Cam murmured thanks but his eyes were still wide open as Molly switched off the bedside light and snuggled under the duvet. She knew they were in for a long night with a fidgety George sandwiched between them and Cam listening out for every creak of the floorboards in case Bree was going to rob them blind in the middle of the night. Drained, she closed her eyes and pretended to go to sleep, praying the tension would lift by the morning.
Chapter Four
Ashattered Cam had barely slept a wink, as with every creak of a pipe or slight noise he was up listening for footsteps, but Bree hadn’t left her bed all night. He switched off the two o’clock alarm and looked across at Molly sleeping. For the first time in a long time, she hadn’t tossed and turned all night. She looked peaceful and well rested so, being careful not to wake her, he slowly lifted a sleeping George from their bed and tucked him up in his own.
He wandered downstairs and began his early morning routine, which was the same as always: fire up the ovens in the bakery, proudly place his great-uncle’s hat on his head and tie his apron around his waist before heading into the cottage to make a cup of tea.
Waiting for the kettle to boil, Cam looked at the invitation on the pinboard, the baking competition very much on his mind. This wasn’t just any competition – it was the competition of all competitions, and winning it catapulted your name into the elite world of top bakers. And of course the prize money would always come in handy. But Cam could imagine the pressure leading up to the competition, and that pressure on top of what he was already feeling would be a recipe for disaster. He remembered how his great-uncle Ted locked himself away for hours – sometimes days – perfecting his craft and his grandmother and grandfather had to step in to run the shop for a couple of weeks before the big event took place in Edinburgh. Cam knew that the other bakers who had been hand-picked to compete for this this prestigious award would be doing the same thing and that’s what worried him the most – knowing he didn’t have the same time and focus to devote to the competition.
He knew that Dixie and Molly wanted him to take part, but the timing was all wrong: he would need a clear head and to live and breathe competition prep for the next few weeks, but that was impossible. He didn’t even know how to get through the next few days. Feeling the letter still in his apron pocket he knew he was going to have to come clean to Molly very soon, and knowing it could blow her safe world apart was making him physically sick.
The bakery felt colder than usual. In the light of the streetlamp outside the shop, everywhere glistened. Cam shivered and switched on the heaters before checking the ovens were at the right temperature. The first thing on his agenda this morning was the order for Starcross Manor, then the everyday orders, followed by the pastries and croissants. Molly would help with the cupcakes and doughnuts once she was up but Cam was beginning to think that she was right: he did need help. Business was growing and he just couldn’t manage the large numbers he needed to produce all by himself any longer.
Cam initially learned how to bake with a little help from celebrity chef Andrew Glossop, who at the time was based up at Starcross Manor. But all Ted’s recipes had been handed down to Cam and up on the shelf amongst his own baking books was his great-uncle’s recipe book, containing all of Ted’s bread recipes, handwritten with Ted’s own illustrations. These recipes went back years. Dixie had handed over this family heirloom to Cam when he agreed to reopen The Old Bakehouse. She called it the Bread-Baking Bakery Bible and claimed everything you needed to know about making the best bread and pastries in Scotland was written in there. She was right.
Cam’s kitchen mirrored his great-uncle’s. All the ingredients were laid out in huge aluminium tubs and industrial-sized bowls on the counters with a stack of clean towels and everything else he needed. He looked over the orders in the book and set to work. The next delivery of wheat from the mill was due to arrive tomorrow morning, but with the weather like this, it was probable the track on this side of the bridge would cause problems.
Heartcross was separated from the local town of Glensheil by a bridge and a steep, mountainous track approximately half a mile long. In the summer it was the most beautiful track to walk along, easily accessible by foot and cars, but it was trickier in the winter months even for four-wheel drives, so all Cam could do was hope that the wheat could be delivered.
For the next couple of hours, Cam was full steam ahead. As soon as the orders were complete and the shop was stocked it took the pressure off a little. Once the bread was baked, Cam checked every loaf just like he’d watched his great-uncle do when he was a little boy. Everything had to be as perfect as it could be, and he had to admit that this was one of the best batches he’d ever baked. Once more he glanced up at the photograph of his great-uncle and thought about the baking competition.
He knew it would be a good advert for the business, but The Old Bakehouse’s following on social media was already great. Cam often did a live baking session from the kitchen which had many people tuning in, and he was amazed how many likes a loaf of bread could generate on Instagram.
Hearing the timer ring on the oven, Cam pushed his current thoughts from his mind and pulled open the oven door. The tray of baguettes looked and smelled divine. It was an aroma he never tired of. It made him think about family gathered around the old farmhouse table most Sundays whilst his grandmother served up a bowl of homemade soup with fresh warm bread. It was a simple memory that warmed Cam’s heart. It made him think about George, who was funny, inquisitive and loved to spend time in the kitchen with Cam. He wondered what he would remember about his childhood when he was all grown up with his own family. Cam closed his eyes and prayed he would be around to share his son’s future. He knew however hard his life was going to become he needed to stay strong, but it was easier said than done.
With a dozen French baguettes baked to perfection, he began to place them on the cooling rack before he slipped them into their wrappings. Hearing the door creak behind him, he nearly jumped out of his skin and spun around, holding the baguette like a weapon.
Bree was standing there. ‘If a baker assaults you with a baguette could he be charged with assault with a breadly weapon?’ she joked, grinning.
Wearing Molly’s dressing gown and with Cam’s slippers still on her feet, she stepped into the bakery kitchen. ‘What a smell to wake up to. Usually if I sleep at all, I wake up to the smell of either rancid dustbins or the stale body odour of maybe twenty-five other people. Sometimes even vomit or urine. But after a while you kind of become immune to it.’
‘I guess neither are very pleasant,’ replied Cam, as he carried on and pulled the next batch of loaves out of the oven.
‘It smells so bakeryish.’ Bree wrinkled her nose and peered inside the barrels that were half-full of ingredients. Cam watched her as she moved on to peering into the ovens and looking over the freshly baked croissants.
‘It must be nice having a purpose in life,’ she murmured, casting her eyes over the row of bread-making books that were lined up on the shelf.
Cam took a sideward glance at her. ‘And your purpose?’
Bree shrugged. ‘What is there for the likes of me? The only thing I can do is get through each day.’
Her reply was emotion-free.
‘Life is what you make it. You never know what is around the corner,’ Cam said, his own words resonating with himself. He carried on, now placing freshly baked croissants onto the small trays that slid into the glass counter.
‘Usually around the corner is another person trying to avoid me, or someone who crosses over the road so they don’t have to say hello to the likes of me. Then there are the mothers who put a protective arm around their children as they pass me, telling them not to look in my direction.’ She glanced at Cam, who caught her eye but quickly looked away and carried on what he was doing.
Bree began to read the spines of the books on the shelf. ‘You have a lot of books. This one looks interesting.’ She reached up towards the shelf.
Can spun a glance round. ‘Don’t touch that book.’ His voice was firm.
Bree stopped in her tracks and raised an eyebrow, her arm poised in the air.
‘Is it special?’ she asked.
‘Look, Bree, it’s very early and I need to get on.’
But Bree didn’t take the hint. She turned and looked over at the large bowls that contained more yeast mixture. ‘How many loaves do you bake a week?’
