Page 53 of Lily, Unwritten
To go to a place where I was anonymous, where nobody knew me. That wasn’t all bad. I could be anyone, anything; nobody would ever know.
Cassie wanted me to stay in the granny flat forever but I knew I couldn’t. It wasn’t going to be easy to tell her my final decision, but I needed to. I had to make her understand.
My mind felt as battered and bruised as my heart; I struggled to concentrate on simple tasks. The thing about a new start when you’re alone – no need to worry about anyone else. If it didn’t work, I’d just start again. Maybe I’d end up one of those eclectic old ladies who’d been everywhere, completely independent and zen.
I remembered holidaying in Devon when I was a teenager and it being stunning. All gorgeous beaches and charming countryside. I had an image in my head of me wandering up and down said beautiful beaches, all windswept and beautiful. Recovering from my heartbreak, finding my inner peace. I would become utterly content on my own, I was sure. I had been before, after all. Before that bloody blind date.
Thank goodness for the internet, it made the world seem small. It was easy to research Devon, and I began a daily ritual of Googling jobs and flats. I just needed to wait for the right opportunity to crop up. I never had a doubt it would. I was going to have faith in myself, stick to my decisions, and not let other people sway me this time.
After just a week, it seemed that fate shared my plan. A place called ‘Zoe Bakes’ needed help while the owner took maternity leave. A flurry of Google later and I’d discovered it was located in a tiny village about half an hour from the seaside. It sounded perfect. I sent an email of interest and immediately planned my new life. I could imagine myself wandering around the village, serene and calm in pretty Seasalt dresses, like a chilled-out countryside girl.
When my phone rang an hour later with a number I didn’t recognise, a little squee noise escaped me.
“Hello, Lily speaking,” I answered, trying to sound confident and professional.
“Hi, this is Zoe. You sent an email about the maternity cover?” The voice was soothing and calm.
“Yes, I did, thank you for getting back to me so quickly.”
“In all honesty, I haven’t been inundated with applications. Being based in the middle of nowhere doesn’t help. I noticed your address is in Lancashire. Bit too far to commute,” she joked. It put me at ease.
“I’m looking to relocate, just been waiting for the right opportunity and this sounds exactly what I want to be doing,” I said.
“Well I’m growing to the size of a house steadily day by day. I’d need you to jump straight in, would that be a problem? I’d have to take you on as a trial to make sure we worked together OK and I know that’s a big ask when you’re moving so far?” Zoe asked in an inquisitive tone.
“It’s not a problem. I could come down anytime. Is it only maternity cover? That’s not a problem, but just so I know.”
“Initially, yes, it’s to cover my maternity leave, but afterwards I’ll be keeping the person on if they’ve worked out. I won’t be able to manage everything and spend the time I want with the baby,” she paused. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance we could talk over Zoom could we? I can tell a lot from a face.”
“Of course,” I’m sure I sounded ridiculously enthusiastic but I wanted this opportunity so much. “Text me the details, I can be on in ten minutes.”
I rushed through to Guy’s office as soon as she ended the call. Fortunately he was away at a conference and I knew his computer password was a combination of Ruby and Emilia’s names – very secure!
I was alone in the virtual meeting room as I dialled in and checked that I looked presentable on the screen before it burst into life with a face I assumed to be Zoe’s. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, sporting a wide, toothy smile that reminded me of Julia Roberts. Her tanned, freckled face was framed with incredible auburn hair, which curled into wild corkscrews. Amber-brown eyes darted off to the left as she watched herself in the camera and tied the wild curls back into a ponytail.
“Lovely to put a face to the voice, that’s better,” she smiled at me as she continued. “Can you tell me a little more about your experience?”
“It’s all amateur,” I began to explain. “But I’ve always been told I have a natural talent. I love to bake. My brownies are famous around here, I make everyone’s birthday cakes, I even did a naked wedding cake for a colleague a couple of years back. I could send pictures?”
“That would be good, I’d appreciate it,” she said. “The real test would be the taste, of course. We’d need to spend time getting you up to date on all the hygiene procedures too, if you were to join me.”
“I did get food hygiene certificates a couple of years back because I was thinking of pursuing things more formally. I’m happy to do a refresher course?”
“You know what, Lily…” Zoe scratched at the top of her head, and a stray curl fell loose over her forehead. “I get a good feeling about you. How do you feel about coming down for a trial?”
“I’d love to!” I grinned into the camera, then stopped myself and tried to look professional rather than desperate.
“Come down for a few days, we’ll work together. You can bake me all your favourites. Be warned, I’m eating for two, and I have massive sugar cravings. When could you make it? I realise it’s a long way and a big ask.”
I trusted this woman; it felt like I could be myself. “At the risk of sounding pathetic, I have no plans. I could be there on Monday.”
“Monday it is then,” she said. “I’ll email you the details, but I need to go, baby is kicking me right in the bladder.” She waved, cheerful and childlike, then the screen went blank.
I turned the computer off and twirled slowly around in Guy’s leather office chair; imagining myself at the head of a baking empire with not a bloody lawyer in sight!
That had progressed quickly. Zoe seemed like she didn’t hang around before she made decisions. This was it then, I was off. New start, new me… Hopefully, as long as I could ace this trial. I just needed to get my head in the game.
After over six hours slumped in the mini listening to a playlist designed to not make me cry; I realised just how far away Devon actually was. Perfect. It already seemed as though I could breathe easier knowing neither of them would be nearby; not having to worry every time I nipped to the shops. The village itself was beautiful with a quaint main road containing all the usual suspects – post office, corner shop, tea rooms, hardware store, and, of course, the bakery. There only seemed to be one pub, but it was gorgeous; surrounded by enormous hanging baskets full of colourful begonias and petunias.