Pam had produced a twist on a traditional Liverpool fruit cake known locally as Wet Nelly in honour of her mum. She had two small tiers covered in white icing like a wedding cake. The top and sides were decorated with all the things that reminded her of Liverpool and her mum. There were musical notes, a liver bird, handbags, and pearls. It was a personal piece, but the warmth shone through.
Celeste had gone for the classic combination of chocolate and raspberry in her flavours and had produced an exquisite two-tier cake that showed off a variety of complex skills, including sugar art. There was a beautiful spun sugar arrangement on the top, which was set off against her mirror glaze. It had that French chic about it where little is more.
Emma’s, in contrast, was more extravagant. It was a recreation of Cupcake Café with the top tier decorated with a red and white chequered tablecloth and table set for tea, and the bottom tier displayed miniature versions of the cakes and bakes she sold. While it lacked the elegance of Celeste’s simplicity, its artistry was streaks ahead of anyone else.
Margaret took her time tasting each contestant’s cake. She lavished them with praise before giving them feedback on how they could improve in future bakes. She came to Celeste’s and remarked on its beauty and the delicate skills required for the sugar work. Margaret broke into the cake and took a mouthful.
"There is a lightness about your sponge, and the sugar work is exquisite. It’s clear you’ve been trained by the best. Your flavours need a little work, though. The raspberry is being dominated by the chocolate. But it really is a beautiful cake and so nearly there!”
A deep pink flushed across Celeste's high cheekbones, and she gave a small sniff as she lifted her cake and returned to her bench.
Emma carefully carried her creation up to be judged, placing it gently down in front of Margaret and Caroline. Caz gave her a warm smile, recognising that the table she had recreated was ours. Emma had even made sugar models of the drinks we order. Of course, this would mean nothing to Margaret, who was judging the cakes, but it was a nod to our friendship, and I could feel a warm glow rising from my toes.
Emma took a deep breath in as Margaret cut the cake and took a bite.
“Well, your flavours are wonderful. And you’re clearly a talented artist. Did I hear that you don’t have any formal training?”
“Oh wow, thanks. And yes, that’s right. I’m self-taught.”
“That makes sense, I suppose. The only thing you’re really lacking is confidence in your ability. I think with that, you’ll continue improving and discover a little bit of your own magic. I think you probably worry a little too much because you’re conscious of being self-taught. Judges don’t care about that. They only care about how you scintillate their senses, and you certainly do that. Less time worrying about others and more time believing in yourself, okay?” Margaret gave Emma a warm and encouraging grin.
It was what we’d been telling her for years, but coming from someone like Margaret might mean she would start listening and recognising her talent.
Contestants were asked to arrange their cakes on the bench at the front, ready for the announcement of who had won this round that would take place in half an hour. I took it as an opportunity to get some photos for my blog. As I suspected, everyone was only too happy to show off their creations and to have them featured.
“Did you want to get a photo with me and the cakes in it?”
I spun around to see Margaret standing behind me. I shifted from one foot to the other before stuttering, “I…I’m afraid I can’t stretch to your…um…fees.”
Margaret’s eyebrows raised into a high arch, “My fees?”
“Yes. I spoke to Jules briefly? I mean, I totally understand. It was terribly unthoughtful of me to think you would give up your time for my little blog…”
“The Nord Isles blog? Is that yours? I love that blog!” Margaret looked around, checking to see who was watching or possibly listening. She then leaned forward and continued in a hushed voice, “And quite frankly, my dear, I wouldn’t listen to a word that Jules has to say. He’s become nothing but a bother recently. Snap away – get as many photos as you like. I’ll deal with Jules. And if you want to sit down and have a chat for the blog, there will be no charge. I'd be happy to do it.”
“Really? That would be amazing, thank you!”
“No problem. I love the Nord Isles. Between you and me, I’m considering it as a retirement spot in the not-too-distant future. Best keep that one to yourself for now, though.” Margaret gave me a wink.
It made a little more sense now why Margaret would come and do this event, and I had a sneaky suspicion that Caroline might have heard a rumour about it before approaching her. She always did hear things first.
After taking a few photos of the cakes and the bakers, I also took a few of Margaret, who was getting ready to announce the winner for this round.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. I’m sure you’ve all had as good a day as I have, despite the high tensions we had at times.”
There was a twinkle in her eye as Margaret cast a glance in the direction of Emma and Celeste. Emma looked down at her feet while Celeste jutted her chin a little further in the air and gave a little sniff.
“Without further ado, I would like to announce today’s amateur winner. Their cake was innovative, giving me something I’d not experienced before. It also helped that it was rather tasty.”
Small laughs broke out around the room. Margaret waited for silence to fall again. “The winner of today’s amateur round is…" Margaret paused, allowing the tension to build. "Pam Jessop with her twist on a Liverpool classic. Congratulations, Pam.”
A round of applause broke out, and Pam beamed. Caroline, of course, had to remain impartial, but I whooped and hollered my approval. Even Shadow joined in with a couple of barks.
“And now to the professional’s competition,” continued Margaret. “I must say, those of you who live on the Nord Isles are incredibly lucky to have such incredible local businesses able to produce cakes to such a high standard. However, there can only be one winner. And today, that is…”
Margaret knew exactly what she was doing. She held a long pause during which no one dared move or make a sound. It was just like how they do it on the TV.
“Emma, from Cupcake Café!”
Celeste did a double-take, not quite able to believe what she had just heard. Emma, meanwhile, looked shocked for a few seconds but soon started squealing and jumping up and down.
Caroline again asked for quiet before proceeding to inform everyone that they would start at 10am sharp tomorrow when they would all need to produce the best chocolate fudge cake.
Exhausted but elated, Pam and Emma made their way over to me. I congratulated them both and started showing them the photos I had taken on my phone. Flicking through, I noticed that Shadow had managed to squeeze himself into every single image of Margaret Flowers. It seemed he had taken a shine to her, not wanting to leave her side. I suspected he just realised that there was a higher prospect of tasty crumbs falling from her hands than from anybody else’s.
But when it was time to go, and I called Shadow over, he hung his head and was reluctant to move. Not normally one to leave my side, something felt out of place. Jo, the local vet, would be around mine later. Maybe she could check him over and reassure me nothing was wrong.
Chapter 6
It was book club night, and I had to admit that Caroline's suggestion to move it to the Saturday night, halfway through the summer fête, was a stroke of genius. There would be more wine and gossip about events that day than books. But I didn’t mind. Our evenings would often drift from the book. It was just a wonderful opportunity to spend time together.
It would also be our first proper catch up since finding out about the Bake the Cake Competition. With Pam and Emma both having a win in the bag, it was set to be a great night. Things might have been a little different, however, if Celeste had won that first round. Fortuna
tely, though, it would be a night of celebrations.
Too tired to bother cooking anything, I picked up some snacks and buffet food from a couple of the stalls at the fête before heading home. The other girls would always bring something with them too.
As soon as we entered the door, Shadow headed for his bed and lay down with a whimper. I felt my stomach lurch. What if something was wrong with him? I couldn’t imagine life on Bwytheney without him. We did almost everything together. I went and crouched down by his bed, stroking my finger across the carvings in the wood made by Pete. Pete’s murder was one of my first investigations. I took Shadow’s head in my hand and stroked him with the other.
"What is it, boy? Are you ill?”
Shadow was motionless, just looking into my eyes.
“Are you trying to tell me something?”
His ears pricked up, and his head tilted sideways. The next thing I knew, he was licking my face, and I couldn’t help but start giggling.
"Is that it? Something's not right, and you're trying to let me know?"
Shadow jumped out of his bed and barked, suddenly back to his old self. “Okay, boy. I get it. I’ll be on the lookout.”
Just then, the door opened and in came Jo carrying a bottle of wine. She was quickly followed by Pam and Caroline. Of course, there was only one topic of conversation - the Bake the Cake Competition.
“Well girls, how do you think it’s going?” asked Caroline.
“Oh, Caz. It’s fabulous. I’m so glad I signed up. I’m having heaps of fun. But how on earth did you snag Margaret Flowers?”
“I’m so pleased you’re enjoying it, Pam. And congratulations on your win! I, of course, have to be impartial but have to admit I was chuffed to bits that she chose you. As for Margaret, Phil’s company is helping her out with some things at the moment. Mind you, I had to do lots of begging. At first, he refused to speak to her about it.”
Phil was Caroline’s husband. I wasn’t really too sure what he did, but he often travelled to the mainland. I believed it was something to do with finance, but as a woman who loved words, anything with numbers made me switch off.
“Dare I ask how you changed his mind?” I asked.
“Honestly? No idea. He just came home one day and said Margaret Flowers was happy to talk to me. Something about her looking to get a taste of the island. Although, that little debacle between Emma and Celeste did not paint us in the best light.”
“The trouble is it means a lot to both of them,” said Jo.
“And there was definitely something dodgy going on,” I said.
With that, Shadow sat up in his bed and barked his approval.
“See, Shadow thinks so too,” I continued. “Talking of Emma, where has she got to?”
Just then, the door burst open, and Emma came in like a whirlwind. “Sorry, sorry. I know I’m really late, but you will never guess what’s just happened!”
I could hear her pulling off her shoes in the hallway and hanging up her coat.
“Red or white?” asked Jo.
“White please,” said Emma as she appeared at the doorway, her hair sticking up in all directions. There was still a spot of flour on the end of her nose from the competition earlier in the day.
“Nice to see you’ve made an effort,” teased Pam.
"Well, I would have done, but something happened. Something big. And you're never going to guess."
“As long as it doesn’t involve embarrassing us in front of Margaret Flowers again, I’m all ears.”
“And what exactly do you mean by that, Caz? That was Celeste’s fault. She was messing with my ingredients.”
“Yes, well, there didn’t need to be a scene made about it.”
“I’m sorry, Caz. But I’m not going to stand there and let that woman sabotage me.”
“No. But next time, could you perhaps be a bit more discrete. Perhaps ask to speak to me quietly?”
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. But things have taken an even more interesting turn.”
“Come on then,” said Jo, “tell us before you burst.”
Emma squeezed herself onto one of the sofas between Caz and Jo. She paused for a moment, making a show of composing herself as if she was about to reveal the news of the century. “Guess who came to visit me at the café after the competition?”
“Oh, for goodness sake, Emma. Just tell us what’s going on.” Caz was not known for her patience.
She threw Caz a frown before taking a deep breath, “Celeste.”
“Oh gosh, if this is going to mean more trouble for my competition tomorrow—”
“She made me an offer for Cupcake Café.”
We all looked at each other, unsure what to say, not quite taking in what Emma had said.
“She wants to buy my café. I told her there was absolutely no way I was selling. But it's an interesting move by her, right? I mean, first, she tries to sabotage me in the competition and then she tries to buy my business. Anyone would think she’s worried about me.”
Emma was looking rather smug. I’m glad it had given her confidence a boost.
“What do you think it’s all about, Cara?” asked Jo.
“I don’t know. It certainly looks like she doesn’t want Emma and her business around.”
“Well, as long as it doesn’t spill over into my competition again, Emma," said Caroline.
“Yes, yes. I better watch my back, though. Who knows what she might be tempted to do now I’ve declined her offer.”
“Hopefully, she’ll just sulk. I could do without another investigation right now. Although, Shadow seems to think something’s up too.”
"Stop! Stop, right there. This is not happening. I do not want a body turning up in the middle of Bake the Cake!”
“Caz!” Emma, Jo, and Pam had all spoken at once.
While the very idea of such a thing happening seemed ridiculous, I couldn’t help feeling unsettled for the rest of the night. It was precisely the sort of thing that kept happening on Bwytheney at the moment, and I had a feeling that Caz was going to have to deal with more baking drama before the weekend was out.
Chapter 7
The following morning, grey clouds were slated across the sky, although there was no dampness in the air. Shadow and I had a lazy start to the day, and I began putting together a post for my blog about the summer fête. I’d decided to do a separate one later in the week about the cake competition, to give me time to interview Margaret.
By the time we stepped out the door and made our way to the large red and white marquee, the contestants were ready to start the second round of the competition. Chocolate fudge cake was a personal favourite, so I was looking forward to seeing what they all came up with. How different would they be? Oh, to be able to taste them! Although I was sure that I could get a slice from Pam and Emma’s cakes, at least.
The crowds were also filling out. Everyone's family was there to support them, and more of the locals and tourists were gathering. Maybe I wasn't the only one with love for chocolate-themed cakes.
“Okay, everyone,” boomed Caroline’s voice through the microphone, “you know the rules. You have two hours and thirty minutes to make your best chocolate fudge cake. On your marks, get set, go.”
Contestants flew about the tent again, gathering ingredients from fridges and beginning the process of measuring out and whisking. Pam opened a container full of cocoa powder and was instantly covered in a cloud. It looked as though today would be another with a messy workbench. She was good-natured about it, though, dusting herself down and grinning. Something told me that she enjoyed the mess as much as the baking. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t so bothered about taking over the campsite with all its mud.
Melissa Palmer had run the campsite for years and had been a family farm for generations before. But when Melissa was murdered, the campsite had been left to Pam. Rather than sell it to Gregory Albright, who lived in the large manor house just outside Islethorpe, Pam decided to move here and run the campsite
herself. Along with many of us, she couldn't bear the thought of Gregory turning it into some unsightly theme park. And while Pam had not lived on these islands for long, she really was making the most of it, grabbing every opportunity that came her way. Island life couldn’t be more different from the city lights of Liverpool. She had been born and raised in the city, living there until she landed on our shores. And I really admired the way she had so quickly adapted, especially with her best friend no longer here.
Emma, meanwhile, was diligently making progress, but the short breaths, muttering and tapping told me that she was feeling nervous. While she had always lacked confidence in her abilities, yesterday's win had given her a boost, and I knew how much she would like to consolidate that today. Every now and again, I would see her glance over her shoulder in the direction of Celeste. The offer and yesterday’s events were clearly playing on her mind.
Celeste, however, was looking a little down-in-mouth but as organised and serene as ever. There was no hint of concern about her, and I have to say that made me a little nervous. Having lost yesterday's round, I would have expected her to be at least a little nervous. Was she good at hiding it, or did she have something up her sleeve? Only time would tell.
Partway through, while the cakes were baking, I took Shadow for a stroll out towards the seafront. On our way, I was surprised to see Jules on the phone. Snatches of his conversation reached me, "There’s no way…absolutely not…I won’t let her…”
I tried to offer him a reassuring smile. After all, we've all had bad days. But he simply frowned at me and turned to walk off in the opposite direction. I wasn't sure how Jules and Margaret could have ever ended up in business together. They seemed to be so different that I couldn’t imagine them being anything but incompatible.
After stretching our legs, we returned to the tent to find everyone deep in focus on their decoration. Of course, Celeste and Emma were producing elaborate chocolate fudge cakes – who knew there was even such a thing? Whereas Pam’s cake reminded me of the sort, my own grandma used to make when I was a small girl. When I was good, she would even let me lick the bowl. With the ever-growing amount of mess, I wouldn't put it past Pam to do exactly the same, smearing chocolate around her chops!
Death by Chocolate Cake Page 3