by Nancy Warren
I appreciated Hamish’s optimism, but the sinking feeling in my belly that had slowly been spreading around my body like a poison was deepening. “What else?” I asked Eve.
“This card chimes with the death card. It’s about understanding when things are beyond your control. Like the wheel, our luck and our fate are always in motion, and sometimes we are on the bottom.”
Eve reached out to touch my hand, and I tried my best not to react to the energy that raced up my arm. The electric jolt was like the world’s forces aligning to send me a warning. Was my destiny completely out of my control?
“Some things can’t be moved by human will and action alone, dearie. The card asks you not to blame yourself. When we learn to accept, we also learn to forgive ourselves, and the wheel will turn forward again.”
Florence told me not to worry and then asked Eve a final question. “What card did Darius draw, by the way?”
“The Love card,” Eve replied with a grin.
Chapter 3
That night, skeletons, wheels, and lions danced in my dreams. I was being chased by a shapeless darkness, like an oppressive shadow trying to attach itself to mine. I woke hot and tangled in the sheets, brought back to consciousness by Gateau mewing into my ear. My eyes flicked open, and Gateau pressed her wet little nose to mine.
“Thank you, my sweet,” I whispered, drawing her closer. She nuzzled into my arms, and we lay like that, both breathing deeply, until my heartbeat regulated again and she began to purr.
“That tarot reading really got under my skin,” I said, shivering despite the warmth of the covers. I rolled over and checked my watch. It was only five a.m. I groaned. Gateau snuggled in closer, and I closed my eyes, willing sleep to return, minus the ghouls and terror.
I woke with a start when the alarm buzzed and was surprised to find Gateau still fast asleep on my chest. It was both a comforting and disquieting sight. Gateau might fall asleep with me, but she was always gone by the morning—scampering out the window to prowl the grounds and patrol the gardens. I couldn’t remember a single time that she’d spent the whole night. I stroked the soft fur of her belly. “Do I need protection at the moment, sweet kitty? Is that why you’ve stayed?” Gateau yawned and stretched out her little paws. “Am I boring you with my worries? I guess I’ll try to be more interesting from now on.”
I might have affected a lighthearted tone for my familiar, but my heart was truly heavy—giant stone kind of heavy. I couldn’t help but feel that the cards last night were warning me—just like the warning note I’d mysteriously received two weeks back and the ominous way both my birth dad and mom had been communicating with me only to tell me to stay away from this place. And yet I was compelled to keep returning.
Now even the tarot cards were warning me off.
If I took a step back and looked honestly at everything that had happened since I’d first set foot in Broomewode Village, then the picture was bleak. I’d come face-to-face with murder, deceit and disaster more times than anyone should in their entire lives, let alone a few weeks. Everyone and everything I encountered seemed to be telling me to leave this place, stop seeking answers, or that I was in mortal danger. Not exactly the experience I’d hoped for when I applied to be on a televised baking show when the worst disaster I could foresee was having my chocolate soufflé fall.
I dislodged Gateau from her resting place and leaned over to the bedside table to retrieve the amethyst necklace Elspeth Peach had given me for protection. I felt the magic she’d imbued it with when I picked up the pretty crystal. If the cards were right, I was going to be needing this more than ever. I held the necklace in my hand and closed my eyes, trying to tap into the power of my sisters living here, where there was said to be an energy vortex.
I was feeling my power, Gateau’s fur soft under my hand, when a voice said, “Did you call me?”
I opened my eyes. “Gerry. What are you doing here?”
The moment was shattered as Gateau reared up and scampered away towards the window. My familiar and ghostly Gerry never seemed to get along. He looked puzzled. “I dunno. I was down at the tent thinking about knocking Hamish’s yeast to the ground and moving Florence’s ingredients around. She gets really flustered when everything’s not exactly in the proper order. But then I felt like you were holding on to the back of my shirt and pulling me. Next thing I knew, I was here.”
Honestly, I was as shocked as Gerry. He kept trying to move on but wasn’t having any luck. Was it me holding him here? Even though I didn’t need him or even particularly want him with me?
It was another mystery.
I started to tell him about the tarot card reading when he stopped me. “I know. Heard all about it. Florence and that waiter bloke were talking about it.”
“Florence and Darius were talking about my death card?”
“Yep. Said you were doomed. That’s why I wanted to mess up her cooking station a bit.”
“I appreciate the support, but why chuck Hamish’s yeast to the floor? Has he done something to annoy you?”
“As a matter of fact, he has. He gets to hang about with you and Florence with his ‘wee dram o’ Scottish charm.’” The last bit was said in a broad imitation of a Scottish accent that had me laughing. But I stopped when he continued. “And I’m stuck watching it all and never able to join in. It’s like I’m invisible.”
Since I had no answer for that, I told him I had to get ready.
He nodded. Usually he had some new trick to show me or he’d talk to me while hanging from the ceiling, or push just his head through my wall and have a conversation, but not today. He looked serious. “Pops, I’m worried about you. I’ll stay with you in the tent and keep my eyes open for danger, but you know I can’t stop a bullet, even if I want to.”
I was genuinely touched and also unnerved that Gerry believed I was in danger. “The cards aren’t meant to be taken literally,” I assured him and tried to reassure myself. “Don’t listen to Florence. You know what a drama queen she is.”
“Don’t be too trusting, Poppy.”
Not having time to hear his theories, I told him I had to get ready and he needed to leave. He melted through the door with a quiet dignity that I found disturbing. Where were his crazy antics today?
I hopped in the shower and tried to scrub away the feeling of doom. Yet another Saturday morning had rolled around without me feeling rested or ready for the challenges ahead. All I could do was hope that Eloise’s expertise had sunk into my sludgy brain or that my hands would reflexively remember how to knead dough. I was relying on my last-minute cramming session just like a teenager staying up all night before an exam. Great work, Pops.
I stood under the shower an extra-long time, then dragged my weary body out, toweled off, and wrapped my wet hair in a turban.
Gina had tried to lend me a gorgeous green maxi dress with wide straps and a simple white T-shirt to go underneath, but I couldn’t handle it. For my ordeal by bread, I’d chosen a favorite sky-blue T-shirt over comfortable white slacks. Florence always looked glamorous, and I couldn’t compete. I hoped, when viewers watched me, they’d appreciate my down-to-earth style. Was down-to-earth even an actual style?
I went to the wardrobe and almost dropped my towel when I found Gerry standing stock-still, his crazy shirt patterned with cars and trucks at the same level as my shirts.
“You scared me,” I said, as he burst out laughing. “That was NOT funny. I nearly had a heart attack.”
He was obviously feeling better and had rid himself of the gloomy mood. Thank goodness.
I’d been feeling seriously guilty about not helping Gerry pass over to the other side, and in between bread-making, I’d decided to consult Susan and Eve to formulate some kind of plan to get him moving. However, I wondered when I’d find time. Maybe after the bread-baking weekend.
I took my clothes from the wardrobe and then barricaded myself in the bathroom to change, warning Gerry that now was not the time to float through any wal
ls. He so did not want to get on my bad side today.
Through the door, I told Gerry that I was worried that bread week might be the death of me. “Maybe that’s what the death card meant.”
“Really?” Gerry replied. “But bread is easy. If I hadn’t been murdered the first week, I’d have aced bread week.” He was overlooking the tiny detail that he’d been sent home after the first episode, so he wouldn’t have aced bread week live or dead.
“Bread’s not easy for me,” I told him.
“But seriously, Poppy, you’ve got to pull yourself together. You can’t be voted off the show. What will I do for companionship? Talk to the walls?”
In spite of his self-centered reasoning, I felt for him. “Believe me, I’m trying my best.” I emerged from the bathroom, dressed and towel-drying my hair.
“Ooh, you look nice,” Gerry said. “Comfortable.”
As I plugged in my hair dryer, he said, “Are you planning to woo Jonathon Pine with your wily feminine charms and hope that he doesn’t notice your bread is as solid as a rock?”
“Eww, don’t talk about Jonathon that way. He could be my dad.”
I paused for a moment. Oh my goodness. Could Jonathon Pine actually be my dad? Was that where I’d inherited my love of baking? Was I being crazy? Yes. I was being crazy.
Gerry said, “Since I’m brilliant at making bread, I’ve decided to accompany you to the tent and walk you through everything you need to do. But I can only help so much. Bread-making is about instinct and touch, feeling your way through the process. Since I can’t actually feel anything, think of me as your spiritual bread guru.”
Oh man, I did not need to add to my stress levels today.
“Oh, Gerry, that’s kind, but please stay here today. You’ve no idea how hard it is to pretend not to see you when the cameras are rolling. It’ll only distract me more.”
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll have to be your cheerleader from afar.”
I told Gerry I appreciated it, and after he wished me luck, I raced downstairs for breakfast.
Gaurav and Maggie were at the buffet, and I joined them, helping myself to scrambled eggs and a side of crispy bacon. There was whole-grain toast, Danish and croissants I knew Eloise had crafted in the kitchen early this morning. I looked at the breads and saw doom. No bread for me this morning.
Hamish gave me an awkward pat on the shoulder as I sat down. “Ready for another good show?” he asked.
“No. Maybe we should be like actors and say ‘break a leg.’”
He shook his head. “With your luck, you’ll fall down and snap your femur. I’ll stick with ‘have a good show.’”
Oh, great. Now I had something else to worry about.
Everyone else seemed well rested and happy to chat jovially as if bread week were no big deal. I kept my head down and shoveled eggs into my mouth. Before long, Florence swept into the room.
“You look resplendent, darling,” Maggie cooed.
Maggie was right, although we’d all come to expect nothing less from Florence’s on-screen appearances. Today she was wearing a vintage-looking silk skirt and matching shirt in dramatic black. The shirt had sweet little cap sleeves, and she’d swept her hair up into a tumbling updo. Large drop pearl earrings swung from her lobes. It was more femme fatale than baking babe, but that was Florence. Hamish and Gaurav were both in T-shirts and jeans, and Maggie was wearing a peach floral shirt and cream linen trousers. The weather was predicted to be hot. And I knew I’d be hot and bothered in more ways than just the soaring temperature.
We finished our breakfast and were about to leave for the tent when Eve caught my eye and asked to have a quiet word. Oh great, was I about to get more words of warning from my coven sister?
“Good luck today, Poppy,” she said, touching my arm so I could feel her energy adding to mine. “I’ve been feeling guilty about the tarot reading last night. Please don’t worry about that death card. You know it’s only a bit of fun, and the death card usually only means that change is coming.”
“I know, but I’d rather have had one of those that tell you a large sum of money is coming your way, along with a tall, dark and handsome stranger.”
“Go on with you,” she said, laughing. “You do your best and you’ll be fine.”
I tried to assure her that I was fine even though I so was not. “The death card might mean change is coming, but sometimes it does actually mean death is around the corner, right? Whatever way you look at it, it doesn’t bode well for the competition this weekend. I can’t get it out of my mind.”
Eve frowned. “I was worried the cards might spook you, but I don’t think it means you’re in any danger.” She paused and looked down at her wrist. “Here,” she said, unclasping a bracelet. “This is my protection amulet.” She pressed a sleek silver bracelet into my hand. It was shiny and smooth, with an oval purple stone set into its center. “It’s amethyst,” she said, “like your necklace from Elspeth. Wear the two charms together and you’ll be doubly safe.”
She fastened the clasp and smiled broadly. “Perfect fit.” She glanced around to make sure we couldn’t be overheard, then, clasping my hands in hers, recited,
Goddesses of Sun, Earth, Stars and Moon,
Protect this woman from night to noon
Evil keep away, I hereby command.
In safety and comfort, Goddesses, hold her in your hand.
So I will, so mote it be.
I did feel better knowing my sisters were looking out for me. The bracelet felt good on my wrist. “This makes me feel better. I promise to look after it.”
I ran to catch up with the others. I had the amethyst necklace from Elspeth, a protection amulet from Eve; all I needed now was a pair of earrings and I’d have a full set.
Chapter 4
The moment I stepped inside The Great British Baking Contest’s famous white tent, my nerves flooded right back. I went straight to Gina’s chair, more in need of her own brand of magic than I’d ever been before.
“The casual look suits you,” Gina said, surprising me. She took a step back and cast an appraising eye over me. I’d pulled my hair back in a simple ponytail to keep it out of my way and off my neck. I thought she’d criticize or try to change it, but instead she said, “You look awfully pale, Pops.” She peered at me. “Those dark circles. Yikes.” She shook her head. “What have I told you about getting a good night’s rest before filming? There’s only so much concealer can do.”
I hung my head and told her that I’d been worrying so much about this weekend, I couldn’t relax.
“Oh, Pops, you need to settle down. You’re a nervous wreck.”
I wanted to tell Gina that I was certain this week was going to be the end of me, maybe in more ways than one, but I didn’t want to pass on my negative energy. Instead, I mustered up a smile and said that if I survived today, I’d rest tonight.
She raised a brow. “Survive? Don’t be so dramatic.”
I cracked and told her about Eve’s tarot reading and how I’d been dealt the death card. But Gina just laughed it off. “Come on, Pops. Everyone knows tarot is baloney.”
I was surprised at how easily Gina dismissed the reading. Not for the first time, I wished that I could share with her the part of my life as a water witch, explain how Eve was intuitive about this world and the next. But of course, I had to keep my mouth shut.
Gina whipped out her makeup tool kit and got to work on my face. It took everything I had not to fall asleep in the chair, but after fifteen minutes, she declared me done. I stared into her handheld mirror and grinned. “You really are the best,” I said, admiring my carefully lined eyes and new pink pout.
“And don’t you forget it. Now go get ’em. I’ve every faith you’re going to be brilliant.”
I hugged Gina close, wishing I could draw in some of her confidence.
I walked to my workstation like I was walking the plank. I lined up my ingredients and stared at them solemnly. Robbie, the sound guy, came over to
test my mike. “You feeling all right?”
“Nervous. Very.”
Robbie assured me that I’d be fine. “Not that my opinion counts for much around here, but I think you’re in with a chance of winning this thing.”
“That’s sweet, but you haven’t seen my soda bread yet.”
Robbie laughed and told me I’d be fine. Didn’t they realize that someone was voted off the show each week? That someone had to go?
Fiona, the director, stood at the front of the tent and called for everyone’s attention. She warned us that it was due to be scorching hot today and so she’d ordered desk fans for everyone’s workstation to try to keep us cool—and help us keep our cool.
“How thoughtful,” Florence whispered to me. “I couldn’t bear it if my makeup began to run.”
Normally I’d laugh at Florence’s concerns, but today I knew that I needed my makeup to stay put too. No one wanted to watch a pale ghost baking. Speaking of pale ghosts, I glanced around, but Gerry had listened to me. I saw his form on the outside of the tent. He was peering in, looking around as though he were on security detail. I turned away before he spotted me and thought I wanted him to come closer.
One of the show’s runners, a young girl named Tina who I’d only seen once or twice before, delivered the fans. She turned mine on for me and blushed when I thanked her. She looked as overwhelmed as I was to be on set. I put on my clean apron and tried to look confident, happy, in control.
Once everyone was settled again, Fiona called for quiet. There was this moment right before she called for action when the world seemed unnaturally still and silent. You’ve got this, I told myself, searching for calm. I could see Jonathon and Elspeth ready and the two comedians already looking as though they were about to crack a joke.
The cameras were set up, the scent of freshly baked Victoria sponge faintly discernible. And then several things seemed to happen at once. Fiona yelled “Action.” Elspeth and Jonathon began to walk forward. An urge to run came to me from nowhere, but before my feet could move, a powerful force shoved me so hard, I was propelled backward until I hit Florence’s workstation.