race at Clemmie’s nursery sports day?’
‘I wasn’t going to let that gym bunny beat me,’ I grumbled. ‘Just because she’s got loads of Sweaty Betty gear it doesn’t make her a good runner.’
Jamie looked at me, waiting for me to answer his question.
‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s not me …’
Jamie slid down the wall and sat on the floor, his long legs bent.
‘But?’ he said.
‘But nothing,’ I said, picking at an invisible thread on the chair cushion.
‘There was definitely a but there. Do you know who’s doing it?’ Jamie said. Then he groaned. ‘Oh it’s not bloody Harry, is it? She’ll kill someone the way she’s carrying on.’
I giggled.
‘No, it’s not Harry,’ I said. ‘But I did suspect her for a while. Now I think it could be Peter, the judge.’
‘Nah!’ Jamie said. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘He’s horrible,’ I said. ‘He laughed at Amelia when she got caramel in her hair, he fancies Harry and he’s got a new show starting in a few weeks – this publicity is brilliant. It’s really raising his profile.’
Jamie looked thoughtful.
‘Seems a bit unfair to base your suspicions on the fact that he fancies Harry,’ he pointed out. ‘Everyone fancies Harry.’
‘You don’t.’
Jamie grinned again.
‘That’s because I’ve met her,’ he said.
I gave him a fierce look.
‘And because my wife is the only woman I’m interested in,’ he said hurriedly.
‘Well saved,’ I said. ‘Anyway, Peter actually fancies Harry because she reminds him of his wife. Which is kind of sweet.’
Jamie raised his eyebrows.
‘Oh yeah?’ he said. ‘And how would you know that?’
Oops.
‘I listened in,’ I admitted. ‘But he didn’t think anything incriminating.’
‘Did he think anything about what your challenge would be next week?’ Jamie asked, barely containing his smile.
‘He might have done,’ I said.
‘And?’
‘And it’s going to be a plaited loaf,’ I said. ‘I think they’re pretty complicated.’
‘And what are you going to do about knowing that?’ Jamie asked. ‘You’re surely not going to practise plaiting your bread?’
I heaved myself up out of the chair.
‘Of course I bloody am,’ I said. ‘You know I like to win …’
And boy did I practise. I kneaded and plaited all week, until my fingers were aching. And when I wasn’t plaiting, I was practising my own recipe for iced buns – we were all expected to make twelve sweet buns.
Along with all the baking, I finished work and started my maternity leave. I was so relieved to be finishing, but a bit annoyed that I couldn’t just put my feet up and get ready for my baby’s imminent arrival. I had just three weeks before my due date and I’d never considered still being in the competition this close to giving birth.
Then, on the Thursday, Jamie came home from work with some news.
‘I’ve been asked to give a talk at a GP conference next week,’ he said. ‘Someone’s dropped out and they want me to replace her. It’s quite a big deal.’
‘That’s amazing,’ I said, beaming with pride at my clever husband. ‘Did you say yes?’
‘Not yet,’ Jamie said. ‘Because it’s in London.’
‘Oh, man,’ I said. ‘London?’
Jamie nodded.
‘So you don’t want to leave me on my own with Clemmie but you want to go?’ I said.
Jamie nodded again.
I was torn. Much as I didn’t fancy looking after a boisterous toddler when I couldn’t even tie my own shoelaces, and there was always the risk the baby could come early, I didn’t want Jamie to miss out on this chance.
A thought struck me.
‘I’ll go home,’ I said. ‘I’ll go and stay in Claddach with Clemmie. That way, Mum’s around if I need her and you can go to London.’
Jamie gave me a hug.
‘Are you sure?’ he said.
‘Of course I’m sure,’ I said. ‘Now shush – I want to watch
Britain Bakes
.’
Like every week, when the episode aired, everything went crazy. June was giving interviews
‘I wasn’t going to let that gym bunny beat me,’ I grumbled. ‘Just because she’s got loads of Sweaty Betty gear it doesn’t make her a good runner.’
Jamie looked at me, waiting for me to answer his question.
‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s not me …’
Jamie slid down the wall and sat on the floor, his long legs bent.
‘But?’ he said.
‘But nothing,’ I said, picking at an invisible thread on the chair cushion.
‘There was definitely a but there. Do you know who’s doing it?’ Jamie said. Then he groaned. ‘Oh it’s not bloody Harry, is it? She’ll kill someone the way she’s carrying on.’
I giggled.
‘No, it’s not Harry,’ I said. ‘But I did suspect her for a while. Now I think it could be Peter, the judge.’
‘Nah!’ Jamie said. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘He’s horrible,’ I said. ‘He laughed at Amelia when she got caramel in her hair, he fancies Harry and he’s got a new show starting in a few weeks – this publicity is brilliant. It’s really raising his profile.’
Jamie looked thoughtful.
‘Seems a bit unfair to base your suspicions on the fact that he fancies Harry,’ he pointed out. ‘Everyone fancies Harry.’
‘You don’t.’
Jamie grinned again.
‘That’s because I’ve met her,’ he said.
I gave him a fierce look.
‘And because my wife is the only woman I’m interested in,’ he said hurriedly.
‘Well saved,’ I said. ‘Anyway, Peter actually fancies Harry because she reminds him of his wife. Which is kind of sweet.’
Jamie raised his eyebrows.
‘Oh yeah?’ he said. ‘And how would you know that?’
Oops.
‘I listened in,’ I admitted. ‘But he didn’t think anything incriminating.’
‘Did he think anything about what your challenge would be next week?’ Jamie asked, barely containing his smile.
‘He might have done,’ I said.
‘And?’
‘And it’s going to be a plaited loaf,’ I said. ‘I think they’re pretty complicated.’
‘And what are you going to do about knowing that?’ Jamie asked. ‘You’re surely not going to practise plaiting your bread?’
I heaved myself up out of the chair.
‘Of course I bloody am,’ I said. ‘You know I like to win …’
And boy did I practise. I kneaded and plaited all week, until my fingers were aching. And when I wasn’t plaiting, I was practising my own recipe for iced buns – we were all expected to make twelve sweet buns.
Along with all the baking, I finished work and started my maternity leave. I was so relieved to be finishing, but a bit annoyed that I couldn’t just put my feet up and get ready for my baby’s imminent arrival. I had just three weeks before my due date and I’d never considered still being in the competition this close to giving birth.
Then, on the Thursday, Jamie came home from work with some news.
‘I’ve been asked to give a talk at a GP conference next week,’ he said. ‘Someone’s dropped out and they want me to replace her. It’s quite a big deal.’
‘That’s amazing,’ I said, beaming with pride at my clever husband. ‘Did you say yes?’
‘Not yet,’ Jamie said. ‘Because it’s in London.’
‘Oh, man,’ I said. ‘London?’
Jamie nodded.
‘So you don’t want to leave me on my own with Clemmie but you want to go?’ I said.
Jamie nodded again.
I was torn. Much as I didn’t fancy looking after a boisterous toddler when I couldn’t even tie my own shoelaces, and there was always the risk the baby could come early, I didn’t want Jamie to miss out on this chance.
A thought struck me.
‘I’ll go home,’ I said. ‘I’ll go and stay in Claddach with Clemmie. That way, Mum’s around if I need her and you can go to London.’
Jamie gave me a hug.
‘Are you sure?’ he said.
‘Of course I’m sure,’ I said. ‘Now shush – I want to watch
Britain Bakes
.’
Like every week, when the episode aired, everything went crazy. June was giving interviews
Similar Books
