A Spoonful of Sugar (4 page)

‘Ooh I’m not sure,’ said Lizzie. ‘They might need to keep some of their ingredients in the fridge.’

I grinned. Surely we were out of there?

‘There’s a walk-in fridge,‘ Harry said. ‘In the cafe. I’m sure we can use that if we need to.’

Shut up, Harry, I thought directly at her. She glowered at me as she picked up on what I was telling her.

Portia looked like she might kiss my grumpy cousin.

‘Really?’ she said. ‘That’s brilliant.’

‘I’ll go and have a chat with Mum,’ Harry said. ‘But I can’t imagine it will be a problem.’

Five

Of course both my mum and Suky were thrilled to bits to let the bake-off contestants use their huge walk-in fridge, and so within minutes the competition was back on. Much to my disappointment.

‘So, the ovens are all working and there’s one fridge in here,’ Portia explained as we all gathered behind our benches once more. ‘That’s pretty much full now though, so if you need more space just nip out to the cafe where you can put things in their walk-in fridge.’

‘I’ll probably need that,’ Ronald said. ‘I’m moulding babies out of chocolate.’

Babies made from chocolate? That took the edge off my piped question marks a bit. Never mind, I grudgingly accepted I had to give it a go. I was, after all, a goody-goody at heart and I always tried my best. Almost always.

I started throwing together my cake mix and carefully divided it into two so I could dye one half pink and one half blue.

As I watched the colour swirl into the batter, I rubbed my bump thoughtfully and the baby squirmed beneath my hand. I didn’t know what this baby was going to be and I didn’t really mind. Another girl like my lovely Clemmie would be great, but a little boy would be fab too. I adored Harry’s son Finn, and my husband Jamie already had a son – Parker – but he lived in America so we didn’t see much of him. I knew Jamie missed him like mad, as did I, so a baby boy would be a welcome addition to our brood.

I wondered if Harry knew what my baby was. I suspected she did – she was a very good witch and she could pick up on all sorts of things. If she did, she was keeping it very quiet though and I appreciated that.

I dolloped my pink mix into cupcake cases and put the tray in the oven, then started dripping blue colouring into the remaining mix. It didn’t look very nice.

‘I was going to do blue cakes,’ Amelia said, as I peered into my mixer in dismay. ‘But I’m not sure about blue food generally.’

I gave her a withering look, which she blithely ignored.

‘I’m doing ducks instead,’ she said, even though I hadn’t asked. ‘Little rubber ducks made from pale-yellow fondant, perched on a swirl of blue buttercream.’

Sure enough, I could see twenty-four tiny iced ducks lined up on her bench. They were really very good.

‘They’re lovely,’ I admitted, resisting the temptation to point out that blue icing was, strictly speaking, also blue food. Then I lowered my voice.

‘What’s everyone else doing?’

Amelia moved closer to me.

‘June’s doing bootees,’ she said. ‘Wilf’s making baby faces out of icing – he’s really clever.’

I grimaced, more sure than ever that my question marks would be overly simple.

‘Harry’s doing little peapods, I think,’ I said.

Amelia made a face.

‘Pea pods?’ she said. ‘That doesn’t sound like a baby thing.’

I grinned.

‘She’s got twins,’ I explained. ‘And everyone says they’re two peas in a pod – that’s what gave her the idea. So she’s doing normal cupcakes, but to go on top she’s making pea pods out of icing with little baby faces inside instead of peas. They’re super-cute.’

Amelia smiled uncertainly.

‘Nice,’ she said. ‘And have you seen Ronald’s?’

I hadn’t but I followed Amelia’s eyeline. He was topping his cupcakes with sleeping babies – a round head poking out of an icing blanket – and he’d made a tiny wooden crib to arrange them all in. I was WAY out of my league here. Way out.

‘You’ve got forty-five minutes left,’ Peter said, wandering over and staring in disappointment at my cooling cakes. They did look a bit sorry for themselves, I had to admit.

‘What are you topping them with?’

I gave him a fake beaming smile.

‘Question marks,’ I said with a confident toss of my hair.

There was a pause.

‘Question marks,’ Peter repeated.

‘Amelia’s doing ducks,’ I said, desperate for him to leave me alone. It worked. He gave me a steely glance and headed over to Amelia’s bench instead.

‘I must get these babies in the fridge,’ Ronald muttered. ‘I don’t want melted blankets.’

He’d arranged his tiny snoozing tots on a tray and I peeked at them as he went past. They were really very good.

‘Back in a mo,’ he said, as he strode off down the bunting-strewn path towards the café.

I carried on dolloping icing on top of my cakes. I’d iced the pink cakes with blue icing, and the blue ones with pink. They looked okay. I’d have been pleased with them if I’d made them for a friend’s baby shower but I suspected they wouldn’t be good enough for Lizzie and Peter.

With a slightly shaking hand I iced white question marks on top of each one. All over the tent, the other competitors were all bent over their cakes, concentrating hard on adding the finishing touches to their – quite frankly amazing – creations.

‘Bakers, you have five minutes left,’ said Lizzie, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Around me there was a flurry of activity. Amelia carefully placed her ducks on the swirl of icing on top of each cake, June paired up her different coloured cake bootees, and up at the front I saw Harry calmly arranging her peapods.

‘Where’s Ronald,’ said Wilf, who’d finished his baby face cakes about 10 minutes earlier and was trying in vain to create order from the chaos of his bench.

I glanced round.

‘He went to sort out his chocolate babies,’ I said. ‘But that was ages ago.’

Amelia looked up.

‘It was just after Peter said forty-five minutes left,‘ she said. ‘I know that because I was talking to him right then and he said he had to get them in the fridge to firm up.’

She was right – I’d had that sneaky look at his babies as he’d passed me on his way out of the tent.

I looked at Ronald’s bench. His cupcakes were out of the oven, but they weren’t iced and most of his equipment lay abandoned on the work surface. The little wooden crib that he planned to arrange his cakes in was still to one side, where it had been when he showed Peter and Lizzie earlier.

‘Where’s he gone?’ I said in surprise. ‘Where is he?

‘We’ve not spoken to him since he showed us his crib,’ said Lizzie. She turned to the two camera operators.

‘Have you filmed him?’

They both shook their heads.

‘Not that I remember,’ said one – an older man with greying hair and a Welsh accent. ‘I’ve been concentrating on the others really.’

‘This is strange,’ said Wilf. ‘Where would he go?’

‘I’ll go and have a look for him,’ Lizzie said.

Harry had been looking vaguely distant since Amelia had spoken. Now she took charge.

‘No, you stay,’ she said to Lizzie, who looked slightly taken aback at being bossed around. ‘Esme, come with me – we’ll find him.’

She untied her apron, threw it onto her stool and went to leave. ‘Come on.’

Six

‘What is it?’ I asked Harry as we negotiated the bunting along the path to the cafe. ‘What’s the matter?’

Harry glanced behind her then, once she was sure we were alone, she took my arm to hurry me up.

‘He’s in trouble,’ she said.

‘Can you hear him?’ Harry could tune into the thoughts of people around her if she wanted to. It was both brilliant and absolutely terrifying.

She screwed up her nose.

‘Not really,’ she said. ‘Just a bit. But I can tell he’s not well and I know he’s in the cafe.’

‘If he’s not well, then Mum and Suky will be helping him,’ I pointed out.

Harry looked at me.

‘They’re not,’ she said. ‘I have no idea why.’

‘That’s why,’ I said, pointing. Mum, Suky and Eva were sitting outside the cafe with Portia and some of the production crew. They were drinking coffees and eating cakes.

‘Mum,’ Harry said, rushing over. ‘Is the cafe closed? What’s going on?’

Suky looked surprised at Harry’s desperate tone.

‘Imogen and Nell are inside,’ she said. ‘We’ve been rammed all day so as soon as it got a bit quieter Tess and I took the opportunity for a sit down.’

Mum looked at her watch.

‘Is the baking finished?’ she said. ‘How did you get on?’

‘It’s not over yet,’ I said, waddling over. It was nice to be out of the tent and out into the open air where there was a breeze blowing over the loch. ‘We’re looking for Ronald – have you seen him?’

Portia stood up.

‘He was here earlier,’ she said. ‘He came to put something in the fridge. Where is he now? Isn’t he in the tent?’

But Harry was already heading for the cafe door. I followed her as fast as I could. Which wasn’t actually very fast at all.

She skirted the counter and disappeared into the kitchen with me close on her heels, then she paused.

‘Is he here?’ I asked.

‘Shhh,’ she said. ‘I’m trying to hear. He’s very weak.’

I tried to zone in too, but I couldn’t hear a thing apart from Imogen and Nell each thinking about how much they both fancied different – thankfully – members of the crew.

‘Oh god,’ Harry said suddenly. She dashed across the kitchen to the big walk-in fridge, but the door wouldn’t open.

‘Shit,’ Harry muttered. She took a step back and waved her hand at the door. In a shower of silver sparkles, it burst open and she disappeared inside.

‘Help me, Ez,’ she said.

Cautiously I went into the fridge. The cold inside was welcome for about thirty seconds but I was soon shivering in my thin dress.

‘Here, Esme,’ Harry said. She was in the corner, crouched down, and hunched against the wall was Ronald. His eyes were closed, his skin was pale and his breathing was shallow.

‘Oh goodness,’ I said. I grabbed his hands, which were freezing, and rubbed them roughly. ‘Ronald? Ronald?’

He opened his eyes and looked up at us.

‘Oh, Esme,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t get out.’

Together Harry and I helped him up and into the café, where we sat him down on one of the sofas.

‘I’m not sure what happened. I didn’t mean to close the door behind me, but it slammed shut,’ Ronald said, sinking down on to the cushion in relief. ‘I’m an idiot.’

I grinned at him, pleased he was okay.

‘What happened then?’ I asked.

He frowned.

‘Not sure,’ he admitted, taking the cup of tea Imogen offered and wrapping his fingers round the mug. He was still shaking and I was worried about him. ‘The door just closed when my back was turned.’

Harry chewed her lip.

‘Strange,’ she said. ‘The hinges must be shot. It was tricky for me to open it again too.’

‘Is he okay?’

Portia pushed her way past Harry and me to sit next to Ronald.

‘How is he?’ she said to me.

I raised my eyebrows at Ronald.

‘I’m very cold,’ he said wryly. ‘But I can still talk.’

Portia looked horrified.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘This is a bloody nightmare. Ronald, we need to get you to A&E.’

It was Ronald’s turn to look aghast.

‘I’m fine, woman,’ he said. ‘Don’t fuss.’

‘Ronald, you do as this girl says,’ came a voice from behind us. I turned to see a tiny woman, dressed in a neat white blouse and khaki trousers, approaching.

Ronald sat up straight.

‘Ye gods,’ he murmured. ‘It’s my wife.’

‘I phoned her,’ said Portia. ‘Was that a mistake?’

The tiny woman marched up to Ronald and fixed him with a glare.

‘What have you been up to?’ she said.

Ronald looked sheepish.

‘It was an accident,’ he said.

She looked disbelieving, but she didn’t question him further.

‘Right you,’ she said, giving him a nudge. ‘Up you get, we’re going to the hospital.’

Ronald looked fed up, but he didn’t complain. Instead he heaved himself to his feet.

‘She’s the boss,’ he said as his teeny wife fussed round him. ‘I’ve learned not to argue.’

Portia followed them to the cafe door, gushing apologies and ‘I don’t know how this could have happened’s.

‘Let us know how he is,’ she said to his wife as they left.

‘I will,’ she said, giving Portia the forceful glare she’d given Ronald when she arrived. ‘I just hope for your sake he’s okay.’

‘Oh god,’ I muttered, hearing alarm bells ringing in my lawyer mind. ‘She probably wants to sue
Britain Bakes
.’

‘Can she do that?’ Harry asked in surprise.

I shrugged.

‘Probably not, but it doesn’t stop people trying.’

Ronald’s wife was still tearing strips off Portia.

‘He is a pensioner,’ she was saying. ‘He’s had worse treatment here than he ever had in the Navy.’

‘That’s not completely true,’ Ronald pointed out, but she didn’t listen.

‘If you think he’s coming back to this silly competition, you’ve got another think coming,’ she carried on. ‘This is the end for him.’

With that, she turned on her heel and left, with Ronald meekly following behind.

‘Oh bloody buggery bollocks,’ said Portia in her cut-glass accent, making me giggle.

Then she grinned.

‘But it’ll make great TV. I’ll do a press release.’

She checked the time on her BlackBerry.

‘Right, we’ve still got time for the judging.’

I blinked at her in surprise.

‘Really?’ I said. ‘But Ronald was just almost frozen to death. Shouldn’t we maybe cancel the competition?’

Portia tightened her jaw.

‘Never,’ she said. ‘The show always goes on.

‘Okay,’ I said, in resignation. I held out my hands to her and Harry. ‘But you’ll have to help me up or there’s no way I’ll get up off this sofa.’

Back in the tent, the atmosphere was tense. Everyone was sitting in silence, waiting to hear what was happening while their cakes drooped in the heat.

Portia clapped her hands.