‘I asked them to pay their bills, what’s wrong with that?’ Edward said.

‘You know most of them can’t afford it.’

‘Exactly! They’re in here every day, running up bigger and bigger bills they’re never going to pay. Meanwhile, we’re losing money. We might as well stand at the back door and give the bread away!’

‘My father would never have turned anyone away.’

‘Your father isn’t running the business anymore!’ Edward turned on her angrily. ‘And perhaps if he’d been more of a businessman, we wouldn’t be in the mess we’re in now!’

Anna stared at him, stunned. The kitchen had fallen silent, except for the sound of Edward’s heavy, furious breathing.

Then, suddenly, he was gone. They stood, frozen, listening to the sound of his footsteps thudding up the stairs, followed by the slam of doors overhead.

Anna glanced at Charlie. He scowled back at her from behind his newspaper. Mrs Church cleared her throat nervously.

‘Give him time. He’ll calm down soon, I expect.’

Another door slammed overhead, rattling the light fittings.

‘I’d better go and talk to him,’ Anna said.

Edward was pacing up and down in the sitting room like a caged tiger. As soon as Anna walked in, he turned on her furiously.

‘How dare you?’ he yelled. ‘Telling me off like I was a child!’

‘You’re acting like a child, throwing a tantrum and then running off!’ Anna threw back at him.

He ignored her and carried on pacing, as if he could walk off the heat of his temper. Then he stopped suddenly and turned on her.

‘I bet you love it, don’t you?’ he sneered. ‘Coming in and throwing your weight about, humiliating me in front of the staff.’

‘I wasn’t trying to humiliate you,’ Anna protested. ‘I was only asking why you’d made these decisions without talking to me first.’

‘“It would have been nice if you’d consulted me,”’ Edward mimicked her, his face twisting. ‘“This is my bakery, after all.” As if we didn’t already know that!’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ Anna said. ‘I don’t think of myself as being in charge, you know that. It’s your job.’

‘Try telling that to Charlie and that old cow Mrs Church!’ Edward turned on her, his face a mask of bitter anger. ‘It’s already difficult enough to get her to take orders from me as it is. She’s always trying to put me in my place, telling me how Mr and Mrs Beck would do it.’ His features twisted into a cruel parody of Mrs Church’s thin, sombre face. ‘Then you turn up, checking on me, questioning everything I do, asking to know where I am, like I’m still the apprentice. God, I bet the old bag loved that!’ he scowled. ‘I bet she’s down there now, clapping her hands in glee.’

‘Edward!’

He swung round to face her. ‘You want to know where I was today? I’ll tell you, shall I? Delivering stale loaves to the soup kitchen, like you told me to.’