Epilogue: Munck vs the bakery

“Ford! The little monkey’s hiding from me again,” Trudy added grumbling to herself as she opened every door in the house. She finally located him in the nursery.

“Children, what in the world?”

Winny and Herby, four and six respectively, turned with guilty amusement.

“We made Uncle Ford pretty,” Winny presented her work. The kids had gotten into their mum’s make-up again and Hungerford was once more their preferred victim. Ford looked up with a look of silent suffering on his powdered and rouged face. At least they had gotten the lipstick mostly on the lips this time.

“Wash that off, Ford, I need you in the shop.”

“Yes, Miss Trudy.”

“Nooo,” the grandkids whined unisono. Trudy had to begrudgingly admit that Munck made for a better childminder than a salesman, but ever since her two younger children had opened the second bakery they were understaffed here at the main house.

“Now, I’ve hidden two chocolate truffles in the living room, can you find them before your mum does?”

The grandkids rushed off whooping and would be busy for a while. Oh well, it was good exercise.

Ford had meanwhile dutifully scrubbed his face and put on the official apron, which was one of Trudy’s old ones. The frill bothered him less than he had thought. And the pockets were enormous.

“And once you go on your break, you might want to read this.” Trudy handed him an envelope from her apron pocket. It was pink and smelled faintly of perfume. Ford grabbed it like a starving man a crust of bread.

“So I take it things with your lady caller are going well, then?” Trudy asked innocently.

“Oh, uh, yes, well …”

Rosy and Hungerford had been writing to each other for months now. Long-lived species had no issue taking a slower pace with relationships, which was a godsend for Hungerford’s strained nerves.

Trudy ambled down the stairs. “Hungerford and Rosy, sitting in a tree …”

“Miss Trudy!”

Trudy cackled to herself. Ford was her favourite person to tease. Apart from that, he’d be a natural at the baby carriage part with all the practice he was getting with Winny and Herby. He was patient with messes, did all the right voices when reading, and his pretend tea party etiquette was supposed to be excellent.

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It was good to finally be home, wrestling dough and grandchildren, pouring over accounts, writing to people she met along the way, and learning all the hot gossip from her regulars, especially the breakfast biddies. And she got to order Ford around. He was her favourite person to boss.

When they’d first come home, Hungerford had been received with warm confusion. At first, the eldest siblings had thought the wizard had only been nice enough to bring their mother back home. Then Trudy had announced he worked here now and could take the empty storage room next to her own.

“Live here? Why?”

“Because I got it in writing,” and Trudy presented Ford’s contract.

Munck had quickly learned that Vibeke, as the eldest, was saddled with the most responsibilities in the house, which included first and foremost keeping her mother in check. “Mum, I don’t think this has any legal bearing …”

“No, it has his signature and everything.”

“… and I’m sure Mr Munck would be much happier in the position of town wizard.”

At which point Munck, allergic to responsibilities since the prophecy-to-tentacle-pipeline incident, had piped up. “Excuse me, Miss Vibeke, was it? I very much did promise your mother, and I’d be happy to be of help. I don’t think I’d have enough experience as a town wizard …”

“How much do you have as a baker?” Vibeke said sternly, proving she was her mother’s daughter after all.

“Uh …”

“He can do sales,” Trudy shrugged.

“Fine. But we have to pay him.”

“But that takes away all the punishment! Look at him!” At this, Trudy squeezed Munck’s cheeks until he gave a convincing impression of a puffer fish. “Look at him, he wants to be punished.”

“Mother …”

“Why do you only call me mother when you’re mad at me? Fine, spoil him with a paycheck. He’ll turn out like your father.”

“Don’t believe a word she says, they were very happy together,” Vibeke said once Trudy had stomped off to have a long-overdue nap.

The next day, Ford had found the storage room nicely converted into a cosy little bedroom. When he went to lie down, he found a butterscotch on his pillow.

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Eventually, the family just had to accept that the matriarch had gone out for an adventure and returned with an additional child.

At any rate, he was easier to get along with than the two apparent sky siblings who kept dropping by, one who kept trying to steal things and the other who told endless tales that seemed ninety percent made up and ten percent exaggerated.

The only thing he was still lacking in was his baking. Which was why every evening, Ford was ordered into the bakery for another hour.

Pudding tarts were still Trudy’s favourite. “Now show me how you fold the dough.”

“I could just use a spell…”

“When you’re grown up and have your own bakery, you can use magic however you like, but while you’re under my …”

“Alright, alright!” Ford folded obediently. “Yes?”

“Make the corners nicer. Presentation is very important. Why, the fate of the world might depend on it one day.”

“What’s the chance of that happening twice?”

Over on Halfbury Place, unheard by any mortal ears, a skull in a cupboard cackled to itself as if it had just heard a splendid cosmic joke.