A Spoonful of Sugar (14 page)

‘It’s good,’ I said. ‘My bread is in the oven – I’ve made one white loaf and one brown loaf to make playing card sandwiches.’

‘Oh lovely,’ said Lizzie, looking at my scribbled drawing that showed how I would cut the shapes of the suits out of each piece of bread and swap them over so the slices looked like cards. ‘You are clever.’

‘Pinterest,’ I muttered.

‘And what about your cakes?’ Peter asked.

‘I’ve got a Queen of Hearts cake,’ I said. ‘The first part of that is done and it’s in the freezer, and then there are chocolate teacups to do.’

‘It all sounds delicious and very inventive,’ Lizzie said, squeezing my hand in encouragement. ‘I can’t wait to taste it.’

I tried to catch Peter’s eye as they moved on to speak to Harry, but he wouldn’t look at me. I wasn’t sure if that meant he’d abandoned his ridiculous ideas about Lizzie, or if he was hurt that I’d not agreed with him.

It was a really long afternoon. I was hot and tired and my feet hurt, but I was – to my enormous surprise – really enjoying myself. I didn’t care about winning. Not really. Well, a bit. But only because I was competing against Harry. If I won I’d be able to torment her about it forever. But it was really fun creating something – and knowing people would enjoy it. I suddenly understood why Mum, Suky and Harry loved baking.

Everything was calm in the tent. The cameramen chatted quietly to each other as they filmed us, Peter and Lizzie pottered about, checking up on what we were doing or speaking to Portia. Sometimes they went outside for a break, or to speak to the press, or just to have some time to themselves. And obviously I went to the loo approximately once every fifteen minutes as the baby wiggled about and bashed my bladder.

I hummed to myself happily as I got the hearts that I’d cut out of my red cake from the freezer and began pushing them into the raw mixture for the rest of the cake. My chocolate teacups were done and setting beautifully, my loaves were out of the oven and cooling down, and things were going to plan.

I looked over at Harry’s bench. She’d popped out for a wee, so she wasn’t there, but her creations looked good too. Her tiny loaves were on a cooling tray, her mad hatter cupcakes were ready to be iced and her pocket watch cookies were waiting to be sandwiched together with her homemade jam.

Pushing my final red heart into the mixture, I looked at my cake in satisfaction. Yes, things were going well. Now I just had to…

‘Esme,’ Harry’s voice was urgent and piercing and made me jump out of my skin. I looked round but she was nowhere to be seen.

‘Esme,’ she said again, directly into my head.

I dropped the cake cutter I was holding and froze. Was Harry in trouble? What was going on?

I reached out to her with my witchy mind.

‘Harry?’ I said. ‘Where are you? Are you okay?’

‘Oh about bloody time,’ she said crossly. ‘I’ve been trying to get your attention for ages. I’m outside. Round the back of the tent. Hurry.’

I looked round the tent. Peter was up at the front, chatting to one of the camera operators, and Portia was lurking by the main entrance puffing on a cigarette.

‘Just going for some fresh air,’ I said to the room in general, as I ducked out of the back entrance and, my heart pounding, made my way round the other side of the marquee.

‘Here,’ said Harry in my head. ‘HERE.’

I looked down and there she was. At first glance she looked like she was just sitting down – in a slightly odd place admittedly, right up close to the edge of the marquee, and in a strange position with her knees tight to her chest. But I looked again and realised she was trussed up with – I blinked – bunting. She had some wrapped round her feet, and her arms were tied behind her back with more. It was fluttering in the breeze and looked at odds with its horrible task. Worst of all, Harry had a
Britain Bakes
apron shoved in her mouth, and tied tightly round her mouth, stopping her talking.

‘Oh god,’ I said, rushing over. But Harry shook her head.

‘Not me,’ she said, inside my mind. ‘Her. Stop her.’

She nodded her head to her left and I followed where she was gesturing.

Lizzie was there, crouched down and methodically removing all the supports from this side of the tent. It was already beginning to sag, but she carried on regardless. It looked very much as though she wanted the whole thing to fall down – on top of everyone inside. I was shocked, surprised – and slightly nonplussed to find out that Peter had been right all along.

‘Esme,’ said Harry again in my head. ‘Sort it out.’

‘Oh, yes,’ I said out loud. ‘Sorry.’

Lizzie noticed me for the first time. She stood up and looked at me in defiance.

‘You’re too late,’ she said. ‘You can’t stop me.’

‘Oh but I can,’ I said.

I waggled my fingers and with a shower of pink sparks the bunting unwrapped itself from Harry’s arms and legs and coiled round Lizzie instead, before she really got a chance to understand what was going on.

‘Bugger,’ she said.

‘Lizzie!’ I said, in mock horror. ‘That’s not very ladylike.’

Harry got up, pulling the apron from her mouth and rubbing her wrists and came to stand next to me.

‘I think it’s time you told us what you’ve been doing,’ she said to Lizzie in her best stern voice.

I waved my hand again and three deck chairs appeared – one right behind Lizzie.

‘Sit down,’ I said. ‘There’s a chair.’

Lizzie looked round and frowned as she tried to work out where the chair had come from.

‘Sit down,’ I said again. This time Lizzie did. Harry and I sat too and we all looked at each other.

‘So?’ Harry said. ‘Was all this you? All these accidents?’

Lizzie looked down at her bunting wrapped feet.

‘It was,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’

Twenty-six

‘It started just on a whim,’ Lizzie said. ‘I went to the loo and I happened to be walking past the freezer when Ronald was inside. It was a spur of the minute decision to shut the door.’

I looked at Harry, whose mouth was set in a firm line.

‘Go on,’ I said to Lizzie.

‘I wanted to rescue him you see?’

‘Not really,’ Harry said.

Lizzie sighed.

‘I thought I’d leave him in there for ten minutes, then go and find him, and I’d be the hero of the hour.’

She glared at us.

‘But you got there first.’

‘Well thank god we did,’ I said. ‘Or he’d have been in trouble.’

Lizzie shrugged.

‘He’d have been fine,’ she said firmly. ‘I’d have rescued him, everyone would have been pleased and I’d have got some attention instead of blimming Peter.’

‘Oh,’ I said. This was beginning to make sense now.

‘What else?’

‘Amelia,’ she said. ‘That wasn’t planned either, none of this was. I saw the bowl of caramel and I gave it a little nudge. I wanted to be the one to help her sort her hair out, and get her looking pretty again.’

She gave Harry a fierce look.

‘But you ruined that one too.’

Harry looked completely unapologetic.

‘I thought we could go on
Lorraine
together,’ Lizzie wailed. ‘Perhaps do a magazine interview about how we’re the best of friends, even though she’s young enough to be my daughter.’

Grand-daughter more like, I thought.

‘But once again, the opportunity passed me by,’ Lizzie said. ‘Just like when Martha got the chance to be on
Britain Bakes
and I didn’t.’

‘Well you’re here now,’ I pointed out. ‘Though I’m not sure they’re going to have you back after this.’

Lizzie scowled at me.

‘What about June?’ Harry said. ‘That must have been planned, right?’

Lizzie nodded slowly.

‘When I found out she’d brought those heavy pie tins I thought I could do something with those,’ she said. ‘I greased them at lunchtime.’

‘You could really, really have hurt her,’ I said. ‘That was a terrible thing to do.’

‘I know,’ said Lizzie. ‘I do. But I helped her. I was there, cradling her head, and making her feel better. But did she mention me in any of the interviews she did afterwards? No she did not.’

I was horrified.

‘You’re not even sorry,’ I said.

‘I am,’ said Lizzie, sounding remarkably like Clemmie. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry you didn’t get all the attention,’ I said.

‘And not sorry enough to leave Wilf alone,’ Harry pointed out. ‘He was terrified.’

‘He could have died,’ I added.

‘I would have gone back and let him out,’ Lizzie said, looking affronted that we thought she was capable of murder. ‘That was the bloody point. I just wanted him out the way long enough so everyone noticed he was gone, so I could rescue him. But he tried to sit up once I’d got him in the boot, that was why I had to bop him on the head with the lid.’

‘It was hardly just a bop,’ Harry said. ‘You knocked him out cold.’

Lizzie shrugged.

‘I needed him to keep quiet,’ she said bitterly. ‘So no one would hear him and rescue him before I got there. Except you did hear him, didn’t you? And you got in the way again.’

‘What about you?’ I asked Harry. ‘What did she do to you?’

‘I happened to look up when she was near me and I caught sight of a very strange expression on her face,’ Harry said. ‘She looked really cross with me. Not even cross, furious. It seemed so out of sorts with the Lizzie we’d seen in the competition that I decided to – you know – have a listen.’

I nodded, but Lizzie looked angry.

‘What do you mean, listen?’ she said. ‘Listen to what?’

I patted her on the knee, then regretted it when she fixed her evil glare on me.

‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ I said. ‘Carry on, H.’

‘I could tell she was up to something,’ Harry said. ‘So I followed her to see what she was up to.’

‘And what was she up to?’ I said.

‘I was going to make the tent fall down,’ Lizzie said crossly. ‘I wanted it to collapse. I thought it would make for some brilliant pictures in the papers, you know, as I bravely dragged people out. I reckon I’d have even got on
Graham Norton
after that.’

‘But she spotted me,’ Harry said, giving Lizzie a disgusted look. ‘And she tripped me up with some bunting and tied my legs together.’

‘You could have released yourself,’ I said to Harry.

She nodded.

‘Oh yeah,’ she said. ‘But I wanted you to see what she was up to as well.’

‘Clever,’ I said.

‘Thanks,’ said Harry, preening a bit.

I rolled my eyes.

‘Anyway,’ I said to Lizzie. ‘What do you mean about pictures in the papers and
Graham Norton
? Is that what all this has been about? Publicity?’

‘No one will give me a chance,’ Lizzie said dramatically. ‘No one ever notices me. Martha is in Hollywood. Holly. Wood. She’s a superstar. But I’m just as good as she is. And Peter is hopeless. He’s a good-enough baker, but he’s a disaster when it comes to television. And yet he’s got the TV show and all the glory. I’m just Lizzie from
Lunch Club
. Nice Lizzie. Sidekick Lizzie. Martha’s frumpy friend and the honey to Peter’s vinegar.’

‘This is a fairly drastic way of showing you’re not that nice,’ Harry said.

Lizzie gave her a withering look.

‘But I am nice,’ she said. ‘I’m really nice. And I thought if I was swooping in and rescuing people, then everyone would see how nice I am.’

I shook my head.

‘But you hurt people’ I said.

Lizzie gave an exaggerated sigh.

‘It wasn’t about hurting people,’ she said. ‘It was never about that.’

‘Collateral damage?’ said Harry. ‘Great.’

‘I thought that if everyone was watching the show, and they saw how fabulous I was, then they’d realise I was worthy of attention too,’ Lizzie said. ‘It definitely worked at first because I got my hair done, and I’ve been on lots of chat shows. I met Lorraine!’

‘Yay,’ I said sarcastically.

Lizzie carried on as though I hadn’t spoken.

‘And if they suspected Peter was behind all the bad stuff then even better. I thought they might cancel his show at least. Maybe even give it to me instead,’ she said with a grimace. ‘But it’s just getting more attention.’

‘It’s going to be huge,’ said a voice behind us. ‘Biggest baking show on television.’

We all looked round. Peter was standing there, hands on hips, with Portia on one side and two bewildered-looking policewomen on the other.

Lizzie gave a snort.

‘Oh here he is,’ she said. ‘And now he’ll be the hero of the hour and get all the attention again. See? Nothing ever works out the way I want it to.’

Peter gave her a disgusted look and then turned to me.

‘I told you it was her,’ he said. ‘Believe me now, do you?’

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘It just seemed so out there.’

Peter shrugged.

‘I know. I didn’t believe it myself at first. She seems so nice,’ he said. Then he looked alarmed. ‘What if no one else believes us?’

Harry produced her phone from her pocket.

‘It’s all recorded,’ she said happily.

Lizzie tutted.

‘Bloody technology,’ she grumbled.

‘Oh I’ve heard just about enough from you,’ I said. ‘Can you take her away please?’

The policewomen stepped forward and one put handcuffs on Lizzie while the other unravelled the bunting from her legs.

‘You know what?’ I said as they led her away. ‘This will make a brilliant photo for the papers.’

Portia waited until Lizzie was out of sight round the side of the tent, then she threw her arms round me and Harry.

‘OH. MY. GOD!’ she squealed. ‘This is amazing. Everyone’s going to be talking about this for months. It’ll be the best series of
Britain Bakes
ever. People will be watching it on YouTube in twenty years time.’

‘Urgh, I hope not,’ I muttered. ‘I’m not looking my best.’

‘I’m going to organise a press conference,’ Portia said. ‘We’ll do everyone at once – that’s the best way.’

Harry and I looked at each other.

‘Could we do it in a while?’ Harry asked. ‘It’s just we’d really like to finish the competition.’

‘Really?’ Peter said.

‘Really.’

So we did. We all filed back into the marquee – after the crew had checked it wasn’t about to fall down of course – and Harry and I finished off our Mad Hatter’s Tea Party. My teacups were a bit wonky, and Harry’s clock cookies weren’t quite right, but we didn’t really care.