The next morning, Anna wandered past her mother’s room, cringing at the image of Tony snuggled up to her like a needy dog, and made her way downstairs for some much-needed coffee. Her head throbbed as she tried to recall how many glasses of champagne she’d actually drunk last night. She grimaced at the memory of raw fish for starters followed by steak tartare. Richard told her all the best food was uncooked and she had been forced to agree; after all, he had invited her. Maybe, Anna decided as she clutched her stomach waiting for the kettle to boil, he was gently teaching her about haute cuisine because he saw a future with her. This made her smile. She wouldn’t mind staring dreamily into his eyes over candlelight for ever more.
She turned at the sound of footsteps behind her. Her mother, wearing a pink dressing gown wrapped tightly around her rotund middle, settled into a chair at the far end of the table and Anna, unspeaking, put a coffee down in front of her. Anna didn’t know how to broach the subject of her mother needing to leave tactfully and dived right in.
‘Mum, I—’
Her mother put her hand up, stopping her mid-flow. ‘Don’t apologise.’
‘Apologise? Me? For what?’ Anna shook her head in disbelief.
‘For last night.’ Her mother sucked coffee through her teeth.
‘What have I got to apologise about?’
‘For being here when we got back.’
Anna slammed her cup down, coffee sloshing over the side. ‘Seriously? Mum, this is my house. I was on a date and we came back to my house. Richard left last night because of you.’
Her mother’s face fell and she sniffled. ‘Well, Diane had the decency not to be around.’
‘Mum, you’re going to have to leave. You’re invading my personal space.’
There. She had said it and she felt so much better for it, until she saw that her mother was, in fact, now crying.
‘Oh Mum, don’t get upset.’ Anna stood and came round to her side of the table. ‘I didn’t mean to sound harsh. It’s just that, you know, I really want things to work out with Richard. Life’s been pretty lonely since Simon upped and left. I guess I just want my chance of happiness.’
Her mother nodded, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Anna grabbed some paper towel off the side and handed her a piece.
‘But that’s what I feel too, Anna. Since Dad died.’
Anna hung her head, shame washing over her. ‘I know.’
‘You know, he was everything to me.’ She paused. ‘Well, until I met Fred.’
Anna knitted her brows. ‘Who’s Fred?’
‘The postman.’
‘What?’
‘Let’s not get into that now. The point is I feel my life is so empty, and now you’ve given me a chance to live again. Tony is sweet and makes me happy.’
‘But how does he make you happy?’
‘He just lets me talk and I like making him tea. It makes me feel useful again.’
Anna nodded. ‘So, you think he’s really the one for you?’
‘Yes, I really do.’ She looked up, her eyes big and full and earnest. ‘I really do. Plus…’
‘Plus? I know what you’re going to say, Mum. It’s important for us to spend time together and you’re right.’ Anna wafted the air with her hand. ‘Forget me being all crotchety. It’s probably my hangover and my, um, dodgy stomach.’
‘No, that’s not what I was going to say.’ Her mother beamed. ‘I really think we all make a good team.’
Anna didn’t have the heart to disagree.
Later that morning, Anna sat at the kitchen table, wearing her sunglasses.
‘Is your head still that bad?’ Diane said, batting the kitchen table with wooden spoons with as much force as she could muster.
‘Yes and thank you for that.’ Anna was staring blankly at a Black Forest gateau recipe she had downloaded off the Internet. ‘I don’t even have half these ingredients, which means I have to actually leave the house, which, in my current state, would not be wise.’
‘What are you missing? Can’t you just interpret the recipe? You know, like substitute some stuff.’
‘Sure, what do I use as a substitute for eggs and flour?’
‘OK, sod it.’ Diane took a gulp of wine. A glass or two at lunch was her new ‘Mediterranean’ habit, which she claimed would add years to her life. ‘Just buy the bloody cakes. I mean, you’ve already told Moose-inda you’re, like, besties with Nigella Lawson because you know how to bake a moist cake – which would, one,’ she held a finger in the air, ‘mean you’re, like, shit-hot at baking. And two, it means we can’t be best friends any more.’
‘Why not?’ Anna put the recipe down.
‘Because only shallow people would ditch me because they’re now best friends with some successful chick off TV who licks spoons of honey like she’s orgasming on sugar.’
Anna folded the paper up and laughed. ‘I would never dump you in favour of Nigella even if the story I told Lucinda was true.’
‘So…’ Diane knocked back the remainder of her glass. ‘My point is you’re not a shit-hot baker. In fact, you’re just a shit baker, so let’s hit Waitrose and buy the sodding things.’
Anna went to protest but, for once, went with her pounding head and not her heart: there was no way she could bake two Black Forest gateaux. Who was she kidding? She grabbed her coat and bag off the side.
They sang along to Anna’s homemade mix tape on the journey over, windows down, cool air blasting their faces. Anna drove fast and came to a screeching halt in a space near the entrance to Waitrose, Beyoncé’s ‘Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)’ blasting from the speakers.
‘If you liked it then you should’ve put a ring on it. Wuh uh oh uh oh oh,’ Diane sang along as she climbed out of the car.
Anna locked the door and came up alongside her, linking arms and joining in. They were concentrating so hard on their swagger and wiggling of fingers, Anna didn’t notice Lucinda and her posse gossiping in the fruit aisle.
‘Oh bugger,’ Anna said under her breath, but it was already too late.
‘Oh, ladies,’ Lucinda purred, ‘meet out new neighbour. Anna lives in the small cottage up on the hill. You know the one, ladies.’
A circle of six dolled-up faces nodded like sheep. ‘Hi, Anna,’ they chorused.
‘What brings you to Waitrose, dear Anna?’ Lucinda smiled sweetly.
Anna thought that was quite obvious. ‘Um, food?’
The women laughed heartily and Anna looked at Diane, confused.
‘Lucinda, this is Diane, my friend who’s staying with me.’
Lucinda eyes grazed the length of Diane’s body, resting finally on her orange nails. ‘Was that a dare?’
‘What?’ Diane looked at her hands. ‘My nails? No, I like orange.’ Anna could sense Diane’s mood shift. ‘There’s nothing wrong with orange.’
‘No,’ Lucinda said. ‘I suppose not.’
Lucinda’s clique also look worried; they too sensed the change in mood. Lucinda and Diane stared at each other until Anna broke the terrifying silence.
‘Right, Diane, shall we get on?’
‘Yes,’ Lucinda said, holding her basket with one solitary item: a jar of liquid egg white. ‘Must mingle.’
The women nodded and, remaining in a semi-circle, picked up their baskets in unison as if about to perform as the chorus girls in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.
‘Yes, mingle,’ Anna repeated, wondering when Waitrose had become a social event. ‘Enjoy your shop.’ She grabbed Diane’s arm and started to move off.
‘Now, ladies, help me choose some physalis.’ She looked pointedly at Anna. ‘For the cakes I’m baking for Friday.’ The women nodded and dived into the crate, happy to have been given a task by the alpha female.
‘Physalis? Did you say physalis?’ Diane said sweetly and Anna braced herself. ‘You know you can get a cream for that?’
Lucinda’s botoxed face didn’t move, but her eyes blinked rapidly and she looked at Anna. ‘You should keep your friend under control.’
Anna took Diane by the arm. ‘I wouldn’t dream of controlling anyone, especially Diane.’
Leaving the gaggle of women, mouths agog, they walked away, clinging to each other in an effort to control their giggles. Once they’d rounded the corner and were in the safety of the carb-centric bread and cake aisle, they burst into laughter. Anna wiped away the tears.
‘You know,’ Anna said, ‘I am so dead now. Friday’s cake sale is going to be interesting.’
Diane, her black eyeliner running down her cheeks, massaged her cheeks. ‘Oh God, my jaw aches. Too funny.’ She picked up a brioche and dumped it in her basket. ‘I mean, what are they going to do? Yoga you to death with a group lotus or blind you with mismatching tweed?’
Anna giggled. ‘I don’t know, but hell hath no fury like a perfect woman accused of having an STI.’
‘Well, I mean, who ever buys those physalis things anyway. They’re like the fruit no one knows what to do with. Have you ever seen your bestie Nigella say, “What this dish really needs is a sexy and generous helping of physalis?” No.’
Anna stared at the cakes, feeling incredibly guilty that the very women she was hoping to impress were feet away, carefully picking out fruit for Lucinda’s cakes. Though she thought it unfair that Lucinda clearly had a team behind her. Diane would be with her in spirit – whisky or similar, no doubt – but she couldn’t imagine she would be any help beyond that.
Anna and Diane spotted the pack walk past the bread aisle, their eyes salivating over the pastries, and Lucinda appraised them and looked pointedly at Anna.
‘Remember, ladies,’ Lucinda bleeted, ‘a moment on the hips…’ She stopped. ‘Anna, I look forward to seeing you at the bake sale. I’m the current champion.’
Anna jutted her jaw out. ‘I look forward to seeing you too, Lucinda.’
They held each other’s stare and Anna knew then, she had to win. As she watched Lucinda totter off with her posse, she knew this was her time to shine and she wanted to make the twins proud.
Abandoning hope of finding Black Forest gateaux, she picked up various ingredients for chocolate cake and then two enormous, pre-made chocolate cakes, so rich and delicious they made her mouth water (just in case) and put them in her basket. They waited for Lucinda and company to move on before leaving the baking aisle and grabbing two jars of glazed cherries and some pecan nuts.
‘Are you actually going to make your own?’ Diane pointed to the flour and eggs.
‘I’ll try,’ Anna said. ‘How hard can it be to follow a recipe?’
‘Yeah, well, I’ll leave you to that.’ Diane picked up a bag of streamers. ‘Not everyone can make the basic cake a pièce de résistance.’
By the time they got home, Anna had barely had a chance to look at the recipe before she had to pick the kids up from school.
‘Leave it with me,’ Diane said. ‘I’ll get them.’
Anna was unsure. ‘This is a Wiltshire primary school. Keep it clean.’
‘I won’t embarrass anyone.’ Diane held her chin high and curtsied. ‘I’ll get your mum to help me.’
‘And that will help how?’
‘She’s a bit down because Tony is sick today.’
‘They’ve only been apart for fifteen hours.’ Anna looked at the clock.
‘Love is a splendid thing.’ Diane tied the apron around Anna’s waist. ‘Happy baking. See you later.’
Anna poured, whisked, blended as she was told. It was only once the cakes were in the oven that she spotted the raising agent on the side. But, she figured, how important could one ingredient be?
An hour later, Diane, true to her word, had the children home and was helping them off with their coats. She told Anna she had narrowly avoided bumping into Horatio again at the school gates, but Legs-Up-To-Armpits-Redhead had luckily intercepted their meeting and she’d heard Redhead twittering on about the cake sale the next morning. Diane had managed to glean, however, that Horatio would indeed be there.
‘OK,’ said Diane, flushed and grinning, ‘let’s see your masterpieces.’ Anna’s mother appeared at Diane’s side and they solemnly walked towards the oven. ‘They smell good.’
Her mother nodded. ‘Yes, amazingly, they do.’
Anna took a deep breath and grabbed the children’s hands. ‘Do you want to see them?’
The children looked as nervous as she did. Entering the kitchen, Anna felt the crunch of something underfoot and looked down to find millions of escapee sprinkles on the tiled floor, cherry juice dripping off the table, streamers all over the lightshade and, in the oven, the cakes that she, Anna Compton, a woman attempting to be a respectable mother, would be taking to the bake sale. She donned the oven gloves, checked her watch and, nodding, opened the door, drawing the tray out.
They watched, in silence, as both cakes with a beautiful spongy middle started to sag in the middle and continued to do so until they were as flat as pancakes.
‘Aren’t they great?’ Diane enthused in a false sing-song voice as she held her arms out wide.
‘Kids, you go on upstairs and change, then we’ll have supper,’ said Anna, tears pricking her eyes.
The twins ran from the room. Anna figured they were probably emotionally scarred for life, and she was on the verge of a domestic breakdown.
The cakes were atrocious. No, more than atrocious, and she felt like a failure. She started to cry, suddenly feeling so overwhelmed by life.
‘Guys, I can’t take these into school.’
‘No, I suppose not.’ Her mother looked dismayed. ‘They really are quite frightful.’
Anna looked at her mum. ‘Mum, not now.’
Diane sighed, looking genuinely shocked at Anna’s reaction. ‘Well, don’t worry, we could smother them in cream, who’s to know?’ She opened a bottle of red wine that was sitting on the side and poured out three small glasses. ‘At least we saw how great these cakes could be as they came out of the oven.’ She handed out the wine. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers,’ Anna said, holding up her glass, and then she remembered the bought cakes. ‘Now, can we give no reason for Moose-inda to rip me apart tomorrow and can you help me make these look homemade?’
They sat down and carefully smoothed chocolate icing over the Waitrose own cakes before supper, decorating liberally with sprinkles and party poppers.
The next morning, Anna woke in a cold sweat, having had a nightmare about a bake sale where women, perfect women, laughed openly at her cakes, her dress sense and her inability to fit in. Then she realised it wasn’t a nightmare, but a premonition.
She showered quickly and changed into the most conventional items she owned: black cut-offs and a denim shirt. She grabbed her mother’s tweed jacket, two sizes too big, but it was just to give the impression, anyway. While the children were bathing and getting changed, she practised holding her handbag in the crook of her arm and putting her hands through her hair in a nonchalant fashion. She found her black pumps and put the cakes by the door: ready for the off.
The twins looked scared as they put on their coats. ‘Mummy,’ Freddie said, ‘are the cakes OK?’
Anna nodded. ‘Yes, we made them all better.’
Diane kissed her on the cheek as she went to leave. ‘Sock it to them.’
Anna flashed her a nervous smile and nodded. ‘Here goes nothing.’
They arrived at the school gates, Anna’s stomach churning at the sight of a swarm of mothers with baked goodies in foil and Tupperware moving enthusiastically towards the door of the main hall. She got out, pleaded with the twins to do the same and grabbed the cakes from the front footwell.
The hall was a hive of activity and the twins’ teacher came bustling over to her, a worried look on her face. Then, on seeing Anna’s shop-bought cakes, relief crossed her features.
‘So good to see you, Miss Compton,’ she said and pointed to the far corner, ‘and you’re over here with Lucinda Deville. She mentioned you had met and I thought how nice it would be if you were together.’ She smiled. ‘So you have a friendly face to chat to.’
The children ran off in the direction of Horatio’s son, Jeremy, and Anna scanned the room for his father. He wasn’t hard to spot, being so tall, and when she looked his way, he nodded and smiled at her. She pretended not to have noticed and moved off in the direction of Lucinda.
‘Hello,’ Lucinda said, her face like stone.
‘Lucinda, hi. About yesterday…’
‘Don’t bother. Your friend clearly thinks she’s funny, but she only made a fool out of herself.’
Lucinda turned to preen her cakes and Anna pulled a face behind her back. When she looked up, Horatio was watching her and Anna busied herself with removing the cellophane from the plates, her cheeks burning.
Lucinda sidled up next to her and smiled. ‘They’re, um… fun?’
Anna looked at Lucinda’s towers of smooth, white icing, decorated with physalis and edible silver beads. ‘Yours are lovely.’ She couldn’t lie: they were objects of great beauty and made hers look even more ridiculous.
Soon, other parents were streaming into the hall, along with local villagers, in order to buy cakes and raise money.
‘What’s the money going towards?’ Anna asked Lucinda, who was busy reapplying her lipstick in a small vanity mirror.
‘A swimming pool. Though why Trumpsey Blazey Primary hasn’t got one already, I don’t know.’ She looked over the edge of her mirror at Anna. ‘I mean, I said to Rupert, why don’t we just buy them a pool? Why do we need to faff about with the fundraising side of it? There are plenty of people here who would see that as pocket money. I mean, I get that it would be a little bit awkward for someone like yourself…’ She smacked her lips together and smiled.
‘Awkward?’
‘Well, you know, the financially less well off, like you.’
Anna clenched her fists. ‘How do you know anything about my finances?’ Anna knew Moose-inda was right, in the sense that she had barely saved one hundred pounds since Simon had left her. But she was a working woman and not afraid to say so.
‘Do you know it’s crass to talk about money like that?’ She paused. ‘Anyway, I’m a journalist for The Post in London.’
Lucinda arched a brow. ‘Yes, I know. I’ve seen your witty little column on Trumpsey.’
‘Thank you, I guess,’ Anna said uncertainly.
Lucinda cackled. ‘Anyway, money is only ever a crass subject to those who don’t have any.’
Anna stared hard at the table and puffed out her cheeks in annoyance. A shadow passed across the cakes and Anna looked up.
‘Hi,’ Horatio said. ‘You OK?’
She nodded then shook her head, biting down on her lip. Lucinda, moving swiftly around the table, bounced up to where Horatio stood and air-kissed him.
‘Oh, it’s so good to see you, Horatio. Have you brought along your divine triple-chocolate cake? Last year’s was such a triumph, wasn’t it?’ She remained unnervingly close to his face as she spoke and he was forced to take a step backwards. ‘Anna here is the new girl, so she wouldn’t know.’
Horatio looked at the cakes. ‘Yours are lovely, Lucinda, but I have to say that Anna’s really are splendid.’ He looked at her and she felt the prickle of heat creeping up her neck. ‘Did they take you long to bake? What kind of chocolate did you use?’
He was doing it on purpose: he knew she had bought them from a shop and he wanted to humiliate her in front of Moose-inda.
‘I baked them yesterday evening and I used some sort of posh chocolate. Can’t remember it’s name.’ She looked him in the eye, waiting for his next move, trying desperately to remember what exactly she had done when she made her lifeless cakes.
He smiled. ‘Well, Anna, you should put yours forward to be judged.’
‘Judged?’ Anna echoed.
‘Yes, one of the teachers judges a selection of the cakes each year. It’s just a bit of fun, but yours look like worthy winners.’
Lucinda glanced at Anna crossly. ‘And mine. I think I should put mine forward, don’t you, Horatio?’
He smiled at her. ‘Naturally.’
The headmistress, a formidable woman of no more than five feet two, with at least a size J bust, passed by their table and Horatio beckoned her over.
‘Mrs Beecham, you’ve met Miss Compton, mother to Antonia and Freddie, haven’t you?’
Mrs Beecham nodded and smiled, her features softening. ‘Yes. We met when you came to look around, didn’t we? So glad you chose our school. The twins seem very happy here.’ She looked at Lucinda. ‘I wonder if I might have a word later?’
‘Of course, but is everything OK?’
‘We can talk later,’ Mrs Beecham said.
‘Mrs Beecham, I think we should enter both Anna’s and Lucinda’s cakes into the competition, don’t you?’
Mrs Beecham glanced at the cakes. ‘Definitely. They look wonderful. I’ll get Miss Peters to come by this way.’ She turned back to the crowded hall. ‘Gosh, so lovely to see so many people here.’ Mrs Beecham walked off.
Lucinda grabbed her bag and ran after her, calling out to Horatio to make sure no one sold any of her cakes until the judging was over.
‘How’s Tony getting on up at yours?’
‘Fine, thank you. He’s provided my mother with hours of entertainment. She even believes she may be in love with him.’
Horatio chuckled. ‘Really? I always knew there was something special about that man.’
Anna stared ahead, unwilling to make eye contact. ‘But there was no need to do that, nor was there any need to send such a rude accompanying note.’
He laughed. ‘Well, I’ve gathered you don’t take favours easily and I wanted to make sure you used him. He’s good. Has he done all the jobs you’ve asked of him?’ He brushed some stray crumbs off the tablecloth. ‘It was the least I could do to welcome you.’
‘It’s quite an extravagant gift.’ She picked up her bag, searching for her phone. She would ring Diane and ask her to come down and save her.
‘I saw you with the anti-hunt protest in town. I didn’t know you were against hunting.’
She snapped her head up. ‘There is a lot you don’t know about me, Mr Horatio. You always act like you know me, but in fact you don’t.’ She watched him steadily. ‘Anyway, hunting is awful and you shouldn’t go around killing innocent, fluffy little foxes.’
He smiled. ‘I don’t.’
‘Well, that’s not true for a start.’ She met his eyes. ‘I saw you, that first day, out with the hunt.’
He shook his head. ‘My father was the head of the hunt. He died earlier this year and I was asked to step in until they found someone to replace him. I actually can’t stand it, but, sadly, duty called.’ He smiled. ‘That’s why I was alone. You might remember I was by myself that day. I broke away from them and I was heading home.’
‘Well, you acted like a pompous git.’
‘You’re right, I suppose I did. It’s only because I was expecting you to hurl abuse out of the window like most of the locals. Not that I blame them. Most people can’t stand the hunt. I didn’t want to be there, but I had to act like I did. Does that make sense?’
‘Well, I did want to hurl abuse at you.’
‘And you’ve done a good job since.’ He paused. ‘Anyway, what were you doing at the protest?’
‘Doing a write-up for The Post.’
He grinned. ‘I’m very much enjoying your column.’
Anna blushed and they both turned to see Lucinda making her way back to the table, her face pale. Anna couldn’t be sure, but she thought Lucinda was shaking.
‘Are you OK?’ Anna asked.
‘Yes, fine,’ Lucinda snapped.
‘Oh, all right, it’s just you look a bit upset.’
‘It’s nothing you would understand.’ Lucinda looked up at Horatio, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a tissue. ‘Mrs Beecham just told me Jemimah’s year can’t come to ours for a picnic. Apparently, that would be looked upon as favouritism. It’s so silly, isn’t it, Horatio? I mean, we have a ten-acre garden and I said I’d get the catering company to do vegetarian options and so on. I was even prepared to put up a marquee so they wouldn’t get sunburn.’
Horatio’s jaw clenched. ‘Yes, but Lucinda, you must see her point. A school trip should be fun and educational.’
‘Oh, Horatio, you’re always so diplomatic.’ She stroked his arm. ‘I suppose if Mrs Beecham had put it like that, then I would have understood and not got quite so frightfully upset.’ She smiled. ‘I’ll go and find Mrs Beecham again and tell her that for the sake of education I’ll pay for entertainment. Do you think bringing in some zoo animals might do the trick?’ She beamed. ‘Yes, I think that’s the answer. Won’t be a tick.’ She scuttled off again.
‘Oh, I wish Diane was here,’ Anna said aloud.
‘Your friend?’
‘Yes. Yesterday she put Lucinda in her place and, of course, Moose-inda… I mean Lucinda… didn’t take it well.’
A woman came up to the stand. Her name badge identified her as Miss Peters, and she smiled warmly at Anna. ‘Hi, Miss Compton, I was told your cakes look fantastic and you want to enter the competition.’
‘Well, I’m not sure, it’s just that…’
‘She does,’ a voice came from off to her left. ‘Very much so.’ Diane smiled at her. ‘Got your text. Heard bitch-face is giving you a hard time.’
Anna shot Diane a look and smiled apologetically at Miss Peters. ‘Just a bit of friendly banter.’
‘Right, well, let’s slice into the cakes and have a look, shall we?’ Miss Peters took a knife to the cake at the front.
By now a crowd had begun to encircle Miss Peters and the hall was beginning to look like Antiques Roadshow. Anna concentrated on her ‘interested’ face and would follow it up with her ‘it’s all right, I didn’t want to sell it anyway’ face. If things went well, then she would definitely produce her ‘thank you so much for telling me I’m now a millionaire but still I won’t be parted from the ugly <insert object here> face’.
‘What does she get?’ Diane piped up.
Miss Peters looked up as she chewed Anna’s cake like she was moving cud around her mouth. ‘Get?’
‘You know, if she wins. No one enters a competition for the sake of it.’
Lucinda reappeared once again behind the table and Horatio stepped out of her way and stood off to the side. Diane grimaced at Lucinda, who pointedly ignored her in return.
‘In this case, the winner receives the grand honour of being known as Trumpsey Blazey Primary’s best baker. Last year, it went to Lucinda here with her raspberry and caramel swirls. They were quite out of this world.’
Lucinda dipped her head and smiled beatifically out at her audience as if she had just won Miss World. Anna was fully expecting her to run off and change into a swimsuit for the next part.
‘That is quite delicious,’ Miss Peters said and turned to Lucinda’s pyramids. ‘Let’s try this.’ She pressed a clean fork into the cake and the audience gasped with delight. Miss Peters, now clearly enjoying her role as a less elegant Mary Berry, looked out at the crowd and said, ‘Did you hear that? That was the sound of perfection.’
‘Oh, pur-lease,’ Diane said. ‘It’s a fucking cake.’
The audience reeled at Diane’s use of a swear word and a couple of women giggled nervously in the front row.
‘Language, please,’ said Miss Peters. ‘This is a bake sale after all.’
Diane murmured, ‘Sorry.’
Miss Peters finished her mouthful and put down her notepad. ‘Now, for the big test… The bottom. No one likes a soggy bottom.’ Miss Peters laughed with delight at her own joke.
Anna watched her carefully slice through Lucinda’s cake once more and turn the slice upside down, prodding it with her finger. Out of the corner of her eye, Anna caught sight of Lucinda’s small feet shuffling with expectation and excitement.
‘A very good bottom, Mrs Deville.’
Lucinda beamed and giggled. ‘It’s all the yoga, Miss Peters.’ The audience laughed at her wit and quieted down just as quickly as Miss Peters sliced into Anna’s cake once more.
‘Right, let’s see what your bottom is like, Miss Compton.’
Lucinda snorted.
‘Oh dear. This is unfortunate.’ Miss Peters looked from the cake to Anna. ‘I’m going to have to exclude you from this competition.’
‘Why?’ Diane said. ‘She put a lot of work into that.’
‘Because of this.’ Miss Peters held up the slice and there, in all its glory, was a strip of edible rice paper that read: Made lovingly by Waitrose.
Lucinda was already making her way up onto the stage to give her speech and Anna stared in disbelief at Diane. ‘You didn’t check the bottom?’
Diane shrugged. ‘Why would you check the bottom of a cake?’
‘Because of precisely this,’ Anna whispered hotly.
She saw the twins run past, chasing Jeremy, and was glad the children hadn’t yet registered her massive mummy-fail.
Horatio came over. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have put you forward.’
‘What? Because I’m a fraud? Because I’m a terrible mother? Because I can’t even separate an egg?’ She paused. ‘Because you knew there was no way I could’ve baked two cakes, and you wanted to gloat?’
He shook his head, his chin quivering. ‘Because I do stupid things and say stupid things and…’ He stopped, gesturing to the bake sale. ‘Because you’re better than this whole ridiculous competition.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I hope to see you tonight.’ Horatio walked, stiff-backed, from the hall to the sound of Lucinda droning on about her mother’s influence on her baking skills and her love of Cordon Bleu. Anna stood watching his retreating figure, her heart beating fast, oblivious to the world around her.
‘Actually,’ said Miss Peters, coming up onto the stage, snapping Anna from her thoughts. ‘Thank you, Lucinda, but I’d like to award you both first prize as actually I hadn’t quite finished.’ She paused and smiled at Anna who turned, her eyes wide with shock. ‘The artistic flair in decorating those cakes is really something and shows a lot of love and attention.’ She grinned. ‘Therefore you are both winners!’
Everyone applauded and Lucinda plastered a smile on her face. They were invited up to have a photo taken for the school newsletter and, as they were told to move closer to one another and ‘smile’, Lucinda hissed, ‘Cheat.’
‘Lucinda,’ Anna whispered, ‘I don’t know what I’ve done wrong…’ But before she could finish, the photographers walked off, Lucinda tottered off in her heels and Anna stood alone, feeling overwhelmingly sad as she watched the various groups of parents chatting happily together. She wondered if she would always be the outsider.