Children ran alongside Clemmie and Betty, waving little flags decorated with her name and puffin doodles. The air was electric with anticipation, and Clemmie smiled, her heart swelling with gratitude for her tiny but mighty community.
Amelia and Dilly fell into step beside her once Clemmie and Betty reached them, their faces beaming with pride. ‘Look at this turnout,’ Amelia said, glancing around. ‘The whole island must be here.’
‘I feel so tearful,’ Clemmie said, her voice filled with emotion. ‘I’m so glad you all have tickets to come and watch.’
‘So are we,’ Dilly said. ‘You’re our Clemmie, and this isyourmoment. Besides, Max is looking forward to setting up on the beach with the twins, catching up with Sam and watching you on the big screen.’
At the end of the lane, they spotted Dilly’s partner Max with the twins in their double pushchair. The babies gurgled happily, waving their pudgy fists in the air as if they, too, were cheering her on.
‘Aww, look at my favourite people!’ Clemmie exclaimed, crouching down to kiss each of the twins on their chubby cheeks.
‘Good luck, Clemmie!’ Max called with a grin. ‘Looks like the whole island’s out in force for you.’
‘I better not let them down!’ she said, standing and brushing a hand over her apron.
As if understanding her words, one of the twins let out an excited squeal, and Clemmie chuckled. ‘You two behave for your daddy, okay? Auntie Clemmie’s got some baking to do!’
With her friends and family surrounding her, Clemmie felt a surge of determination. The Royal Yacht gleamed just ahead, its grandness a stark reminder of the stakes for tonight. But in that moment, with the laughter and love of her community ringing in her ears, she felt ready to face whatever the day might bring. As she continued to walk and wave, she took in the scene at the harbour. It was more elaborate than she could have imagined. Picnic blankets were spread across the sand, families and friends settling in with drinks and snacks as the excitement built. The TV crews had positioned themselves strategically, their cameras trained on the unfolding event. A towering big screen had been erected on the jetty outside The Sea Glass Restaurant, ensuring that every islander had a perfect view of the spectacle.
Over at The Cosy Kettle, the coffee hut on the beach, Becca was serving chilled glasses of prosecco, a luxury made possible thanks to Sam, who had ensured there was plenty to go around. The air buzzed with anticipation, laughter and the clink of glasses, a party atmosphere sweeping through the crowd.
Up ahead, a red carpet stretched along the gangplank leading up to the Royal Yacht, where the flashes from photographers’ cameras went off one after another, capturing every moment in a dazzling flurry of light.
‘I’m actually beginning to feel faint, I’m so nervous,’ Clemmie muttered to Dilly.
‘Stay focused, you’ve got this. You’re going to walk down that carpet like the queen you are and show them what you’re made of.’
‘Oh my! You’re on the big screen!’ exclaimed Betty and they all looked over to see the television cameras had captured Clemmie arriving.
Standing at the end of the gangplank to welcome the bakers were the three esteemed judges of The Royal BakingCompetition, who were a blend of expertise, charisma and prestige, each bringing unique credentials to the table.
Sir Gregory Whitcomb, a legendary patissier and culinary historian, had spent decades mastering the art of desserts. Known as the Sugar Sculptor, Sir Gregory was a former royal chef who had crafted confections for royal weddings and state banquets, and his discerning palate was said to be able to detect even the slightest misstep in a recipe.
Standing next to him was Margot Hastings, editor-in-chief ofBakers’ Monthlymagazine and a household name in the culinary world. With a sharp eye for innovation and presentation, Margot had spent years championing up-and-coming bakers and curating features on the world’s most unique baking trends.
Dominic Hargrove rounded out the trio, the restaurateur and celebrity chef bringing a more contemporary edge to the panel. As the host of a wildly popular TV baking competition, Dominic’s charm and wit made him a fan favourite, but his no-nonsense critiques ensured contestants brought their A-game.
Together, the judges represented the perfect mix of tradition, creativity and modernity, making them exceptionally qualified to judge the prestigious baking event.
‘I can’t believe they’re going to judge my baking.’ Clemmie stopped and turned to her grandmother, who threw her arms around her.
‘What an experience! I wish you all the luck in the world. We have to wait until the bakers are on board until we can go and take our seats, but you need to go now. Try not to be nervous… and good luck!’ Betty held her granddaughter’s hands before Clemmie turned to hug her friends goodbye.
She set off towards the yacht and saw Oliver was now standing with the judges, looking impossibly dashing in a tailored navy blazer, a microphone in hand as he addressed thegathering crowd. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the annual Royal Baking Competition. The bakers will be gathering inside very soon and then all those with tickets can make their way to the gangplank.’
His voice carried over the crowd, and Clemmie’s heart did a little flip when he caught her eye and smiled broadly. She made her way towards him, feeling both nervous and thrilled.
Taking her first tentative step onto the red carpet, Clemmie soaked up the atmosphere. The buzz of the crowd outside, the glint of cameras flashing and the hum of excited chatter all blended into a surreal symphony. She walked steadily towards the judges, whose faces were even more intimidating in person. These were the culinary legends she’d admired for so long, titans of the baking world who could make or break a career with a single comment.
As she approached, Oliver appeared at her side and introduced her to each of the judges with a warmth that helped ease her nerves. His charm was in full force, and Clemmie noticed how easy he made it all seem. After the final introduction, he leaned in, his voice just low enough for her to hear. ‘You ready for this, Clem?’
She gave a small, determined nod, though her heart was racing. ‘As ready as I’ll ever be,’ she replied, managing a shaky smile.
Oliver’s grin was laced with encouragement. ‘Don’t let the cameras put you off. Pretend it’s just you in your café, baking up a storm.’
‘No pressure, then?’ she murmured.
‘None at all,’ he replied, giving her a reassuring smile.
