Chapter One
Saturday, 23 December, 4.15 p.m.
‘Welcome everyone, to this year’s Christmas Bake Off,’ Diana announced proudly, clutching the microphone in her hand and looking out towards the eager crowd. Her ice-blonde hair was tied back in a neat French braid, and she was wearing her brightest fuchsia lipstick for the occasion.
Rachel Murray took in the festive scene. At the front of the hall was a long table decked out with gold fabric, and heavily laden with the bake off entries – towering layer cakes, gingerbread, macaroons, edible Christmas wreaths and other delicious-looking treats. Beside it stood Diana: her formidable neighbour, and the head of Skipley village’s WI.
‘I’m delighted to be judging today,’ Diana continued, ‘alongside a man who I’m sure will need no introduction – please give a warm round of applause for Joe Carmichael from TV’s
Bake or Be Beaten
!’ She took a step back and held out the microphone for Joe.
‘Bit of all right, isn’t he?’ the elderly lady next to Rachel whispered, nudging her and giving a cheeky giggle.
Rachel smiled and said quietly, ‘Too short for me. He’s all yours.’
Joe Carmichael, running a hand through his glossy black hair, smiled knowingly and took a step forward.
‘Thank you, thank you, Diana,’ he said, giving his fellow judge a wink. ‘Well, I’m delighted to be here in the gorgeous Yorkshire Dales with you today, and I’m looking forward to tasting the entries. Looks like we have quite a feast in store.’
Joe gestured towards the cake table, and Rachel took a deep breath to calm her nerves. The air in the Village Hall was rich with the aromas of Christmas – ginger, spices and cinnamon blending with pine from the fairylit tree. Normally she’d be relaxed and enjoying the event, but this year was different – because there, right in the centre of the cloth-covered table, was the gingerbread house she’d made. Her first ever entry, ready to be judged.
Rachel turned to her teenage daughter Milly, and whispered, ‘It looks OK up there, doesn’t it, Mills?’
‘It looks great,’ Milly said, squeezing her hand reassuringly, her hazel eyes bright. ‘As good as anything on that baking show, I reckon. Doesn’t it, Grandma?’
‘Oh yes,’ Bea, Rachel’s mother-in-law added, with a smile. ‘I wouldn’t have given you my favourite recipe if I’d realized you’d outdo me like this.’
Rachel laughed, her nerves easing a little.
As Diana and Joe stepped forward to inspect the entries, the hall – bustling just a moment before – fell completely silent. Rachel glanced around and caught sight of Katie Jones, the young owner of the local cake shop. She was towards the back of the crowd, running an anxious hand over her dark hair, biting her lip and trying to see past some of the taller people. Rachel waved over, but Katie, distracted, didn’t seem to see her.
‘Our first entry,’ Joe Carmichael said, ‘and you don’t get more classic than this – mince pies.’ He took a bite of one and gave an approving nod. ‘You can’t beat these at Christmas, and the cranberry gives it a lovely twist. Glorious texture to the filling,’ he said.
‘Very tasty,’ Diana added hesitantly, ‘but I have to say I prefer the traditional recipe.’
Rachel had never won anything before, but, on hearing Diana’s words, she dared to hope. If the judges liked traditional baking, perhaps her gingerbread house was in with a chance?
‘The pastry just melts in the mouth,’ Joe said, lingering over his mouthful.
‘Yes. And now, this looks fabulous too,’ Diana said, moving on.
Rachel leaned forward to see which sweet treat they were looking at. They were just centimetres away from her gingerbread house. She clutched Milly’s hand tightly in anticipation and moved to get a better view, but it was a chocolatey-looking cake that Diana was taking a spoonful of.
‘Oh … ’ Diana said, pausing, and bending down to inspect the cake
Saturday, 23 December, 4.15 p.m.
‘Welcome everyone, to this year’s Christmas Bake Off,’ Diana announced proudly, clutching the microphone in her hand and looking out towards the eager crowd. Her ice-blonde hair was tied back in a neat French braid, and she was wearing her brightest fuchsia lipstick for the occasion.
Rachel Murray took in the festive scene. At the front of the hall was a long table decked out with gold fabric, and heavily laden with the bake off entries – towering layer cakes, gingerbread, macaroons, edible Christmas wreaths and other delicious-looking treats. Beside it stood Diana: her formidable neighbour, and the head of Skipley village’s WI.
‘I’m delighted to be judging today,’ Diana continued, ‘alongside a man who I’m sure will need no introduction – please give a warm round of applause for Joe Carmichael from TV’s
Bake or Be Beaten
!’ She took a step back and held out the microphone for Joe.
‘Bit of all right, isn’t he?’ the elderly lady next to Rachel whispered, nudging her and giving a cheeky giggle.
Rachel smiled and said quietly, ‘Too short for me. He’s all yours.’
Joe Carmichael, running a hand through his glossy black hair, smiled knowingly and took a step forward.
‘Thank you, thank you, Diana,’ he said, giving his fellow judge a wink. ‘Well, I’m delighted to be here in the gorgeous Yorkshire Dales with you today, and I’m looking forward to tasting the entries. Looks like we have quite a feast in store.’
Joe gestured towards the cake table, and Rachel took a deep breath to calm her nerves. The air in the Village Hall was rich with the aromas of Christmas – ginger, spices and cinnamon blending with pine from the fairylit tree. Normally she’d be relaxed and enjoying the event, but this year was different – because there, right in the centre of the cloth-covered table, was the gingerbread house she’d made. Her first ever entry, ready to be judged.
Rachel turned to her teenage daughter Milly, and whispered, ‘It looks OK up there, doesn’t it, Mills?’
‘It looks great,’ Milly said, squeezing her hand reassuringly, her hazel eyes bright. ‘As good as anything on that baking show, I reckon. Doesn’t it, Grandma?’
‘Oh yes,’ Bea, Rachel’s mother-in-law added, with a smile. ‘I wouldn’t have given you my favourite recipe if I’d realized you’d outdo me like this.’
Rachel laughed, her nerves easing a little.
As Diana and Joe stepped forward to inspect the entries, the hall – bustling just a moment before – fell completely silent. Rachel glanced around and caught sight of Katie Jones, the young owner of the local cake shop. She was towards the back of the crowd, running an anxious hand over her dark hair, biting her lip and trying to see past some of the taller people. Rachel waved over, but Katie, distracted, didn’t seem to see her.
‘Our first entry,’ Joe Carmichael said, ‘and you don’t get more classic than this – mince pies.’ He took a bite of one and gave an approving nod. ‘You can’t beat these at Christmas, and the cranberry gives it a lovely twist. Glorious texture to the filling,’ he said.
‘Very tasty,’ Diana added hesitantly, ‘but I have to say I prefer the traditional recipe.’
Rachel had never won anything before, but, on hearing Diana’s words, she dared to hope. If the judges liked traditional baking, perhaps her gingerbread house was in with a chance?
‘The pastry just melts in the mouth,’ Joe said, lingering over his mouthful.
‘Yes. And now, this looks fabulous too,’ Diana said, moving on.
Rachel leaned forward to see which sweet treat they were looking at. They were just centimetres away from her gingerbread house. She clutched Milly’s hand tightly in anticipation and moved to get a better view, but it was a chocolatey-looking cake that Diana was taking a spoonful of.
‘Oh … ’ Diana said, pausing, and bending down to inspect the cake
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