Chapter One

W ith her hazard warning lights flickering, Debbie Keene bumped her red Fiesta onto the grass verge at the side of the road and cut the engine. Staring at the sign ahead, ‘ Welcome to Penworth Bay, please drive carefully' , she gripped the steering wheel.

This was it. She was here. For the first time in sixteen years, she was in Penworth Bay, the bay her father had grown up in, the village in which her nan still lived—the nan she hadn't seen or heard from in over a decade and a half. Or at least Debbie hoped she did.

Would she even recognise her? How would she react if Debbie just turned up on her doorstep? Unannounced?

Debbie lowered her chin to the steering wheel, her gaze still fixed on the road into the bay. She should have warned her, asked her nan if she would mind her dropping by. Her nan's phone number may have changed, but there hadn't been anything stopping her from picking up a pen and a sheet of paper and writing to her. Nothing apart from the dread of the wait to hear back from her, to find out if she still lived here and if she wanted to see her.

No, this is what Debbie had decided. She'd made this decision to stay in the bay for a while and visit her nan, to see if she could rebuild the relationship she'd had with her whilst growing up.

Straightening her back, she turned the ignition on again and jolted the car back down the verge and onto the road. She could do this. She could. Now to see how much of the bay she remembered and whether she'd be able to locate The Cornish Bay Bakery where she would be volunteering for the next four weeks.

As the road turned to cobbles beneath her tyres, she smiled. She remembered. She was almost here. Spotting the row of shops on her right, she slowed to a crawl until she was in front of the bakery.

Debbie frowned. This was it, wasn't it? She looked out of her window and across the path to the double-fronted shop. It looked bigger than she remembered. She was sure there'd only been one window at the front. She and her cousin, Bertie, used to cup their hands around their eyes, focusing on the abundance of choice of tasty treats displayed and struggling to choose. More often than not, she'd pick the same as Bertie for fear of regretting her decision. Not that she wouldn't have enjoyed any of the baked goods on offer, quite the contrary, she'd have enjoyed all of them, but whenever she'd chosen independently Bertie had always teased her, boasting about how much better his choice was.

Would she see Bertie again? Did he visit their nan? He might even live locally. He'd always told her he would move this way when he was old enough to move out of the local town his parents lived in.

Silencing the questions in her mind, she pushed open the door and made her way to the bakery. She was late, she should have arrived before closing, but by the looks of things, someone was inside. Or judging by the murmuring of chatter, she could hear a few people. She looked down at the ground. Should she knock? Or take a wander around the bay and come back later? Elsie, the owner, was presumably busy with something else.

Pulling her mobile from her pocket, Debbie scrolled through to the message Elsie had sent her after Debbie had apologised and warned her she'd be late. Yep, she'd said anytime was fine. Besides, from the little she remembered about Elsie, she was one of those super lovely people. She'd always made herself, Bertie and her nan welcome in the bakery and had even made a special batch of chocolate orange-flavoured cupcakes for her after she'd fallen down the steps to the beach and broken her arm.

Debbie slipped her mobile back into her handbag and knocked.

A man opened the door. ‘Hello, I'm afraid the bakery is closed at the moment.'

‘Oh, I'm not here to buy anything. I was just wondering if Elsie was about, please?' The aroma of baked goods mixed with the familiar smell of a roast dinner wafted out of the door towards her and behind the man, she could see people rushing towards a long table positioned in the middle of the bakery. Lots of people. Perhaps she should have waited.

‘One moment, I'll just see where she is.' The man glanced over his shoulder before raising his voice. ‘Erin, someone's asking after Elsie.'

‘Thank you.' Debbie smiled as a woman hurried towards the door.

‘Hi, do you want to come in? Elsie won't be a moment.' The woman wiped her hands down the front of her jeans before holding the door open.

‘Thank you. I'm Debbie. I'm here for a voluntary position at this bakery?' She glanced up at the sign above the door. It was the same design it always had been, the same font used, the same colouring, just a little brighter, a little larger to cover the double-fronted building.

‘Oh, lovely to meet you, Debbie. I'm Erin and this is Tim. I've recently finished volunteering here myself.' Erin grinned and stepped back. ‘Here she comes. I'll catch you later.'

Debbie pulled the thin strap of her handbag higher up her shoulder as Elsie appeared in the doorway. She was the same. Recognisable. Older but she was wearing her white hair short and curled as she always had, and the same kind smile lit up her face and pale blue eyes. ‘Hi...'

‘Hello, love. Can I help you?' Elsie tilted her head, looking at her.

‘Yes, I'm Debbie. I've come here to volunteer.' She shifted position under Elsie's gaze. ‘But I can see you're busy, so I can come back later.'

Blinking, Elsie shook her head. ‘It's not a problem, love. Sorry, I feel as though I recognise you from somewhere, but with your accent, I'm guessing I'm getting muddled. You remind me of someone, though.'

‘Oh, I used to come here as a child. A long time ago.' She laughed nervously. Did she really recognise her? Yes, Debbie recognised Elsie, but that was because her bakery had been a huge part of her childhood holidays in the bay. Surely Elsie wouldn't remember her? The bakery must have hundreds of people walking through the doors each week.

Elsie raised her eyebrows. ‘You're not one of Florrie's grandkids, are you? Umm...' She clicked her thumb and forefinger together whilst thinking. ‘You're not Steve's little girl?'

Debbie grinned. She did recognise her! ‘Yes, yes, I am.'

‘Wow, come here, love.' Pulling Debbie towards her, Elsie wrapped her arms around her. ‘It's been such a long time. Your nan must be thrilled to have you back in the bay, right?'

Her nan still lived here then! Relief flooded through her as she stepped back. But would Elsie think it strange that Debbie hadn't been to see her nan yet? That instead, she'd come to the place she was going to be volunteering? She mumbled, ‘I haven't seen her yet.'

Without skipping a beat, Elsie closed the front door and ushered her further into the bakery. ‘I see. Well, as you've probably noticed, we're having a bit of a get-together. One of our bakery family dinners, so I hope you're hungry.'

‘I can't just barge in. I'm happy to take a wander around the bay and come back.' Debbie watched as people filed out of the kitchen door at the back of the bakery carrying plates of steaming food before taking their seats at the table. It smelt good. Very good.

‘Nonsense. You're a volunteer now, so you're part of the bakery family as well.' Elsie paused and looked around. ‘I suppose this place has changed a little since you were last here.'

Debbie smiled. ‘Just a little! It seems to have doubled in floor space.'

Elsie chuckled. ‘That's right. It has. A few years back I bought the shop next door and expanded the business.'

‘It looks great.' And it did. Business was obviously thriving for Elsie. As well as the bakery counter, there were another two counters, a small one along the back wall and a larger one on the opposite side displaying an array of stunningly decorated wedding cakes and favours.

‘Thank you, love.' Elsie looked behind her. ‘I'll give you the grand tour later, but now, it's time to eat. I hope you're hungry, Ian has made the biggest apple crumble for pudding I think I've ever seen!'

A small girl ran headfirst into Elsie before tugging on her apron. ‘Nana Elsie, Nana Elsie! Quick! Hudson has knocked over his plate and there's roast potatoes all over the floor. One even rolled right across to Scott, and he said he's going to take it home for his dog. Do dogs eat roast potatoes? I didn't know they did. Can they?'

‘Oops, never mind, Pippa. And yes, I'm sure Scott's dog will love Hudson's potato.' Elsie chuckled. ‘Why don't you show Debbie, here, to the kitchen so she can get some food while I clear up Hudson's mess?'

‘Oh, Wendy has already cleaned it up.' Pippa slipped her hand into Elsie's as they made their way towards the group of people sitting around the table. ‘I just didn't know if dogs could eat potatoes.'

‘Ah, I see. Yes, yes. Scott's dog will enjoy the roast potato, I'm sure.' Elsie looked across to Debbie. ‘Come on through to the kitchen and fill up a plate. Where...?'

Debbie watched as a young boy ran towards them before skidding on a dropped carrot slice and falling dramatically to the floor, face first, his small hands shooting out in either direction in an attempt to save himself.

‘Huddy, love. Are you trying to re-enact Bambi on the ice?' Kneeling, Elsie scooped him up in her arms before glancing up at Debbie. ‘Welcome to the mad house, Debbie, love. I want to promise you it's not always like this, but...'

Debbie smiled. ‘Don't worry. Is he okay?'

‘Oh, he'll be fine. Won't you Hudson?' After rubbing his knees, Elsie stood up with Pippa holding one hand and Hudson in the other. ‘Go help yourself to some food, love, and then pull up a chair.'

‘Okay, thanks.' Pausing, Debbie watched as the children pulled Elsie towards the table. Did she literally just walk into the kitchen and pick up a plate? Wouldn't people think she was rude? It smelt delicious and after the long journey, she was starving. As she dithered on the spot, not sure what to do, a man with a white beard walked towards her.

‘Hello, you must be the new volunteer. I'm Elsie's husband, Ian.' He smiled. ‘Come on through to the kitchen and grab yourself a plate, love, before people start coming back for seconds.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘Of course. These bakery family roast dinners have been a tradition of Elsie's for years and the more the merrier.'

‘Okay, thanks.' Debbie felt her shoulders relax as she followed Ian through to the kitchen at the back of the bakery. If all of these people either worked or had volunteered for Elsie, then maybe meeting them all in one go would be a good thing if not daunting.