LOVE IN THE BAKING

1+1

"Mom, there's only enough for two croissants and there's four of us."

"Well, there's only one of me," Thandie said, widening her eyes at her son. "Your father hasn't sent any money. Please share; you'll have one each next time."

Callum, who took a five-minute break, was at the front row of the scene. He rarely spoke to his neighbor. They lived across from each other, but things never went beyond the occasional nod to greet one another.

There, Callum got an answer to one of the mysteries concerning the woman.

It had been months since the last time he saw her husband. With the pandemic, people lost track and sight of things, but Callum was sure it had almost been a year. People joked, saying the mother of four probably killed her husband during the confinement and that she buried him in their garden. The baker thought it wouldn't be a loss. Her husband seemed like a prick.

Callum went inside as Thandie's oldest child came to the counter with his sister.

The youngest two remained outside with their mom.

"So, what will it be for you?" Callum asked.

Royal looked up; the baker wasn't precisely the chubby-cheeked happy-go-lucky guy with a joyful expression one saw in movies. Theirs was tall, slim, if not to say on the scrawny side, hollow-cheeked, freckled, and bearded. If the sun was out, he looked like a burnt lobster.

The baker's looks contrasted with his subtle and calm voice when he spoke. One would think Callum mumbled as his mustache covered his lips like a curtain.

"Two croissants, please," Royal said.

Callum proceeded to put the croissants in the bag.

Kenya tugged on her brother's arm, "look," she said, forcing her brother to follow her gaze.

Royal immediately reacted, "excuse me, we only want two."

"Yeah, and?"

"Well, you put four in the bag, sir," Royal replied.

"We've got a buy one get one free promotion going on."

The kid's face lit up. "Ah, okay then," Royal posed one pound fifty-eight pence on the little wooden tray next to the till," thank you."

Callums' gaze accompanied them to the door. He saw the boy speak. Their mother listened, looked in Callums' direction, and smiled. It wasn't a thank you but a smile of relief.

"Can I benefit from the promotion as well?" Mrs. Dawson said, bringing Callum back to his business.

The man's eyes darted. He couldn't say the croissant promotion was only a one-off for Thandie's children. The man reflected on his action while he served. It wasn't pitying that urged him, but the idea that he would appreciate someone to have such a gesture if he were in her shoes. Taking care of a child was no joke; Callum could only imagine her struggle.

Thandie had taken a few steps when someone bumped into her.

"Sorry."

Despite the apology, the woman still got Thandie's up-and-down glare and a menacing stance of kissing teeth in waiting.

The woman hurried along, and Thandie purchased her route while wondering why people didn't observe their surroundings when walking. It was only when Thandie and her children reached the crossroad and parted ways that she remembered where she had seen the lady who barged into her. The woman worked at the bakery.

"Bye, mom," Kenya and Meia waved while Royal led the way to their primary school. Thandie hurried to take Belle Ange to her nursery.

The timing was everything for Thandie, who worked till 2 am sowing the bridesmaid's garments for her brother's wedding.

She woke up at 6 am to prepare the girls while Royal made what he could for breakfast. Gone were the joyful mornings when Moses teased his son and pulled on his daughter's braids to annoy them. The ritual was solemn and silent now. Thandie's kids looked tired. A bowl of hot chocolate wasn't enough to have them looking forward to their day. The stop at the bakery was a must. Thank goodness Bakersfield bakery had this promotion.

"Sorry I'm late, Keisha said as she entered the bakery. My car broke down, and the Bakerloo line took a piss."

Callum nodded; "Irene took your shift. Liz will be here shortly. I'll leave you two at the counter. I still have the operas and strawberry tarts to finish with Bhavi."

That was Callum thought Keisha. He wasn't the boss to yell and hold back one's wage as a penalty for lateness. His subtle voice made one feel guilty enough to work for free till the next decade. Keisha prepared to do the extra hours. Callum didn't need to ask. Keisha knew that because of her, he found himself serving at the till instead of finishing the day's pastries.

Bhavi, the apprentice's stuttering, made it challenging for Callum to delegate the till to him. Callum would have more time if he had a habit of keeping some products from the day before as some bakers did, but he hated selling cakes that weren't fresh from the day as much as he detested wasting.

Every day the baker took the unsold to the women and homeless refuge nearby.

While Callum returned to his icings, Thandie arrived at the post office where she worked till 4 pm from Monday to Friday. She was at the dry cleaners every Saturday, Wednesday, and Thursday from 5 pm. The woman multiplied side hustles as she also made garments for events.

Moses had promised Thandie he would help her open shop. Her husband, correction, Ex-husband, was an engineer and worked for Ni-com, an Internet and phone provider based in Lagos.

The pay was great. Thus, Thandie trusted Moses, who told her she didn't need to chase a career.

The woman wished she had listened to her cousin Kennedy who told her not to entrust her livelihood to a man's hands. "You should secure things yourself. There's nothing worse than to depend on a man in this day and age."

Kennedy disliked Moses. Something in his manners displeased her, and she never missed the opportunity to express her concerns.

 "I don't know, Thani; there's something off about him. He's always overdoing things and double-checking if everyone likes and approves him. Please, Thani, don't marry this man. I'm not feeling him."

If only Thandie had listened, perhaps she too would be a lawyer like Kennedy or at least have a thriving career.

"Morning, Thandie."

"Morning, Karen," Thandie said as she passed.

"Mornin'."

"Morning, Ian," Thandie replied.

"Hi ya, love."

"Hi Helen," Thandie said as she finally reached the coffee machine. She had a good eight minutes left before sitting behind her desk.

Her colleagues often laughed. It wasn't rare for them to find themselves without a task, while Thandie dealt with customers who not only had no patience but didn't know how to do the transactions.

The woman prepared herself mentally in Yoruba, Lingala, and Swahili; Thandie juggled from one dialect to another daily.

Oddly enough, the day began if a transfer to Ukraine, followed by one to the Philippines. Luckily for her, all spoke understandable English, but the rest was the usual verbal joust.

"Ah, my dughta, right fo me, dé?"

Thandie sighed, "I can't. It will hold me up. There are other people behind you."

"Ah, pliz, right, right," the older woman said and shoved the transfer order slip back to Thandie.

The day was going to be a long one.