A Spoonful of Sugar (9 page)

‘Exactly,’ said Wilf.

Portia gave Wilf a sharp look.

‘What are you saying?’ she said.

‘I’m saying that perhaps this wasn’t an accident,’ said Wilf. He had been sitting on his bench but now he jumped off and came to stand beside June.

‘Perhaps Amelia was right. Perhaps someone locked Ronald in the freezer, and dumped the caramel on Amelia’s head, and greased the outside of June’s tin so she’d drop it.’

Harry laughed.

‘Don’t be silly,’ she said. ‘Why would anyone do that? This is a baking competition, not international espionage.’

I laughed too, but with a hint of nerves.

‘Harry’s right,’ I said. ‘Surely this is just coincidence.’

Peter stepped forward.

‘I think Wilf’s right,’ he said, stroking his chin. ‘But if someone is doing this. If someone has been targeting the competitors, then it’s obvious who it is, isn’t it?’

‘Is it?’ I said in surprise.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It’s got to be one of you. You’re the only ones who stand to gain from taking out the competition.’

Harry, Wilf and I all stared at him.

‘That’s mental,’ Wilf said eventually.

‘Is it?’ said Peter.

Wilf took a step towards Peter, his eyes never leaving Peter’s.

‘You know it is,’ he said. ‘And maybe you’re bandying round these accusations to cover your own back. Maybe you’re the one who’s been attacking the contestants.’

Peter moved so he was almost nose to nose with Wilf.

‘How dare you?’ he said. ‘How dare you insinuate …’

‘Oh for heaven’s sake,’ said Portia. ‘I hate to break up your little fight club, but we’ve got a competition to finish, and poor June’s got a very painful foot.’

She patted June reassuringly – and perhaps just a bit patronisingly – on the head.

‘How are you getting on there?’ she asked.

‘It really does hurt,’ June said stoicly. ‘I think I’d better get this foot seen to.’

‘Right,’ Portia said. ‘Absolutely. Can you walk? No. Let’s get a stretcher.’

And if Wilf and Peter facing off hadn’t been odd enough, that’s when it went properly crazy. The gaggle of reporters and photographers who’d surrounded us earlier had been happily drinking tea and eating cakes in the cafe with Mum and Suky but like sharks scenting blood, they suddenly realised something was up. Perhaps it was Wilf’s dash through the rain to find Portia, or her running into the marquee the way she did. Whatever it was, by the time the production crew had located the stretcher they kept on hand for emergencies and hoisted June onto it, everyone knew something else had happened.

As June was carried out to a waiting car, the photographers went wild, snapping away. Portia and her two assistants went into a huddle with some men in suits and Peter disappeared.

Lizzie, Harry, Wilf and I all sat in the tent feeling a bit like spare parts.

‘Have you ever heard of anything like this happening before?’ I asked Lizzie.

She shook her head.

‘Of course, I’ve not been a judge before, she said. But I’m very good friends with Martha, the previous judge. Very good friends indeed.’

She sounded slightly like she was trying to convince herself of the friendship rather than us.

‘She’s told me a couple of stories,’ Lizzie went on. ‘Apparently, the first year someone cut their finger right through to the bone. But Martha said he was ever so clumsy anyway, and he just had a couple of stitches and he was back the same day.’

Harry shuddered.

‘Sounds horrible,’ she said.

Lizzie nodded.

‘They were fortunate that one of the other contestants happened to be an A&E nurse so she took charge.’

‘Lucky,’ said Wilf. ‘Shame she wasn’t here today.’

I looked out of the plastic window. The rain seemed to have eased up and the press were still lurking.

‘This is crazy though, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘All this attention?’

‘It won’t last,’ Wilf said. ‘Like Harry said, it’s just a baking competition. The press will move on. Something else will happen – a politician will eat a bacon sandwich, or a boy band will split up – and we’ll be forgotten.’

He was very sensible, I thought. And he was right. This wouldn’t last.

‘What will happen now?’ I asked.

‘No idea,’ Lizzie admitted. ‘I expect Mercedes will have a plan.’

Wilf gave a small laugh.

‘Portia,’ he said. ‘Her name’s Portia.’

That made me giggle, and Harry joined in. Soon Wilf and Lizzie were giggling too. We were still laughing when Portia arrived, looking flustered.

‘Right,’ she said, as though we were carrying on a conversation. ‘That’s all sorted then.’

We all looked at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s been a long day.’

‘We were wondering what’s going to happen next,’ Lizzie said gently. ‘Will the competition carry on?’

Portia looked sombre.

‘Given all the accidents that have been happening?’ she said.

We all nodded and Portia grinned.

‘Are you kidding me?’ she squealed. ‘Of course it’s going to carry on. This is amazing. Ratings are going to be through the roof. June’s scheduled to do three TV interviews from her hospital bed this evening, assuming there’s no major disasters, we’re going to be on the front page of all the Sunday tabloids tomorrow. Lizzie, you’re wanted to do baking slots on three different shows next week. Wilf, someone from
Boys!
magazine phoned wanting an interview. You’re gay, right?’

‘Erm, no,’ said Wilf.

‘Oh, really?’ said Portia. ‘Never mind, just vague it up a bit if they ask you. Esme, can you do a live chat for a parenting website? And, Harry? Any objections to doing a bikini shoot for one of the celeb mags – how I bake like an angel and look like a fox, that sort of thing?’

Harry gave Portia the full force of her most scathing look and she made a hurried mark on her clipboard.

‘No? That’s fine. We’ll suggest something else.’

‘What about Peter’s TV show?’ Lizzie asked. Her blue eyes had a steely glint.

‘Already been given a second series,’ Portia said in satisfaction. ‘First series hasn’t even started yet. Amazing. He’s just come top in
Heat
magazine’s weird crushes poll. He’s going to be huge.’

‘Right,’ said Lizzie. ‘Huge.’

Harry and I exchanged a look. It was the first time Lizzie hadn’t been sweetness and light and it seemed out of character for her. She obviously really didn’t like Peter. Mind you, I didn’t blame her. I didn’t like him much myself.

‘So what now?’ Wilf asked. ‘Apart from interviews. Do we need to finish our pies?’

Portia shook her head.

‘You don’t have to finish them,’ she said. ‘Because you’re all through to the next round – the semi-final! Yay!’

There was silence. Undeterred, she carried on.

‘So, we’ve got a few bits to record tomorrow morning – just the judges explaining what will happen next week and whatnot. Reaction shots mostly. Can you all stay here tonight?’

There was a murmur of accord. Harry and I always stayed in Claddach on the Saturday night anyway, so it wouldn’t be a problem to hang around tomorrow instead of going straight home. And Millicent wouldn’t object to the crew all staying longer.

‘Great,’ Portia said. ‘I’ll go and track Peter down and tell him. And I’ll see you all back here first thing.’

Sixteen

I was absolutely exhausted by the time we got home and all I could think about was having a bath, eating some food and flopping into bed. It was nice to be going home so Mum could look after me, though things had changed at the big house Harry and I had grown up in.

My mum, who’d split from my dad years and years ago, was now married to a lovely man called Doug so she and Suky had come to an arrangement and converted their large shared house into two smaller homes. To be honest, Suky wasn’t there all that often as she’d rediscovered the itchy feet she’d had as a teenager and was always jetting off to various exciting places all over the world. But there was still plenty of room for us to stay and because Mum and Doug had a big kitchen, Harry and Suky were joining us for dinner.

‘I’ve run you a bath,’ Mum said, as we arrived. ‘Let me know if you want a hand getting out of it.’

I chuckled.

‘I might need you,’ I said, rubbing my bump, which seemed to be growing by the second.

‘Dinner will be about an hour,’ Mum added as I climbed the stairs to the bathroom. ‘Just come down in your pyjamas – no one will mind. We’re all desperate to hear what’s been going on.’

And that was why I loved coming home, even if it wasn’t exactly the same as it always had been.

I had my bath, then I phoned Jamie to fill him in on what was happening.

‘Ez,’ he said, as we wrapped up our conversation. ‘It’s safe up there, isn’t it? I don’t want anything to happen to you and the baby.’

I took a moment to answer.

‘I can’t pretend it’s not crossed my mind that something could happen,’ I admitted. ‘But, Jamie, it’s crazy. These must just be unfortunate accidents. No one would target a baking competition for heaven’s sake.’

‘It’s been good though,’ Jamie pointed out. ‘For that Amelia – she’s been everywhere. And for the show itself. Even for Claddach.’

‘I suppose,’ I said doubtfully. ‘But even so, Jamie. No one would do that.’

‘If you’re sure,’ he said. ‘But if you feel weird about it, or nervous, or worried, just give up. Promise me?’

‘Okay,’ I agreed. ‘I will.’

We said our goodbyes and I went downstairs in search of food. Harry and Suky were there already, sitting round the table with Doug and Mum, drinking wine.

‘Then there was a huge crash, and June was on the floor,’ Harry was saying. ‘We were all so shocked.’

Mum handed me an apple juice and I sat down next to her.

‘I must admit all these accidents have been good for business,‘ said Mum. ‘The cafe is booming – we can’t bake fast enough. And Allan has been inundated with requests for writers’ retreats and poetry workshops from people who have seen Claddach on the television and in the papers.’

‘Millicent’s booked up right through the autumn too,’ added Suky. ‘That’s normally her quiet time – because it’s in between summer and the ski season, you know – but she’s turning people away. She and Allan have worked out packages for people booking retreats – it’s really taken off.’

Harry looked pleased with herself.

‘This is exactly what I hoped would happen,’ she said, throwing me a smug smile. ‘I knew once people saw Claddach they’d realise how amazing it is up here.’

‘You called it,’ I said. ‘But this is bigger than anyone could predict. All this publicity for the show and the press hanging round, and Amelia shouting her mouth off to anyone who’ll listen. It’s all worked out to our advantage.’

‘Harry was just saying she doesn’t think it’s someone attacking the competitors,’ said Suky. ‘What do you think, Esme?’

‘I’m really torn,’ I admitted, helping myself to salad. ‘On the one hand why would anyone target a baking competition and its contestants? But on the other hand, it does seem a bit odd that three people have had these unfortunate accidents.’

Harry nodded.

‘But I think that’s exactly what they are,’ she said. ‘Unfortunate accidents.’

I chewed a piece of cucumber thoughtfully.

‘I don’t see how they can be anything else,’ I said. ‘It can’t be any of the contestants because, apart from it being totally ridiculous to take a game so seriously, they’re all nice people, they wouldn’t do such a thing.’

Harry made a face.

‘I reckon Amelia would,’ she said. ‘She’s ruthless, that kid.’

I giggled.

‘You’re not wrong there,’ I said, trying to remember who was where when the accidents happened. ‘But she wouldn’t have done that to herself – she was genuinely upset when she had to have her hair cut off. And she wasn’t even here when June got hurt. In fact, none of us were there when Ronald got stuck in the freezer. We were all in the marquee. We only found him because you listened in …’

I trailed off as a horrible thought occurred to me.

‘Exactly,’ said Harry. ‘Which is why these must be simply unlucky accidents.’

Mum and Suky agreed and Mum started talking but I wasn’t listening. I was wondering if Harry was the person behind all the accidents.

Being in the marquee while Ronald got stuck in the freezer inside the cafe wouldn’t be any barrier to Harry locking him in. None at all. She could easily have slammed that door shut if she wanted to. Perhaps that’s how she knew where to find him?

And she’d made a real show of not being able to help Amelia pick up her chocolate buttons when the caramel fell. Her being at the other end of the tent meant that, as far as normal, non-witchy people were concerned, she couldn’t have pushed the bowl off the bench – but I knew that wasn’t true. She could easily have made it fall from across the room. It was such basic witchcraft that even my little Clemmie could do it.

Greasing the outside of June’s tin was equally easy for a witch like Harry. In fact, she could even have persuaded June to do it herself – and then forget she’d done it. That’s how good Harry was.

There was a rule in witchcraft that you didn’t ever use it to harm others. If you did, we believed, it would come back on you threefold. We stuck to it, by and large. But like Amelia, Harry was ruthless. She was always focused on getting what she wanted – she kept her eyes on the prize as it were – and if that meant trampling over others to get there, then that’s what she did.

Absent-mindedly, I poured more water into my glass and stared at my cousin. She was telling a story about something funny her twins had done and laughing. Her eyes were shining and her smile was broad and that made me think. She had surprised me with how much she’d taken to motherhood and family life. She adored those kids and her wife, Louise. Surely she wouldn’t put them at risk just because she wanted to promote Claddach. Witchcraft was unpredictable and dabbling in the darker shadows of it always led to trouble. Harry knew that better than anyone.

‘What?’ Harry said, realising I was staring. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘I was just thinking.’