely satisfying about it. It made her want to push the conversation; perhaps the only way to make him see what a mess he was making of his life was to shame him into it.

‘Now he doesn’t but one day he will. One day he’ll work it all out. What kind of role model is that?’

‘He’s got his dad for a role model. That’s not my job…’

Jasmine frowned.

‘Ok, look… I was drinking in the pub and she just happened to come in. We got chatting, she got a bit tipsy and then I walked her home. She asked me to go in and before I knew it…’ He shrugged. ‘I didn’t mean for things to get out of hand.’

‘Hmm. I’m sure that makes it ok then. I wonder who else Jake has told his little story to. I wonder if his dad, who’s working away in Düsseldorf, will get a phone call to hear the story of his mum and Dylan Smith jumping up and down on the bed in the middle of the night.’

‘I’ll have a word with Amy when I see her—’

‘That’s not the point! You can’t keep covering your tracks and hoping you’ll stay bulletproof! You have no responsibilities, and seemingly no conscience. Amy, God love her for the idiot she is, has everything to lose and you should have a bit more consideration for that.’

‘Hey! It takes two to tango, sis. I didn’t make her come down to the pub and get drunk and ask me back to her house.’

‘It only takes one to walk away, though.’

Dylan let out a sigh. He was silent for a moment as he stared out of the window. ‘Ok, ok… I know you’re right and I’m a total shit.’

‘Why do it then? If you know you’re a shit, then why do you keep doing it?’

He leaned forward on the table. ‘God knows. I wish I did, Jas. It’s like there’s someone else in my head, telling me to do it, even when I know I shouldn’t.’

‘Whoever that person is, they need a good slap. I love you, Dylan, but I’m tired of defending you. Everyone in this village knows what you are, and they tar us with the same brush.’

‘Nobody thinks that about you. Everyone loves you and Rich, you’re like Honeybourne’s own Posh and Becks. You’re just being paranoid.’

‘Am I? Can’t you, just once, show a bit of self-restraint?’

‘Maybe I don’t want to…’ He winced at the look she gave him. ‘You’re right. I don’t know what it is. I get in the zone and then it’s like… I can’t help myself. Sometimes I feel so lonely and it’s company, you know?’

There was a bit of Jasmine that could understand that. She had Rich and the children, but Dylan had no one, not really, and she couldn’t imagine what life must have been like for him when their parents were killed. But he couldn’t keep hiding behind his grief. They had both lost their parents, as had many others before them, and they didn’t all go off the rails. If the endless casual sex was a symptom of something deeper, then he needed to face that and deal with it.

‘Why don’t you go and get that counselling we’ve talked about?’ Jasmine asked gently.

Dylan shook his head. ‘It’s bollocks.’

‘You won’t know until you try.’

‘You tried. Are you any different for it?’

‘I’m not shagging everything that moves.’

‘You have Rich. You’ve always had someone, even… well, never mind.’

‘Maybe you should try actually dating a woman, one you intend to stay with, and then you might have someone too.’

‘I want to. I want to get to know the new girl, she seems nice.’

‘Millie? She does seem nice but I don’t know if that’s wise. You’ll end up shagging her and leaving her like all the others.’

‘I might not. Anyway, how do you know that isn’t what she wants?’

Jasmine’s forehead creased into a deep frown.

‘Kidding!’ Dylan laughed. ‘Honest! Anyway, how come you know all about her? She’s only been in the village two minutes.’

‘Rich and I saw her pull up yesterday and we helped her move her stuff into the bakery.’

‘Well, she seems nice, and she’s fit as…’ He stopped as Jasmine frowned again. ‘She’s gorgeous and she doesn’t know me yet.’

‘Well, you’d better hope she doesn’t strike up a conversation with Amy Parsons any time soon.’

Dylan’s gaze wandered to his phone lying on the table. Jasmine groaned as she interpreted the look. ‘Jesus, Dylan! Please tell me Amy hasn’t been texting to see you again!’

He shrugged.

‘Don’t you dare!’ she squeaked. ‘She’s married, or have you forgotten that detail,
again
?’

‘I wasn’t going to; I’m not that stupid.’

‘Stupid enough to go there in the first place. This isn’t London; people talk and news travels fast here.’

‘I know, I know, you said that before… You’re right. I’m sorry. Is that what you want me to say?’

‘I want you to stop dicking around.’

‘I will. I’m going to get it together, I promise.’

‘So you’re going to leave Millie alone?’

Dylan stared at her. ‘I thought you wanted me to date properly. Why do I have to leave her alone now?’

‘Because I like her and I like you and I don’t think I could cope with the awkwardness.’

Dylan waved a dismissive hand as he reached for his drink. ‘It’ll be fine.’