“And I’m not the only one. Your wife’s shop doesn’t do too badly from the tourists, even if Daisy’s bakery has drawn away many of the lunchtime passers-by.”
Keya, whose mind had been drifting off to images of scantily clad people dancing around a fire wearing floral garlands, started. “You make bread?” she asked Daisy.
Daisy nodded. “It was Theo’s idea to showcase the heritage grains he uses at the mill. But as well as the bread, we’ve found sandwiches are very popular, particularly in the summer, and we also bake cakes and scones.”
“And you deliver?”
“We’ve just started supplying local pubs and restaurants, who prefer to outsource to us rather than making their own bread.”
“I run a cafe, at Coln Akeman. I’d love to see what you do.”
Daisy smiled invitingly. “Why not follow me back to the village, and I’ll make you a sandwich for your lunch?”
CHAPTER TWO
“Could I trouble you for a lift, Officer?” Aurora asked. “I really should get back to the shop. I’ve left my friend, Viv, in charge. She’s a palm reader, you know. Descended from true Romany gypsies.”
Keya had said goodbye to Dr Reid and Dora, and she was following Daisy back to the road through the coppice of trees as Aurora babbled on beside her.
She wasn’t really supposed to give people lifts in her police vehicle, but she supposed it would be OK to run Aurora down to Lower Rollright. She was going that way to visit Daisy’s bakery, and as Aurora gripped the handle of the passenger door, she didn’t think she’d be able to refuse.
Keya watched Daisy approach a small cream van parked in what she presumed was a second lay-by.
“You’ll need to turn round,” Aurora said, as they both climbed into the police car and Keya turned on the engine.
A few minutes later, Keya was following Daisy’s van downhill and as they entered the village of Lower Rollright, a low stone wall appeared on their right.
“That’s where Sir Anthony lives,” Aurora explained. “He owns the mill, and he ran it with his brother until a few years ago when his nephew, Theo, short for Theodore, arrived and shook things up.”
Keya wondered how he had shaken things up, but she didn’t get a chance to ask.
“And that is Debbie Reid’s Village Stores.”
After several smart properties, partially hidden by high hedges, they passed a row of terraced houses and, occupying two of them, was the Rollright Village Store. Its green canopy shaded two pairs of green chairs, placed either side of small square tables.
Lower Rollright was a typical Cotswold village. The buildings were constructed from distinctive honey-coloured stone and between them were neat gardens, healthy green hedges and mature trees. Several houses were decorated with hanging baskets or window box displays of bright, fresh flowers.
As they approached a stone bridge, beneath which Keya presumed there was a stream or small river, Daisy’s cream van indicated left, and Keya followed it into a street running parallel with the watercourse. The first building on the right was the aptly named Malt Shovel pub.
“Here we are,” Aurora announced.
Keya hesitated as the van continued straight along the narrow street.
“You can drop me here,” Aurora insisted in a louder voice. “Daisy’s bakery is only a few buildings further on.” As Aurora said this, Keya saw the van indicate right and turn off the road.
Keya pulled to the side of the road, just beyond a purple-framed shop front.
“Do pop in after you’ve visited the bakery,” Aurora said as she climbed out of the police car and slammed the door shut.
Charming, thought Keya. Not even a thanks for the lift.
Keya drove slowly forward and parked outside the cream-framed shopfront of the Stone Circle Bakery. The image sprayed on the shop window was a circle with three ears of wheat inside it.
A small bell tinkled as Keya entered the bakery and she heard Daisy call, “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Keya breathed in the wonderful aroma of freshly baked bread. In front of her there was a glass counter with a display of sandwich fillings on one side and sweet treats on the other, including pieces of delicious-looking chocolate brownie, perfectly round fruit scones, and slices of a rich, dark cake topped with a fluffy sand-coloured icing.
To her left, there was a display of bread loaves of all different shapes and sizes arranged on sloping wooden shelves. And below them, several long white bread batons protruded from a wooden bucket.
“Welcome to our bakery,” Daisy said as she tied the cord of a cream-coloured apron with Stone Circle Flour printed on it around her waist.
“All our bread is made from heritage grains,” Daisy continued. “The mill has specialised in them ever since Theo took it over from his uncles. And he was right to do so, as they’re now all the rage. We supply local restaurants, celebrity chefs, and artisan bakers all over the country.”
As Daisy slipped on a pair of transparent gloves she said, “You really should try one of our trademark malthouse bread buns.” She turned to the shelf behind her where baskets of bread buns were displayed. Some were plain on top, while others were decorated with different seeds.
“Do you like pumpkin seeds?” Daisy asked, her back to Keya as she reached into a basket.
“Yes,” Keya replied, intrigued.
Daisy removed a bread bun with large oval seeds baked into the top of it. She turned round and placed it on a wooden bread board as she asked, “Which filling? The asparagus is fresh and grown locally, and it’ll be your last chance to taste it as the season finishes at the summer solstice. It goes well with chicken or bacon.”
“I’m a vegetarian,” Keya replied.
“Then how about asparagus with a thin layer of cream cheese, a handful of fresh salad leaves, and a dollop of lemon mayonnaise?” Daisy smiled at Keya.
“That sounds wonderful.”
