Lynne Francis - Alice’s Secret - A gripping story of love, loss and a historical mystery finally revealed

However, in her late twenties, Alys had discovered that the ability to bake wasn’t a universal skill and her contributions to her friends’ Sunday gatherings were always sweet in nature, guaranteeing open-mouthed admiration. So, she hadn’t been daunted at the prospect of helping Moira out in the café. In fact, as soon as she had said that she would do it, she had been looking through recipe books and bookmarking her favourite Internet sites, and she was itching to get started. Tim hadn’t been a lover of cake or dessert so her baking opportunities had dwindled of late, although her contributions to charity cake bakes at work had always been the first to sell out. Now she couldn’t wait to make a start.

Moira had said it would be best to keep things simple at first – maybe two or three cakes and a couple of different types of biscuit. Everything needed to be sold as freshly made as possible and Alys wouldn’t have the speed to batch-bake that Moira had developed over the last year or so.

‘If only I could stand for any length of time I could be baking while you are at the café,’ Moira said, frowning. ‘As it is, you’ll have to come home and bake once you’ve closed up the café for the day.’

Alys caught her eyeing her walking frame in a speculative fashion. ‘Oh no you don’t.’ She laughed. ‘You’ll get better all the sooner if you rest like the doctor said. You don’t want to risk a setback. I’ll be able to manage, I’m sure.’

‘It’s the Easter break next weekend.’ Moira sighed. ‘If the weather’s good there’ll be plenty of walkers around. It will be a baptism of fire for you, I’m afraid.’

‘First things first,’ Alys said, determined not to let Moira’s worries rattle her. ‘I’m going to get baking so that at least there’s something to sell. Then I’ll get the café open again. It probably won’t be operating in quite the way you’d like it, but it will be better than it being closed at such a busy time.’

Moira laughed. ‘I consider myself ticked off. You’re right. Time to make a start.’

Alys had been planning which cakes and biscuits to make to impress her aunt but on this subject Moira was firm. ‘The regulars have their favourites. They’re slow to adapt to change so it will be safest to stick to what they know at first. So, I’m afraid it’s biscuits this afternoon – flapjacks and shortbread. Then tomorrow a Victoria sponge, lemon drizzle cake and maybe a coffee-and-walnut loaf. Or something chocolatey?’ Moira was suddenly undecided.

Alys’s expression must have given her away. ‘I know, I know,’ Moira said. ‘A bit safe and traditional. When I’m up and about properly we can build on these. I can bake them with my eyes closed but I’m really looking forward to trying some new recipes and I’m sure you’ve got plenty of ideas.’

Ideas were practically bursting out of Alys, but she limited herself to suggesting that brownies were popular with everyone and would fulfil the need for chocolate, and millionaire’s shortbread would make more of a treat than plain shortbread and so it was agreed.

Alys answered a knock at the cottage door the next morning to discover Flo standing there, waiting to help Alys carry the cake tins and boxes to the café. A slender lady in her late forties, her brown hair was swept into a casual up-do, Flo looked tanned and healthy, as if she’d just returned from a holiday abroad. As they chatted on their way to the café it became clear to Alys that this was actually a product of being outdoors most days – she learnt that Flo had given up her high-flying job in London ten years ago to live in the country and indulge her passion for riding. Flo made ends meet with a succession of seasonal jobs and, although she wasn’t a baker, Moira had said how invaluable she was to the business.

Alys was feeling excited at the prospect of opening up and serving her first customer, but also more than a little nervous. The last time she had worked in a shop was as a schoolgirl, when she hadn’t even had to deal with the till, let alone card payments. Moira had sought to reassure her by saying that most people paid by cash which had unnerved her even more – would her change-giving skills be up to it? Luckily, Flo was more than happy to deal with making the hot drinks and managing the till, leaving Alys to serve the customers. Flo also promised to coach Alys in the use of the shiny and impressive coffee machine and talk her through the general routine of the café in their quieter moments.

However, it was as though the villagers had been watching and waiting for signs that the café had reopened. No sooner had Alys checked that the display of cakes and biscuits looked appealing, and turned the sign on the door to read ‘Open’, than the first customer was across the threshold.

‘I was just passing and wanted to come in and see how Moira was doing. Ooh, that Victoria sponge looks delicious. I think I’ll just have a little piece. And a pot of tea, please. Now, you must be Moira’s niece?’

‘Hello Nancy.’ Flo swiftly set out a tray with a teapot and cup and saucer for the white-haired lady standing expectantly at the counter. She was so tiny that she could barely be seen over the cake stands. Alys smiled as she selected the largest piece of sponge for Nancy, her first customer of the day.

‘Moira’s doing well, thank you. And yes, I’m her niece, Alys, and I’ll be here at the café for as long as Moira needs me.’

News of Moira’s injury and Alys’s arrival to help her out had clearly spread like wildfire around the village and the afternoon sped by, with people dropping in to ask about Moira, then staying for cake and to quiz Alys. At five o’clock, Alys turned the sign to read ‘Closed’; her face ached from smiling and she didn’t think she could bear to repeat why she was there even one more time.

‘Now then,’ Flo said mischievously. ‘Why did you say you were here again?’

Alys burst out laughing. ‘Well, I was taking a break from work with the aim of going travelling and so, when Aunt Moira hurt herself, I was delighted to be able to come and help her out. And yes, I love baking’. She smiled wryly at Flo. ‘You must be word-perfect, too, by now.’

Alys surveyed what was left of the cakes. ‘We’ve been busy. Thank you so much for your help. I could never have made the teas and coffees, served cake and given everyone my life story at the same time.’

‘It went very well,’ Flo said. ‘It looks as though your cakes are popular. Moira will be jealous.’

‘They’re all her recipes,’ Alys said hastily. ‘I just added one or two touches of my own.’

She couldn’t help a little glow of satisfaction, though. More than one person had commented on how much they had enjoyed their cake and Alys was particularly pleased to see that all the brownies and millionaire’s shortbread had gone. The downside of such a good day was that she needed to go home and bake again, or get up very early in the morning, as Moira had predicted. She’d also learnt a lesson about portion control. She needed to make sure the biscuits were evenly sized and the slices of cake cut with almost mathematical precision: it was clear that her customers were eagle-eyed and they were quick to point out if someone else had a bigger slice. Alys couldn’t imagine any squabbles breaking out at the till as everyone had been so warm and friendly today, but it was better to be on the safe side.

After they had cleared up and washed up, Flo helped Alys to carry the cake tins back to her Aunt Moira’s then hurried home, promising to be round at eight the next morning to repeat the routine.

‘How did it go?’ Moira had clearly been waiting anxiously for her return. Alys, who was unused to spending such a length of time on her feet, would have loved to sit down and chat but the thought of more baking to be done, as well as a meal to prepare for them both, made her hesitate.