Page 14 of Wishes & Waves at the Cornish Bakery
She nodded. ‘That sounds nice. Having a varied work life.’
‘It’s not so bad. Of course, my income fluctuates a lot depending on what work is available, but I’ve learned to expect that. How about you? What do you do when you’re not selling cakes or breaking and entering?’
Biting down on her bottom lip, Tilly glanced towards the door, willing Elsie or Ian to come back. She wasn’t ready to explain herself, not just yet. She’d hoped that by talking about his job, she’d have at least until she was halfway through her coffee before answering any difficult questions. ‘I’m between work at the moment.’
Isaac nodded thoughtfully. ‘Well, you couldn’t have chosen a better place than here to be between jobs. I can imagine it must be pretty nice working for Elsie. She seems to look after her staff, past and present, as though they were family.’
Tilly smiled. He was right. Elsie even referred to them as her bakery family. ‘She does. Ian too.’
Isaac walked around the counter and held his hand out to the table nearest them. ‘Shall we address the elephant in the room now?’
Chapter Eleven
‘Iguess so.’ This was it. There was no getting away from it now. Slipping onto one of the chairs, she waited until Isaac was sitting opposite her. ‘I really am sorry I spooked your dad. That was never my intention. I’d go and apologise to him myself, but I’m guessing he won’t appreciate it.’
‘Probably not.’ Isaac shook his head and drew his mug towards him. ‘He thought you were there to evict him.’
Drawing a quick breath in, Tilly’s face dropped. Staring into her mug, she tried to push away the memories of the thudding at the door, of the bailiffs telling her what she’d been expecting, of the two burly men standing in the hallway, their eyes fixed to their watches as she rushed around them packing what little she could in the time they’d given her. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s okay. I’m only joking.’ Reaching across the table, he placed his hand on hers. ‘Well, half-joking. The farmer has been asking him to leave for years now. He wants to get the cottages renovated and put them up as holiday lets, but my dad refuses to leave.’
‘He does?’ She clenched her hands around the mug as he drew his hand back. She must have really given him a fright then, climbing over the gate and letting herself onto his land.
‘Yep. But my dad’s lived there for twenty-five years now. Ever since he moved to the bay, he sees the cottage as his home.’
‘Oh, he moved there twenty-five years ago?’ Tilly slumped back in her chair. He didn’t hold the missing piece of the puzzle then. Not that she’d found any of the pieces. She would be celebrating her thirty-fifth birthday soon; twenty-five years wasstill way after her dad had lived in the bay. She frowned as a thought occurred to her. Had she gotten this so completely wrong? Had she been intent on coming to Penworth Bay, assuming her dad lived here because of how fondly Aunt Gwen had spoken about the area? She’d never actually said her dad had lived here. What if he’d only been visiting? What if he’d just been here on holiday like her mum had? She swallowed before forcing herself to ask the question she didn’t know she wanted the answer to. ‘Have they been holiday lets before?’
‘Nope. This will be the first time. They’ve always been tied to the farm. My dad worked there up until he was forced into early retirement due to an injury last year. Hence why he doesn’t want to move.’
‘Right.’ Relief flooded through her as she sat up straighter in her chair again. She wasn’t so far off then.
Pushing his mug away, Isaac tapped his fingers against the tabletop. ‘You still haven’t told me why you were there. Why you let yourself onto the land.’
Biting down on her bottom lip, Tilly averted her gaze. Was she ready? What if he dismissed her quest with the laughter of someone who thought she was mad? She wouldn’t blame him. After all, she wasn’t even looking for her dad; she was looking for memories, any snippet of information which might suggest who he was, what he was like.
Isaac tilted his head as he looked at her. ‘What is it? Why are you really in Penworth Bay?’
‘I’m looking for something.’ She pulled a paper serviette from under the sugar pot in the centre of the table.
Raising his eyebrows, Isaac grinned. ‘You’re a pirate, looking for treasure?’
Tilly burst out laughing. Just the way he’d said that, the ridiculous nature of his comment, had sliced through the uneasiness of his previous question.
‘I take that as a no then.’
‘No, sorry. I’m not a pirate.’ Wiping her eyes, which had smarted from the laughter, Tilly took a deep breath. He deserved to know why she had climbed over the gate, and his dad deserved to know, too. She knew first-hand how awful it was to be waiting for the infamous knock from the bailiffs, to wake up with that deep knot of apprehension in the pit of her stomach which only grew and grew until the evening when she’d let herself believe that today wasn’t in fact going to be the day she lost her home. ‘I’m looking for my dad.’
‘Your dad?’ Colour drained from his face. ‘You think my dad is... your dad?’
‘No, no, nothing like that.’ Tilly held her hands up, her palms facing forward as she quickly continued. ‘He used to live in your dad’s cottage. Or I think he did. I’m not sure. He passed away before I was born, before my mum even knew she was pregnant.’
‘Phew.’ He grimaced. ‘Sorry, that’s not the reaction I should have given. I meant ‘phew’ as in I’m relieved we’re not related.’
‘Cheers.’ She frowned. Was she so bad a person that it would be a horrendous idea if they were? Or did that relief come from an entirely different place? She looked at him. He was so easy to talk to, so easy to get along with, and there was something special about him, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but whatever it was, she knew she liked it.
‘Not like that.’ He chuckled before leaning back in his chair and running his fingers through his hair. Blinking, his expression turned serious. ‘I’m sorry to hear about your dad. What details has your mum given you about him? Perhaps we can track down someone who knew him?’
‘My mum passed away too when I was just a baby. My aunt brought me up.’ She closed her eyes momentarily, waiting for the inevitable pity party she’d so come to be used to. She knew people only meant well, but it was what it was, and she’dlearned to accept her situation long ago. And she’d had a happy childhood – her aunt had made sure of that.
