A Summer Holiday at Bridget’s Bicycle Bakery: A Short Story (The Carrington’s Bicycle Bakery, Book 2) by Alex Brown

Author:Alex Brown [Brown, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008463717
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2023-07-29T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Four

Late afternoon on the following day and I have that happy, exhausted feeling even though I’ve been cleaning and doing DIY for what feels like forever, and there’s still a lot more to get through, but the shop is starting to take shape, at last. The glass cabinet is gleaming and the big ovens are too. The early summer sun is dazzling as I fling open the back doors of the shop ready to tackle the beach hut now and turn it into a proper little café. Henry is with me, gambolling alongside as I walk down the little towpath in the sand.

‘Hi, Bridget.’ It’s Rita, walking towards me across the beach from near the edge of the waves where Skipper, her little brown and white terrier, is speeding along on the wet sand looking like he’s having the time of his life. Spotting him, Henry hurtles off to join in the fun too. ‘Those two … I don’t know where they get the energy from.’ Rita chuckles as she reaches me, shaking her head and making her windswept wavy blonde hair bob up and down around her shoulders.

‘I wish I had even a drop of it, I’m shattered. How are you, Rita?’ I give her a hug and we walk together over towards a weather-worn wooden groyne.

‘I’m very well, love. Jack told me you’ve been working flat out with cleaning and getting the shop ready for the grand opening so I thought you could do with a little break.’ She produces two mini bottles of prosecco, one from each pocket of her sausage dog print sundress and jiggles them up in the air. ‘Come on, we can sit on the groyne and have a good catch-up.’ She hands me a bottle.

‘Thanks Rita, and yes, please,’ I say, grateful for her thoughtfulness. It’s true, I am absolutely shattered and seem to have been running off pure adrenalin and fear of failure recently so this is just the prompt I need to make me stop and catch my breath for a moment. I sink my aching body onto the groyne before bobbing back up quickly. ‘How about some cookie pie cakes to go with the prosecco?’ and I turn to dash back up the beach to the back door of the bakery. ‘There are some in a box inside the basket on the front of my bike. I baked them earlier to test out one of the ovens and was going to take them home, but let’s have them now.’

‘Well, I’ll never say no to one of your delicious cakes, but please … stay there and rest for a bit,’ Rita says firmly, and after standing her prosecco bottle on top of a groyne post, she places a hand on my shoulder and gently pushes it down as if to make me sit. ‘I’ll get the cakes. Where is your bike?’

‘Propped against the wall of the beach hut.’

Moments later, and she’s back and proffering the cake box with four oversized slices of gooey, cute cookie pie cakes inside.

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