Sweetest Thing

by Natasha West

  But her father had left her something. Not something she could sell, but something she could use. He’d taught her to bake. With his dying months, he’d taken her into their small kitchen and taught her his passion.

  ‘Dad, this is nice and everything… but why are you doing this?’ Jodie had asked as she made yet another batch of cookies.

  ‘Because it’s all I’ve got to give you. And when I’m… When I’m gone, if you can do this, I’ll still be here for you and your brother.’

  Jodie didn’t really enjoy baking if she was honest with herself. But you can’t argue with your father’s dying wish, can you? So she worked hard to take his lessons in. Once he was gone, Jodie kept baking. She went into the kitchen once a week and, from her father’s recipe book, kept her father alive for Billy. Cakes, biscuits, bread, pies, she fed the boy her father’s legacy. She also ended up supplementing her meagre pay by baking various cookies and cakes a couple of times a week for the café where she worked, splitting the proceeds with the boss, fifty-fifty. The extra cash was very handy.

  But now that kitchen wouldn’t be hers anymore. Ambivalent as she was about baking, there was something unbearable about that.

  Two weeks after the conversation with the landlord, Jodie made a caramel apple drip cake with candied walnuts for Billy’s birthday. As Billy tucked in, he said, ‘You’ve really outdone yourself with this one. This cake is insane.’ He chewed on and then added casually, mouth full. ‘You should go on Bake It!’

  Jodie had cocked an eyebrow and said, ‘Maybe I should.’ That was it, that simple, decision made. She was going to go on the biggest cooking show in the country, get herself a reputation as a good baker, start up her own baking business off the back of it and make some real money, enough to maybe save the family. Why couldn’t that work?

  The first step in the plan had come off. She was in. But there was no time to get all silly over that, jumping about like Billy. Because now came the next step; actually going on the show. How well she could do was dependant on how far she could get through the eliminations. The twenty grand prize money wasn’t really part of her plan, she was unlikely to win. But from research into past contestants, Jodie believed if she could make it to week five of the eight, that would be enough. Whether she could do that was contingent on how stiff the competition was, and that wasn’t something she could plan for yet.

  The submission process had been pretty intense. It began with an application form in which she talked about her dead father passing on the skill. She knew that was the kind of thing those shows ate up, so she had no choice but to put down on paper the worst thing that had ever happened to her.

  Then it was phone calls from the producers, trying to get a read on whether she had a level of charisma needed to make her a compelling contestant. Apparently so.

  After that, she was invited to a series of auditions. In the first, she was given instructions for a simple swiss roll and told, ‘You’ve got thirty-five minutes. Go.’ Other people around her were sweating and breaking under the pressure, making stupid mistakes from panic. But if Jodie had one thing, it was a cool head. She’d smashed the challenge.

  Then the producers wanted a bake of their choosing, anything they liked. Jodie watched bakers around her trying to impress with design masterpieces that were beyond their skill, while Jodie kept it simple, whipping up a modest genoise. The producer who’d sampled it had a very brief yet animated review. ‘Good god.’ The phone call she’d just received from the show had only confirmed what she’d known already. She was going to be on Bake It!

  Jodie didn’t want to be famous. She didn’t want her own baking show or anything like that. She just wanted to maintain the status quo. And if she had been on Bake It!, her business would hit the ground running. It seemed like a workable plan.

  So no, Jodie was not, ‘Freaking out about now,’ as Billy put it. Because she was just getting started, there was no time for all that. ‘Sure, yeah, exciting,’ Jodie told Billy evenly.

  Billy shook his head, unconvinced. ‘I swear to god, Jodie, you must have ice water running through your veins. I’d be bouncing off the walls right now if I were you.’

  ‘Well, you keep being you, and I’ll keep being me,’ Jodie told him. She took her teacup back from Billy and took another sip.

  Three

  Week One - Muffins

  Robyn didn’t know what she was doing here, on day one of production for series nine of Bake It! She’d never meant it to get this far. How on earth had she gotten down to the final eight? It was mystifying.

  All this had been brilliant in the beginning, perfect for keeping Alex at bay. Planning for each audition could take as long as she wanted, and she practised her bakes again and again and again before she went in and did it under duress. That was probably what had swung it. Robyn had been insanely prepared. More than she’d meant to be, clearly, because she kept getting through each stage.

  Still, it had come as the most monstrous surprise when a producer called her and said, ‘Robyn! You’re going to be on Bake It!’ She should have said no. She had said no, actually. ‘Oh, I’m not sure, I didn’t, I don’t know if I really-’

  ‘Are you having doubts? Because I can tell you, we think you could get pretty far on the show,’ the chipper lady told her.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes. I mean, I shouldn’t really be telling you this, but… we think you could go all the way.’

  Robyn had been shocked. So shocked, she’d found herself being completely railroaded into going on Bake It!

  Alex had been happy. ‘Wow, babe! You’re gonna be a star!’

  ‘I doubt that,’ Robyn had replied cynically.

  ‘You are. You bake like no one’s business. I can’t wait to tell people my girlfriend is Robyn from Bake It!’

  ‘You might wanna wait until the show airs, Alex,’ Robyn said, trying to swallow her anxiety at the very idea.

  ‘I’m thinking of the future.’

  ‘You might also want to wait and see if I become ‘Robyn-who-had-a-total-breakdown-in-bread-week,’ before you start bragging me up,’ Robyn warned her.

  ‘Oh, don’t be so daft. You’ll be great,’ Alex said easily.

  But Robyn was being serious. She was genuinely scared of losing it on TV. She might even become a meme, a weepy mess people used as a gif to indicate over-the-top emotion. But everyone else in her life was acting like it was silly to worry about such things when the bright lights of Bake It! beckoned. Alex was leading the charge. Which was good because while she was focused on that, her engagement ring stayed in its box and out of the conversation.

  Now Robyn was in a green room, biting her nails. She was alone, first to arrive, as ever. But then the door opened, and someone else came in, ushered by a young runner. She was petite, barely five feet, a lean clotheshorse, making a simple pair of jeans and fitted black t-shirt look like couture. Her fawn skin was sprinkled with a fetching dash of freckles across a small upturned nose. Her short, sable hair was expertly tousled. Her eyes were cool and dark. She looked… what was the word?

  Untouchable.

  ‘Robyn? This is Jodie. She’s another contestant, feel free to chat amongst yourselves while we wait for the others,’ the runner, Cally, said quickly and then did as her job description said and ran off.

  Jodie sat down on a chair several over from Robyn. ‘Hi,’ she said coolly, crossing her legs and picking up a baking magazine from a pile sat on a table.

  ‘Hello,’ Robyn said, unsurely.

  Jodie flicked a page in her magazine, quite set on ignoring her. But Robyn had been instructed to make chit chat and she wanted to satisfy the instruction. ‘So, are you…’ she began.

  Jodie gave a short sigh and closed the magazine. ‘Yes?

  Robyn wished she’d never opened her trap, but it was too late now. ‘Err, I was going to ask if you were nervous about today?’

  Jodie raised an eyebrow and gave a small, sneering laugh. ‘Why would I be nervous?’


  Robyn was so confounded by that question; she couldn’t begin to summon an answer. How did you show up to a huge televised competition and not feel at least something in the way of nerves? ‘Oh, I don’t… Never mind.’

  ‘I take it you are, then?’ Jodie said, flicking her magazine back over, not overly interested in Robyn’s answer.

  ‘A bit,’ Robyn lied. Her entire body was coated in a fine layer of sweat from the neck downwards.

  Jodie didn’t reply. Robyn found herself developing the beginnings of dislike toward her fellow contestant. They’d only been talking for half a minute, and she’d made Robyn feel like some hysteric, simply by virtue of the fact that she wasn’t some sort of unfeeling sociopath who exhibited the emotional range of a cucumber. Unlike some.

  The door opened again, and a motherly type was tossed in. ‘This is Dorothy!’ announced the runner, disappearing again.

  Dorothy chuckled through the room and sat down right next to Robyn. ‘Well, this is funny, isn’t it!’

  ‘What’s that?’ Robyn asked, flicking a look to Jodie. She didn’t seem to be paying any attention. You’d have thought she was waiting for a train.

  ‘We’re all going to be on Bake It! Madness,’ the woman replied with another laugh. ‘I thought my retirement was going to be boring, and now I’m going to be on the telly!’ Dorothy chuckled further to herself for some seconds before she’d had enough of her own hilariousness. ‘So, what about you?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Oh. Robyn.’

  ‘Gosh, that’s my granddaughter’s name! What made you apply, Robyn?’

  The real answer to that question was, ‘I was trying to keep busy to avoid my girlfriend, and I accidentally got through.’ But Dorothy didn’t want to hear about that. She wanted a nice, simple answer. ‘I just like baking,’ Robyn said.

  ‘Not planning on doing it professionally?’

  ‘I don’t think so, no. What about you?’ she asked politely. Truth to tell, she wasn’t really up for chatting. Dorothy was a nice lady, but Robyn was trying to gather her strength. Either for the day ahead or to run off at the last minute. She hadn’t decided.

  ‘Me?’ Dorothy replied. ‘Oh, no. I spent forty years behind a post office counter. I’m done with work now. I’m only here for fun.’

  Fun. My god, the idea that anyone could think that all this would be fun.

  Two men were shown in. One was a young, skinny guy who moved like a hummingbird, quick and nervous, Sanjay. The other was a guy in his forties with a large red face and the vibe of a bricklayer, Matt. They both sat down, Matt with a manly nod. Sanjay looked like Robyn felt, sweaty and anxious.

  A few more people drifted in until there were nine of them in the room. A girl of about twenty called Jen who came in looking tired, announcing she’d, ‘Gone a bit hard last night’. Then came Susan, forties, French twist and a home counties accent, with a look in her eyes that said she meant business. Then Reuben, a middle-aged guy in red plastic spectacles and a ‘fun’ jumper. Last slouched in Darnell, who Robyn suspected was handsome but couldn’t be sure because his face was mostly covered up with the classic hipster accessories of snapback, beard, and thick horn-rimmed glasses.

  It was a mixed bag, no doubt. It was easy to see the archetypes in the room. You could look at any of them and get a sense right away of where they fit. Robyn supposed that meant they were all looking at her and seeing something simple too. A stiff type, uptight and anxious, which was essentially correct.

  She glanced across at Jodie and thought about where she fit. It was less obvious than the others.

  People chatted amongst themselves for a few minutes, though not Robyn. Not Jodie, either. Eventually, the door opened and in walked Madeline Murphy. Everyone stopped talking immediately. A star was amongst them. ‘Hi, everyone!’ she said to the room. ‘Are we all ready to bake?’

  A few people muttered and nodded nervously.

  ‘Ha, first day nerves, I take it?’ Madeline said kindly. ‘Well, don’t worry. We all get drunk on day one.’

  People swapped uncertain looks. Jen looked hopeful.

  ‘Kidding,’ Madeline said with a light laugh. Everyone joined in, happy to laugh with Madeline, a presenter who’d been on TV since before Jen or Sanjay were potty-trained.

  ‘Right, so we’ll be getting started shortly. But I like to come in first, say hello to you all before we throw you to the wolves: AKA Adam and Imogen.’

  Everyone laughed a bit more easily this time, in on the joke. Adam Silton and Imogen Boggs were the judges, celeb chefs who played a classic good-cop, bad-cop dynamic.

  ‘So, we’re doing some last-minute prep in the studio, but we’ll bring you in soon and we can get cracking. Cool?’ Madeline asked the room.

  Nods and yeses floated back to her. ‘Great. See you in the kitchen.’ Madeline slipped out with a small wink.

  ‘Well, she’s a bit of alright, isn’t she?’ Matt said, presumably to the men in the room. But Sanjay didn’t say anything, and Darnell only scratched his beard.

  Robyn found she didn’t feel so ready to flee anymore. Meeting the presenter had made it all seem just a little less daunting. And being around the other contestants, seeing maybe this wasn’t so cutthroat, that helped too. They were all just people. For the most part.

  Robyn glanced around the room to her fellow bakers. She wondered who the winner would be. Hard to say without seeing anyone’s work yet, but strictly by a vibe read, the tough competitors were probably Susan and Jodie. They both looked like they weren’t messing about. Particularly Jodie. Robyn knew that part of being a decent baker was not panicking, keeping your head while you were roasting next to a high temp oven, the time always working against you. And if that turned out to be the clincher, then Jodie was a serious contender. Because one thing about Jodie was clear as she sat quietly reading her magazine while most people chattered excitably like over-caffeinated monkeys. The woman was ice-cold.

  Four

  Jodie had felt fairly steady about the whole Bake It! thing, ready to take on the challenge in front of her. Right up until the runner that met her in the reception of the studio had said, ‘I’ll just take you to the green room’. That was when it started to feel a bit more real. It was just a room to park your bum while you waited for things to kick off. But ‘green room’ was TV industry lingo. She was going to be on TV, on a big show. She’d known that. But now? She knew it.

  It made Jodie wonder what the general population would make of her. She knew she was considered something of an acquired taste. She’d never really minded that, possessing little to no interest in selling anyone on herself if they weren’t buying in the first place. The ones that stuck around were the ones that were meant to. Like her brother.

  But it wouldn’t be like that when she was on TV. People would develop strong opinions about her right off the bat, and they’d want to share those opinions with her. That’s how people were now. Comment culture had led people to believe that their thoughts and prejudices had weight and that the world awaited them hungrily. Jodie didn’t give a shit what Carol from Croydon or Jeff from Dulwich thought about her. But Carol and Jeff - and those of their ilk - would now consider her fair game. Jodie didn’t want any of that. She was just trying to keep her ship afloat.

  But what if she was about to make her life worse? What if, in a couple of months, when this thing aired, she’d be getting shit in the street from strangers who wanted to tell her she was a stuck-up bitch? She hadn’t really considered that until she took a seat in the green room. Suddenly, it was all she could think about. What if she was about to paint a target on her back that she’d never be able to remove? The whole point of coming on the show was to take control of her own destiny. But was it possible she was going to do the opposite? As she pretended to read a baking magazine, she felt the first dribbles of worry make an appearance.

  She suddenly remembered she wasn’t alone in the room. Another woman, a fellow contesta
nt, sat at the other end. The runner had mentioned her name, Robyn?

  Robyn cleared her throat, and it was clear she was trying to speak to her. Jodie looked over, seeing the woman for the first time. She was anywhere between twenty-five and thirty, a straight-backed type, her long caramel hair in a tight ponytail that looked like it would hurt by the end of the day. She was dressed like an accountant on the weekend, her light silk shirt buttoned to the neck. Her face was long and regal, her eyes an unusual overcast grey. Attractive in a pristine sort of way. But right from the first moment she opened her mouth, Jodie could smell high maintenance. She was saying something about nervousness? ‘Why would I be nervous?’ Jodie asked defensively.

  ‘Oh, I don’t… Never mind,’ Robyn said with an embarrassed blush. It annoyed Jodie, that blush. It was so bloody earnest. ‘I take it you are, then?’ Jodie asked her irritably. She knew why she was being cunty. She didn’t need some Nervous Nelly trying to be pally. Because Jodie felt like this woman’s anxiety was going to rub off on her. She didn’t need that.