Page 7 of Barging In
“You’ll get used to it.” Max grinned, sitting beside her.
Clem took another smaller sip. “It’s nice, though. What is it?”
“Scrumpy.”
She nodded, knowing scrumpy was a name for a strong, home-brewed cider, one she’d never tried.
“Dare I ask the alcohol volume?”
“Ten percent,” he replied with a smirk.
Clem’s eyebrows shot up. He offered her a top-up, but she declined. High in alcohol and possibly high in sugar, she knew it would have a fast effect, especially on an empty stomach. She’d been kept so busy she’d only managed to eat a blueberry muffin.
“So,” Max said, taking a sip from his glass and pulling a wry face, “how did your first day go?”
“I sold out far too early.”
“Don’t complain.”
Clem laughed. “Oh, I’m not.”
“But don’t expect tomorrow to be as busy,” Max cautioned. “It might be; it might not. It fluctuates a lot.”
“How was your day?” she asked.
“Vinyl doesn’t sell as fast as your cakes.” Max quipped, drawing a smile from Clem. “It was okay,” he added more seriously. “Could have been better.”
“What sort of marketing do you do?” Clem asked, unable to help herself.
Max scrunched his lips together.
“Tell me you dosomething,” she urged.
He grimaced. “I have my sign. Does that count?”
“No, not really. It’s purely informative. Marketing’s about influencing action. You have to understand what drives your customers and create a message that connects with them, ideally for the long term.”
“I don’t know much about it. I just rock up here and rely on passing trade. I take it you know about this stuff then?”
Clem chuckled softly. “You could say that. I assume you’ve heard of Facebook, Instagram, TikTok?”
“Of course!”
“Do you use them?”
Max shrugged. “I doomscroll.”
Clem raised an eyebrow. “Cat videos, perchance?”
“You got me.”
Clem laughed again. “I can see I need to bring you up to speed.”
“That would be great,” he said — and actually sounded relieved. “A marketing whizz and an amazing baker. What luck! That muffin you brought over earlier was sublime.”
“Thanks,” Clem said, wondering if her face waswarming from the compliment or the cider. “How long have you been making scrumpy?”
“About a year,” Max said. “I’d love to make it properly and sell it, but I’m struggling to find somewhere to brew it in bulk. If I could sell my vinyl from there, too, then all the better. It’s a pain in the arse lifting these boxes in and out of the boat twice a day.”
