Summer At Little Beach Street Bakery
“Or rather, of course, his widow. She had only met Selina twice before, once in Polbearne, and once at the funeral. Since then she hadn’t seen her at all, had heard she’d gone back to her parents and hadn’t been the least bit surprised that she hadn’t wanted to see hide nor hair of Mount Polbearne again.
‘Hi,’ said Selina, but she clearly didn’t really remember Polly. Well why would she? thought Polly. She was only the woman who’d secretly slept with her husband (she hadn’t realised Tarnie was married; he didn’t wear a ring) then met her briefly just after her husband had died at sea.
‘Hi,’ said Polly. ‘Um, I run the bakery.’ ‘Right,’ said Selina without interest.
‘It’s the best bakery in the south-west,’ said Lance. ‘And I should know. I’ve tried them all.’ He patted his stomach cheerfully.
‘Can you get us a couple of fruit slices? And a loaf of that olive bread to take away?
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