‘Leave it with me,’ Diane said. ‘I’ll get them.’
Anna was unsure. ‘This is a Wiltshire primary school. Keep it clean.’
‘I won’t embarrass anyone.’ Diane held her chin high and curtsied. ‘I’ll get your mum to help me.’
‘And that will help how?’
‘She’s a bit down because Tony is sick today.’
‘They’ve only been apart for fifteen hours.’ Anna looked at the clock.
‘Love is a splendid thing.’ Diane tied the apron around Anna’s waist. ‘Happy baking. See you later.’
Anna poured, whisked, blended as she was told. It was only once the cakes were in the oven that she spotted the raising agent on the side. But, she figured, how important could one ingredient be?
An hour later, Diane, true to her word, had the children home and was helping them off with their coats. She told Anna she had narrowly avoided bumping into Horatio again at the school gates, but Legs-Up-To-Armpits-Redhead had luckily intercepted their meeting and she’d heard Redhead twittering on about the cake sale the next morning. Diane had managed to glean, however, that Horatio would indeed be there.
‘OK,’ said Diane, flushed and grinning, ‘let’s see your masterpieces.’ Anna’s mother appeared at Diane’s side and they solemnly walked towards the oven. ‘They smell good.’
Her mother nodded. ‘Yes, amazingly, they do.’
Anna took a deep breath and grabbed the children’s hands. ‘Do you want to see them?’
The children looked as nervous as she did. Entering the kitchen, Anna felt the crunch of something underfoot and looked down to find millions of escapee sprinkles on the tiled floor, cherry juice dripping off the table, streamers all over the lightshade and, in the oven, the cakes that she, Anna Compton, a woman attempting to be a respectable mother, would be taking to the bake sale. She donned the oven gloves, checked her watch and, nodding, opened the door, drawing the tray out.
They watched, in silence, as both cakes with a beautiful spongy middle started to sag in the middle and continued to do so until they were as flat as pancakes.
‘Aren’t they great?’ Diane enthused in a false sing-song voice as she held her arms out wide.
‘Kids, you go on upstairs and change, then we’ll have supper,’ said Anna, tears pricking her eyes.
The twins ran from the room. Anna figured they were probably emotionally scarred for life, and she was on the verge of a domestic breakdown.
The cakes were atrocious. No, more than atrocious, and she felt like a failure. She started to cry, suddenly feeling so overwhelmed by life.
‘Guys, I can’t take these into school.’
‘No, I suppose not.’ Her mother looked dismayed. ‘They really are quite frightful.’
Anna looked at her mum. ‘Mum, not now.’
Diane sighed, looking genuinely shocked at Anna’s reaction. ‘Well, don’t worry, we could smother them in cream, who’s to know?’ She opened a bottle of red wine that was sitting on the side and poured out three small glasses. ‘At least we saw how great these cakes could be as they came out of the oven.’ She handed out the wine. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers,’ Anna said, holding up her glass, and then she remembered the bought cakes. ‘Now, can we give no reason for Moose-inda to rip me apart tomorrow and can you help me make these look homemade?’
They sat down and carefully smoothed chocolate icing over the Waitrose own cakes before supper, decorating liberally with sprinkles and party poppers.
The next morning, Anna woke in a cold sweat, having had a nightmare about a bake sale where women, perfect women, laughed openly at her cakes, her dress sense and her inability to fit in. Then she realised it wasn’t a nightmare, but a premonition.
She showered quickly and changed into the most conventional items she owned: black cut-offs and a denim shirt. She grabbed her mother’s tweed jacket, two sizes too big, but it was just to give the impression, anyway. While the children were bathing and getting changed, she practised holding her handbag in the crook of her arm and putting her hands through her hair in a nonchalant fashion. She found her black pumps and put the cakes by the door: ready for the off.
The twins looked scared as they put on their coats. ‘Mummy,’ Freddie said, ‘are the cakes OK?’
Anna nodded. ‘Yes, we made them all better.’
Diane kissed her on the cheek as she went to leave. ‘Sock it to them.’
Anna flashed her a nervous smile and nodded. ‘Here goes nothing.’
They arrived at the school gates, Anna’s stomach churning at the sight of a swarm of mothers with baked goodies in foil and Tupperware moving enthusiastically towards the door of the main hall. She got out, pleaded with the twins to do the same and grabbed the cakes from the front footwell.
The hall was a hive of activity and the twins’ teacher came bustling over to her, a worried look on her face. Then, on seeing Anna’s shop-bought cakes, relief crossed her features.
‘So good to see you, Miss Compton,’ she said and pointed to the far corner, ‘and you’re over here with Lucinda Deville. She mentioned you had met and I thought how nice it would be if you were together.’ She smiled. ‘So you have a friendly face to chat to.’
The children ran off in the direction of Horatio’s son, Jeremy, and Anna scanned the room for his father. He wasn’t hard to spot, being so tall, and when she looked his way, he nodded and smiled at her. She pretended not to have noticed and moved off in the direction of Lucinda.
‘Hello,’ Lucinda said, her face like stone.
‘Lucinda, hi. About yesterday…’
‘Don’t bother. Your friend clearly thinks she’s funny, but she only made a fool out of herself.’
Lucinda turned to preen her cakes and Anna pulled a face behind her back. When she looked up, Horatio was watching her and Anna busied herself with removing the cellophane from the plates, her cheeks burning.
Lucinda sidled up next to her and smiled. ‘They’re, um… fun?’
Anna looked at Lucinda’s towers of smooth, white icing, decorated with physalis and edible silver beads. ‘Yours are lovely.’ She couldn’t lie: they were objects of great beauty and made hers look even more ridiculous.
Soon, other parents were streaming into the hall, along with local villagers, in order to buy cakes and raise money.
‘What’s the money going towards?’ Anna asked Lucinda, who was busy reapplying her lipstick in a small vanity mirror.
‘A swimming pool. Though why Trumpsey Blazey Primary hasn’t got one already, I don’t know.’ She looked over the edge of her mirror at Anna. ‘I mean, I said to Rupert, why don’t we just buy them a pool? Why do we need to faff about with the fundraising side of it? There are plenty of people here who would see that as pocket money. I mean, I get that it would be a little bit awkward for someone like yourself…’ She smacked her lips together and smiled.
‘Awkward?’
‘Well, you know, the financially less well off, like you.’
Anna clenched her fists. ‘How do you know anything about my finances?’ Anna knew Moose-inda was right, in the sense that she had barely saved one hundred pounds since Simon had left her. But she was a working woman and not afraid to say so.
‘Do you know it’s crass to talk about money like that?’ She paused. ‘Anyway, I’m a journalist for The Post in London.’
Lucinda arched a brow. ‘Yes, I know. I’ve seen your witty little column on Trumpsey.’
‘Thank you, I guess,’ Anna said uncertainly.
Lucinda cackled. ‘Anyway, money is only ever a crass subject to those who don’t have any.’
Anna stared hard at the table and puffed out her cheeks in annoyance. A shadow passed across the cakes and Anna looked up.
‘Hi,’ Horatio said. ‘You OK?’
She nodded then shook her head, biting down on her lip. Lucinda, moving swiftly around the table, bounced up to where Horatio stood and air-kissed him.
‘Oh, it’s so good to
see you, Horatio. Have you brought along your divine triple-chocolate cake? Last year’s was such a triumph, wasn’t it?’ She remained unnervingly close to his face as she spoke and he was forced to take a step backwards. ‘Anna here is the new girl, so she wouldn’t know.’
Horatio looked at the cakes. ‘Yours are lovely, Lucinda, but I have to say that Anna’s really are splendid.’ He looked at her and she felt the prickle of heat creeping up her neck. ‘Did they take you long to bake? What kind of chocolate did you use?’
He was doing it on purpose: he knew she had bought them from a shop and he wanted to humiliate her in front of Moose-inda.
‘I baked them yesterday evening and I used some sort of posh chocolate. Can’t remember it’s name.’ She looked him in the eye, waiting for his next move, trying desperately to remember what exactly she had done when she made her lifeless cakes.
He smiled. ‘Well, Anna, you should put yours forward to be judged.’
‘Judged?’ Anna echoed.
‘Yes, one of the teachers judges a selection of the cakes each year. It’s just a bit of fun, but yours look like worthy winners.’
Lucinda glanced at Anna crossly. ‘And mine. I think I should put mine forward, don’t you, Horatio?’
He smiled at her. ‘Naturally.’
The headmistress, a formidable woman of no more than five feet two, with at least a size J bust, passed by their table and Horatio beckoned her over.
‘Mrs Beecham, you’ve met Miss Compton, mother to Antonia and Freddie, haven’t you?’
Mrs Beecham nodded and smiled, her features softening. ‘Yes. We met when you came to look around, didn’t we? So glad you chose our school. The twins seem very happy here.’ She looked at Lucinda. ‘I wonder if I might have a word later?’
‘Of course, but is everything OK?’
‘We can talk later,’ Mrs Beecham said.
‘Mrs Beecham, I think we should enter both Anna’s and Lucinda’s cakes into the competition, don’t you?’
Mrs Beecham glanced at the cakes. ‘Definitely. They look wonderful. I’ll get Miss Peters to come by this way.’ She turned back to the crowded hall. ‘Gosh, so lovely to see so many people here.’ Mrs Beecham walked off.
Lucinda grabbed her bag and ran after her, calling out to Horatio to make sure no one sold any of her cakes until the judging was over.
‘How’s Tony getting on up at yours?’
‘Fine, thank you. He’s provided my mother with hours of entertainment. She even believes she may be in love with him.’
Horatio chuckled. ‘Really? I always knew there was something special about that man.’
Anna stared ahead, unwilling to make eye contact. ‘But there was no need to do that, nor was there any need to send such a rude accompanying note.’
He laughed. ‘Well, I’ve gathered you don’t take favours easily and I wanted to make sure you used him. He’s good. Has he done all the jobs you’ve asked of him?’ He brushed some stray crumbs off the tablecloth. ‘It was the least I could do to welcome you.’
‘It’s quite an extravagant gift.’ She picked up her bag, searching for her phone. She would ring Diane and ask her to come down and save her.
‘I saw you with the anti-hunt protest in town. I didn’t know you were against hunting.’
She snapped her head up. ‘There is a lot you don’t know about me, Mr Horatio. You always act like you know me, but in fact you don’t.’ She watched him steadily. ‘Anyway, hunting is awful and you shouldn’t go around killing innocent, fluffy little foxes.’
He smiled. ‘I don’t.’
‘Well, that’s not true for a start.’ She met his eyes. ‘I saw you, that first day, out with the hunt.’
He shook his head. ‘My father was the head of the hunt. He died earlier this year and I was asked to step in until they found someone to replace him. I actually can’t stand it, but, sadly, duty called.’ He smiled. ‘That’s why I was alone. You might remember I was by myself that day. I broke away from them and I was heading home.’
‘Well, you acted like a pompous git.’
‘You’re right, I suppose I did. It’s only because I was expecting you to hurl abuse out of the window like most of the locals. Not that I blame them. Most people can’t stand the hunt. I didn’t want to be there, but I had to act like I did. Does that make sense?’
‘Well, I did want to hurl abuse at you.’
‘And you’ve done a good job since.’ He paused. ‘Anyway, what were you doing at the protest?’
‘Doing a write-up for The Post.’
He grinned. ‘I’m very much enjoying your column.’
Anna blushed and they both turned to see Lucinda making her way back to the table, her face pale. Anna couldn’t be sure, but she thought Lucinda was shaking.
‘Are you OK?’ Anna asked.
‘Yes, fine,’ Lucinda snapped.
‘Oh, all right, it’s just you look a bit upset.’
‘It’s nothing you would understand.’ Lucinda looked up at Horatio, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a tissue. ‘Mrs Beecham just told me Jemimah’s year can’t come to ours for a picnic. Apparently, that would be looked upon as favouritism. It’s so silly, isn’t it, Horatio? I mean, we have a ten-acre garden and I said I’d get the catering company to do vegetarian options and so on. I was even prepared to put up a marquee so they wouldn’t get sunburn.’
Horatio’s jaw clenched. ‘Yes, but Lucinda, you must see her point. A school trip should be fun and educational.’
‘Oh, Horatio, you’re always so diplomatic.’ She stroked his arm. ‘I suppose if Mrs Beecham had put it like that, then I would have understood and not got quite so frightfully upset.’ She smiled. ‘I’ll go and find Mrs Beecham again and tell her that for the sake of education I’ll pay for entertainment. Do you think bringing in some zoo animals might do the trick?’ She beamed. ‘Yes, I think that’s the answer. Won’t be a tick.’ She scuttled off again.
‘Oh, I wish Diane was here,’ Anna said aloud.
‘Your friend?’
‘Yes. Yesterday she put Lucinda in her place and, of course, Moose-inda… I mean Lucinda… didn’t take it well.’
A woman came up to the stand. Her name badge identified her as Miss Peters, and she smiled warmly at Anna. ‘Hi, Miss Compton, I was told your cakes look fantastic and you want to enter the competition.’
‘Well, I’m not sure, it’s just that…’
‘She does,’ a voice came from off to her left. ‘Very much so.’ Diane smiled at her. ‘Got your text. Heard bitch-face is giving you a hard time.’
Anna shot Diane a look and smiled apologetically at Miss Peters. ‘Just a bit of friendly banter.’
‘Right, well, let’s slice into the cakes and have a look, shall we?’ Miss Peters took a knife to the cake at the front.
By now a crowd had begun to encircle Miss Peters and the hall was beginning to look like Antiques Roadshow. Anna concentrated on her ‘interested’ face and would follow it up with her ‘it’s all right, I didn’t want to sell it anyway’ face. If things went well, then she would definitely produce her ‘thank you so much for telling me I’m now a millionaire but still I won’t be parted from the ugly
‘What does she get?’ Diane piped up.
Miss Peters looked up as she chewed Anna’s cake like she was moving cud around her mouth. ‘Get?’
‘You know, if she wins. No one enters a competition for the sake of it.’
Lucinda reappeared once again behind the table and Horatio stepped out of her way and stood off to the side. Diane grimaced at Lucinda, who pointedly ignored her in return.
‘In this case, the winner receives the grand honour of being known as Trumpsey Blazey Primary’s best baker. Last year, it went to Lucinda here with her raspberry and caramel swirls. They were quite out of this world.’
Lucinda dipped her head and smiled beatifically out at her audience as if she had just won Miss World. Anna was fully expecting
her to run off and change into a swimsuit for the next part.
‘That is quite delicious,’ Miss Peters said and turned to Lucinda’s pyramids. ‘Let’s try this.’ She pressed a clean fork into the cake and the audience gasped with delight. Miss Peters, now clearly enjoying her role as a less elegant Mary Berry, looked out at the crowd and said, ‘Did you hear that? That was the sound of perfection.’
‘Oh, pur-lease,’ Diane said. ‘It’s a fucking cake.’
The audience reeled at Diane’s use of a swear word and a couple of women giggled nervously in the front row.
‘Language, please,’ said Miss Peters. ‘This is a bake sale after all.’
Diane murmured, ‘Sorry.’
Miss Peters finished her mouthful and put down her notepad. ‘Now, for the big test… The bottom. No one likes a soggy bottom.’ Miss Peters laughed with delight at her own joke.
Anna watched her carefully slice through Lucinda’s cake once more and turn the slice upside down, prodding it with her finger. Out of the corner of her eye, Anna caught sight of Lucinda’s small feet shuffling with expectation and excitement.
‘A very good bottom, Mrs Deville.’
Lucinda beamed and giggled. ‘It’s all the yoga, Miss Peters.’ The audience laughed at her wit and quieted down just as quickly as Miss Peters sliced into Anna’s cake once more.
‘Right, let’s see what your bottom is like, Miss Compton.’
Lucinda snorted.
‘Oh dear. This is unfortunate.’ Miss Peters looked from the cake to Anna. ‘I’m going to have to exclude you from this competition.’
‘Why?’ Diane said. ‘She put a lot of work into that.’
‘Because of this.’ Miss Peters held up the slice and there, in all its glory, was a strip of edible rice paper that read: Made lovingly by Waitrose.
Lucinda was already making her way up onto the stage to give her speech and Anna stared in disbelief at Diane. ‘You didn’t check the bottom?’
Diane shrugged. ‘Why would you check the bottom of a cake?’
‘Because of precisely this,’ Anna whispered hotly.
She saw the twins run past, chasing Jeremy, and was glad the children hadn’t yet registered her massive mummy-fail.
The Little Cottage in the Country Page 11
