‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you, Mrs,’ came the Scottish twang of a young girl with her hood pulled up over her head. Her bare white knuckles clutched a duffle bag that was thrown over her shoulder. In her other hand she clenched a grimy pillow.
From underneath her hood, all Molly could see was a wide pair of hazel eyes staring back at her. For a second, she was transfixed. There was something in the look of the girl’s eyes that immediately triggered thoughts from Molly’s past. Molly shuddered as she could suddenly see every detail and feel every feeling from when she was a small child. For a moment she closed her eyes, trying to shake off the image.
‘You didn’t, it’s okay,’ she replied, smiling warmly at the girl, who quickly averted her gaze, not meeting Molly’s friendly eye. Evidently the harshness of street life was already teaching this young girl to stay isolated in every possible way, that even a stray glance could mean trouble she’d best avoid.
The girl turned to walk away.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Molly, the bitterly cold snowflakes now stinging her cheeks.
‘I don’t want any trouble,’ the girl replied defensively as she spun around. ‘I just wanted a bed for the night. You’re locking up. I’ve missed the time.’
Even though she had an oversized jacket thrown over her tiny body the girl was shivering.
‘Not on my watch you haven’t.’ Molly smiled warmly, opening the door wide.
The girl hesitated.
‘Go on, get yourself in there and get yourself a warm meal,’ encouraged Molly.
As the girl pulled down her hood, Molly was taken aback by her age. She’d known she was young but now Molly could see her properly she looked barely out of her mid-teens, though it was difficult to tell. She smiled and nodded her thanks before walking past Molly into the warmth of the shelter.
‘I’m Molly, by the way.’
‘Bree,’ the girl answered, but didn’t wait around to make any further conversation.
Molly cradled her bump as she watched Bree disappear towards the main hall. Despite the shelter being full, Sam welcomed Bree at the door and pointed her toward the queue for food.
Feeling a pang in her heart Molly watched her for a moment. She felt sad that such a young girl was out on the streets fending for herself. There were so many questions swirling around in her head. How does a young girl end up on the streets with no family to care for her? How was she going to turn that situation around? And where would she be sleeping tomorrow? Molly looked down towards her bump. ‘We are so lucky,’ she whispered, pulling the door shut behind her as her phone pinged.
Rummaging in her pocket, she saw it was a text from Cam.
Worried about you, are you on your way back yet?
Just leaving now, I’ll be fifteen minutes max.
She punched her reply then quickly pulled on her gloves. As the engine started and the wipers swished away the falling snow from the windscreen, Molly turned up the heat. She took one glance back towards the door before pulling away. For some reason she couldn’t stop thinking about Bree, whose wide hazel eyes were firmly implanted in her mind as she pulled on to the road and carefully began to drive towards home.
Chapter Two
The next morning, the door to The Old Bakehouse flew open and in strolled Dixie with the biggest beam on her face. ‘Food, glorious food,’ she sang. She wafted her nose in the air. ‘Freshly baked bread … I’ll never tire of that smell.’ She walked over to the shelves behind the counter and inspected the loaves, then glanced at the paper-wrapped muffins, colourful fruit tarts and glazed flans.
‘Where is he?’ she asked over her shoulder.
‘Who, Cam? He’s through there,’ answered Molly with a smile, knowing full well that Dixie meant George.
‘Of course I don’t mean Cam!’
‘Charming!’ Cam’s voice bellowed from the bakery kitchen.
Dixie popped her head around the door to see Cam pulling out a tray of freshly baked bagels from the giant ovens. ‘As much as I love you, I did mean my great-grandson.’
‘G-Ma!’ George appeared in the doorway and stomped his way over to Dixie with his arms open wide.
‘Here he is. My favourite boy in the world and an overload of cuteness. And what are you wearing on your feet?’
Proudly, George looked down at his brand-new bright red wellingtons. ‘My new boots!’
‘I’m not going to lose you in the snow wearing those, am I? And wait until you see what I have outside for you.’ George clomped his way over to the window and squealed as he saw Darling the dog tied to the lamppost with a bright yellow sledge right next to her. ‘I thought we’d travel to school in style this morning.’
