I pull Oscar’s hood up, and turn my collar up against the wind, and we make our way along to where Keef, Taj and the gang have swapped their elf clothes for wetsuits and are messing around in the shallows with the rest of the kids and some body boards. Even I know the waves aren’t anything like big enough for surfing, but there’s enough screaming and splashing going on to make up for that.
‘Okay, who’s up for some Christmas at Bondi beach shots?’
By the time I’ve taken every variation of poses and boards in and out of the water, it’s a long time later and Fliss and the littlies are long gone. I should have known from the skating that Sailor, Scout and Solomon would have some tricks up their home-school jumper sleeves. It turns out they’re acrobatic enough to be in the Cirque du Soleil, so we end up with some fabulous shots of surfie towers and flick flacks into the sea, as well as all the rest. When Libby finally tears herself away from the Aga and comes down she’s happy to use the human tower shot, because her kids are the important bottom layer. As she said, the high flyers couldn’t show off without the people in the base. And then she hurries off again, with the excuse of getting the pictures uploaded. But spot the deliberate mistake – she left without taking the phone with the photos on.
There’s another nice surprise when we get back to the castle – Rob has arrived early, and he’s just putting the finishing touches to the cake that he just speed baked. Between us, you have to love a guy who can build bridges, drive three hundred plus miles and dash off his signature Squishy Black Forest Gateau before he even stops for tea. But that’s Rob for you. Which was why it was so weird when we thought he was going off the rails.
So we leave Milo in the kitchen spinning sugar – really! – with Libby watching him wide eyed. First observation – truly, if we’d only known, the rest of us needn’t have wasted our time. And second – when did Libby ever take this much interest in cooking? Just saying. Then Fliss and I tuck up in the family room with Rob and the kids and watchThe Holiday, apparently for the third time since Saturday. Some films are like that, however many times you watch them you can always watch them again. And as we sit there the entries for the competition are arriving on the dining tables one by one.
As we go through to get our Gilmore People’s cake we get held up by a nappy change which we pop up to my room for because it’s closer. So we’re only back at the table with five minutes to go to the deadline, by which time everyone’s gathered in the dining area standing staring hopefully at the laden table. Then at one minute to half past the door opens and Milo staggers through carrying a cake the size of a mountain. It’s so heavy, as he slides it onto the centre stage position I swear I hear the table groan.
As I scan the faces, it’s a full house. Miranda’s somehow managed to persuade Ambie out of the hot tub, Taj and co. are standing with their arms folded poised to taste, Willow and Nigel are looking ethereal enough to have fallen off a serenity advert, the kids are all exchanging very loud opinions. In fact everyone seems to be here except Bill.
Milo’s pushing to the front. ‘Just to tell you, mine has a coconut sponge base, and Malibu buttercream, on an ombré bottom tier …’
There’s a ring of defeated sighs as he pauses.
‘… followed by a rocky outcrop of cream filled profiteroles and macaroon haystacks … which gives way to a mini meringue pavlova mountain … topped with a Baileys cupcake … all encased in a golden spin drift crackle of spun sugar.’
There’s a gentle whisper of open mouthed curses from the surfers, and Nigel mutters. ‘I’m late to the party here, but is he trying to prove something?’
Fliss turns to Milo. ‘Red card for you there, you wrecked the anonymity, judges’ decision is final, you’re out of the competition.’
As Milo’s face falls I open my mouth to jump in, but Libby’s there before me.
‘It’s a bit of Christmas fun,NO ONE’Sgoing to be disqualified.’ Not that you’d ever argue with Libby, but her mouth’s a total ‘don’t youDAREdisagree’ straight line here.
I’m coming in under the radar. ‘And after all that, Bill didn’t enter either!’
Milo’s hissing and punching the air. ‘Couldn’t make the standard, I knew it.’
Nigel’s looking at me. ‘Yes, he did, I saw Bill bring his in earlier but he had to rush off.’
I’m looking along the entries and I come to a plate of gingerbread men. Sorry –people. And I start to smile because there’s no mistaking Bill’s handiwork there. He might as well have left a sign on them sayingBILL MADE THESE. It’s just extra poignant to think the day we found the cutters and made the gingerbread men for the kitchen tree we had no idea he had a child. Thinking how he must have used those cutters with Abby, I don’t know how his heart didn’t break that day. But it won’t need to break any more now.
I’m moving this on before Libby jumps in and declares Milo is the winner without any voting. ‘So, if everyone except for Milo has left their name in secret underneath their cakes, shall we move on to the tasting and judging? Fliss is giving everyone a bead and putting out saucers, put your bead in the saucer in front of the cake you want to vote for.’
Fliss beams. ‘And while I’m giving out the beads, Ivy will cut a slice out of each cake so everyone can taste.’
It’s funny there are so many cakes here. There are some gorgeous Christmas tree cupcakes with bright green buttercream and coloured baubles. There are some eye-catching round iced shortbreads with fairy light strands across them, our snowy chocolate cake, Rob’s Black Forest gateau, oozing cream, Willow and Nigel’s plus some extra truffles, and then the kids’ cupcakes, and some Nutella brownies, which I suspect from the way they’re giggling at them, are Tiff, Tansy and Scout’s. And then at the very end of the line, my heart melts.
I point to Fliss. ‘Oh my, someone’s baked a Merwyn cake with matching Merwyn cupcakes.’ It’s basically a chocolate Swiss roll, with lashings of chocolate buttercream spiked to look like fur with a face on the end. But the expression in the eyes, it’s the very spit of the dog himself. And each cupcake is a furry Merwyn face too.
All the kids dash to the end of the table and there’s a collective ‘Ahhhhh …’ and the clink of beads hitting the saucer in front.
I’m frowning. ‘But how can you lot vote, you haven’t even tasted yet?’
Tiff gives me a side eye. ‘We don’t have to taste, we alreadyknowwhat’s best.’
I know I should give my bead to Rob for being awesome, but I have a sea glass moment, so the Merwyns get my bead too.
Fliss gives Rob’s cake her bead and Harriet’s, Oscar insists on giving his to Merwyn, and Willow and Nigel give theirs to the kids’ snowpeople. By the time everyone else has tasted and dropped their beads in the saucers Milo’s mountain has got two beads, and I suspect one of those came from Milo himself. And why did we forget to say you couldn’t vote for your own cake?
Fliss is clapping her hands. ‘Great, so the winner with twelve beads is the Merwyn ensemble. There’s a little note attached to the collar of the main cake … which I’m guessing will say who baked it?’
Tiff snatches it up. ‘It’s got Ivy’s name on …’
She hands it to me and as I unfold it I see some very familiar pointy writing. ‘Okay, so the note says, there’s a cupcake for everyone, and ifIgo to the coach house now I’ll find out who thesecret bakeris.’
