CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
‘That wasn’t why you split up, was it?’ she asks again, frowning. ‘Sorry to be so direct but it’s important you realise we were just two lonely people unburdening ourselves on each other.’
I’m aware my smile has frozen and she’s now waiting for me to respond. But a huge swell of emotion is rising up inside me like a tidal wave, so at first I can only shake my head.
With superhuman strength, I force myself to speak. ‘No, no. It was just something . . . that happened. You had nothing to do with us breaking up.’
Her expression smoothes out. ‘Oh, I’m so glad because it really was just a moment of madness. I blame the whisky he put in the coffee.’
I force a laugh but it sounds hollow. ‘You’re a brave girl. Rob makes coffee so strong, the spoon can stand up in it.’
She groans. ‘I didn’t notice. I was too busy staring at his typical bachelor pad and thinking he could definitely do with a woman’s touch around the place.’
I nod, my heart beating uncomfortably fast. ‘I guess a lot of single men continue to live like students even after they’ve left college.’
She laughs. ‘I think you’re right. I mean, what about that hideous Def Leppard poster on his wall? He must have had it for ten years at least.’
My heart lurches painfully.
The Def Leppard poster is in Rob’s bedroom. It hangs on the wall opposite his bed.
‘Gruesome.’ I nod in agreement. Then I take a steadying breath, forcing myself to remain calm and smiling. ‘So . . . Rob says it happened just once between you? That you slept together that night but then went your separate ways?’
I feel bad lying about this, but I have to know exactly what went on between them.
A flash of anxiety crosses her face. ‘He’s right, Fen. Honestly.’
I search her face for signs she’s covering for his lies. That their relationship was more than a one-night thing.
She grips my hand. ‘Fen, Rob isn’t the sort of guy who’d lie to you. That’s exactly what happened.’
I nod, trying to look on the surface as if I’m perfectly cool with what she’s just unintentionally revealed. Inside, though, I feel really sick. Thoughts and feelings are whirling around in my head like the constantly changing patterns in a child’s kaleidoscope – except the colours aren’t gleaming and jewel-like. They’re dark and haunting and nightmarish.
Rob slept with Alicia.
Even while he professed to have liked me – really liked me – he was drawn to Alicia enough to want to take her to his bedroom and bloody shag her!
He can’t have been that interested in me then, can he?
But it’s the fact that he lied not once but several times that cuts deepest. He told me they went back to his place simply to phone for a taxi, and like a bloody fool, I believed him.
‘Will you excuse me a moment? I must dash to the loo.’ Without waiting for a reply, I grab my bag, dive out of the car and run into the station building, searching desperately for a sign saying Ladies, but hampered by the tears swimming in my eyes making everything blurry.
Eventually I find the toilets and rush to the nearest cubicle, slamming the door behind me. Sinking down on the closed lid, I bury my face in my hands as warm tears leak out between my fingers. I know Rob and I weren’t together when he got with Alicia but that doesn’t seem to matter - I still can’t stand the image in my mind of her in his bed. And now I have to go back out there and face the two of them, knowing what I know now . . .
Hauling myself up, I dig out my toilet bag and use wipes to freshen up, then I apply fresh make-up in double-quick time. While I’m here, I decide I might as well get changed, too. It will save having to dive into the toilets at the venue, which might be a bit unprofessional.
As a result, when I arrive back at the car, I’m looking fresher and smarter – and there’s no sign of the tears from earlier. I slip into the passenger seat and make a joke about a make-over. And Rob starts the car.
Just before he moves off, he looks at me and murmurs, ‘What was it you wanted to talk to me about?’
‘Oh, that?’ I shake my head, feeling cold inside. ‘It was nothing.’
He gives me a curious look as if he doesn’t quite believe me. But I turn away.
Staring miserably out of the passenger seat window, I think about how I was on the point of putting all the bad stuff behind us and making up with Rob. It’s just as well I didn’t.
At the venue, they both wish me luck and Rob says to text him when it’s over and they’ll come straight here to pick me up. I’m dying to ask what they’re going to be doing while I’m in there, but my pride won’t allow me.
According to Alicia, it was just a casual fling, so I’m assuming they’re not going to rush off to a hotel bedroom to get reacquainted as soon as my back is turned. But I still have a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach at the thought of them going off somewhere together – even if it is just to get lunch.
Walking into the Bake! venue, I force myself not to turn back and watch the car drive away.
I glance around the spacious foyer, where a receptionist is sitting behind a long, stylish desk. It’s all tasteful blonde wood, and cream and orange soft furnishings, and I feel suddenly totally out of my depth. For two pins, I would just turn around and walk out again.
And then a young woman in a neat cream suit and heels clips across the wooden floor towards me, a welcoming smile on her face. She’s holding a clipboard which she checks. ‘You must be Fenella Redpath. You’re the last to arrive. My name is Jodie.’ We shake hands. ‘Do you prefer Fen? Or Fenella?’
I smile back shyly. ‘People call me Fen.’
‘Excellent. Did you have any problems getting here, Fen?’
I nod ruefully and tell her we’ve been on the go since ten o’clock last night and have only just arrived in Guildford.
Jodie’s face is a picture. ‘Oh my goodness, poor you. And lucky us that you managed to make it in time!’ She smiles, showing small white teeth that gleam, just like her sleek, nut-brown hair.
‘How many other competitors are taking part today?’ I ask nervously, as we walk across the foyer.
‘Ten. From across five counties. We had literally hundreds of entries from this area, so weeding it down to ten was hard. But we did it – and you’re here, so hurrah!’
I smile. Jodie’s enthusiasm is infectious. I just wish I wasn’t last to arrive because I’ll be forced to make an entrance with everyone looking at me, which is something I’ve always hated, from being a child.
We mount a flight of stairs and enter a long, airy room, which is clearly a kitchen – but a very posh kitchen indeed. There are little work-stations with ovens and hobs spaced out evenly; five rows of two abreast. I send up a prayer that I’ll be at the back – my favourite place to be – so that no one is behind to watch me. My stomach is full of butterflies and I’m starting to regret the second Danish pastry I ate at Rob’s brother’s house.
‘So this is where the bake-off will take place,’ says Jodie. ‘And if you follow me, we’ll go and join the other nine competitors.’
Through a door at the far side of the kitchen is an elegant dining area. The other people – two youngish guys and the rest, women of all ages – are sitting around a modern, glass-topped dining table, drinking coffee and chatting.
‘Right, folks, this is Fen.’
I blush bright red and smile around at everyone, and they all smile back and murmur hellos.
‘Fen, can I get you a coffee?’
‘Er, yes, please.’
‘There’s biscuits here, although I’d like to apologise heartily for the shop-bought custard creams. I can’t believe this is all we have to offer such talented bakers as yourselves!’
Everyone laughs politely and I slide into the only vacant seat.
The girl sitting next to me grins and says, ‘I like those Jammy Dodgers. I eat them by the boatload and I’d never dream of trying to bake them myself.’
‘Yeah, life’s too short,’ says a woman sitting opposite, and everyone laughs.
They’re a jolly bunch and I soon find myself chatting to the Jammy Dodger girl, who’s called Polly, comparing notes about our favourite bakes. I feel relaxed at that moment - I usually do when it’s a subject I know something about - and for a while, it takes my mind off Alicia’s latest bombshell.
It’s only when we’re ushered into the kitchen and assigned a workstation that my mind starts wandering again. We’re sitting waiting for the magazine’s food and drink editor to arrive and I can’t stop wondering where Rob has taken Alicia.
Are they sitting opposite each other in a cosy restaurant? Walking together through the city, enjoying the bright blue-skied day? Or just sitting chatting companionably together in the car, getting to know each other better?
I try to put them from my mind, but exhaustion has taken over and I really don’t have the strength.
And then the editor finally arrives, stands at the front, beams around the room and says, ‘Hello, everyone. I’m Alicia.’
I just manage to stop myself snorting with bitter laughter.
I mean, what are the odds?
Alicia isn’t exactly a common name. She even looks like the Alicia I’m trying so hard not to think about, with her light brown bob and heart-shaped face. It’s Sod’s Law at work, reminding me (as if I needed reminding) that my biggest problem is most certainly Alicia-shaped!
If ever there was a time to walk out of here, it’s now. But I’m not going to. I’ve come this far and I’m not going to chicken out now.
Hearing the brief for the session cheers me up slightly – mainly because I know immediately what I’m going to make. I’d been dreading this bit. But the Alicia clone has asked us to make a birthday cake for a child, which is s stroke of luck because Maisie was six last week and she loved the cake I made her.
Almost on autopilot, I start making the ice-cream that will fill my double chocolate roll. It will need two or three hours in the freezer and our total time allowed to make our cakes is four hours. So if I can get the ice-cream in the freezer, I can then use those few hours to make the chocolate cake and all the decorations – in milk and white chocolate – including the white chocolate lollipops, filled with honeycomb and studded with hundreds and thousands and popping candy.
I smile, remembering Maisie’s first taste of popping candy. Her eyes wide with astonished delight, she shrieked with laughter then skipped round the room.
It’s probably a bit optimistic to hope today’s judges might have the same reaction.
I’m right in my comfort zone, popping the ice-cream in the freezer and assembling the ingredients for the cake. There’s a certain doggedness about the way I’m working today. I’m determined to prove I can succeed at something.
It’s like I’m saying to the world: I might be total rubbish at picking men. But at least I can bake up a storm!
The only wobble I get is when the camera guy starts roaming around, taking footage of us working. But by the time the cake is finished – over three hours later - I almost want him to come over one last time because I’m so proud of my efforts.
Maisie would approve, I think, turning the stand a little to show off the chocolate ice-cream cake to its best advantage. I sit back on my stool, like all the others, nervously waiting for the judging to start. This could be the start of a whole new chapter for me. Without Rob is the sub-text. But I push the thought away and force myself to think of brighter things happening in my life.
I’ve survived break-ups before and I will do so again. Especially if I have something important like this competition to focus on . . .
It’s warm in the room with all the ovens on, and having worked so intensely for the past four hours, I’m suddenly overwhelmed with tiredness. I suppose it’s not surprising considering I had barely an hour’s sleep the previous night, lying at an odd angle against Rob in the car.
There’s still no sign of the judges, so I make a pillow of my arms and lay my head down just for a moment on the counter. Within seconds, my eyes close and I feel myself drifting away – only to be startled awake by voices.
I sit upright, wondering what’s happening, and reach up to run my hands through my hair. But somehow my elbow collides with the side of the cake stand. It all happens in a split second, although to my horrified eyes, it appears to occur in slow motion.
The stand rocks a little then topples over the side of the bench, taking my lovely celebration cake along with it.