Page 21 of The Cake Fairies
Chapter Thirteen
POLLY
Polly gasped at the scene of devastation which had only just settled. For several seconds she couldn’t move, was rooted to her chair. She couldn’t believe that Annabelle had run off like that. Granted, the girl was in shock, but there were a million different ways to handle it. She tipped back the dregs of her cold tea, wondering how she would ever catch-up with her, now she’d been swallowed by the capital’s streets. But a strange sixth sense – an inner knowing – willed her to stay. Annabelle needed to down her tools by herself and quit this fight. They were here now, and there had to be good reason for it. Surrender and acceptance were the only ways forward.
Meanwhile, The Adonis’s team were on it; sweeping, mopping and patching things up within moments, so newly arrived caffeine- and cake-seekers at The Toadstool hadn’t an inkling of the drama they’d near-missed.
Flipping heck! How was she going to face him now?
She scrabbled beneath her chair for her bag. She’d have to foot the bill at the very least, if not offer to roll up her sleeves and lend a hand at the kitchen sink. That was when her own delayed panic set in. Argh! She’d only been and left her bag in the tent, and what good would her ancient currency have been anyway? Probably the equivalent of attempting to pay up with Roman coins.
She needed to get creative. She had to shrug off the way this man had turned her insides to marshmallow, and the significant fact that she’d not a ha’penny to her name in this brand-new world – and she needed to do both fast.
But before she had a chance to formulate even a half-baked plan, his eyes met hers, rendering her spellbound anew, and she was powerless to engage her brain. He removed his apron as if he meant business, and marched back to her table. Polly’s pulse was off the charts.
“Hi again…” Two words. There. She’d managed them without tripping over her tongue and now she could extend them to a further two: “I’m sor—”
“No… it’s okay.” He waved his hand to dismiss everything. “That was my fault entirely. I was in too much of a rush. We have a stupid staff competition going on today. Actually, I started it, and my colleagues over there were timing me. The things we do to liven up the working day,” he shook his head fiercely at his foolishness.
Oh, could he be any sweeter in his attempt to accommodate her cousin’s clumsiness? This was so very blatantly a lie.
“I’ll find a way to settle up, I promise,” Polly blurted, glad that her voice box hadn’t completely seized up. “It’s just… my cousin took my purse and now she’s getting the train back to Bristol. I could try to catch-up with her, but erm… it might take me a while in these things.”
Polly looked at the impressive platforms on her feet and pulled a face, but at least they were now equal on the fraud front. She averted her gaze from the waiter, worried her cheeks were flaring bright beetroot.
“Crikey. They’re a bit of a blast from the past,” he baulked at the tower of her heels. “I mean, you look… er… great. I’m digging thesixties vibe? Or whatever it is you’ve got going on there. That’s the brilliant thing about London, isn’t it? Anything goes.” Well, that was wonderful. Fan-flippin-tastic. Annabelle had done a runner, and she’d received official confirmation that she looked like a hideous historical hodgepodge. “Well, it’s on the house…andits replacement.”
Polly opened her mouth to protest. He must feel sorry for her, have assumed she was a modern-day pauper decked out in such outdated clodhoppers, but before she could find the words, Adonis had morphed into PC Plod from the Noddy books, hand in the air lest she get any ideas about pegging it.
“I’d rather you didn’t move an inch in thoseshoes, I insist. Last thing this place needs is a lawsuit on its hands when you fall. Oh, and she’ll be back, by the way.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ve been walking in these for years. And you really don’t know my cousin.” Polly stifled a giggle at the surreal situation she found herself in.
“The name’s Alex.” He offered her his hand and a smug wink, masterfully changing the conversation just when she wondered how in the hell he could be so certain about Annabelle. Her skin fizzed as she accepted his warm handshake, and she bit down hard on her quivering lip, trying in vain to halt the very inappropriate montage of images that had cheekily taken up residence in her mind’s eye.
Her head tried its best to corral her heart. Alex. She didn’t think she’d ever met an Alex. It definitely suited him. Polly and Alex. Alex and Polly. It suited her too.
But this evening her heart had laid the table, lit the candles, switched on a little light Louis Armstrong, massaged the knots in Alex’s shoulders, opened the wine and removed a shiny silver cloche to reveal every aphrodisiacal nibble known to man.
“Polly.” She smiled shyly, losing herself in the deep pools of his eyes. They sparkled bright as the River Brue on a rare sunny day.
“Give her,” he said, screwing his face up as he calculated. “Forty minutes there, forty minutes back… I pretty much guarantee that your cousin will be sitting at this table again by nine pm on the dot – give or take a few seconds.”
