Betty clapped her hands together, delighted. ‘Wonderful!’ As they walked through the crowd towards the café, Clemmie glanced back at Oliver as he headed back to the yacht. She knew he would have some loose ends to tie up with the film crew, but she couldn’t help wondering what was going on between him and Fiona. His usual laid-back vibe felt a little off. Something had rattled him and as much as Clemmie wanted to enjoy her win, she couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was happening wasn’t finished yet– and it probably had something to do with her.
By the time they reached the café, Clemmie felt the weight of the win hit her, not in a tired way, but in a way that was pure joy. The people she cared about had stood there on the beach, watching her, cheering her on, willing her to win and she had.
Chapter Fifteen
The café was unrecognisable when Clemmie walked through the door. She gave a tiny gasp as she took in the dazzling display that Betty had somehow conjured up in a matter of hours. Strings of bunting crisscrossed the ceiling, gold and silver balloons bobbed gently above each table, and on the back wall a massive banner proclaimed in bold, glittery letters:WINNER!But what truly sent Clemmie into a fit of laughter was the life-sized cardboard cutout of the Queen, her gloved hand raised in a cheerful wave.
‘Of course, we had to invite Her Majesty,’ Betty said with a mischievous grin, giving Clemmie a sly wink.
Clemmie clutched her chest, laughing. ‘Granny, you’ve really outdone yourself.’
The room was filled with familiar faces: Verity and Sam, Dilly, Max and the twins, Amelia and her partner Jack, and Betty’s best friend Pete were all there, each holding a glass of champagne and beaming with pride.
‘Well done, Clemmie!’ Verity cheered, raising her glass. ‘We always knew you’d win.’
‘You were brilliant,’ Amelia added. ‘I’ve never been prouder to say I’m friends with a celebrity baker and soon your cookbook will be gracing the shelves of my book shop!’
Pete nudged Dilly, a sly grin on his face. ‘Don’t forget us when you’re rubbing elbows with royalty.’
The room erupted into laughter, and Clemmie felt happiness spreading through her chest. She turned to Pete, who had a peculiar twinkle in his eye.
‘You know,’ he began, ‘I’ve been looking after the puffins on this island for my lifetime and never have I come across one quite as…sociableas the one that crashed the competition. I’m half tempted to name him Sir Buttercream.’
The suggestion drew a chorus of laughter.
‘Sir Buttercream it is,’ Clemmie said, shaking her head in amusement. ‘I think he’s earned the title.’
The buffet Betty had laid out was nothing short of extravagant. There were finger sandwiches, freshly baked scones, delicate pastries and a towering cake adorned with edible flowers. Champagne flowed freely as everyone toasted Clemmie’s victory.
‘When and how did you do all this?’ Clemmie asked Betty, overwhelmed by the effort that had gone into the celebration.
‘Sam helped me,’ Betty replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. ‘I couldn’t have done it alone as I wasn’t going to miss a second of watching you compete.’
‘But what if I hadn’t won?’ she asked playfully, a small knot of uncertainty tugging at her heart.
‘Oh, please,’ Betty scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. ‘There was never a chance of that. You have more talent than all those other bakers combined.’
Clemmie felt a lump form in her throat as her granny’s words wrapped around her like a blanket. ‘Thank you, Granny. For everything,’ she said softly, her voice faltering.
The champagne continued to flow, glasses clinked and the hum of conversation filled the air. Laughter spilled out in bursts from various groups, enveloping Clemmie in a cocoon of happiness.
Soon after, Oliver arrived and, before he could even take in the surroundings, Betty swooped in, wrapping him in a tight hug and pressing a glass of champagne into his hand.
‘You’re here!’ Betty exclaimed, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before he had a chance to catch his breath. Realising what she had done, she quickly uttered an apology. ‘Sorry! It’s the champagne. It’s gone to my head!’
Everyone around them laughed.
Clemmie smiled as Oliver mingled with her friends, his easy charm making him a favourite among the guests. Despite being swept into conversations and laughter, the two of them kept finding moments to exchange lingering glances. Clemmie felt a flutter in her chest every time their eyes met across the room. Even though he would be heading back to London tonight there was still one last adventure to have together: the royal garden party that was now just a few days away.
All of sudden, she became aware of Oliver standing quietly by the doorway, his glass of champagne untouched. Their eyes met across the room, and he gave her a subtle nod, a silent invitation to join him.
They slipped into the garden at the front of the café, which was bathed in the soft glow of fairy lights strung up between the trees. The air was cool but pleasant, the distant sound of waves providing a soothing backdrop. Clemmie and Oliver settled into two chairs side by side, letting the sounds of the celebration fade into the background. For a moment, neither of them spoke, content to sit in comfortable silence.
‘I’m leaving soon. It’s a long drive back to London,’ Oliver finally said.
Clemmie’s mood slumped a little. It was expected but it didn’t make it easier. She didn’t want him to go. ‘So soon?’
Oliver nodded, looking down at his hands. ‘I don’t want to go,’ he admitted. ‘But we still have the royal garden party.’ He reached and took hold of her hand and stood up. ‘I guess this is it, for now.’
