Baking Bad

Chapter 1-Of Baking and Vespas

The autumn sun hadn't yet hit the rooves of London but the city was already waking up. The normal noises of the streets started to fill the air;  the rumble of delivery vans,  the chatter of people returning from their graveyard shifts and the horns of the cars starting the early morning rush to work.

But in the kitchens of The Willow Tree Bakery- a tiny family-run establishment on the outskirts of Mayfair- the day had already begun a long time ago.

The inside of the kitchen was, if possible, more chaotic than the filling streets outside. A silhouette could faintly be seen hovering over an open oven,  but the shape was muffled by the thick acrid smoke pouring out of the open oven door.

"Bugger!" The shape muttered.  "Bugger, bugger,  BUGGER!!"

The shape stared forlornly down at the smouldering remains of what would have been a Victoira Sponge but now strongly resembled a burnt-out charcoal briquette,  something that customers would rather be paid to eat than buy voluntarily.

After dumping the burnt cake in the bin and opening the windows, the woman standing in the kitchen became visible as the smoke drifted away- the fresh air revealing a willowy figure with long dark hair, startling green eyes and plump lips that were used to smiling- but were now pulled down in an expression of utmost irritation.
The young Madeleine O'Shea, part-time pastery chef and full-time owner of the French-style pâtissière was decidedly not having a good start to the day.

Grumbling quietly to herself,  Madeleine plopped the still-warm cake tin in the sink to soak (with a little more force than was necessary) and grabbed the tray of decorated cupcakes that lay beside her. She made her way through the kitchen's western style saloon doors and into the main shop room. She was immediately hit by the sweet sugary smell of the shop, the comforting aroma quickly helping to settle her frazzled temper.

The sweet smell of the bakery was like a well-known balm. Automatically Madeleine's mind conjured memories of Nana, her father's mother standing by the stove in the kitchen, stirring a mixing bowl.

She was a small woman her Nana, but with a powerful presence and through Maddie's child eyes she seemed to dominate the room. For Maddie her grandmother was home,  everything from her flowery perfume to her clacking rosary was as familiar to Maddie as her own face.
"Come on Maddie" her Nana's soft voice coaxed. "Just a little taste... "
Little Maddie's mouth clamped even more firmly shut and she glared resolutely at the spoon dripping with batter being held close to her face.
"Don't wanna.."
"Oh for goodness sake Maddie!" Her Nana scolded,  but her tone was laced with amusement "If I wanted to poison you,  I'd let Grandpa cook!"
Grudgingly, Maggie's little rosebud mouth opened , and she tentatively licked some batter off the wooden spoon. The mixture was sweet,  creamy and slipped easily down her throat. Her tongue swiped around her mouth searching for more and her pudgy fingers reached eagerly for the spoon.
Hearing her Nana's laughter she looked up, batter streaking across her face and, with the sort of indignation that only children can pull off, watched her Nana's eyes dance in amusement and the lines around her eyes carve themselves deeper into her skin.

The shop was ready for customers. Maddie and her two shop assistants Lucy and Margot had spent the past weekend baking and stocking up on pastries and all forms of baked goods- in fact Maddie had worked until small hours of the morning baking more loaves of the gluten-free sourdough bread that was becoming increasingly popular as yet another hot new diet swept across the London streets. Right now the bakery shelves were groaning under the weight of sugar and pastry. In the corner,  fluffy éclairs full of rich cream and drizzled chocolate lay lined up in almost militant parallel rows.  Apple, pear and cherry danishes, their fruity centres glistening wetly, oven-bronzed loaves of bread stood waiting to be buttered while elaborately decorated cakes stood proudly by the cash register, looking like the posh grandes dames of years ago draped in extravagant gowns,  dripping in layers of silk, satin and jewels.

Madeleine was very proud of her shop.  It once was an old Georgian townhouse but had been converted over time to meet the needs of a running bakery. The front of the shop was the original brick facing,  with windows jutting out onto the street to showcase the baked goods for sale inside the store and cheerful flowers hung underneath each windowsill, adding a splash of colour. When the green front door was swung open, the airy interior of the shop could be seen. Warm honey-coloured floorboards overlaid by Persian rugs, soft lacey curtains and comfortable antique chairs and tables gave the shop a welcoming homey feel. Sparkling clean glass cases ran along the walls (interrupted occasionally by laden bookcases) which displayed all sorts of chilled  baked goods. The saloon doors linked the salesroom with the gigantic kitchen and another door inside the kitchen led to her private downstairs sitting room. A staircase in the sitting room led to the two floors upstairs where Madeleine lived- a motly collection of rooms dating from the building when it was lived in as a townhouse.

Madeleine strode behind the counter and carefully arranged the cupcakes on a waiting dish. Satisfied with her work, she wiped her sugary hands on hear jeans,  only to seen the time on her watch, let loose another round of curses and raced upstairs (taking the creaky steps two at a time) to get ready for university.

Fifteen minutes later, dressed casually in a Nirvana band tee,  ripped skinny jeans and ankles boots,  she clumped her way downstairs,  kissed her elderly car Mr Tibbles between the ears and left him snoozing on his pink fluffy blanket next to the radiator.
She grabbed her leather messanger bag full of her research notes alongside her lurid green helmet and raced out the front door,  stopping only to unchain her cherry-red Vespa parked outside her shop.

It was a fairly breezy autumn day and while the sky was overcast the air was clear and crisp. Just by chance,  The Willow Tree was only a short ride to her campus so she kick-started the Vespa and drove off down the cobbled lane, weaving expertly through the traffic. By some miracle, she managed to get almost every green traffic light and with practiced ease drove up to the gates of the Zoological Institute and carefully parked, making sure no objects scraped the side of her mechanical baby.

She repositioned her bag on her shoulder and with forced determination looked at the building in front of her.
Right Maddie she thought to herself Let's get ready for another week!

Author's note: Sooo this is my first ever book I've written on Wattpad,  I've had this book idea  (and many others) bouncing in my mind so I thought I'll write it down!
How was is? Too short?  Too long? I really appreciate feedback!  Don't hold back,  I appreciate constructive criticism!
If you don't like it you don't have to read it ; ) there is something called a back button which can be quite useful at times.
I'll try to update this story quite regularly,  I don't want it to die but I'm starting Uni in Jan (veterinary science Whoop whoop) so I can't make any promises :)

Until later! Cheers ♡