Sweetest Thing

by Natasha West

  ‘Gimme five. I’ll be downstairs, I swear,’ Jodie vowed.

  ‘Alright,’ the gruff voice replied. ‘Don’t be any longer.’

  Jodie and Robyn looked at each other and realised they were stark naked. Jodie let herself enjoy the sight for about two seconds before announcing, ‘We really fucked up.’ She got into a robe.

  ‘Yeah,’ Robyn said with a coy smile. Worry flew across her face. ‘I’ve got to get to my room. That driver’s probably gonna knock on it next!’

  ‘You better be quick then,’ Jodie told her.

  Robyn ran out.

  Jodie began to get dressed, thrilled - as she did an abbreviated version of her morning routine - that cameras didn’t have a sense of smell, because she had Robyn all over her.

  She didn’t really know what to think about that in the cold light of day. Last night had the quality of a dream, one where she wasn’t Jodie Jacobs, but someone else. Someone emotionally well-rounded. Someone who tried.

  Robyn had pulled something out of her last night. She didn’t really understand what it was. It wasn’t desire, not alone. It was another thing.

  Whatever this mysterious thing was, when she tried to think about it, it was like sifting flour. It slipped through the holes and left almost nothing behind. There was only one thing she understood about it.

  It scared her.

  ***

  Everyone knew. They had to.

  Both Jodie and Robyn had come out of the hotel late, that was clue one. Staggered exits fooled no one. Anyone who might be in doubt would only have to look at the level of dishevelment of the pair of them to put two and two together and come up with, ‘They’re shagging.’ But Susan and Dorothy said nothing about the elephant on the bus, just talked baking as ever.

  At the studio, Jodie and Robyn were given a tidy up by the makeup and hair people and went to their respective stations. Behind them, Jodie could hear whispering. She couldn’t make out a word, but she didn’t need to. She knew when she was being discussed.

  She looked over to see if Robyn had noticed. But Robyn wasn’t paying any mind to the chattering pair. She was too busy giving Jodie the softest of smiles.

  And Jodie smiled back.

  ***

  The brief was a layer cake. Three layers minimum, every layer in a different flavour. Jodie was going simple on this one. She’d taken a risk yesterday, but she knew when to stop pushing her luck. She was doing dark chocolate, milk chocolate, and caramel layers, separated and coated by a thin chocolate ganache. There was no possibility that anyone could dislike it. Would they love it? Jodie didn’t give a shit. She was only trying to maintain a B average. Yesterday’s win plus a tasty but uncomplex cake today should do the trick. As long as she nailed every element, she was almost sure she could knock Susan out. That would take her to the semi-final. If she could get to that, her business plan was golden. What could possibly go wrong?

  Off she went, mixing her batter before she separated it and added the various flavours. She tried not to look at Robyn (making a rainbow coloured cake in lemon, orange, and strawberry with a light buttercream frosting) as she worked. But she kept doing it anyway. What the hell was going on? Why was she sneaking looks at Robyn? So they’d had sex that hadn’t involved pulling each other’s hair and pushing each other about and smacking various body parts? So it was nice?

  So. Fucking. What.

  Jodie began to beat her batter as she asked herself that question.

  ‘Woah!’ Madeline said, popping up behind her in classic annoying fashion. ‘You’re giving that batter the business!’

  Jodie stopped and looked down. ‘I guess I am.’

  ‘I’ve noticed you always whisk by hand,’ Madeline said.

  ‘That’s right,’ Jodie agreed, beating away.

  ‘Any particular reason?’ Madeline asked.

  Jodie noticed Robyn looking over, and in her distraction, she spoke without guard. ‘Because my dad didn’t have a fancy blender. He did it all by hand. I guess it always feels more natural to me to do it that way because that’s the way I was taught.’

  Madeline cocked her head and nodded and smiled. ‘Really?’ she asked with completely bullshit compassion.

  Jodie realised her mistake. But it was too late to take it back. She’d shared with the camera. Fuck. ‘Yeah, yes,’ Jodie stuttered.

  Madeline smiled. ‘I’m sure he’d be pleased to see how far you’ve taken his lessons.’

  Jodie licked her lips nervously and pumped the batter. ‘I hope so,’ she said quietly.

  Madeline touched her on the arm as she began to move off, and Jodie resisted the urge to rip her hand off and slap her around the face with it. After she was gone, Jodie’s arm went into overdrive.

  ***

  ‘It’s…’ Adam worked the cake around his mouth, and he frowned. ‘It’s got an odd texture.’

  Jodie pursed her lips. This cake should have been right. She’d made it just like she was taught, like she’d made it a thousand other times.

  But Adam was unhappy. ‘It’s a bit… dense.’

  ‘Dense?’ Jodie repeated.

  Adam considered the problem, looking to his partner. ‘Do you taste it?’

  Imogen nodded with no pleasure. ‘Yes. I wonder if perhaps the gluten might have separated?’

  Jodie was astonished, embarrassed. She knew exactly how a thing like that might happen, but she was forced to listen to Imogen say it aloud. ‘Did you perhaps overmix it?’

  Of course she had. She’d been so distracted and annoyed and all over the place that the only thing her body could do with it all that emotion was put it into the cake. She’d beaten the batter too hard, and the mixture had gone chewy.

  ‘Next time, stop mixing when you can’t see any white powder,’ Imogen advised as kindly as she could. Jodie knew that. It was 101 stuff. But she just gritted her teeth and said, ‘Thanks.’

  Jodie did some quick thinking... Dorothy had gotten good remarks today, Neapolitan layer cake, as had Robyn’s rainbow, making their bakes consistent across the weekend. Susan had made a nutty creation (hazelnut, pecan, almond) that had gone down reasonably well and might have levelled off yesterday’s travesty. From Jodie’s calculations, she’d just dropped down to the bottom two. Her solid B was dead. She had somewhere around a C-. At best.

  Well, perhaps it was silly to be disappointed if she went out. It had never been the point to get to the semi. Week five, Jodie reminded herself. She’d gone one better. That was good. It was enough.

  Dorothy got top baker, yet again. Everyone duly cheered. And then Susan’s name was called. She slapped a terrifying smile on her face, and said, ‘Ah well.’

  Jodie had been fully prepared to go. She hadn’t prepared herself to stay. She was as shocked as Susan. Then she found herself in an embrace from Robyn, and two things became blindingly clear. She wanted to win. And she wanted Robyn. She’d run out of ways to deny it any longer.

  For the first time in Jodie’s disappointing and painful life, she wanted it all.

  ***

  Later, as people were packing up to go, Jodie went to the toilet. She was busting.

  She’d been sat down on the seat for about five seconds when there was a hard knock on the door.

  ‘Hey, occupied,’ Jodie said mildly.

  ‘Jodie,’ said a voice. ‘Come out.’

  ‘Susan, what’s up?’ Jodie sighed.

  ‘Come out here so I can talk to you face to face,’ Susan hissed through the door.

  ‘Yeah, that’s not happening. I’m peeing.’

  There was a pause. ‘Fine. I’ll wait.’

  ‘Can you just say whatever it is while I’m in here?’ Jodie asked.

  Another pause. ‘If I must. You should have gone today.’

  Jodie smiled to herself. Of course Susan thought she should have beat Jodie. Jodie was young, poor, and not white. Susan was none of those things and clearly used to getting her own way. Jodie said through the door, ‘But I didn’t. Sorry about t
hat.’

  ‘You don’t mean that. You’re not sorry at all.’

  ‘You’re right. I’m not,’ Jodie said agreeably.

  Jodie had finished peeing. She pulled her jeans up and went out to wash her hands, dodging around Susan. Her face was almost purple with rage; her arms crossed tighter than a sailor’s knot. Jodie turned the tap on, watching Susan carefully in the mirror above the sink. After all, they were feet from a kitchen that was fully equipped with knives. But Susan only continued to glare.

  Jodie finished washing and grabbed a paper towel, turning to Susan. ‘Was there something else?’

  ‘Who are you screwing?’

  ‘What?’ Jodie laughed.

  ‘I mean, everyone knows about you and Robyn. I’m surprised she’d lower herself... But anyway, if you’ve wormed your way in there, god knows who else you’re sleeping with. Is it Adam?’

  Jodie’s laughter continued. ‘You really think the only possible way I could beat you is if I shagged Adam Silton? Fuck me, Sue. That’s priceless.’

  Sue’s purple face darkened further. ‘It’s Susan. And I know you must have cheated, or you’d be out. Because your cake was terrible.’

  ‘It wasn’t great,’ Jodie said philosophically.

  ‘It was dreadful.’

  ‘Aww, you tried it!’ Jodie said in mock delight.

  ‘I didn’t have to,’ Susan barked.

  Jodie’s smile slipped. ‘No?’ She examined Susan closely. ‘And why is that?’

  Susan’s face faltered. ‘Because I… I know an awful cake when I see one.’

  Jodie leaned infinitesimally toward Susan. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It was tough, my cake, I know. I put that down to overbeating, and so did the judges. But there are other ways cake batter becomes too dense. Like if you add too much baking powder.’

  Susan’s mouth fell open. No words came out.

  ‘Right,’ Jodie said. ‘So, it has been you.’

  Susan’s eyes were wide with horror. Jodie’s anger flared at the entitled woman. ‘Wow. Sanjay’s plum stone? Robyn, Darnell? You fucked with all their bakes, didn’t you?’

  Susan unfolded her arms. ‘I, I didn’t…’

  Jodie’s blood was boiling. ‘Sue…’ she began, and this time Susan didn’t correct her, ‘You cheated. And you still lost. So why don’t you piss off and stop embarrassing yourself?’

  Susan refolded her arms, her sour little face puckering. ‘You think you’re going to win? You won’t, you know.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ Jodie agreed. ‘But it doesn’t matter, because I’ll never be the loser you’ve made yourself into.’

  For a split second, Jodie thought Susan was going to hit her. But instead, she stomped out.

  ***

  Jodie and Robyn took a cab to the station together. It hadn’t been a big deal. They’d walked out together, the taxi pulled up and what were they gonna do, take separate cabs? After spending a night getting up to all sorts, sharing the space of a cab seemed a lot less intimate.

  But Jodie was still Jodie, and Robyn was still Robyn. Chalk and cheese. Sex was one thing. But conversation? Entirely another.

  They went through the barriers together at the train station, and no one said anything about reservations this time. They just got on the same carriage and sat down together without saying anything about it.

  Jodie took out her headphones, they were in a tangle. She could barely get enough give in them to reach her ears. Too fatigued to try, she got up and went to the toilet.

  When she came back a minute later, she sat down to find the earbuds completely untangled. Robyn was staring out of the window.

  ‘Did you do this?’ Jodie asked her.

  Robyn turned. ‘Oh, yeah. Looked uncomfortable.’ She turned back to the window.

  Jodie sat quietly, listening to her music for a moment. Then, without looking at Robyn, she put a hand out, found Robyn’s, and squeezed it. She felt a squeeze come back.

  Twenty-Nine

  Week seven - Tarts

  What was happening? As Robyn waited on set for the action to kick-off, it was still to ponder. Nearby, Jodie sat at her cooking island, reading a baking magazine. They hadn’t talked the whole week. The occasional text, asking about each other’s practise bakes for tart week. Robyn hadn’t dared push it beyond that. She had a feeling that whatever was happening between her and Jodie was intensely fragile. She felt like either of them could cock it up before it had even really started.

  Would it start, though? Robyn wasn’t so sure about that either. All she knew was that Jodie seemed like she was doing something that she found difficult, letting Robyn take the smallest step in her direction. Robyn was excited and scared. She still didn’t feel that she knew Jodie. But she wanted to. She thought that it might be worth the risk. She still burned at the humiliation Alex had heaped upon her. But there was something about the girl who’d been so cold once upon a time. A warmth had risen, subtly, infinitesimally, a slow bake. Robyn could feel it. She was irresistibly drawn to it.

  So she was giving up. She was going with the flow. She didn’t actually know what that meant; it was a phrase that people like her struggled with. But she was giving it a bash. She just wished that being relaxed didn’t take so much bloody effort.

  Tarts and Jodie. They were both burning her head out.

  ‘Robyn!’

  Robyn jumped and turned to the voice, Madeline. ‘So, week seven. Wow. Amazing, right?’

  ‘Yeah. I didn’t know if I’d make it past week one.’

  ‘You’ve certainly done better than that. You wanna head into the confessional, and we can get your thoughts before we start?’

  Robyn nodded. ‘Sure.’

  In the confessional set, Madeline sat behind the camera and said, ‘So… Jodie.’

  Robyn’s heart jumped up into her mouth.

  ‘Would you consider her your main rival, or is Dorothy the one to beat?’

  Robyn’s heart climbed back down out of her mouth and took position back inside her chest. ‘Oh, I don’t know. They’re both great. In fact, I’m sure they’ll be going head to head in the final once they’ve gotten me out of the way,’ Robyn said with a light chuckle.

  ‘But you’d like to get to the final, wouldn’t you?’ Madeline asked.

  ‘Oh, well…’ Robyn trailed off. To get this far and not begin to at least dream of getting to the end? Robyn was humble but she wasn’t that humble. ‘It would be nice, but I’m certainly not counting my chickens.’

  Madeline sighed and crossed her legs. ‘Robyn, you were tipped from the beginning to go all the way. I think you’ve got a shot. It’s OK to admit that.’

  Robyn grinned nervously. ‘Madeline, I don’t know…’

  ‘You know what I think would make a good final? You and Jodie. I mean, I like Dorothy, but… Well, you and Jodie, you’re such opposites.’

  ‘Yes, we are,’ Robyn agreed. If she knew one thing, it was that.

  ‘Off the record, how do you get on with her?’ Madeline asked.

  Robyn didn’t like this line of questioning at all. Despite Madeline’s pledge that this was, ‘Off the record,’ Robyn knew full well that anything she said could be taken down and used against her on a baking show. ‘Err, she’s… I mean, we’re…. Uhhh… I don’t really know her.’

  Madeline smiled. ‘You know, I heard a funny rumour about you two.’

  Oh shit.

  ‘Just between us, is it true?’

  ‘What rumour?’ Robyn asked, feeling transparent.

  Madeline winked. ‘OK, Robyn. You’re obviously playing your cards close to your chest. But Dorothy told me…’

  ‘Dorothy?’

  ‘Yes. She said everyone knew about you two, that you’re… involved.’

  ‘Why would she tell you that?’

  ‘You know Dorothy, she’s a talker. So, is it true?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Robyn said in a panic.

  ‘You don’t kno
w?’ Madeline laughed.

  Robyn gave up. ‘I just… It’s complicated.’

  ‘I must say, I’m surprised. She’s not exactly warm and fuzzy.’

  ‘She’s just… I think there’s a lot below the surface. More than she lets anyone see,’ Robyn said, annoyed at herself. Why was she blabbing? Maybe it was because she hadn’t talked to anyone about her and Jodie, and some part of her needed to process. Even on camera.