‘Just weather warnings and—’ Molly stopped mid-sentence, too busy staring at the cobalt-coloured envelope in her hand with the baker’s hat gold seal of approval stamp on the front. Feeling a surge of excitement, her heart gave a little leap. She knewexactlywhat was inside this envelope. ‘Oh my gosh! Cam! It’s here!’
‘Huh?’ he replied, looking over his shoulder.
Molly waved the envelope in the air with enthusiasm but as soon as Cam clocked it, the smile immediately slid from his face. ‘Come on, open it.’ She thrust the envelope towards him.
‘You open it if you wish. I’m a little busy.’ Cam pulled in a deep breath and carried on loading up the van.
‘What is up with you? This is huge!’ A little perplexed and disappointed that Cam wasn’t showing any interest, she tore it open. ‘It’s it! It’s it!’ she shouted after him, her voice rising an octave. ‘I’m so proud of you! You’ve been invited to compete for the title of Baker of the Year!’
The Annual Scottish Baking Competition was held once a year in a magnificent manor house in Edinburgh. Three bakers came head-to-head, live on stage, where they would have to bake their creations under the pressure of time. Their brief was that a special element had to be incorporated into the recipe. Elite judges crowned the best baker. Cam’s being chosen was a major compliment as the competitors were hand-picked to compete, based on their skill and reputation. With the prize money a whopping £50,000 and the publicity that surrounded the competition usually resulting in some very lucrative TV and magazine partnerships for the winner, it was a very big deal. So why was Cam acting like it was nothing?
‘This is the most prestigious award ever and you’ll be following in your Great-Uncle Ted’s footsteps. Here, take a look.’ Molly held out the envelope towards a stoic Cam. ‘I was only thinking about this the other day. This is big! How exciting is this?’ She studied him closely, but still saw no hint of enthusiasm from her husband. ‘Even though you don’t look that excited. What’s going on with you? Please tell me you are going to compete.’
Cam was silent.
‘But you have to. Dixie and your Great-Uncle Ted would want you to compete.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Now that is emotional blackmail.’
Molly pinched her finger and thumb together. ‘Okay, maybe a little, but why aren’t you standing there full of excitement? If you win this award then it opens up a whole world of opportunities and that prize money could help to pay the wages of a new apprentice.’
‘Because…’ Cam knew exactly why he wasn’t going to compete.
She wound her hand around in a circle, prompting him to continue. ‘Because…’
‘Because…’ He had things going on in his life that Molly didn’t know about. Knowing that the appointment in the letter in his pocket could change the course of his life, Cam couldn’t concentrate on anything else. Thinking on his feet, he improvised with ‘I’m not sure I’m good enough yet.’
Molly let out a strangled laugh. ‘Are you for real? Why would you think you aren’t good enough? Have you seen this place? Your baking is to die for. At least take a proper look at the invitation.’
Reluctantly, Cam reread the invite then placed it on the counter. ‘It’s not just about being a baker though, is it? Look…’ He tapped the invite. ‘The special element this year is chocolate.’
‘And? You fill pastries with chocolate every day.’
‘It’s not quite the same thing and not to the standard of what the judges are looking for.’
Molly knew that Cam was making excuses. ‘So, get baking and perfecting your chocolate creation. With the weather like this there will be plenty of time.’
Cam still wasn’t forthcoming but Molly noticed he stole a glance towards his Great-Uncle Ted’s photograph hanging on the wall. His eyes looked a little bleary. ‘He would be so proud of you. Look how far you’ve come.’
For a moment, they both looked over at the old black and white framed photograph of his grandfather’s brother, wearing his apron and traditional toque hat. He was standing proudly outside the door of The Old Bakehouse on its first day of opening.
‘Maybe next year,’ Cam said, dismissing whatever thoughts had consumed him. ‘I’ll just grab the logs for the fire and be on my way,’ he said.
Molly noticed the doors at the back of the van were still wide open as Cam disappeared out of the shop. Shutting the shop door to keep the warmth in, Molly switched the sign on the back toopen. Outside, the snow was gently falling all around and there wasn’t a soul in sight. She walked over to the photograph of Ted and stared at it for a second. His framed awards were proudly displayed underneath in a row. Ted Bird had won Scottish Baker of the Year for ten consecutive years. He was the master of his craft and rather famous all over Scotland in his day. There had been a number of magazine articles written about him and he’d appeared on TV numerous times, but he was all about keeping it real and all he wanted to do was bake. He was never interested in becoming a celebrity of any sort.
Molly thought about Cam. He was always the first one to encourage her and make her believe in herself and deep down she wondered if the reason why he was reluctant to enter the competition was that he doubted his own ability. Perhaps he didn’t want to put himself out there with the best of the best and not do his great-uncle proud. Was Cam scared of failure? If he entered and didn’t win, Molly knew that would dent his pride, and she also knew that he might be thinking that the only way to protect his pride was not to enter at all. Yet she also knew how rare it was for a baker to be invited to compete for the title, which meant that one of the judges of this prestigious competition must have visited the shop and sampled Cam’s baking.
Cam appeared in the doorway. ‘All the logs are stacked up, and I’ve thrown a couple more on the fire.’
Refusing to let the subject lie, Molly picked up the invite. ‘You do know that you wouldn’t have received this unless someone out there thought you were good enough, don’t you?’
Cam took the invite from her and placed it back down on the counter. ‘I do what I do because I love it, and I don’t need to win a title to confirm that.’
But Molly wasn’t listening. A sudden movement had caught her eye. Staring out of the shop window she fixed her gaze firmly on the open back doors of the van. She pointed. ‘Cam, we are being robbed.’ Then, almost without thinking, she reacted and rushed towards the door.
‘Molly, no!’ Cam grabbed her shoulders. ‘Stay where you are.’
Cam flung open the bakery door and shouted ‘Hey!’ at the hooded figure that was shovelling food from the back of the van into a rucksack.
