‘Sorry,’ said Polly again. ‘He knows he’s not meant to be in here. Health and Safety doesn’t specifically mention puffins, but we reckon it’s probably implicit. You are a Bad Bird.’
But she was rubbing the bird’s claw as she said it. The bird made a gentle eeping noise.
‘Come on. Away with you. Sorry, what were you after . . . ?’
Finally Marisa found her voice.
‘Um, I’m here for the—’
The door banged and in hurtled two small children who, as was evident by the girl’s red hair and the way they ran to her, were clearly the woman’s children.
‘You let Neil go ahead!’ said Polly.
‘We spoke to him about it and he promised not to come in here,’ said Daisy solemnly. ‘He lied.’
‘NEIL!’ shouted Avery. ‘COME HERE!’
Neil did absolutely nothing of the kind and eyed them with beady disdain.
Behind them, an extremely large man entered the shop. He took up most of the remaining space in the small bakery, and stared straight ahead, smiling.
‘You are pirate?’ he asked. He had a thick accent, a mop of dark hair and a full beard.
Polly looked up at him, then realised he was referring to the bird on her shoulder.
‘No, I’m just the baker,’ she said pleasantly. ‘Neil. Shoo.’
She opened the door and the small bird flew out. A thought occurred to her.
‘Are you Environmental Health?’ she asked the man nervously.
Daisy and Avery, meanwhile, were regarding the very large, shaggy stranger cheerfully.
‘This is Mr Bat-BAY-ar!’ said Daisy, pronouncing carefully. ‘He’s our music teacher!’
‘Also, I think perhaps he is a bear,’ whispered Avery. It was not a very quiet whisper.
‘Hello, Miss Miller, hello, Master Miller,’ said the man gravely, shaking each of their hands. ‘I am here for key?’
‘Of course, you’re Reuben’s new tenant!’ said Polly. ‘He told me you were coming. You teach at the school?’
‘I like having a bear as a teacher,’ said Avery, again in a loud whisper.
‘He’s NOT A BEAR,’ whispered back Daisy, equally loudly. ‘That’s RACIST.’
Avery frowned. ‘But we likes bears.’
Mr Batbayar was examining the baking with some attention. There were pasties, of course, scones, pies, beautiful sourdough loaves and gorgeously tempting cakes in rows, including strawberry tarts. He had narrow brown eyes, and they gleamed.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Polly.
She felt in her apron pocket and found a jangling set of keys.
‘Is Avery being racist, Mummy?’ Daisy wanted to know.
Polly grimaced and hissed, ‘No. Just a bit rude.’
‘BUT! WE! LIKES! BEARS!’
Polly handed over the key, and a file full of instructions. ‘Okay, it’s all the way up to the top of the hill, past the school.’
‘Excuse me, Mr Bat-BAY-er, do you KNOW any bears?’ asked Avery.
The man looked at the boy, seemingly puzzled. He clearly hadn’t been listening before.
‘I . . . You think I am bear like GRRRRR?’
He made a growling noise and lifted his huge hands and made them into a claw shape, and both the children squealed, half-delighted, half-terrified.
‘Children!’ said Polly, anguish. ‘Stop it!’
‘Oh! Yes. I know many dangerous bears. They are playing piano very bad, but they pay honey so I am not sad.’
‘Our dad makes honey!’
‘Is he bear?’ said Mr Batbayar.
This hadn’t occurred to either of them and their eyes grew even wider. Polly felt this was getting slightly out of hand.
‘So if you follow Sandy Lane all the way up to the end, where the road runs out – they haven’t finished the road, I’m afraid, one of the reasons Reuben is letting them go cheap.’
The man nodded.
‘You’re the second on the right.’
‘Thank you.’
He turned his furry face on the children once more.
‘And do your practice or I will be EATINK YOU UP!’
The children squealed in horror and ran behind the counter to hide in their mother’s skirts.
‘Mr Batbayar is only joking,’ said Polly.
‘I am not Only Jokink,’ said the man. ‘Nyam nyam. I am hungry bear. Please may I have four of thinks with . . . red, if there are no children to eat at this time.’
Polly lifted up four strawberry tarts and took his money.
‘Good day.’
And he left the shop, the door dinging behind him.
Chapter Eight
‘Gosh,’ said Polly. ‘Avery, I hope you’re not crying. He was only joking.’
‘NO!’ said Avery bravely, although Polly slightly feared for bedtime.
‘He’s not really a bear.’
‘But he said he was very hungry and was going to munch me up!’
Polly thought she would have to have a word with Reuben about his hiring practices, not for the first time.
‘Um . . . I’m sorry about that,’ she said to Marisa.
‘It’s okay,’ said Marisa, who had managed to calm herself down, and was wondering if people had always been so strange and she just hadn’t noticed, or if the world really had changed that much while she’d been sitting alone in her bedroom in Caius’ flat.
She quietly steeled herself to open her mouth.
‘Actually, I’m here for keys too?’
Polly slapped her head.
‘Of course, sorry, what an idiot. I’m Polly, by the way. You must be . . .’ She read the piece of paper. ‘Marisa Rossi? Oh, what a pretty name.’
‘Um, thanks.’
Polly handed over the keys and the file, as the children eyed her carefully in case she turned out to be a leopard or something.
‘Well, welcome to Mount Polbearne. Do you know how long you’re staying?’
Marisa shrugged, and Polly gave her an intense look. She remembered turning up here by herself, a long time ago. It had been a strange experience, to be sure.
‘Well, I hope you like it,’ she said, smiling.
Marisa hadn’t even thought about whether she’d like it or not. She just wanted to get in somewhere and shut the door and hide away from everything else, and if this place was right at the end of the world, well. That would do.
‘I’ll take . . . Can I take a loaf of bread? And some rolls . . .’
‘Oh, of course! Goodness, why didn’t I tell that peculiar man to buy some bread too. I can’t have been thinking straight.’
‘Also, we don’t want him to be HUNGRY,’ came a voice from down by her knees.
‘Could you take one up to him?’ asked Polly. ‘He can pop in and pay for it any time, I know where he lives.’
Marisa was stricken. The idea of going to someone else’s house, of having to . . . No. Today had already been bad enough. She couldn’t. Why couldn’t anyone see that? That life was easy for them and hard for her? Sometimes she wished she could carry a stick around so that people could see there was something wrong with her. Or wear a badge? No, not a badge. Just something people would know to avoid her and not to bump into her or ask her to do things she simply couldn’t do.