Page 11 of Save You (Maxton Hall #2)

Ruby

Smith’s Bakery doesn’t look like much from the outside.

It’s part of a row of shops with flats above them, between my favorite thrift store and a takeaway pizza place that’s been closed every single time I’ve walked past. They refresh the front every year, but it gets so weather-beaten that the paint barely lasts a few weeks before it’s looking tatty and unloved again.

There’s a sign with fancy lettering in green and gold over the big front window that displays the day’s freshly baked treats to every passerby.

Everything is made in the shop, from soft white bread, scones and rolls, to Bakewell tarts, to pies—everything your heart could desire.

“I always come here when I’m feeling down,” I tell Lydia, who is looking a little doubtfully at the shopfront. I go up the steps to the bakery and hold the door for her. The delicious aromas waft out from the ovens toward us, and the smells of fresh bread and cinnamon fill my nose.

“My favorite smell,” I say, turning to Lydia. “If there was a perfume that smelled of fresh bread and cinnamon, I’d buy the entire stock and then bathe in it until I’d never smell of anything else ever again.”

Lydia’s lips twitch ever so slightly. Still, it’s the first sign of emotion she’s shown since we left the doctor’s office.

Phil, my mum’s colleague, is serving a customer as we approach the counter.

There are wooden shelves on the wall behind him, filled with loaves and baguettes.

On the counter, there are two little baskets with free samples of buttered bread.

I take a couple in passing and hand one to Lydia while I pop the other into my mouth.

“Have a taste,” I say through a mouthful. “The bread here is so good.”

Lydia follows suit, somewhat hesitantly.

The bakery is small and cramped. The space isn’t really designed for settling down with a coffee, but they’ve squeezed in a couple of tables and seats anyway.

One’s by the kitchen door, where they make the dough, and the other is so close to the counter that you can’t help getting a bit jostled by other customers when it’s busy.

I gesture toward the little bench and battered table at the back of the shop. Lydia squeezes in, looking around her. She doesn’t seem to know what to make of this place. There’s an air of skepticism about her that reminds me of her mum and the way she studied me the only time we met.

I shake the memory out of my head. “Do you know what you’d like?” I ask.

Lydia squints past me, her head to one side as she eyes the array of cakes. “What would you recommend?”

“The Bakewell tart is my favorite.”

“I’ll go with that, then.”

I nod and smile, and walk up to the counter just as Mum emerges from the bake room. She beams at the sight of me and wipes her hands on the apron she’s wearing over a striped shirt, embroidered with the bakery logo.

“Hi, Mum, I’m here with Lydia,” I say hastily, gesturing with my thumb back to our table. “She’s had a tough day and I thought a Bakewell tart and a hot chocolate would be sure to make her feel better,” I add in a whisper, hoping that Lydia can’t hear me.

“There’s nothing that a Bakewell tart and a hot chocolate can’t cure,” Mum replies with a conspiratorial wink.

“Thanks, Mum.”

I go back to Lydia and sit on the wobbly chair opposite her. She’s resting her chin on her hand. “How long has your mum worked here?”

“Since before I was born. She started here straight from school.”

She smiles slightly. “Must have been cool as a kid.”

“There were always biscuits,” I say, waggling my eyebrows.

Lydia’s smile broadens.

“Do you know what you want to do, one day?” I ask after a while.

Now her expression darkens. “What do you think?”

“Lydia, just because you’re having a baby, that doesn’t mean your entire future is screwed up.”

She lowers her eyes and runs her finger over the dents in the tabletop. “Babies,” she murmurs after a long time.

“What?” I say, confused.

“My future isn’t screwed up just because I’m having babies . Plural.” The smile is back, more restrained this time, but I can’t help returning it.

I don’t know what happens next, but suddenly we both start laughing, hesitantly at first, and then louder. Lydia claps her hand to her mouth like she can’t quite believe what she’s doing. But that just turns her laugh into a semi-muffled snort, which sets us both off again.

Just at this moment, Mum comes over with a tray. “What’s so funny?” she asks as she sets the steaming mugs in front of us, followed by the cake plates.

Lydia presses her lips together and shuts her eyes until she’s got herself back under control. Then she looks at Mum and says, perfectly calmly: “Ruby and I were just laughing at how weird life can be, Mrs. Bell.” She leans in to sniff the hot chocolate. “This smells divine, by the way.”

Mum blinks in surprise, then gives Lydia a gentle pat on her arm. She knows that she lost her mother not so long ago, and I’m sure she wishes there was more she could do for her than just bring her cake and hot drinks. “Enjoy it.”

Lydia watches Mum as she walks back to the counter to serve the next customer. Then she sighs softly, pulls the mug of hot chocolate closer, and wraps both hands around it.

“I always wanted to be a designer for Beaufort’s,” she says, answering my question after all.

“But surely you…” still can , I want to say, but one glance from Lydia is enough to cut me off.

She picks up her spoon and stirs the hot chocolate for a while.

“Once upon a time, I dreamed of bringing my creativity to the firm, but Mum and Dad considered my ideas too modern, not traditional enough,” she goes on.

“I kept getting into rows with them because I wanted a bigger role than they were planning for me. Unlike James, I really would like to take the company on. But for them, it was all about him. Ever since we were born. Regardless of what either of us wanted.” She pulls the spoon from the mug and slips it into her mouth. “Mm.” She sighs with delight.

“I hate how much pressure you were both put under. Still are. It must be so hard,” I mumble, turning my attention to my own drink. The warmth is doing me the world of good, and my cold fingers are gradually thawing out.

Lydia looks so sad and hopeless that I wish I could give her a hug.

“Anyone looking at our family from the outside would get the impression that Mum and Dad love us more than anything, and just want the best for us. Wanted. Whatever.” She clears her throat.

“I can’t complain about having grown up like that.

I don’t have any right to. I don’t know how much James told you, but…

there are things that just went wrong and can’t be put right again. ”

I can’t help wondering if she means her father. And whether he only gets violent with James the minute he doesn’t get his own way, or if he’s rough with Lydia too. If so, then I’m even more worried for her.

“He only told me a few things,” I say evasively.

I know that Lydia knows him better than anyone else in the world, but I still can’t talk to her about the things he confided in me. Even after everything that’s happened, I couldn’t betray him like that.

“He’s doing better, by the way. He’s stopped drinking since the funeral. Now he’s working out obsessively instead.”

I remember the blank look in his eyes. James’s tears. The way he clung on to me. The cuts and bruises on his hand.

“And things between him and your dad…?” I ask cautiously.

“You know they had a fight?”

I nod.

“Dad acts like nothing ever happened. He’s practically never at home, and when he is there, he orders James into his office to brief him for Beaufort board meetings.”

On the one hand, I’m glad that James’s relationship with his father hasn’t escalated any further, but on the other hand, I know what James feels about the company and what a weight it must be on his shoulders to work for the firm.

I’m so sorry for him, especially seeing that that’s all kicked in sooner than he was expecting.

“I hope you two can get through this, Ruby.”

I look into Lydia’s turquoise eyes. Her eyes that look exactly the same as James’s.

Wearily, I shake my head. “I don’t think we can. To be honest, I don’t even want to.”

It’s the first time I’ve said that aloud.

But it’s the truth. I don’t think you can ever just get over a thing like this.

Everything James and I have gone though.

And I really don’t want to. Especially not when I think about everything I’m going to face in the future.

It feels like there’s a shadow lying over all my dreams, and only because I confided them in James, and then he hurt me so badly.

“You could try,” Lydia suggests gently, but I shake my head again.

“I understand that the news about your mum knocked him sideways, but…” I shrug helplessly. “That doesn’t change anything. I hate him for what he did.”

“But you were still there when he needed you. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

I stir my hot chocolate and take a deep breath. “I still have feelings for him, yes. But at the same time, I’ve never been this angry with anyone in my whole life. And I don’t think that anger is just going away.”

Neither of us speaks. The oven seems to be beeping louder now than a few minutes ago, and the bell over the door and the coming and going of other customers are louder too.

“Would it have been better if I’d gone to my appointment on my own?” Lydia asks out of the blue.

My head snaps up. “No!”

There’s a blush on Lydia’s cheeks and she suddenly looks almost shy. I wonder what’s going on in her head right now.

“If I’d known how you were feeling, I’d never have taken you up on your offer. I—”

“Lydia,” I interrupt her in a gentle voice, reaching across the table to take her hand. Her eyes widen and she stares at our interlinked fingers. “I meant what I said to you. I’d like to be there for you. Our friendship has nothing to do with James. OK?”

She looks back at me, and I think I can spot a glimmer in her eyes. She doesn’t reply to my words, just gives my hand a quick squeeze. And that’s more than enough.