The Bake Off (5 page)

‘You
deserve to be there. Your baking skills are tremendous for someone with no actual cooking qualifications. I’ve been amazed at all this local talent but none more than yours,’ he said, and then lowered his voice. ‘Tell me, are you this talented in other areas of your life?’

She
wriggled in the chair and then felt his knee press against hers under the table – she gasped with pleasure. The bodily contact sent waves of desire shooting through her and she longed to feel the touch of his skin on hers. She teased, ‘I’m not sure what you mean about other areas.’

His
face was close to hers now and he whispered in her ear, ‘I was thinking more of the bedroom area?’

Heat
radiated across her chest and she knew her face was flushed. She felt quite light-headed with the knowledge that he was truly flirting and seemed to want her as much as she did him. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Let’s put it this way – I don’t think you’d be disappointed with my skills in that department either!’

‘Touché,’
he uttered pulling away from her and relaxing back into the chair.

He
grinned and then flexed his shoulders casually linking his hands behind his head. In any other man this, she decided, would look arrogant and conceited but because he was so handsome it looked a completely natural pose. The pale blue shirt seemed to make his blue sparkling eyes even more prominent and she shivered with delight. He was so damn attractive and sexy that it was impossible to restrain her thoughts and she wished with all her heart that she was alone with him. She sipped the drink and daydreamed of throwing all caution aside, swiping the glasses from the table, and lying on top of him to kiss him until he cried for more.

Simon
interrupted her thoughts by asking David where he lived.

David
told them about his new apartment on the Quayside overlooking the river Tyne. ‘I moved there after our separation and although I love the new property – it only has two bedrooms. But I’m looking upon it as a transitional home until I meet someone to share things with again.’

Had
he glanced at her when he’d mentioned he was looking for someone, Nicola wondered, and hoped she wasn’t imagining it. She thought of herself rattling around alone in her big old house and how staid her life had become. The trendy apartment sounded new and exciting and she knew she’d move in with him tomorrow without a moment’s hesitation.

All
too soon David was bidding them goodnight and stood up to leave. ‘I’ll see you all again next week at the final. Make sure you give your recipes a great deal of thought. It’s what we call the showstopper round where we’ll be looking for the most impressive creations that taste first class. It’ll be the biggest test of your skill and talent and I know the guest judge will be looking for professional standards in both appearance and flavour.’

Simon
nodded. ‘I don’t suppose you’ll tell us the name of the judge that’s coming?’

‘Now,
Simon. You know I can’t do that – it’s top secret. But prepare to be amazed,’ he said as he walked towards the door.

Thomas
followed David out, and Nicola sipped her drink thoughtfully. ‘It has to be something sensational,’ she said, and Simon nodded in agreement. They both mentioned recipes they’d tried many times before and new ones they’d read in magazines but didn’t come up with anything conclusive.

Simon
said, ‘I suppose we shouldn’t be talking about recipes as we are in competition with each other but as I’m going home to an empty house I’ve no one else to mull it over with.’

Nicola
smiled. He was such an easy man to talk to, she thought, and the one thing she loved about Simon was that he was a good listener. ‘Same here. But I’ll be ringing Jay when I get home. Although he usually tells me to bake all his own favourites, like the chocolate torte…’

‘Well,
for once he was right. You must be very proud of him.’

‘Oh,
I am. He’s doing a law degree and has worked so hard. Even though his dad left in the middle of his school exams he didn’t let it affect his studies. He’s definitely my blue-eyed boy,’ she said smiling, and knowing that if Jay could hear he’d be cringing.

Simon
stood up to leave and Nicola drained her glass. ‘I’m just going to nip into the ladies’ before I drive home,’ she said.

He
bent down towards her and pecked her on the cheek. ‘Thanks, Nicola. And I’ll see you next week…’

***

She nearly ran into the toilets in her hurry to remove the Spanx knickers and when she rolled them down to her ankles tears of sheer relief weren’t far away. Feeling reckless, she laughed, removed them completely, and stuffed them in her handbag. Giggling at the thought of being involved in an accident and taken to hospital wearing no knickers – she ran out towards the car park.

The Final of The Bake Off

Just before seven o’clock the following Saturday morning, Nicola was sitting calmly in the hospitality room waiting for day of the finals to begin. They’d been told to be there early because the day’s filming could take longer with the award ceremony scheduled for two o’clock. Thankfully, it was a drizzly morning and much cooler than the previous weeks and she’d chosen to dress comfortably, without the Spanx knickers, in loose brown trousers and a cream blouse. She had, however, bought herself a padded plunge bra. She knew she’d never have the cleavage that Gemma had but leaving the top two buttons open on her blouse might just make them look more alluring.

Her
stomach fluttered with excited butterflies when she thought of seeing David again after their conversation in the pub about bedroom skills and she was hoping to take up where they’d left off. Surely, she mused, sipping her coffee, if she won the bake off he’d want to see her again and take their relationship further?

‘Morning,
Simon,’ she called when she saw him enter the room. ‘I’ve got you a coffee.’

Simon
plopped down next to her and smiled his thanks. ‘Lovely. I’m desperate for this today. That bloody fox has got at my chickens again through the night and I’ve lost two of them!’

Nicola
gasped and muttered, ‘Oh no, the poor little things.’

While
she looked at him, dressed in black trousers and another white, neatly pressed shirt which just covered his small pot belly, she smiled with affection. His face, she realised, was now pleasantly familiar and she marvelled at how swiftly he’d become a steady, reliable friend – she hoped they’d keep in touch after the bake off.

He
looked down at her blouse and grinned in amusement. ‘Hmph, I know. I only had five to start with and they were little sweeties…’

She
sipped her coffee thoughtfully. ‘Did you stay with your decision to make the bread and butter pudding we talked through on the phone?’

‘Yes,
and thanks again for ringing me. I was in such a quandary that day,’ he said gazing at her. ‘And you’ve stayed with the lemon tart?’

She
nodded. ‘I had every recipe book I own out on the table that night going from one to another. But in the end I decided that David does seem to judge mainly on taste and the Sicilian summer lemon tart seemed perfect.’

‘It
will be,’ he said softly just as Gemma called hello from the doorway.

Nicola
noticed a look of disappointment flash across Simon’s face and wondered what had happened.

‘Morning,
finalists,’ Gemma gabbled excitedly and sat down looking from Simon to Nicola. ‘Oh, sorry, had I interrupted something?’

Nicola
noticed how Gemma was dressed more sedately this week in a blue maxi-dress with spaghetti straps and a neat white cardigan over her shoulders. ‘No, of course, not.’

‘I’m
so excited to have got into the final,’ Gemma tittered. ‘And I’m dying to know who the surprise judge is – are you?’

Simon
smiled and earnestly agreed with her. ‘It’ll be good to have another opinion at the judging so that it’s not just David’s decision.’

Nicola
was mystified. ‘Why? Do you not think David has been accurate so far?’

The
door to the kitchen opened and the director asked them to go through. Simon stood up and gently touched Nicola’s shoulder as they walked towards the door. ‘No, I didn’t mean that. I’ll just be interested to hear more comments from another professional…’

***

  Sitting on the stools in front of the table Simon whispered to them. ‘And then there were three.’

Gemma
giggled. ‘I know, I was just remembering the first round when there were ten of us sitting here.’

Nicola
nodded, remembering how anxious she’d been and how she’d questioned her ability to even get through to the next round. ‘Whoever wins today I think we’ve done fantastic just to get to this final stage,’ she said charitably. She pushed the sleeves of her blouse up to her elbows and set her jaw ready for the challenge – she was going to give it everything she possessed to beat them and win.

The
TV crew seemed louder and noisier than ever, Nicola thought, and the director, she could tell, was himself getting agitated shouting instructions and barking orders.

In
a charcoal grey, slim-fitting suit and crisp white shirt David walked into the kitchen to a huge round of applause from the crew. Nicola caught her breath – he looked absolutely gorgeous. Now she understood what Jay meant when he used the saying – simply to-die-for. His blue eyes were dancing with excitement and his smoothly shaven face was so handsome it made her swallow a lump of emotion in her throat – she felt totally overwhelmed.

The
large camera wheeled up in front of him and he pulled his shoulders back grinning suavely into the lens. ‘Morning, finalists,’ he said.

For
one split second, she thought she heard Simon scornfully groan under his breath. Surely not, she puzzled, looking out of the corner of her eye at him – and wondered for the first time if Simon didn’t actually like David.

David
continued, ‘Without waiting any longer I’m going to introduce our guest judge for this show-stopping final today. And I’m sure everyone here and at home watching will want to put their hands together to welcome, Jessica Gallagher…’

Ripples
of excitement ran around the room and Nicola caught her breath in shock and disbelief. Jessica was sixty-one, a retired celebrity cook, food writer and critic. Nicola had every cook book she’d ever written and she was to Nicola, what Delia Smith was to the nation.

A
small woman with short grey hair wearing a black pleated skirt and a white twinset walked briskly into the kitchen and David bent to kiss her cheek. Nicola could tell that Jessica wasn’t comfortable with his closeness as she pulled back sharply but then smiled sincerely into the camera and shook his hand.

With
the camera rolling, David explained Jessica’s achievements over the years to the viewers and ended by praising her expertise mainly with desserts and puddings.

‘So,
Jessica,’ he asked. ‘Do you have anything you would like to say to the contestants before we start the bake off?’

Jessica
stepped forward to address them and Nicola leaned forward to listen. ‘This final isn’t called a show-stopper for nothing,’ Jessica said firmly. ‘I want to see grand, visually appealing bakes with excellent flavour profiles.’

The
hairs on Nicola’s arms tingled and her palms became clammy – she gulped in trepidation. Maybe her lemon tart wasn’t creative and striking enough for the final? She cursed herself for not choosing one of her more impressive recipes. But there again, she reasoned, if they were judged on flavour alone she knew her tart would beat anything else on the table.

She
raised her eyebrows and looked at Simon for reassurance. He answered her with a wink and a smile.

‘Thank
you, Jessica. I couldn’t have put it better myself,’ David said walking towards them. ‘And as an extra bonus to the prize money and award I’m going to take the winner, as my special guest, for dinner in London, to the Savoy.’

Another
loud round of applause took place at his kind gesture and Nicola swallowed hard – she was gobsmacked. She pressed her hand against her chest and sucked in a deep breath – she had to win this now. Apart from the award it would be her one big chance to spend an evening with David.

She
imagined walking into the Savoy linking his arm and being watched by all the other women enviously as she had dinner with such a strikingly good-looking man. She felt light-headed with longing and desire. And, she figured, as it would be in London she’d have to stay overnight in a hotel – maybe they’d have adjoining rooms and she could tempt him with the bedroom skills they’d teased each other about in the pub. Hugging herself with glee she wondered if her little black dress would still be classed as elegant and refined. Or should she look for something more on-trend? She’d want to fit in at the Savoy and not stand out as a northern woman with no taste or dress sense.

But
first, she thought through gritted teeth, she had to win this bake off final!

David’s
loud voice broke her reverie. ‘OKAY, BAKERS – YOU HAVE TWO HOURS – NOW BAKE!’

Her
mind was in a whirl. She’d been so lost in thoughts of David she hadn’t realised they were starting and Gemma and Simon were heading towards their benches. Scampering after them, her stomach churning with unexpected nerves, she looked at her tray of ingredients and smoothed out her recipe in front of her. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t need to look as she knew the details so well but decided that following the method would help her concentrate. While she began to weigh out the butter she saw Jessica walk towards her with the camera rolling.

Oh
my God, she thought, this was her hero in the baking world and she was actually coming to talk to her. What would she ask her? But more importantly would she know the answer?

Jessica
reached her bench and raised a thick expressive eyebrow at her. ‘It’s Nicola, isn’t it?’ she asked looking at her name card on the bench.

Nicola
saw the director behind Jessica gesticulating at her to place her feet on the tape which she’d forgotten to do. She nodded her head dumbly at Jessica.

‘You
can keep baking while we chat,’ Jessica offered. ‘I hear you’re making us a Sicilian summer lemon tart.’

With
sweaty, trembling hands Nicola lifted the bag of flour to weigh out the required amount and felt it slip onto the bench. The bag split and fine, white flour billowed out all over the bench and up into the air – she could feel some settle in her fringe. Her heart was hammering with fear and then she looked with abject horror as some of the flour landed on Jessica’s bushy eyebrows and nose.

Tears
stung the back of her eyes. She’d failed at the first hurdle and had disgraced herself in front of the one person she’d been desperate to impress. Jessica, following the director’s actions, moved away from her graciously mumbling that it was indeed one of her favourite summer puddings, and a make-up girl hurried towards her off camera.

Nicola
dried her sticky hands on a tea towel and cleared the mess from her bench. Her cheeks were burning and she was shaking. She decided to prepare the lemons while she waited for more flour. With one swift cut into a lemon she squirted herself fully in the eye with lemon juice and yelped loudly as it stung. It was the last straw and the tears she’d been fighting back ran down her face – she wanted to run out.

‘It’s
okay, love,’ said Simon who had crept next up to her. He put a finger under her chin and tilting her face upwards he wiped her cheeks with a piece of kitchen roll.

Nicola
had never been so glad to see his familiar face. ‘I just ca-can’t do it.’

‘Of
course, you can. It’s just a small hiccup which will end up on the cutting room floor,’ he soothed. ‘Come on. Forget everything else that’s happened and get that tart made. You’ve done it hundreds of times at home – just pretend you’re in your own kitchen and crack on…’

His
quiet voice and reassuring composure helped to quell her nerves and with a quivering chin she smiled at him in thanks. This whole competition wouldn’t have been the same without him, she thought, then rallied herself into action. Within minutes she had weighed out all the dry ingredients and her hands were steady once more. She tried to follow Simon’s advice and blocked out the multiple distractions from the TV crew and the stop-start rhythm of filming.

While she began to rub the fat into the flour for the pastry she saw Jessica approach her bench again – she relaxed her shoulders, found her foot position on the floor, and determined to stay in control.

Jessica
held her hands up in a submission action as she stood in front of her smiling. ‘I come in peace this time,’ she chortled.

Nicola
apologised profusely while she measured water into the well of her pastry mix and worked it together.

‘No
problem,’ Jessica said kindly. ‘It’s all the fun of baking. And we do understand how different it can be to baking at home in peace and quiet. It took me years to get used to being filmed while I worked.’

Nicola
nodded gratefully while she rolled the pastry out flat and lined her fluted-edged tin to bake blind. ‘It’s not often I get into a flap like that. I don’t know what came over me.’

The
older lady smiled. ‘It’s because you want to do well, which is understandable. David has been singing your praises and told me how you’ve been star baker at the last two sessions.’

Nicola
smiled at the thought of David complementing her baking skills and felt even more determined not to let him down.

Jessica
continued, ‘And they tell me you’re a librarian. This noisy atmosphere must be very difficult for you to concentrate when you’re used to total silence in the library?’