‘Maybe another day?’ I walk Pumpkin through a half circle so we’re facing the harbour again.
‘Don’t forget to look out for sirens by the sea pool.’ Clemmie’s smile widens as she steps back onto the doorstep. ‘Plum, Nell, Sophie and I are known locally as the mermaids, but you, me, Bud and Pumpkin are like a little auburn sub-group.’
‘I’ll take that,’ I call over my shoulder as we set off. ‘We’re heading back for ten, so we’ll give you gingernut piskies a wave on our way past.’
When I’m out with Pumpkin, even just for a walk, things always take longer than I expect because along the route there might be a hundred conversations. By the time we’ve seen the sea pool and we’re on our way back, the harbourside is as busy as I’ve ever seen it. Far from being alarmed, Pumpkin is in his element. The more people there to pat his head and tug on his mane, the better he likes it. My timing goes out of the window, and it’s gone eleven by the time Pumpkin trots off across his field again.
As I push my way in through the French windows, the smell of hot pastry immediately makes me drool. I’m scanning the island unit and empty work surfaces, looking for even a teensy plate when Miles appears in the doorway.
‘Sorry I’m late. We got caught up in the crowds.’
‘It’s fine. You’re here now.’
I swallow. ‘If you’ve already eaten the bakes, I can make a sandwich.’
He jumps forward. ‘Please don’t. They’re in the mud room. Sit down and I’ll get them.’
By the time I’m climbing onto my high stool, Miles is already pushing a wide platter of pastries in front of me.
‘You’ve made different types?’ Remembering how they tasted last time, I’m melting in anticipation.
‘Almond and raspberry, double chocolate, pecan and salt caramel, and apricot.’ He points to each as he names them, then slices them into quarters. ‘Try them all and tell me what you think. Once I’ve seen your reaction, you can eat as many as you like.’
Considering how many I ate last time he might regret saying that.
‘Almond and raspberry– with white chocolate icing…’ I take a bite, then another straight away because it tastes like heaven. Then I remember what I’m here for, and find some words. ‘Flakey, delicious, I love the way you’ve got ground almonds in the centre, and the flakes on the outside, all shot through with raspberry coulis. And the fresh raspberries on the top are the cherry on the cake.’
Miles watches me move onto the next. ‘Double chocolate has dark chocolate slices, and cocoa in the dough too.’
I pop a piece into my mouth and let the cocoa explode on my tongue. ‘I’ve never tasted anything quite like it before. It’s incredible.’
He smiles. ‘I should be serving you spoonfuls of cucumber sorbet to clean your palate between flavours.’
For one time only I forgive him for being the kind of guy who hangs out in places where they have fancy shit like that, and grin at him. ‘I’m good without the greens, but I bet these would be amazing with herby cream cheese, or spinach and ricotta.’
He holds up his finger. ‘Thanks for that. It’s noted in my memory bank.’
I reach out for my next piece. ‘Apricot– aha! Let’s see how these compare to yesterday’s pastries.’ I’m chewing and waving my hands at the same time. ‘No comparison. They’ve blown the others out of St Aidan bay.’
‘And the last one. Basically it’s pecan nut with toffee drizzle.’
I go straight in for a whole one. ‘If these are what I had last time, I already know.’ This time around I’m not even trying to keep the flakes under control. I take the bun in my hand, open my mouth as wide as I can, and go for it. I’m still grinning as I wipe the crumbs off my cheeks when it’s all disappeared a few moments later.
He raises an eyebrow. ‘Not so bad then?’
I have to be honest. ‘If I could only eat one thing for the rest of my life, these would be up there.’ I stop for a second. ‘Have you got any more? Last time I ate four, but I could easily have eaten eight.’
Surprisingly there’s no judgement on Miles’s side. He laughs, and looks secretly proud. ‘If every potential customer felt like that, I’d definitely be onto a winner.’
I’m sitting up straight in my seat. ‘So theyarea commercial venture for you?’
He sniffs. ‘It’s very early days. I’ve never baked before, let alone sold food. But my mum’s dad was a baker, so if it works out, I’ll be following the family tradition.’
He’s caught my attention. ‘So what are you going to call them?’ I pick up a chocolate one. ‘If croissants crossed with doughnuts are cro-nuts, shaped like muffins… they’d be cruffins.’
He pulls a face. ‘I’ll certainly run that past my marketing teams.’
I roll my eyes that he’s got one of those to hand. ‘I’m afraid I’m an instant person, I can’t possibly wait for them. For now, I’m going to call them boathouse buns.’ I try it for size. ‘How many boathouse buns have you made today?’
