Sunlight flickered through Ellen's bedroom window as a new day dawned. It took a moment for her to remember where she was. I'm home. The smell of freshly baked bread drifted up to her room, and she could hear the bell in the shop tinkling every so often as customers came and went with their various baked goods. It was almost like life before the war. Ellen rolled over, away from the window and glanced at her alarm-clock, it was almost nine o'clock. They must be feeling sorry me if they let me sleep in that late! Yawning, Ellen pushed her eiderdown off with her right arm and pulled herself out of bed. She pulled on her dressing-gown and slippers and made her way down stairs.
Upon reaching the landing, Bramble came tearing out of the kitchen and jumped up, pawing at her nightdress.
"Hey boy!" Ellen laughed, kneeling down and scratching his ears.
"Oh Bramble, calm down!" hushed Catherine, bustling out of the kitchen. "How's your arm, Ellen?"
"Fine thanks, Mum."
"Good, I've got some breakfast on for you and your Father wants you to help in the bakery," said Catherine, as Ellen gave her a quizzical look. "Well don't think just because you're hurt, we're not going to work you to the bone!"
Ellen snorted and shook her head, rubbing Bramble's belly. "You're too soft for that."
"Well, I suppose now that you mention it, your Father is the soft one. And stop pampering that dog – he gets enough attention when Marian comes around!"
She giggled, stood up and followed her Mother into the kitchen. "It smells good," remarked Ellen.
"I hope it tastes as good as it smells. It's bacon and eggs!"
"Scrambled?" sniffed Ellen.
"Of course!" chuckled Catherine.
Ellen sat down and let her Mother serve her, whilst Bramble sniffed about under the table, hoping idly that something would drop onto the floor. When she was younger, Ellen would feed him little titbits whilst Jonas pulled funny faces at her across the table. Bramble rested his head on her lap and gazed up at her with 'I-love-you-so-much' puppy-dog eyes. Unable to resist, Ellen fed him some bacon rind.
"I saw that!" snapped Catherine, grinning. "Bramble! Go to your bed!"
He gave Ellen a sad look before departing. "I only gave him a little bit!"
"Well, he'll get fat if you keep giving him things."
"With the amount of exercise he gets, I doubt he ever will. It only takes a startled pheasant to get him to go mad."
"We'll have to agree to disagree but you need to eat up, get dress and then go and help your Father."
Ellen ate the rest of her breakfast, hampered by her Mother bickering with her. Ellen deposited the dish in the sink and then went upstairs to get changed. Her Mother had laid out a dark blue skirt, a matching light blue blouse and brooch for her. Ellen tugged the night-gown over her head and then pulled on the clothes. She sat down in front of the mirror and pinned her hair up in a messy bun, deciding to use the pins with the little flowers on the ends as she could afford to be a little frivolous now she was at home. Finally, Ellen wriggled her feet into her old leather shoes – they were too small, obviously she had grown in the past few months, though it had probably been for the last time as she was now eighteen.
Ellen clattered back down the stairs and stepped outside into the garden. She vaulted the wall to the left and entered the bakery. It was blisteringly hot in the kitchen with the ovens blazing. Her Father's two apprenti
ces were hauling trays of bread out of the ovens. Both Allen and Sam smiled at her as she entered.
"You alright?" wheezed Allen, pulling down a tray.
"Fine thanks."
"Your Dad's out front," said Sam.
"Thanks," replied Ellen, turning away and walking into the shop, behind the counter.
The shop looked bare compared to the last time Ellen had been in there. There seemed to be less products up for sale and there had been bread from all different countries in baskets that had lined the wall behind the counter, but now there were only the British favourites, a few French and other European, some others Ellen did not even recognise and absolutely no German breads what so ever. 'Bulkie Roll', 'American muffin', 'Pullman loaf', Ellen read. Her Father bustled up behind her, replacing the empty basket of whole-grain loaves with a full one. The smell coming off of them was divine.
"You alright?" enquired Steve, checking the basket was secure on the rack.
"Yes, it's just the shop looks slightly emptier than before," Ellen replied, turning to face the shop floor.
Steve rubbed his cheek. "Yes it is. The German U-boats have been sinking the merchant convoys so we can't get as many foreign goods. The local produce we stock is fine though, we'll never run out of jams, chutneys or cheeses."
"I suppose, though it is a shame."
"Of course, but you need to get the shop open."
"I thought it was already open!"
"No – that was a delivery from Manor Farm. They brought everything through the front as they were late and we'd already fired up the ovens. Come on, you know the drill, apron on, board outside, open sign in the window and keep the door open," instructed her Father, returning to the kitchen.
Ellen took the keys from the hook, they hung on and walked out from behind the counter and unlocked the door. The specials board was just inside it. Ellen hauled it outside, the cold pricked at her skin as she leant the specials board against the low wall that gave way to the shop window. She stopped for a second to admire the view. North Street was at the top of the hill, so the whole village could be seen from the top of it. The higgledy-piggledy roofs cascaded all the way down the hill to the main road to York. The day was so bright and clear, the frost on the roof-tops of the houses sparkled like crystals and reflected the light into the forget-me-not blue sky that had wisps of fluffy white clouds hanging lazily above them all.
"Are you open?"
Ellen's daydream cracked like a stone being thrown at a window. "What? Oh yes we are, I was just putting the specials board out," gabbled Ellen, jumping around. "Marian, how lovely to see you again!"
Marian Miller smiled demurely at Ellen. She was devastatingly beautiful with her periwinkle blue eyes, pale, heart-shaped face and dark, mahogany coloured locks that were currently put up in a tight bun at the back of her head. Though this did not seem to stop a few unruly ones from escaping and dangling free. "Good morning Ellen, it's lovely to see you too. I heard you were injured."
"I am," Ellen muttered, gesturing sheepishly to her left arm.
"Oh! I see. Sorry, I've been a little distracted of late."
"That's fine, would you like to come in?"
"Yes, I need a few things."
Ellen led the way inside. She paused for a minute, to put the 'Open' sign in the window. She pulled on an apron that was in a box, folded under the counter but left the strings untied as she could not tie a bow with one hand.
"Right then," muttered Ellen, pushing her hair out of the way.
Marian picked up a block of pre-cut and wrapped cheddar from one of the tables and brought it over to the counter.
"Is there anything else?" asked Ellen, checking the price written on the cheese's wrapper and typing it into the till.
"Yes, can I have a white loaf of bread please?"
Ellen nodded and pulled one off of the shelf behind her. She wrapped it up and put it on the counter. "Here you are. That's three shillings."
Marian did not notice her. She was looking down at her thumbs.
"Marian!" Ellen said again.
She jumped. "Sorry, I was just…" she murmured, taking the loaf and cheese and depositing them the basket she was carrying.
"What? Are you alright?" Ellen asked, concerned as she saw tears pricking at the corners of Marian's eyes.
She nodded, wiping them away. "Fine. How much was it? Three shillings, yes?"
"Yes. Are you sure you're alright?" Ellen asked again, taking the money as Marian handed it to her.
She bobbed her head and with a swish of her skirts, walked out of the shop.
Ellen hesitated for a few seconds before following her. Marian was about a hundred yards from the shop as Ellen skidded out the door. She stopped, watching Marian's retreating back. She'll be fine, she just needs a bit of time! Ellen, another voice muttered, you know all too well why she's upset – ask her in.
"I know why you're upset," Ellen called after her. Marian whipped around, eyes streaming. "Come inside. We can talk after work and I'm sure Bramble will want to see you."
Startled, Marian just nodded and followed Ellen back inside.
Hello! I'm back - sorry this took so long I have had homework galore and a lot of family to visit over Christmas, so this was the best I could do. Sorry if this chapter seems a little slower - the next one will speed up the plot (and romance ;) ) a little more so I will be able to finish it at some point (no idea when but that's a good thing, right?). As always favourie, follow and/or review, also please follow me on Tumblr! If you are a 'Musketeers' fan, please, please, please PM so we can fangirl and answer the ultimate question: why does D'artagnan not have a hat yet, like the rest of the Musketeers? Answer this question or favourite, follow and/or review and I will send you some sort of baked good!