Page 31 of Fireworks at Pennycress Inn
Polly nodded as she lowered her own bulging tote bag to the floor, resting it against her ankles. ‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Ah, I thought I recognised your face. Lovely to meet you properly.’ The woman held her palm against her chest. ‘I’m Mrs Pierce, or Enid, should I say. I run the bakery in the centre of the village. I don’t think you’ve been in yet, have you?’
‘It’s nice to meet you too.’ Polly smiled. ‘I haven’t had a chance yet, no. I was rather hoping I’d have the time to pop in for lunch this weekend, but I’ve been called away back to my hometown.’
‘That’s a shame. Saying that, I’m away this weekend too, although, of course, the bakery will still be open.’
‘Are you off anywhere nice?’ Polly stuffed her hands in her coat pockets. Why had she asked? Now she had, Mrs Pierce would likely ask her too, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to have that conversation with a near stranger, however pleasant she seemed.
‘I’m going to my granddaughter’s for the weekend. Her and her husband have just had their first baby – my first great-granddaughter, can you believe it! So, I’m going round to meet the little angel.’ Mrs Pierce glowed with pride.
‘Oh, wow. Congratulations! That’s amazing. I bet you can’t wait to meet her?’ Polly forced a smile, thinking of how much her own grandparents would have wanted to meet their own great-grandchildren. She took a breath in, the near freezing evening air filling her lungs.
‘I can’t. And it’s great-grandma duty to spoil the little mite rotten, so I’ve been buying clothes and toys ever since I found out my granddaughter was pregnant.’ Mrs Pierce lifted a large carrier bag in the air, one Polly hadn’t even noticed she was holding.
‘Haha, that’s fair enough. I’m sure they’ll all be thrilled with your gifts.’ Polly laughed.
‘I hope so. There’ll only be more to come.’ Mrs Pierce chuckled before hitching up the sleeve of her thick coat and checking her watch. ‘That’s odd. The bus is over five minutes late now and that’s one thing the local council usually pride themselves on, the regular bus service through the villages.’
‘That is strange.’ Polly glanced one way and then the other. Since arriving at Meadowfield, the buses had run like clockwork, which she’d been grateful for being as she’d relied on them to get to work. That was apart from this morning’s incident with the breakdown, but that had been out of anyone’s control.
‘Oh look, that’s Miss Cooke’s little Smart car, isn’t it? If anyone knows what’s going on, it’ll be her.’ Mrs Pierce stepped forward towards the edge of the kerb and waved her hand in the air as a red Smart car made its slow way along the road towards them.
‘Careful…’ Before Polly could even get the word out, Mrs Pierce lowered her arm as the car slowed to a stop beside her and, sure enough, the window was wound down to reveal Miss Cooke sitting behind the wheel.
‘Evening, Enid. Evening, Polly.’ Miss Cooke frowned. ‘You do know the bus service has been cancelled this evening, don’t you? I did add a post to the local social media page.’
‘Oh, I’m not on any social media.’ Mrs Pierce waved away such a ludicrous idea with her hand. ‘The bus service is cancelled? I was just saying to Polly how well run the public transport is around here. How well organised it is.’
‘Well, unfortunately, not this evening. After the early-morning bus ran into some engine trouble, it was decided that the service would only run until half past six and then they’d redirect things to busier routes to make up for being a bus down.’ Miss Cooke shook her head slightly.
‘Oh dear, oh dear. I’m meant to be going to Charlotte’s this evening. Gary offered me a lift, but I didn’t want to be an inconvenience, so I promised them both I was perfectly capable of getting there on the bus. They’ve just had their little baby, you see.’
‘Congratulations, that’s marvellous news! Do they still have that little place in Nettleford?’
‘Yes, that’s right. It’s not far, but now I’m going to have to wait until morning.’ Mrs Pierce looked down at the ground, crestfallen.
‘I’m off that way, anyway. There’s a book club I want to check out, so I’ll drive right past Charlotte’s house.’ Leaning over, Miss Cooke popped open the passenger door and pushed it open. ‘Hop in.’
‘Are you sure?’ Leaning down, Mrs Pierce picked up the bag by her feet before glancing back at Polly. ‘What about you, love? This is going to be a great inconvenience for you, isn’t it?’
Polly shrugged, trying hard not to let the panic bubbling in the pit of her stomach show. How was she going to get back home? She’d have to get a taxi to the train station, which would cost a lot whilst she was supposed to be saving every penny she could in order to build her new life here. ‘I’ll be okay. I’ll grab a taxi.’
‘Good luck with that. They’ll be busy this evening, what with the absence of the bus. Make sure you get on the phone to them as soon as you can.’ Miss Cooke raised her voice as Mrs Pierce bundled her bags into the back seat before sitting down.
‘Good point. I will. Thanks for the heads-up and have a lovely weekend at your granddaughter’s, Mrs Pierce.’
‘Thank you, love. You have a good weekend too.’ Mrs Pierce closed the door seconds before the car pulled away again.
If Polly hadn’t had that coffee and wasted time writing her to-do list before leaving the office late, she’d have not missed the last running bus and she’d be on a train on the way home right now. She bit down on her lip as she picked up her tote bag. Holding it up, she glanced at the bottom. The fabric was discoloured from the damp path. Brushing it off with her hand, she then hooked it over her shoulder and turned back to the inn.
It wasn’t so bad. Sure, she’d have wasted an hour, two at the most by the time a taxi came and she finally got on her way home, but she still had this evening and Saturday and Sunday – two whole days – to get things straightened at the flat. Besides, she could only do as much as she could.
Maybe Miss Cooke was right, she should join the village social media group. That way she’d be alerted to things such as the buses not running and the like. Pulling her mobile from her pocket, she sighed as the heavens opened and a torrent of rain fell.
Perfect. Shoving her phone back into the relative safety of her pocket, Polly pulled her hood up, put her head down and retraced her steps back towards the inn.
21
