Page 58 of Only Ever You

Someone was about to snap – it was in the fizzle of the air. Faye moved her hand and foundBash’s balled fist like she’d expected, giving it a firm squeeze by her side.

Crossing the kitchen straight for the cupboards, Michèle looked as though she were about to have a fit. “It’s … okay. There is time to make another.”

There have been times when accidents had happened atBaked– a dropped tray, an ingredient somehow swapped for another – warranting batches of doughnuts to be thrown out. And the irritation, the thoughts ofwhat a waste, were so overpowering. Those thoughts were all in the taut lines of Michèle’s face and jerky movements as she got to work again. She’d gone through all of that prep-work and time for it to be ruined.

When could she ever relax?

Faye had to do something. The poor woman was stressed enough trying to make this Christmas special.

“Why don’t we make doughnuts?” she suggested, making the two girls spring up eagerly.

Arthur’s eyes pinned her with a gleam of hope and a heavy dash of guilt. “You can do that?”

“All we need is ingredients. And a pot or something to fry them in.”

Michèle’s actions at grabbing mixing bowls and various utensils slowed. She looked over her shoulder pensively as their eyes connected.

Please,Faye tried to convey,let me do this for you.

Michèle let go of what she’d grabbed and said, “The larger supermarket is fifteen minutes away.”

Faye silently breathed a sigh of relief.

“I can drive you.” Bash squeezed her hand that still held his and she suspected he just wanted to get out of the house before he blew a fuse.

They took Matt’s car already loaded with the girls’ car seats to bring them for the quick drive to the supermarket. Everyone seemed to be needing a break, and this might be the only hour of daylight for the next few days where Matt and Saira could have some time to themselves.

On the drive, Faye checked the messages and comments onBaked’s social media pages, then swiped over to the bakery’s email account. Seeing how many same-day orders had come through last minute since yesterday unwound spools and spools of anxiety in her stomach. She would call Chandra later and make sure everything had gone okay, feeling guilty enough that she wasn’t even remotely nearby to be able to help.

Shopping with two excitable girls under the age of eight, as it turned out, was like trying to keep a hold of ten headless chickens when you only had two hands. Bash had laid down the law as soon as they’d entered through the sliding doors.

“Right, you two. You stay where we can see you. No wandering off.”

Instructions which were abandoned after thirty seconds.

In typical Christmas Eveevefashion, there was a rush of shoppers, which for a village in the middle of English nowhere wasn’t as bad compared to if Faye braved the storm of her local supermarket in London. If Bash was at home, it’d be the one time he would make use of a ridiculously overpriced delivery service just to guarantee his own sanity. He’d done it every year for the past several for their New Year’s Eve party.

They made their way through the aisles. Imara pointed out everything she could see, reading packaging as they passed one syllable at a time. Maya was more inclined to touch everything that she could reach and Bash thwarted her attempts to slide things into their trolley when she didn’t think either of them were looking.

“Saira asked us to get some cold relief sachets to put in hot water,” he said as though to remind himself, “in case either of the girls started to get sick from the walk earlier. Imara was snuffling on the way home.”

So they stopped by that aisle too.

Faye didn’t know there were so many different options of colourful medicine boxes for children. “Which one do we get?”

Bash’s creased brow looked just as lost. “I’m not sure … ”

“Shouldn’t they all be the same?”

“Girls—” He called them over and held up two boxes which looked about right. “Do you like orange flavour or blackcurrant?”

“Orange,” was one answer. “Purple,” was the other.

That solved that problem then.

“I guess we’re getting both.” Bash dropped both boxes into the trolley alongside a singular lemon and block of butter. “What else?”

Faye scanned down her list on her phone and then at the rest of the aisle. “I think the baking things are somewhere else.”

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