‘No, I obviously don’t know him at all,’ Clemmie said flatly.
A car horn bleeped outside, and Clemmie stood, peering out the window. A black taxi had just pulled up. ‘I’ve got to go, my taxi is here. I’m on my way to the train station.’ Clemmie hung up, then grabbed her case.
As she opened the front door, she noticed another taxi pulling up beside hers. Her stomach churned when she saw who stepped out. Oliver. He looked dishevelled and frantic, his tie askew and his hair windblown. His eyes locked onto hers the moment she stepped outside.
‘Clemmie,’ he called, hurrying towards her.
She didn’t slow her pace. ‘Don’t, Oliver. I have nothing to say to you.’
‘Please, just listen to me,’ he said, his tone pleading. ‘It’s not what you think.’
She whirled around, her suitcase wobbling on its wheels. ‘Not what I think? You wrote the review, didn’t you? Just answer me that.’
He hesitated, and that pause told her everything she needed to know. Still, he nodded. ‘Yes, I did. But?—’
‘Then there’s nothing more to talk about,’ she said, her voice icy. ‘Do you have any idea what you did to me?
‘Clemmie, please listen,’ he said, stepping closer. ‘I didn’t know it would cause all this. I didn’t mean for… It was a long time ago.’
‘And that makes it okay, does it? And you didn’t mean for what?’ she interrupted, her voice rising. ‘For it to blow up in your face? You should have thought about that before you put pen to paper. Cruel words affect people’s lives. I bet you felt smug, and for what? A few paragraphs in a magazine? A pat on the back from your editor? I hope it was worth it. You are a coward. You didn’t even put your name to it.’
‘Because the review was particularly harsh, the editors removed my name to protect me from potential fallout.’
‘Very convenient.’
‘Please, just give me a chance to explain.’
He reached for her arm, but she pulled away and stared at him, ‘That’s what Seraphina meant when she said, “Take note ofwhat I said”, wasn’t it? And that must have been Fiona on that call you took in the garden. She threatened to tell me before the garden party and you discussed it with Seraphina whilst I was getting ready. She told you to tell me, to let it come from you… and you chose not to. I’m done giving you chances,’ she said firmly. ‘You’ve made your choices, Oliver. And now I’m making mine.’
With that, she turned and climbed into the taxi. She slammed the door shut, avoiding Oliver’s gaze through the window. The driver, sensing the tension, quickly loaded her suitcase.
As the taxi pulled away, Clemmie felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. The tears threatened to return, but she blinked them back. She needed to stay strong, at least until she was home. Until she could see Granny and try to make sense of it all.
Oliver stood growing smaller in the rear-view mirror with every passing second. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. Should she let him explain? But the anger and betrayal resurfaced, drowning out any lingering doubt.
There was no going back now.
Chapter Twenty-Six
As soon as the taxi pulled up outside the quaint seaside café, Clemmie’s eyes were immediately drawn to the Royal Yacht anchored in the distance, its regal silhouette sharply outlined against the late evening sun. A shiver ran down her spine, though not from the coastal breeze. She had envisioned this moment, her triumphant return, imagining herself walking into the café after attending the royal garden party with a story of success and joy that would have the regulars beaming with pride. Instead, the knot in her stomach told a very different story.
Her train ride from London had been a battle against tears, her trembling hands clutching the strap of her bag as if it were the only thing keeping her from falling apart. Somehow, she had managed to hold herself together… until now.
The bell above the café door tinkled softly as she stepped inside, the familiar aroma of freshly baked scones enveloping her. The café was still festooned with Union Jack bunting, and the life-sized cutout of the Queen stood proudly by the counter, her cardboard smile radiating unflappable cheer. It was asthough the celebrations of her winning the competition were still going on, a stark contrast to the storm raging in Clemmie’s heart.
Before she could say anything, Betty appeared from behind the counter, her face breaking into a concerned smile as she took in Clemmie’s tear-streaked face and trembling body. ‘Oh, Clemmie,’ she murmured, pulling her into a tight embrace.
The dam burst. Clemmie clung to Betty, sobbing uncontrollably. Betty’s sturdy arms were a safe haven, and Clemmie allowed herself to crumple completely, her muffled cries soaking into her granny’s apron.
‘What the hell has gone on?’ Betty asked softly. Before Clemmie could summon the strength to reply, the door jingled again, and Amelia burst in, her face alight with worry.
‘I saw the taxi arrive. Oh, Clemmie,’ Amelia exclaimed, rushing forward to hug her friend. ‘Are you all right?’
Between them, they guided Clemmie into the living room. Amelia and Clemmie sat on the sofa, while Betty settled into her armchair, her eyes never leaving Clemmie’s face.
‘Right,’ Betty said firmly, ‘start from the beginning.’
Still trembling, Clemmie began to recount the disastrous chain of events that had unfolded at the royal garden party, right down to the moment the Queen herself mentioned the Earl of Aberford. The baking competition had been meant to be the crowning achievement of her career, a chance to showcase her family’s cherished recipe in front of royalty and some of the finest culinary minds in the country. Instead, it had descended into chaos.
