He and Walter had agonised for weeks over the name of the shop until he had gone for The Daily Bread. They had toyed with Bread Box (too plain), even just Bread! (as though it was a musical). For one mad five minutes, Cormac actually considered Body of Christ, but luckily Walter reminded him that no one would buy bread from a shop that reminded people of communion sessions. Especially in Ireland.
So The Daily Bread it was to be. And now there was only six weeks until he moved into the flat above and rose before dawn to begin making his sourdoughs, his boules, his baguettes, his cottage loaves. He felt sick with nerves and excitement.
But there was one person he wanted to soothe him, to reassure him that everything was going to be okay, and that was Melissa. He had been trying to resist calling her and instead had been spending all his spare moments with Erica. They’d been our five whole times, to a restaurant (her choice), to the cinema (his), to a historical walk of Dublin of the Georgian buildings (Erica’s idea), to a vegan café which was surprisingly delicious and to his for a meal cooked by him. It had been an unqualified success and it was true what they say about the quickest way to a woman’s heart was through her stomach. She stayed the night and everything was most satisfactory and enjoyable. They were starting to think of themselves as boyfriend and girlfriend.
But she wasn’t quite Melissa and one day he cracked and picked up his phone. And now here she was, standing, silently, absorbing the whole scene. He saw her look at him, and she looked shocked, or maybe it was something else that he couldn’t work out.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
‘Fine, fine,’ she said. ‘Now, let me have a good look around.’
They walked round the back and had a look around. Cormac pointed out where the baking part was going to be, where the front counter was, which would have high stools, where the coffee machine would be, where the sofa for lounging would go. Rolo was sniffing around.
‘Well?’ he ventured. ‘What do you really think?’
She looked up. ‘You know something Cormac Cullen. I think it is amazing. You are making your dream come true and not many of us actually manage to do that. And the world needs bread. As Marie Antoinette realised to her peril.’
‘True,’ he said.
‘And Rolo is very proud. Aren’t you Rolo? We’re both proud.’ We can’t wait to critique your baps.’
‘Critique my baps!’ He laughed.
‘What’s wrong with baps? It wasn’t rye sourdough you were reared on, Mr Cullen. You’d have been happy with a bap five years ago. Bread snob.’
He laughed again and looked around at his little shop, happy she was there, sharing this exciting time in his life with him. He’d wanted to bring Melissa here first, before he brought Erica. She was still the most important person in the world to him. A hard habit to break. Wasn’t that a song? And he really should tell her about Erica, before he didn’t and then it got too weird. ‘I… I…’ he began.
‘Yes?’ She looked at him hopefully. Was he trying to tell her something?
‘Nothing,’ he said, suddenly feeling awkward. He didn’t trust himself to tell her without showing his true feelings. Any one normal would just say it but he was convinced that she would guess that Erica was just a foil while he moved on from loving Melissa. ‘I forgot what I was going to say. Come on, let’s get some fresh air,’ he said. ‘Now I’m to be living in the suburbs, I may do as the suburbans do… and start walking the pier.’
‘Oh God,’ said Melissa, ‘to think I got away from South County Dublin and you are choosing to come back.’
‘It’s nice, okay? I’m too old to live in town, these days. I want a gentler pace of life. And Rolo’s going to love it.’
‘You’ll be buying a cagoule and wearing pleather slippers next.’
‘You obviously haven’t seen me relaxing at home, lately. Anyway, don’t all natives walk the pier?’
‘It’s the law. I haven’t done it in years.’
‘Well then? Coming?’
‘Only if we get an ice cream afterwards? Or is whippy ice cream too uncool for you. Does it need to be gelato?’
‘Not if a flake is involved.’
‘Now you’re talking. Rolo? Walk?’
They chatted the whole way along the pier and later queued for ice creams. They sat on a wall by the sea. Melissa was busily pushing her flake inside her cone and then licking the top to seal the hole.
‘Jesus!’ Melissa’s 99 had collapsed and it was melting through the bottom of the cone.
‘Why don’t you just lick it like a normal person?’
‘Because that would be weird. You cannot veer from anything but consuming it like you did when you were seven. I wouldn’t trust anyone who ate 99s neatly.’
Rolo was in full attention mode. At any moment, there was going to be ice cream on the ground and he was ready. And Cormac was watching Melissa out of the corner of his eye.
He was loving every second of being with Melissa. It was like binge-eating the night before a diet. He wasn’t quite ready to give up sugar yet, but he knew he had to. This shop was the beginning of his new life and he knew his old life, slavishly loving Melissa, his unreciprocated love affair, was over. He had no choice. It was as though the universe had decided for him. He looked away. A surge of sadness welling up. He felt his heart was breaking. The thought of not sharing a 99 with her was like a death to him. Yes, I am pathetic, he thought.
But it wasn’t right to do this to Erica. It was going well. She was so different to Melissa. She was cool, impressive and nice. She might be on the slightly extreme end of faddy (she only consumed what Aztecs and yogis ate) but he was beginning to realize that it was good to meet people who could teach you things. And Erica was teaching him that not everyone thinks a bag of cheese and onion crisps is something to be savoured. In fact, it was to be scorned.
But for now, he was hanging out with Melissa, his guilty pleasure. Soon to be consigned to history.
They were saying goodbye – a long goodbye.