He nodded, struggling to speak.
Say yes, Henry, say yes.
He opened his eyes. ‘Yes,’ he said to the empty room.
And he knew she was gone.
45
The bakery was busy so Clara washed her hands, put on an apron and stepped in to help Alice and Rachel. People were waiting to be served and to sit at the tables in the tearooms, as Rachel rushed out of the kitchen with plates of sandwiches, the chicken and leek pie that was so popular and the vegetable Cornish pasty with a chilli tomato relish that Joe had made.
Clara rushed from serving to taking orders to refilling the sandwich trays and making pots of tea for customers but no one was cross or impatient in the shop. Perhaps the smell of the delicious food, or the flushed red faces of the staff, or the genuine sense of good food and good intentions was enough to keep the crowd from uprising.
Since Moira had gone, it was as though a type of fog around the shop and tearooms had lifted and the sun was shining down on the little store.
Clara served butterfly cakes to a happy family visiting from China and then saw to some American retirees who wanted to try the chicken and leek pies. She later waved them goodbye as she met Rachel over the register.
‘Thank you,’ said Rachel, ‘I would be lost without you.’
Clara smiled, nervous about what she was going to ask after the shop was closed. As a response, she found herself working extra hard for Rachel, perhaps showing Rachel her worth and what she could bring to the store. She could see what Rachel wanted to achieve was possible but only with money and reliable tradespeople.
Clara had often wondered about her relationship with money. While she had never been a big spender like Giles, or Judy, she was also aware of the importance of quality – but since she had been in Merryknowe, she had also understood the value of reusing items. Reusing plastic bags to line the bins, and the compost bin she had started, with Henry and Pansy happily contributing scraps from the kitchen to the mix.
Glass jars and containers were washed out and reused. Clara was cooking more and Henry would bake bread every few days. It was easier than driving into the village or to Chippenham for basics. ‘Make do,’ she used to hear her mum saying when Clara was a child. Only now did Clara realise how lazy she had been with everything so close as a child and as an adult. How many times did she order takeaway when she couldn’t be bothered cooking?
The crowd in the bakery eventually thinned and then Alice went home and Clara helped Rachel clean and close the store.
‘Everything sold again,’ said Rachel proudly. ‘Moira wouldn’t believe it if she saw it.’
Clara wondered how Rachel was processing Moira’s betrayal but Rachel wasn’t very complicated. There was no doubt Moira’s terrible abuse impacted her but Rachel lived in the moment in a way that Clara had never been able to achieve.
‘Can I talk to you?’ she finally asked Rachel as the last chair was put in place.
Rachel paused before she spoke. ‘If you want to ask why I’m not doing anything about Moth… Moira, it’s because I don’t know what to do.’
‘No, it wasn’t about that. I think I have some ideas for that but we can talk about that later,’ said Clara. ‘This is about you.’
They went upstairs and sat on the sofa. Clara felt like she was at a job interview.
‘I was thinking about something, and I spoke to Tassie about it, and she said I should talk to you so that’s what I’m doing.’
Rachel looked worried. ‘Is it bad? This thing you’re thinking about?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Clara. But now she wasn’t sure. Maybe Rachel wanted to be alone and do the tearooms and bakery her way. Maybe she would see Clara’s offer as condescending or controlling like Moira was. She regretted coming and now sitting in this position.
What had seemed like a great idea with Tassie now felt rude and presumptuous.
‘I had an idea but now I think about it, it’s not the right idea, I’m sorry,’ she heard herself say.
Rachel was silent.
‘I think I have to sell the tearooms,’ she said suddenly and then started to cry. ‘It feels like I am being punished again, just as I am starting to enjoy everything. I used to wake up when Mother… Moira was here and wish I didn’t wake up. I used to wish either I was dead or she was, and now she’s gone away and I want to wake up. I wake up so excited wondering what I will make today. Sometimes I wake up and I hear what I should make in my head. Things I never thought of making before; it’s like I have a magic baking fairy inside my head.’
Rachel’s head was in her hands and she rocked on the sofa, her cries cutting through Clara’s heart. Grief and shame will ruin her, she thought, remembering the sound and the feeling.
Rubbing Rachel’s back, she let her cry until the sobs slowed down and then she spoke gently to the girl. ‘You don’t have a magic baking fairy in your head, it’s just that you’re not stressed by Moira anymore, that’s why. You can focus on your work and your gift, which is really creative. You’re not using your stress thoughts; you’re using your artistic talents.’
‘Baking isn’t artistic. It’s just baking. Artistic people do art, not pastry,’ said Rachel, as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
Clara went to the bathroom and came back with a box of tissues.
‘It is absolutely artistic. Anything that makes a person feel something is art. I don’t care if it’s a poem or a book or a song or a slice of cake so perfect that makes you close your eyes and think: I could
