A Spoonful of Sugar (6 page)

‘I’m not sure about this jam,’ muttered Paul. ‘It doesn’t taste quite right. What do you think, Lizzie?’

Lizzie chewed the biscuit.

‘Hmm,’ she said, fixing Wilf with a hard stare worthy of Paddington Bear himself. ‘Is this homemade?’

‘Oh yes,’ Wilf lied, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. As he shuffled, he kicked his bag accidentally and one of the empty jam jars began to roll across the floor.

Wilf didn’t notice and so far, neither had Peter or Lizzie – or the cameras. But the marquee was on a slight slope and the jar was picking up speed. Any minute now, it would emerge from behind Wilf’s bench and roll against Lizzie’s foot and then he’d be rumbled.

Quick as a flash, I twitched my fingers and the jar appeared in my hand with a small shimmer of pink sparks. In one swift move I dumped it into the recycling bin next to me and hid it under a milk carton. Phew. Crisis averted.

Apart from Wilf, we all did fairly well in the biscuit round. Harry’s were good, so were June’s and, like I said, Amelia’s were the best the judges had ever tasted.

As we broke for lunch, Amelia bounced off down the path, her mousey-brown ponytail swinging. Because she was so young, her mum came with her every weekend and she was obviously desperate to tell her how well she’d done.

The rest of us wandered more slowly towards the cafe where Mum and Suky would have lunch ready for us.

‘She’s doing very well,’ June said, falling into step beside me.

‘Amelia?’ I said, fanning myself – it was almost as warm out of the tent as inside. I’d barely known a summer like it. ‘She’s worked very hard.’

‘How did she know about the biscuit challenge, though?’ said Wilf, his sweet face wrinkled in suspicion. ‘She said she’d been practising.’

‘I heard something,’ June said. She stopped walking and gestured for us all to move closer. We all obediently took a step towards her. She looked round to check no one was listening.

‘I heard her dad is high up in the production company,’ she whispered. ‘That’s how she got to audition even though she’s so young, and that’s how she knows what the challenges are going to be in advance.’

Wilf nodded.

‘I knew it,’ he said. ‘I knew there had to be a link.’

Harry frowned.

‘That’s not really fair,’ she said.

‘We didn’t audition …’ I began, then shut up as Harry gave me a fierce look.

‘Our application process was different because we were the local entrants,’ she said firmly. Wilf and June nodded – people always saw things from Harry’s perspective. Funny that.

‘Do you think we should do something?’ Wilf said.

I looked at him in disdain.

‘Grass her up?’ I said.

He gave a sheepish shrug.

‘Maybe,’ he said.

‘That’s not going to help if her dad’s the boss, is it?’ June pointed out. She looked very cross and I was a bit alarmed.

‘We just need to raise our game,’ Harry said. ‘Take her on fairly and squarely.’

I laughed.

‘Not sure I can take her on,’ I said. ‘She’s so much better than me, I don’t have a hope.’

‘That’s not true,’ June said. I looked at her in surprise, not expecting her to big up anyone but herself. ‘Your custard creams were great.’

I preened slightly.

‘They weren’t bad,’ I admitted. ‘But I’m nervous about these 3D biscuits, I must say.’

‘I’m nervous about this round too and I’d like to know what everyone else is doing,’ said Harry.

We discussed our biscuits over lunch. At least the four of us did – Amelia sat with her mum at the other side of the cafe. Their heads were close together as she sketched something on a piece of paper and her mum nodded in approval.

‘She’s probably planning next week’s bakes,’ Wilf said.

‘Look,’ Harry said. ‘We need to stop worrying about what Amelia’s doing and just worry about ourselves. We’ll never get anywhere if we just focus on her. Wilf, what are you doing this afternoon?’

Wilf grinned.

‘I’m doing the Tardis,’ he said. ‘I’m colouring my biscuits blue.’

‘Ooh, clever,’ I said. ‘My husband would like that, he loves Doctor Who.’

‘I just hope it works,’ Wilf said. ‘I’ve practised at home and it’s been fine, but it’s always different in the tent, isn’t it?’

I nodded sympathetically.

‘I’ve practised my wedding cakes,’ I said. ‘And they’ve come out okay – but they’re really easy. I think I’ve gone too simple really. I just balance different-sized round biscuits on top of each other and ice them.’

‘They’ll be great,’ Harry said.

‘What are you doing?’ Wilf asked her.

She smiled.

‘A beach hut,’ she said. ‘And a deckchair.’

She was so bloody clever, my cousin. I really hoped she won this whole competition and saw off goody-goody Amelia.

‘What are you doing, June?’ I asked.

‘I’m making my house,’ June said.

We all stared at her, open-mouthed. She pulled out her phone and showed us a photo of her house. ‘It’s a little cottage so it’s easy to copy.’

‘Easy!’ I laughed. ‘Nothing about this competition is easy.’

‘Oh is that what you’re making, June?’ Amelia stood by our table, grinning widely. ‘Are you using caramel to stick it all together?’

June nodded.

‘What are you making, pet?’ she asked with false – I thought – cheeriness. ‘Something amazing, I expect.’

‘A cuckoo clock,’ she said. ‘We’ve got one at home and I love it. I’m making a tiny cuckoo out of icing, too.’

I sighed. My little wedding cakes weren’t going to cut it beside deck chairs, cottages, clocks and time machines, that was for sure. Still, I could go home with my head held high and hopefully Harry would win instead.

‘Right then, contestants,’ Portia, with her clipboard wedged under one arm and a paper cup of coffee under the other, clapped her hands awkwardly. ‘It’s time for your next challenge. Let’s go.’

Ten

I was right. I had totally underestimated just how amazing everyone else’s creations would be. My tiny wedding cakes were adorable. For once, everything went absolutely as it should – my biscuits baked perfectly, I dotted the icing evenly and added a sprinkling of glittery icing sugar.

I stood back from my bench and sighed in satisfaction. I had twelve wedding-cake biscuits. They were identical, they were definitely 3D and they were so cute; I was really chuffed. Until I looked round to see what everyone else had done, that was.

Wilf was covered in blue food colouring, but he was busy piping POLICE along the top of his biscuits that would eventually form the Tardis. Already his creation looked incredible.
Amelia, of course, had pulled out all the stops. She had a gorgeous little cuckoo clock made from gingerbread. It was narrower at the bottom and wider at the top, with a ledge under the clock face where the little bird would sit. It was amazing. I hated it.

At a loose end, because I was finished and we still had a lot of time left, I wandered over to see what June was doing. She was assembling her cottage, which was also made from gingerbread, and it was gorgeous.

‘Oh June,’ I said in admiration.

‘Don’t come too close,’ she warned. ‘It might fall over.’

I giggled. It looked solid enough to me. But I went to investigate what Harry was up to instead. Like Wilf, she’d coloured her biscuit dough, but hers was different shades of pastel blues, pinks, yellows and greens. She was trimming the edges of her beach hut and getting ready to stick it all together.

‘It looks fabulous, H,’ I said.

She grinned.

‘It’s not bad,’ she said. ‘I just hope it stands up.’

‘It should do,’ Lizzie said, peering over my shoulder. ‘Just make sure your caramel is thick enough to give it a really good support.’

Harry nodded.

‘Are you finished, Esme?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Can we see?’

Proudly I led her and Peter over to my bench where the icing was setting on my tiny cake biscuits.

‘Oh these are lovely,’ Lizzie said.

‘I’m worried they’re a bit too simple,’ Peter said.

‘I thought that,’ I admitted. ‘Everyone else’s creations are so complicated.’

I could see that Amelia was listening to what Lizzie and Peter were saying to me and that she was looking pretty pleased with herself. I rolled my eyes. She was irritating, but I had to remember she was just a kid – it wasn’t worth getting annoyed with her.

‘Don’t forget it’s not just about what they look like,’ Lizzie told me kindly. ‘Yours could taste wonderful.’

I nodded, but I wasn’t convinced. I knew my biscuits didn’t measure up to everyone else’s.

Lizzie and Peter moved on to admire Amelia’s cuckoo clock. I pretended to be wiping down my bench, but really I was earwigging madly.

‘Oh this is more like what we wanted to see, isn’t it, Lizzie?’ Peter said. ‘Esme could learn something from you, Amelia.’

At the sound of my name, I looked over, just in time to see Amelia give me a look of pure triumph. Grrr. Who was I kidding? Of course I was annoyed with her.

‘So I’m covering the roof with chocolate buttons, like little tiles,’ said Amelia, flourishing a bag of buttons.

I couldn’t help myself. As she went to open the bag, my fingers twitched and I surreptitiously shot some pink sparks in her direction. Amelia pulled open the bag and it tore apart and all the buttons flew into the air and all over the floor.

‘Ohhhhh!’ Amelia cried. ‘Oh no!’

Peter chuckled and moved away, guiding Lizzie past all the chocolate on the floor.

‘You can’t use those now, but you’d better clear them up anyway,’ he said with a grin. He was a bugger, really. But at least his mockery was directed at someone else instead of me for a change.

Wilf and June went to help Amelia pick up buttons, all three of them kneeling on the floor behind Amelia’s bench. I joined them.

‘I can’t bend down,’ I said apologetically. ‘Sorry.’

Instead I held open a sandwich bag for the other three to drop the buttons into.

‘I can’t come,’ Harry called. ‘I’m holding my walls together. Sorry.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Amelia shouted back cheerfully. ‘I’ve got enough happy helpers.’

Seriously, grrrr.

I felt a bit ashamed of myself for losing my cool and taking it out on Amelia, and not being able to help pick the chocolate up again, so I concentrated on spotting as many buttons as I could and pointing them out to the others. We were just about finished when June stood up.

‘Oh my knees can’t stand up to this any more,’ she said, stretching.

Wilf followed, pulling himself up using the bench.

‘That floor’s hard, man,’ he said.

I wasn’t sure how it happened, but as Wilf stood up, the bowl on Amelia’s bench – the bowl that was full of sticky, oozy, brown caramel – fell.

It toppled from the top of the work surface and up-ended itself on top of Amelia’s head. Remember the end of
Carrie
? Well it was like that, except instead of pig’s blood it was caramel. But it was just as horrific – possibly even more.

‘OH MY GOD,’ wailed Amelia. ‘Get it off me!’

We all stared at her, shocked into silence. Behind me, Harry let go of her beach hut, her mouth open in surprise and, to our left, Peter and Lizzie both stood still, gawping at poor Amelia.

‘GET. IT. OFF!’ Amelia screeched.

June darted forward and pulled the bowl from Amelia’s head with a squelch.

‘Should’ve left it on,’ muttered Wilf to me. He had a point, actually. It looked much worse now the bowl was gone. The caramel dripped down Amelia’s hair, off the end of her nose, and pooled on her shoulders.

There was a beat while we all gazed at her, wondering what we should do next. Then Peter, the git, laughed.

‘This is a sticky situation,’ he chuckled.

We all glared at him and, as though Peter had woken us all up, Lizzie sprung into action.

‘Don’t panic,’ she said, soothingly, putting her arm round Amelia. ‘We’ll have this sorted out in no time. Can you open your eyes? No? Okay, let’s see what we can do.’

She led Amelia over to her stool and sat her down, then she wet a tea towel in the sink and gently wiped Amelia’s face with it.

Amelia blinked and opened her eyes, but seeing our horrified faces made her wail again.

‘It’s getting hard,’ she squealed. ‘The caramel is setting.’

She touched her hair.

‘It’s all over me,’ she said in disgust. Then she narrowed her eyes and looked at us all.

‘Someone did this,’ she said. ‘Someone pushed that bowl on to my head.’

Lizzie put one hand on her shoulder and looked round in vain for a runner – somehow they’d all disappeared just when we needed them most.

‘Wilf,’ she said briskly. ‘Go and find Mercedes.’

‘Portia,’ Wilf said.

‘Portia,’ Lizzie agreed. ‘June, find Amelia’s mum.’

Wilf and June disappeared out of the tent.

‘Don’t upset yourself,’ Lizzie said to Amelia, who was still looking fierce. ‘This is just an unfortunate accident. Maybe we should go to the make-up area – I know there are no sinks, but perhaps we can comb through your hair…’

‘Oh no. I’ve got a better idea – I’ll phone Millicent,’ said Harry, taking her phone out of her apron pocket. ‘We can take you to the B&B, Amelia. You can have a bath and wash your hair.’

‘Oh yes, that is better,’ said Lizzie, though I thought she sounded a little bit disappointed. ‘Let’s get going.’

She glanced at Peter who was still smirking.

‘You stay here,’ she said in disdain. ‘You’re no use to anyone.’

I hid a grin as we bundled Amelia out of the tent. Peter was proving to be quite a nasty piece of work, but Lizzie obviously knew how to handle him.

Eleven

Millicent was, as always, magnificent in a crisis. She took one look at poor Amelia, whose caramel had now set, giving her a shiny brown hairpiece and pushed her towards one of the B&B’s sumptuous bathrooms.

‘In there,’ she said. ‘There’s a robe and fresh towels, and I’ve run a bath for you. You’re going to need to soak it off, I think.’

Amelia’s mum followed her sobbing daughter into the room and we heard the lock click.

‘That’s never going to come out,’ Millicent said in a low voice. ‘Never in a million years.’