Sunrise by the Sea (Little Beach Street Bakery #4) - Colgan, Jenny Page 0,1

and Huckle was inclined to agree with him.

They both watched Neil sweep around the children.

‘I mean, he could—’ Huckle started.

‘Neil can’t babysit!’ said Polly sternly.

‘I know, I know,’ said Huckle. ‘I just thought it might be a nice night to sit out at Andy’s’ – Andy ran the local pub and a superb chippy – ‘or even go up to the posh place and have a glass of wine. Without some small monsters wriggling all over it.’

‘We could call Kerensa,’ suggested Polly, meaning Reuben’s wife, their rich friends who lived on the mainland.

‘I’m not in a Reuben-handling mood,’ said Huckle. ‘Plus . . . Lowin.’

Even though the twins were miles off, they bounced over.

‘ARE WE GOING TO LOWIN’S?’

Lowin, Reuben and Kerensa’s son, who was now almost eight years old, was the hero of the twins’ lives, living as he did in a huge Tony Stark mansion with every computer game and every piece of Playmobil ever made. Lowin, for his part, tolerated the children more or less, as long as they did everything he said in every game and obeyed his every whim, just like the paid staff did. Daisy and Avery were his very willing slaves and were quite happy to go along with whatever Lowin’s newest phase was. Normally it was fine when it was an Avengers obsession phase, or a racing cars obsession phase. But Lowin’s latest obsessive phase was snakes, and despite Kerensa’s promises, Polly was never a hundred per cent certain Reuben wasn’t about to buy him a huge boa constrictor and just let him wear it everywhere like a scarf until it ate Neil.

‘Not today.’

The twins’ faces looked downcast.

‘But he’s getting a huge slide shaped like a snake! The biggest ever!’

‘That sounds dangerous,’ said Polly, getting up. ‘Okay. It’s just leftover chicken.’

‘That’s all right,’ said Huckle, who was about to hit the road again, repping his honey business. Times had been tough – there had been floods all over the West Country and a lot of businesses were finding it difficult to keep going but he was doing his best. ‘It’s good to have home-cooked food. It’s going to be nothing but restaurants and hotel food for a fortnight.’

‘Say that like you’re sad about it,’ pleaded Polly.

‘I am!’ said Huckle. And then, more seriously, grabbing her hand: ‘You know I am.’

‘I wish I was going off to stay in hotels.’

‘It’s not the Ritz! It’s a Travelodge off the A40!’

‘I know. But anywhere is the Ritz with you.’

They shared a kiss. He hated going away. But he had to. They had enough trouble keeping their heads above water as it was.

‘Think of the windows,’ he said.

‘I know, I know.’

If they could replace the lighthouse’s ancient rattly single-paned glass with English Heritage-approved double glazing, the difference it would make in the quality of their lives would be immeasurable. No more icy plunges down the circular staircase; no more painful hauling themselves out of bed.

Although, who knew? The house might never be warm to other people’s standards – Polly’s mother’s, for example, or Kerensa’s, or, well, anyone’s, really. But to the four of them – the children had never known anything else – it was just perfect. Huckle had put an old TV in the master bedroom, and through the cosy nights of winter all four of them curled up with the electric blanket on, Neil hopping on the nightstand, watching Moana, and it was, windows or not, as happy a place as Polly could possibly imagine.

And now spring was coming! And if Huckle made enough this year they were going to get windows and a new boiler, so there was very little to complain about, thought Polly, as she headed back into the kitchen, listening to the merry voices of the twins demanding that their father became a tiger MEEJETLY which he obligingly did, growling so fiercely that Polly wondered if Avery would get upset. Daisy would dry his tears if he did.

She added barley and vegetables to the chicken stock she had boiled up from the roast, happily looking forward to when Huckle would be home for the summer, and the tourists would start to arrive for the season and they would be cheerfully flat out. She couldn’t wait to feel the sun warm on her face again, not the endless winter storms that had seemed to arrive every single weekend. For months the rain had thrown itself against the windows and the house was full of wet wellingtons and the children got cranky when