The Baker's Daughter by Anne Forsyth

A wild hope seized Rona. She was sorry for Maisie, of course she was, but might Aunt Lizzie actually hurry to take charge of the house in Glencraig?
    Might she leave Father and Doug and Rona to shift for themselves? It was a wild, improbable hope.
    This thought had clearly occurred to Aunt Lizzie. ‘I’ll have to go, of course,’ she said, ‘but what’s going to happen here while I’m away?’
    â€˜We’ll manage.’ Rona tried to sound as if she were going to cope bravely ‘We’ll do our best.’
    After all, she was nearly 21 now. And look at the responsibilities some carried—some only a few years older. She thought of the new young Queen, only 26, and soon to be crowned.
    â€˜Aye,’ said Aunt Lizzie doubtfully. ‘Aye, well . . .’ Already her thoughts were some distance away ‘I could get the bus to Dunfermline, then the train—there’s one goes through Kinross and Glenfarg to Perth. If I got off at Glenfarg . . . I’ll write to her today—say I’ll be up on Friday.’
    â€˜I’d better be off,’ said Rona hurriedly. ‘I’ll tell Father.’
    She tried not to skip as she went down the path. All on their own without Aunt Lizzie disapproving of everything. Then she slowed down. Poor Maisie. It was hard on her, but all the same every cloud has a silver lining, she told herself.
    In the past few weeks, Rona had decided not to let herself be upset by Aunt Lizzie.
    She would not fly off the handle again, but would try to be calm and cheerful and ignore her aunt’s sarcastic remarks—after all, she thought, Aunt Lizzie wasn’t going to change, so I might as well accept her ways.
    Callum had been right. There was no point in walking out in a temper. Much better to wait until she had a definite plan for the future.
    For Rona had not given up the idea of becoming a model. She studied the fashion magazines and in the privacy of her bedroom practised walking with a copy of
Familiar Quotations
—a heavy tome, balanced on her head.
    And she hugged to herself, her big idea. The Coronation of Queen Elizabeth the Second was to be in June. A special window? Maybe she should persuade Father? After all, it would bring more business into the shop.
    *        *        *
    Angus was taking a tray of new baked rolls from the oven.
    â€˜I’ll be off on the deliveries then,’ he said. ‘Seeing you’re here. Where’s your aunt?’
    Rona explained.
    â€˜You can tell me later,’ he said. ‘Folk will be wanting their rolls for their breakfast.’
    He looked at her doubtfully. ‘You’ll have to manage the till today—just until we get someone else. Ah, well, we’ll have to cope. See and keep the shop tidy, and don’t drop anything.’
    And with that, he was off on the first delivery to the big hotel overlooking the sea.
    The day was busy as usual. Rona was kept hard at work, explaining that her aunt was leaving for Glencraig the next day. ‘I’ll not be in the shop today,’ Aunt Lizzie had announced. ‘You’ll have to shift without me. This place is like a midden.’ She had glanced round at the kitchen.
    To Rona, it seemed immaculate, the wooden draining board scrubbed white, pots and pans neatly arranged on a shelf, taps polished.
    When Angus returned from his rounds, he noticed approvingly that Rona had swept the floor of the shop and tidied the shelves.
    â€˜Aye,’ he said, ‘not bad. Now you think you can manage the till, for a day or so, till I see about things. We’ll need to get someone in to help. I’ll go along to the Labour Exchange if I’ve time. Or I could put an advert in the paper.’
    â€˜No bother,’ said Rona airily. ‘Father, can I do a window for the Coronation?’
    â€˜Don’t bother me just now, there’s a good girl,’ said