Page 130 of Save You

“My favorite smell,” I say, turning to Lydia.“If there was a perfume that smelled of fresh bread and cinnamon, I’d buy theentire 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 havingbabies.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.”