Free The Baker's Daughter by Anne Forsyth Page A

listening, but she had to be at the shop by eight, and there was no time for dreaming.
    It was going to be a bright day, she thought as she dressed, glancing out of the window at the garden, springing into life now. The daffodils against the wall were a cheerful patch of colour and soon the wallflower and dwarf tulips under the window would be out and every day would be warmer.
    Angus was busy making up the orders when she arrived and she sniffed, enjoying as she always did, the smell of freshly baked rolls.
    â€˜We’re needing some more paper bags,’ he said a little later. ‘Away you go along to Grant’s and get say, four dozen. Get a receipt, remember and take the money out of the petty cash.’
    Rona opened the cash box that was kept on a ledge behind the counter, and locked away every night. ‘There’s nothing in the box, Father,’ she said.
    â€˜Nonsense. There must be. There’s two or three pounds there. I put the money in myself yesterday. Did you lock it away last night?’
    Rona tried to remember. She’d been hurrying to get away to meet Callum as they were going to the pictures and she’d promised to be at the Regal on time so they wouldn’t miss the big picture.
    â€˜I . . . I can’t remember.’
    â€˜You mean you didn’t.’ Angus stared at the empty box.
    â€˜I’ve the petty cash records here,’ Rona said. She’d been careful about checking the petty cash, as instructed by Aunt Lizzie. ‘And all the receipts, but there’s been nothing paid out for the last few weeks, not since . . .’ she checked the slips, ‘not since I bought tea and sugar, and that was a week or two back.’
    â€˜And I’ve topped up the tin every week,’ said Angus, puzzled. ‘A couple of pounds at a time, in shillings and florins mostly, the odd half crown. There’s a note in the box.’
    â€˜But . . .’ he shook the box, ‘there’s nothing left.’ He looked serious. ‘It would seem to me that money’s going missing from the petty cash. As if I hadn’t enough to think about. And where’s the girl?’
    A few moments later, the door burst open and Jeannie hurried in. ‘I’m that sorry,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t get away from home on time.’
    â€˜You should have been here at eight,’ said Angus coldly. ‘That’s the terms of your employment. If you’re going to keep coming in late . . .’
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ she apologised, flushing. ‘It’ll not happen again.’
    â€˜Well, you’d better get your apron on and get down to work,’ he said. ‘Rona, you and I will have to sort out this business of the money. I don’t like to think . . . .’ he paused. ‘Ah well.’
    He glanced at Jeannie. Surely not . . .
    They decided that he should put an extra couple of pounds in the box and mark the notes. ‘That way,’ he said, ‘if anyone’s coming in to the shop and knows where the box is, we’d be certain to catch them red handed.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t like it. I’ve never had this kind of thing before, never in all the years.’ His voice tailed off.
    It was perhaps a couple of weeks later that Angus took the box to lock it away for the night. That was odd, he thought. It felt light, though he’d put in two or three pounds and some small change only that morning.
    But now the box was empty.
    He was at work next thy early as usual, and Jeannie, who had as she promised turned up on time every day, arrived just after him.
    The morning was busy, there were orders to get out for two boarding houses in the town, and a special delivery of teacakes and sultana and cherry slab cake to the town hall for an afternoon function.
    So it was not until the shop was quiet later on, that Jeannie approached him hesitantly.
    â€˜I was wondering, Mr Maclaren, could I