Getting to know welshfoxglove:

Hi, I'm Ffion, also known as welshfoxglove. I've been writing on Wattpad for 2 and a half years, and in that time I've fallen in love with Historical Fiction, completing two novels set in the Regency period. This short story is set at the beginning of a new year, and it's for anyone who has ever felt bad about not managing to keep up with a New Year's Resolution!

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It was just after 8am on the first Saturday of the new year – which, for Ellie, meant the first step towards accomplishing her Fresh Start.

Shouldering her yoga mat as she exited through the local leisure centre's reception, Ellie attempted to avert her gaze from the "New Year, New You!" slogans screaming at her from a plethora of brightly-coloured posters lining the wall. There was simply no escaping it - no sooner had the last of the leftover turkey been polished off; the last of the Christmas chocolates nibbled; the moment December ticked over into January, the barrage of self-improvement prompts appeared.

There was a certain irony, thought Ellie, to the lack of variation amongst the Fresh Start campaigns. How could she be expected to buy into the exciting new life the posters promised, if their very creators lacked the drive to update their message every year?

In all fairness, Ellie was hardly in a position to criticise a lack of originality in New Year's resolutions. After all, this was the fifth year she had set a goal of attending 7am yoga every Saturday.

The idea had origins of perfect seriousness: just two best friends, attempting to get fit and regain some confidence after each suffering a horrible break-up the previous year. Ellie had initially taken some persuading – it was always Sara who provided the suggestions of fun new things to do – but eventually Ellie had agreed, finding herself queuing outside the dojo on the first Saturday morning of the year, shuffling uncomfortably in a pair of yoga pants optimistically purchased prior to the Great Christmas Pig-Out of 2012.

With the help of Sara's boundless enthusiasm, the pair had made it to every Saturday 7am yoga class of January – just. As January drizzled into February, however, not even Sara's enthusiasm could withstand the dreary winter mornings. By Valentine's Day, both had given up.

When the 31st December rolled around once again, Ellie and Sara had sat down and given themselves a firm talking-to. In the space of three glasses of prosecco apiece, a thorough dissection of their poor performance had taken place, along with a plan of action to grace the yogaverse with their zen and dedication next year.

Until exactly the same happened once again – except this time they didn't even make it into February.

The same pattern was repeated each year, becoming more of a joke as time went on. By now Ellie could perform the first yoga session of the year in her sleep, and had developed an uncanny ability to predict how long this year's budding yoginis would last.

But one person's attendance required no guesswork.

Sara had not been at this morning's class – nor would she ever attend a yoga class with Ellie again.

It was this particularly miserable thought which caused Ellie's attention to be caught by the inviting window of the patisserie across the road. As someone with a passion for baking, the elegant French shop with its colourful array of sweet delights had always been a source of interest for her – it had often taken all of Sara's powers of persuasion to move Ellie along without venturing inside for a custard tart or vanilla slice.

But Sara's not here now, taunted a devilish voice at the back of Ellie's mind.

No, she blooming well wasn't. Sara was busy living out the biggest Fresh Start ever, knee-deep in nappies and formula milk and whatever else her life as a new mother entailed.

So really, thought Ellie, crossing the road – what was the point in trying? Attending yoga had been her way of clinging on to the last bit of Sara; the final fleeting memory of the days when they were united in singledom.

Ellie was welcomed into the patisserie by the light tinkle of the bell and a blast of warmth which set her cheeks glowing. Goodies of the sticky, iced and flaky variety lined the counter in front of her – but Ellie found herself overcome with numb emptiness.

Wrapped up in dour thoughts, Ellie completely failed to notice the chaos and confusion surrounding her. Though it was far too early on a weekend for the breakfast rush, a frazzled-looking member of staff scuttled backwards and forwards through the door to the kitchen, generating a breeze as it swung on its hinges. From within the kitchen there came much clattering, punctuated by occasional raised voices and muffled curses.

Ellie, however, remained oblivious; blinking as if emerging from a trance when she found herself addressed by the serving girl several minutes later.

"Sorry? Oh, uh – I'll have a custard tart please."

Oh, who was she kidding?

"And – and a vanilla slice."

"Coming up," replied the girl, tucking away a strand of hair which had escaped her hairnet as she attempted a cheery smile.

"Bad day?" asked Ellie sympathetically.

"The worst," the girl groaned, carefully selecting a rather flat-looking custard tart and inserting it into a paper bag. "We're one baker down today, so there's just Ash, and he's useless. I've been trying to help out a little, but let me tell you, baking is not my forte – I only work here on Saturdays to earn a bit of extra cash. So basically, everything's a disaster."

Ellie fought back a smile at the young girl's dramatic outburst. She couldn't have been any older than seventeen - clearly spending the day burning soufflés was not her idea of fun.

"How did you end up a baker down?" asked Ellie, watching as a collapsing vanilla slice was added to the bag. "Is someone ill?"

"No – not ill," replied the girl, blowing that stubborn strand of hair out of her face once again. "Ange – the owner – went into labour in the early hours of this morning, two weeks before she was due."

"Ah."

"Yeah, so it's not like she'll be around to sort this mess out anytime soon. She insisted on working right up until her due date, even though she's been ready to pop since November. It's as if she didn't really believe this baby was going to come – I mean, she never even bothered to find a replacement for maternity cover, so we're basically screwed."

A bubble of hope began to expand within Ellie as she regarded the rows of sorry-looking cakes behind the counter.

Dared she even entertain the notion? Was it simply too outrageous to consider?

But Ellie's mind refused to leave its current trajectory. Images sprang to mind, unbidden: of Ellie, sat in her kitchen surrounded by cupcakes or flapjacks, nobody but herself to eat them. How many times had Ellie found herself alone, surrounded by creations which made her glow with pride, desperate for an opportunity to share them with others?

Ellie's mind turned then to her current office job – one she'd been hating since Sara left. Sara had been the only thing that made it enjoyable; the life of office politics and stuffy business dress was not for Ellie.

The words escaped Ellie before she had chance to think twice.

"I have some baking experience," she blurted, blushing crimson. "Nothing major – it's been more of a hobby until now. But I'd – I'd be more than willing to help out for a while. Just until your boss manages to get someone permanent..."

"Yes!" cried the girl, cutting Ellie off before she could finish. "Oh my gosh, yes! That would be amazing!"

Ellie blinked, startled by the girl's enthusiasm.

"Uh – don't you need to check with your boss first?"

The girl waved a careless hand, forgetting she was still holding the serving tongs and almost sending them flying.

"Ange is currently delivering a baby," she pointed out. "She has far bigger worries right now. Besides, this shop is her whole life. Trust me, she'll be more upset if Ash and I are left to wreak havoc here."

It was crazy; complete and utter madness. Ellie dreaded to think what Sara would say.

But then – Sara wasn't here to offer her opinion. Sara was busy experiencing the life she wanted, and Ellie couldn't begrudge her that.

What Ellie wanted was to bake. She wanted her cakes to make people happy; as happy as they made her when she baked them.

This year might have begun with a resolution doomed for failure – but right now, Ellie felt on the brink of a fresh start she really could buy into. It was simply about taking the leap of faith; and in all honesty, Ellie felt she had little to lose.

With a deep breath, Ellie took her plunge into the unknown.

"When shall I start?"

"Are you free right now?" came the immediate response.

Dumping her yoga mat behind the counter and following her new colleague into the kitchen, Ellie felt a sense of inner peace despite the explosion of ingredients Ash seemed to have created. With her hair pinned back and an apron in place, Ellie achieved more zen than she ever had during a yoga class.

This, right here, was exactly where she was meant to be – and Ellie had a feeling it would be one Fresh Start which would go the distance.