You ran away from your story, Natalie told her.You couldn’t take the heat so you went into the kitchen.
* * *
“So this is a simnel cake,” Audrey explained when the judges called on her at last. “It’s a traditional cake made at Easter in Shropshire.” It had come out okay in the end, though it was quite an austere offering, all told. Then again, most traditional cakes were. It had caught a little on top but she hoped the marzipan would cover it.
Wilfred Honey looked down at it approvingly. “Well it looks lovely. I used to have these myself when I were a lad. We used the Yorkshire recipe, obviously, but I’ll not mark you down on that score.”
While Wilfred was making friendly noises, Marianne Wolvercote was slicing into the cake with icy precision. “It seems to have caught a little here.” Using her knife, she indicated just under the marzipan layer. “And while you’ve covered it adequately, itwasa little incautious of you.” She stood up. “Still itisthe first week and we can overlook theoccasionalimperfection.”
“Especially,” Wilfred Honey added, “if the taste is right.”
Although on one level—several levels, probably—Audrey was aware that this was a very silly thing to be doing and that anold man liking or not liking her simnel cake was going to have no meaningful effect on her life whatsoever, it was still a weirdly heart-stopping, stomach-clenching moment.
Wilfred Honey dug a healthy forkful out of the simnel cake and popped it into his mouth. For a moment he just chewed contemplatively, and Audrey tried not to worry that he was finding it too dry or too solid.
“It’s good is that,” he said at last. “Very traditional. I like traditional.”
Marianne Wolvercote wasn’t quite so kind. “Perhaps a touchtootraditional for me. I appreciate that this is a home baking competition, and that the brief was to give us something personal, but I think you’ve been a little casual here. The marzipan is slightly uneven and the little spheres you’ve made for decoration aren’t quite the same size.”
Casualwas a difficult word from Marianne Wolvercote. It was a step harsher thanrusticbut not quite as bad asDon’t eat that, Wilfred.
“Oh, you’re being too hard on her,” replied Wilfred Honey, riding to Audrey’s defence like a knight in tweed armour. “It’s a lovely cake, exactly what we asked for, and it’s got a reallyhomeyfeeling to it, and that’s not something you can buy.”
“It’s not, but that doesn’t excuse a lack of precision.” Marianne Wolvercote momentarily permitted her expression to soften. “Although Wilfred’s right. It’s the first week and we asked for authenticity rather than accuracy, and in that regard you’ve delivered.”
Not quite sure what to make from such a mixed review, Audrey nodded the politest thanks she could muster and returned to her place. It hadn’t been theworstfeedback so far. Alanis hadbeen the first up to the plate and while they’d been kind to her on account of her age, the chilli hadn’t come through in her chocolate and chilli cake. The two who’d come after that—Jim and Reggie, Audrey told herself; getting names down fast was a point of professional pride—had received similarly equivocating feedback, but Linda’s intricate icing work had won her high praise and set her up as the one to beat.
Neither of the next two contestants (John and Meera, Audrey name-checked) showed much chance of beating Linda and neither did Doris, whose carrot cake was praised for its story but was a little plain. That just left Gerald and Joshua, and Gerald, from what Audrey was seeing, did not seem likely to be taking the week one crown.
He was staggering forward with a platter full of something that could—on a good day, in the right light—just about be called cake. Having started life overflowing its bowl, it had overflown its tin as well, which meant it was now an uneven splurge of half-burned rivulets running down from an almost certainly raw centre. He’d iced it somewhat hastily, making the whole thing look like the monster of the week from a seventies science fiction series.
“So this,” Gerald explained as he set his slightly wobbly creation down before the judges, “is a giant sponge cake.”
“Well it’s certainly giant,” agreed Wilfred Honey, who was always the show’s designated good cop.
“But as for whether it’s a sponge cake…” Marianne Wolvercote stabbed at it gently. “That remains to be seen.”
Eventually a slice was cut out of the cake and laid on a plate for inspection. Audrey didn’t have a good angle, but the fact that the judges were hesitating to taste it implied that things had gone about as badly wrong as they possibly could.
“Don’t eat that, Wilfred,” said Marianne Wolvercote, inspiring gasps of dismay from the other contestants.
Gerald gave a nervous hop. “Oh my.”
“It isn’t baked,” Marianne Wolvercote continued. “I understand what you were trying to do here, Gerald, but it hasn’tremotelyworked.”
“You do seem to have had a bit of a day,” Wilfred Honey agreed, “don’t you, lad?”
Gerald nodded. “Looks like. But you know what they say: you win some, you lose some.”
He seemed oddly chipper as he made his way back to his station, but then he’d been oddly chipper ever since Audrey had first seen him and from what she knew of Jennifer Hallet he’d probably been cast precisely for that odd chipperness.We need a quirky weird one to go out in the first week, she’d have said.And that prick looks the part.
Joshua was already coming forward, his I-can’t-be-defined-by-a-single-item-of-confectionary cupcakes arranged rather prettily on a stand that also looked handmade.
“Now, I was worried about this,” Marriane Wolvercote began, examining the display with the eye of a connoisseur. “But it seems to have come together remarkably well. My concern was that you’d either do too little—cupcakes are rather simple, after all—or too much. But you’ve actually done wonderfully.”
Wilfred Honey reached out and grabbed a cake. “Tell us what flavours you’ve got.”
“Well”—suddenly, Joshua was coming across a lot more sincerely than he had earlier in the day—“the one you’re holding is red velvet, these ones here are lemon, those are chocolate, those are vanilla, that’s pumpkin and cinnamon, and those ones arealsovanilla but they have strawberries on top.”
