by Natasha West
While the judges deliberated, (though only on Dorothy and Jodie, everyone knew Robyn was done) Jodie looked for Robyn. She wanted to, what? Comfort her? It wasn’t really in Jodie’s skillset. She’d probably just make things worse. Still, Jodie found herself searching for Robyn.
But she wasn’t on set. She wasn’t in the green room. She wasn’t in the studio cafeteria. Maybe she was outside? Jodie headed out of the front entrance, walking through the car park. She was going to check cafes in the area. She was rushing, preoccupied…
Boom! She knocked into someone and fell on her arse. She thought for a second it was Robyn, that she’d found her. But when she looked up to see who’d knocked her down, it wasn’t Robyn.
It was Susan.
‘For heaven’s sake, can’t you watch what you’re doing!’ Susan cried, dragging Jodie to her feet resentfully.
‘What are you doing here?’ Jodie asked, confused.
Susan gave a mirthless laugh. ‘I was looking for Robyn. But I can’t get into the studio. My security is revoked. I was hoping she might wander out.’
‘Why would you be looking for her?’ Jodie asked suspiciously.
‘Doesn’t matter. I can’t get to her. And here you are. So I suppose you’ll have to do.’
Jodie felt fear flash through her chest. ‘What the hell does that mean?’
Susan grinned horribly and slipped a hand into her pocket. ‘You’ll see.’
***
Jodie was back in the studio, standing in line with Robyn, (who had eventually materialised under her own steam, calm and composed) and Dorothy, awaiting Madeline’s pronouncements. But she was barely present. She was still trying to process what had just happened in the car park.
But then it came, Robyn’s ejection. Jodie watched Dorothy trying to comfort her, and she couldn’t take it a moment longer. It was time to speak up. ‘Hold the fucking phone!’
Heads spun to look at her. Madeline frowned. ‘Is everything alright? This isn’t another ‘Tourette’s’ thing?’ she asked with air quotes.
‘No, it most certainly is not alright, Madeline,’ Jodie told her hotly, ignoring the jibe. ‘You’re not working with the full information here. Robyn shouldn’t be going today.’
Robyn’s eyes went wide, but Jodie didn’t pay her much mind.
Adam perked up. ‘Yeah, well, we couldn’t judge something that didn’t exist.’
‘Yes, I know. But maybe you should be giving her a redo?’ Jodie said.
‘Why would we do that?’ Adam asked cynically.
‘Because I don’t think Robyn did burn her quiche today. And if that hadn’t happened, she wouldn’t have dropped the bastard thing either.’
Robyn shook her head at her. ‘No, Jodie, it had burnt. I saw it before I dropped it. The smoke alarm was going off.’
Jodie nodded. ‘Oh, I know it was burnt. What I’m saying is, it wasn’t you that switched the heat up on your oven. It was Dorothy.’
There was a moment of silence that was ripped apart by Dorothy chuckling. ‘Well, I never heard such… I mean, I can’t begin to imagine…’ She chuckled again like it was a big laugh.
But Jodie wasn’t kidding. ‘Don’t bother. I know all about yours and Susan’s little plan. She’s pretty pissed because she still got booted, so she came back to fuck you up, I’m sorry to have to tell you. No, hang about, I’m not sorry at all. You deserve this.’
Dorothy was momentarily startled, and then she smiled again. ‘Look, everyone knows you’re… rather fond of Robyn, but…’
Jodie felt embarrassment flush through her. But that only spurred her on to take down the woman. ‘Fuck it, Dorothy. I’m playing the recording.’
Dorothy went a bit white. ‘What recording?’
But Jodie already had her phone out, playing a video sent to her from Susan’s phone, holding it out so that Madeline, Adam, Imogen, Robyn, and assorted producers, runners and crew could see. The shot clearly showed that Dorothy never knew she was being filmed as she sipped a cup of tea in a hotel room, saying, ‘Susan, just hold your nerve, would you? We’re almost there. We both know we should be together in the final. But I don’t trust the judges to see that. That Adam in particular. He’d be the sort to get swept along by young, pretty faces.’ Jodie glanced at Adam. He wasn’t looking too happy about the dig. ‘Now that most of the young ones are dealt with, we just need to finish it.’ Susan mumbled something the phone mic didn’t catch. Dorothy cut her off. ‘It’s your turn, you know that. I put the stones in Sanjay’s traybake, and put baking powder in Darnell’s croissants as well. I also told Madeline it was Matt that was reading the teleprompter. I’ve done my share. But you’re going to have to deal with Reuben now. I’ll take distraction this time, I think I can short the electrics with a dodgy hand blender I have. But be ready.’ Susan mentioned something about taking a big risk dosing Robyn with salt, to which Dorothy said coldly, ’I don’t care. It’s your turn. Fair’s fair.’
Jodie stopped the video there. ‘Fair’s fair, my fucking arse,’ she muttered.
Dorothy clutched her chest, looking to Adam, to Imogen, to Madeline, searching for a sympathetic face. ‘No, you don’t understand. We were the older, more experienced bakers. It was supposed to come down to us. Not these young ones. They don’t know what they’re doing.’
Adam shook his head. ‘Fuckin’ Norah,’ he whispered to himself. ‘I’m not doing another season of this. Bakers are fucking nuts.’
Robyn, starting to recover from shock, finally spoke. ‘Adam, you’re not kidding.’ She looked at Jodie and grinned, shaking her head, amazed. Jodie shrugged like it was all no big deal. Just taking down a conspiracy. Nothing to see here.
Madeline pressed a hand to her temple. ‘What did I say? This season is cursed.’
***
In the green room, Jodie waited with Robyn, and Dorothy, the older lady sat quite apart from them, the wall in front of her getting a thousand-yard stare.
Robyn and Jodie had been quiet for a while. No one was really sure what to say. The whole thing was a shit show.
The silence was broken at last by Robyn, asking conversationally, ‘So it’s a Murder on the Orient Express situation?’
Jodie looked at her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, both of them did it.’
Jodie thought it over. ‘If it was an Agatha Christie deal, you’d all have done it. Including you, Sanjay, Jen. The lot.’
Robyn frowned. ‘What would be the point of that?’
‘Well, you’d all be targeting one of us.’ She considered it. ‘Probably me. I was the one who had it coming, right?’
Robyn glanced at Dorothy, who was still not looking at anyone. She looked back at Jodie with an impressed smile. ‘Considering what went down today, anyone coming for you would have had to finish you off the first time. Which I guess they didn’t.’
‘I’m sure she would have come final time. Thank god I got in first,’ Jodie mused. She looked over at the villain of the piece. ‘Hey Dorothy, you hear that? You come for the queen, you best not miss,’ she called over, trying not to laugh.
Dorothy looked over at last. ‘Fuck you.’
‘Woah,’ Jodie exclaimed. ‘What happened to the kindly old granny?’
‘She got sick of losing,’ Dorothy replied.
Robyn spoke up, angry, and confused. ‘But that’s what I don’t get. You weren’t losing. You were at the front of the pack. You could have won if you’d played straight.’
Dorothy snorted. ‘You should know better than anyone, Robyn. Sometimes you need some insurance.’
Robyn looked at Dorothy, astonished. ‘Wow, Dorothy. You really are a straight-up psychopath.’
Madeline walked in before Dorothy could respond to that. She pulled up a chair and sat down, all business. ‘Right, so here’s what we’re doing. The producers can’t afford to go back and shoot the entire season, and if any of this came out, that’s what they’d have to do. So everyone is keeping their mouths shut.’ She lo
oked around her, and no one argued. She went on, satisfied. ‘We’re reshooting part of today, and that’s all. Robyn, you’ll make your quiche again, exactly the same, with one obvious difference,’ she said, glancing angrily at Dorothy, but Dorothy was looking back at the wall. ‘We’ll reshoot that and the judging. But it’s already decided what the judgements are, according to what’s right. Jodie, as you came second, you’ll keep that position. Robyn, to make up for pain and suffering, you’ll be given top baker. Dorothy, it goes without saying, you’re out. Everyone happy with that?’
Dorothy’s mouth puckered into a cat’s arse. ‘I’m not happy, as it happens.’
‘Tough shit,’ Madeline snapped at her. ‘If you don’t want to become a national joke, you’ll do as you’re told.’ Dorothy didn’t say anything to that. Madeline took a calming breath and turned to Jodie and Robyn. ‘What about you two? Acceptable?’
Jodie and Robyn swapped a quick glance, silently concurring. Jodie turned to Madeline. ‘I think that’ll do.’
‘Great,’ Madeline sighed. ‘Robyn and Jodie, congratulations,’ she said dryly. ‘You’re both finalists for season nine of Bake It!’
Jodie nodded. ‘Cool,’ she said evenly. But inside, she was flying.
Dorothy stormed out.
Madeline got tiredly to her feet. ‘See you next week. For a calm final.’ She left.
‘You saved my arse, Jodie,’ Robyn said. ‘Thank you.’
‘Please, don’t thank me,’ Jodie said. ‘I did it to get rid of a cheater.’ That was a lie. She had done it because she wanted Robyn around a little longer.
Robyn nodded. ‘Well, you would have been in the final either way.’ She paused. ‘Your dad would be proud,’ Robyn said.
Jodie swallowed. ‘Yeah, maybe.’
Robyn frowned. ‘Of course he would.’
Jodie knew that Robyn was being sweet and kind. Maybe that was the problem, because something inside Jodie reacted very badly to the comment. ‘You didn’t know him.’
‘I know,’ Robyn said unsurely. ‘I just… I just meant.’
‘I know what you meant. You’re saying what people are supposed to say. Don’t. For all you know, he was a total bastard.’ Her mother came to mind as she said those words.
‘Was he?’ Robyn asked.
‘Can we not?’ Jodie asked, getting up and leaving. She didn’t know where to go, so she went to sit on the silent, dimly lit set, to wait for reshoots to begin. She just needed to be alone. It was her natural state, after all.
Thirty-Three
Week Eight – Biscuits
It was to end where it had begun. With macarons. Twenty-four of the little swines, in a variety of hopefully attractive colours. Robyn piped the macarons onto parchment paper in one and a half-inch circles, pleased at the consistency of each one. Once that was done, she tapped the baking sheet on a flat surface a few times to release any air bubbles. This was good, simple. Right and easy.
The last time she’d made these bad boys, Alex had chucked the lot on the floor. But at long last, the baking vandals were gone, all of them. The only person left in this room who might like to see her fail had earned Robyn’s trust. If Jodie was going to beat her, it would be by the book.
It was funny to think of Jodie as a competitor. She was, without a shadow of a doubt, the reason Robyn was standing here right now, a finalist. Though, she still didn’t really feel sure about exactly who Jodie was. Robyn had stepped on a landmine with Jodie last week, mentioning her dad. Robyn didn’t know why she’d gone off like that. What she did know was Jodie was complex. But Robyn had all the time in the world for the woman who said mean things and did kind ones. She had let the snapping go.
Robyn finished up piping her first six yellow macarons and snuck a peek at Jodie, bent over in deep concentration on her cranberry and pistachio biscottis. Her brow was knitted together; those dark eyes fixed on her biscuits like she could bake them from a look alone. Robyn half thought that was possible.
Robyn turned back to her next set of macarons, purple. She piped them out and tried not to worry too much. She was at the finish line, it didn’t really matter what happened next. The achievement was to get here. That was what everyone always said in these situations.
Only Robyn didn’t really believe that. She couldn’t help but feel, and she knew on some level that it was ridiculous, that if she were to win, it would make everything OK. Everything. She’d be the best, and that would mean that she was alright as a person. For the rest of her life, she could point to this and say, ‘I did it. I was good.’ Robyn Vincent would be fine.
If she won.
***
‘Jodie, your biscotti were excellent, but you were pipped at the post by some of the best macarons we’ve ever had on this show. Robyn, you’re first place.’
Robyn nodded calmly, but inside, her stomach was trying to climb up into her chest cavity. She’d won day one. It put her in front.
She hoped Jodie wasn’t too disappointed. She turned to Jodie to try and get a read. Jodie looked as cool as ever. But Robyn wondered what was underneath that dry look. Robyn knew Jodie better now, and she certainly knew better than to take Jodie’s reactions at face value.
***
They rode to the hotel in relative quiet. Jodie was never what you’d call verbose, so Robyn was trying not to take it to heart. But she desperately wanted to ask if Jodie was OK, disappointed, annoyed?
But she didn’t ask because it felt like rubbing it in that she’d won the first day. She didn’t want to come off smug, and she didn’t know how to phrase the question without veering dangerously in that direction. She supposed she was quite pleased with herself.
But Robyn really did care how Jodie felt. Quite a bit, as it went. She didn’t just want whatever was between them to be over when the show was.
‘So, it’s the last weekend,’ Robyn said by way of an icebreaker, as they stepped out of the car and walked into the hotel for the final time.
‘Mmm,’ Jodie said.
Not a great start. But Robyn persisted. ‘Back to normal life after this.’
‘I guess so,’ Jodie said as they sat down in the lobby to wait for Cally the runner, who was checking in for them as usual.
Robyn wished Jodie would say more than perfunctory words. She wished she’d say, ‘You wanna hang out tonight?’ Or even better, ‘I really like you, and I want us to date seriously.’ The first one had happened before, so it was possible. But the second scenario was outright laughable. Jodie? Saying something so keen? Pah! If Robyn wanted to make something happen, she was going to have to suck it up and say what she wanted.
‘Look,’ Robyn began. Jodie, who’d been glancing around the lobby, turned her eyes to Robyn. Just having Jodie’s full concentration suddenly land on her put Robyn right off what she was saying. What came out instead of a serious beginning to, ‘The Talk,’ was this instead, ‘So… Biscuits, eh? Whoo!’
Jodie licked her lips and chuckled. ‘Yep. Biscuits. Whoo indeed.’
Robyn wanted to smash her own face into the glass table in front of them. But instead of that, she tried to keep it going. ‘Those macarons, good god. I was really worried about my yellow ones, I mean, I wanted them to come out like a lemon colour, but on one of the practise bakes I did last week, they came out a very bright colour that I could only call, ‘Bile yellow,’ and I just had this feeling that today…’
‘Well, they came out beautiful,’ Jodie said with a lazy smile. ‘Tasted great, too.’
‘Oh,’ Robyn blushed. ‘Thanks. Your biscotti were, um… I tried them and they were pretty… Well, they were fantastic if I’m honest.’
‘Not quite fantastic enough, though,’ Jodie sighed. ‘You won, after all.’
Robyn chuckled nervously. ‘I don’t know that’s the decision I would have made if I’d been in Adam and Imogen’s position…’
Jodie put a sharp hand up, and Robyn broke off. ‘You don’t have to placate me,’ Jodie told her firmly.
‘I
’m not,’ Robyn said, hurt.
‘Good. Because I don’t need that,’ Jodie told her. ‘I don’t need you to be kind.’
‘I’m not being kind.’
Jodie nodded. ‘Good. I can’t stand people being humble to be ingratiating. You won. I’d rather you boast than bullshit me.’