Read Online Summer at Little Beach Street Bakery by Jenny Colgan - Free Book Online

She’d tried changing the opening time to 8.30, but the fishermen had got very upset about it, so she’d reverted to the original arrangement.
    She tied on a fresh apron, made sure her strawberry-blonde hair was properly pinned back, prepared her welcoming smile, stepped up to the door – and got the shock of her life.
     

     
    Right in front of the glass, staring in at her, was the large man with the messily cut hair from Gillian Manse’s funeral: Malcolm, of course. She didn’t know why, but she hadn’t expected him till later, and even though she’d lain awake worrying about it, once she’d got into the everyday rhythm of work that morning, she had completely stopped thinking about him. She’d certainly not expected him to be standing sinisterly, peering in through her door window.
    Once she’d jumped back a little, she calmed down and managed to plaster her smile back on, and unlocked the heavy glass door that had been replaced after Neil had rolled through the old glass and into her life one stormy night two years ago.
    ‘Hello!’ she said, as jauntily as she was able. ‘I wasn’t expecting you!’
    Malcolm stared crossly at his watch.
    ‘I know. God, it’s SO early. How on earth do people get up at this time?’
    Polly didn’t want to point out to him that she’d been at work for three hours already.
    ‘Would you like a coffee?’
    ‘Yes. Three sugars,’ said Malcolm brusquely. He marched into the shop. Like last time, he was dressed like an unmade bed, a creased shirt half hanging out of a crushed old pair of chinos. He hadn’t done up the bottom button, so a portion of soft, squishy tummy was plainly visible over the top of his trousers.
    ‘Are you married?’ asked Polly politely.
    Malcolm sniffed. ‘Not going to get caught like that, no chance,’ he said, derisively. ‘Ha, won’t get me tied down. Not a chance.’
    The fishermen trudged in, looking bone weary.
    ‘Good morning!’ said Jayden. This was the absolute high point of his day. ‘Cold out there? Freezing, I’ll bet. Pretty tough, huh? Catch much, or were they too fast for you? Cor, wouldn’t like to be in your shoes.’
    ‘Shut up, Jayden,’ they all said, as they did every morning, and Polly set the coffee machine to work yet again.
    ‘Are you licensed to sell this?’ grunted Malcolm.
    ‘Uh, hmm,’ said Polly, suddenly wishing she was a bit better prepared. ‘Not exactly, but Mrs Manse —’
    ‘Whatever Mrs Manse did and didn’t tolerate,’ said Malcolm, raising his unpleasantly nasal voice, ‘and however much advantage you took of her good nature, she’s not here now. Things are going to change around here, right?’
    The fishermen looked at Malcolm, who compared to them seemed incredibly soft and lily-handed. Archie glanced at Polly with concern, but she didn’t catch his eye.
    Jayden was scooping pastries into a bag and didn’t seem to notice the awkward undercurrents in the little shop, for which Polly was grateful. She was slightly worried that if she went to take the money, her hand might tremble a little bit.
     

     
    The boys had departed, as well as Patrick and his old dog Pen, who still trotted faithfully across the lighthouse rocks every day, even though his limbs were arthritic. Polly always kept a bit of leftover bun for him. She normally didn’t allow animals in the shop, but Pen was different. Malcolm was leaning nonchalantly on the glass window at the front, watching her beadily with his arms folded. His eyes were very pale, almost colourless, and his skin was doughy. He looked like he spent a lot of time indoors.
    ‘What are you interested in looking at first?’ asked Polly carefully.
    Malcolm picked up one of the largest loaves, an unsliced white – not everyone liked it sliced. The big slicer in the back clattered away early in the morning, then they left it up to individuals. Polly watched him, wondering what he was going to do with it. To her amazement, he brought up the other large,