Chapter 11
T he first round of the contest came around fast .
Lucas hadn’t been able to keep his attention off social media in the lead-up to it; he usually didn’t bother, save for updating the Muddy Paws Café accounts every so often with events or offers.
People were still acting like he and Clem were fictional characters in some TV drama they could theorise about, not real people.
I hope they get together!! some of them squealed in comments sections.
If this was how people were behaving before they’d truly got started, how were they going to act in the second round, or the third, if he and Clem were still in the competition?
He’d had no idea Ronan’s fans were so rabid or that people cared so much about the contestants of Whisked Away .
He was standing outside Muddy Paws Café with Dwayne, rucksacks on their backs, waiting for the coach that would be picking up the contestants.
They’d decided to close up the café on the contest round days, even though it meant losing money – hopeful that any progress in the competition meant more business on the other days when they remained open.
‘Are you still checking your phone?’ Dwayne said, clucking his tongue in disapproval. ‘Get off it, mate. It’s not worth looking.’
‘Clem’s probably looking.’
‘You’re worried about her,’ said Dwayne slyly.
‘Shut up. I’m not. It was an inane comment.’ But Lucas felt a sharp twang, like an elastic band being snapped in his ribcage. He sucked in a breath, unable to help it – he was worried about her. What would she be thinking as she read these comments?
‘Inane my backside,’ said Dwayne.
Lucas ignored him. Maybe Clem wouldn’t show up for the first round, with all this going on? It seemed like it was going to be a lot to deal with for both of them.
About five minutes later, the coach came driving smoothly down the road.
It was a sleek white thing with dark, tinted windows, shining in the early morning light as if they’d been washed until squeaky clean that very morning.
When the door swung open with a whoosh, they hopped on, and a driver in a Whisked Away shirt wished them a good morning and pointed them to their seats.
Little pieces of paper were sticking up from the top of each seat, with their names written on.
They said hello to their fellow contestants as they passed, nodding and smiling and exchanging good mornings.
Dwayne was in the seat by the window, Lucas in the aisle.
They sat down and the coach rolled away from Muddy Paws, past the moored ships at the port and the glittering surface of the lake.
Out of curiosity, Lucas checked the empty seats across from theirs, and the names written on the paper.
Typical. They had to have done it on purpose.
Catpurrcino , the papers read.
Clem would be sitting directly across from them. He dug around in his rucksack to take a swig of water.
‘Oakside next, I imagine,’ said Dwayne, giving him a suggestive grin. He leaned forward. ‘What were you looking at? Who’s sat there?’
Lucas tried in vain to shove Dwayne further back in his seat, but it was too late.
‘Ahh!’ Dwayne laughed. ‘I see they’re aligning the lovebirds perfectly—’
Looking at his friend’s shirt choice for the day – white, with Dalmatian print, this time, in honour of their café’s name – Lucas warned, ‘If you end up coming in a lovebird shirt next time, I swear—’
‘ Ooh , great idea, I hadn’t thought about that . . .’
Lucas bopped him in the arm with his water bottle.
All too soon, they were arriving in Oakside, red-brown brick buildings springing up either side of the road, and climbing the hill to the cat café.
It was still early, the sunshine hazy and partly concealed by clouds, birds cheeping happily in the trees.
Clem and Sylvie were standing beneath the café’s awning, Clem’s hair night-black and standing out more prominently through the dark film of the window’s tint.
His stomach flopped like a pancake being turned.
She had her arms folded, as if to contain something.
It was cool so early in the morning in spite of the recent warm weather, so she was wearing a dark jacket and a long pleated skirt with a shirt tucked in loosely.
A quote was printed on the front of the shirt, reading life is better with cats , surrounded by the outline of a cat’s body and tail.
When she boarded the bus behind Sylvie, the earthy colours she wore were revealed.
He’d never seen anyone look so good in greens and beiges before, or maybe he’d simply never paid attention.
Lucas cleared his throat. Being Dwayne’s friend was clearly making him pay too much attention to other people’s clothing choices.
‘Ah, here we are,’ said Sylvie when they reached their seats, and she slid in, sitting next to the window. ‘Right across from Team Dog!’ She beamed over at Lucas and Dwayne.
Dwayne waved at them and elbowed Lucas, who gave a weak, ‘Hi.’
Clem smiled softly and sat down, shoving her backpack beneath the seat.
She kept her hands planted in her lap the rest of the journey, her head angled toward Sylvie and the scenery flashing by the window.
Lucas was acutely aware of the small distance between them, as if her body was giving off crackling waves of electricity that he could feel.
He kept his own gaze fixed on the landscapes – the hills and the sheep and the towering craggy mounds rolling by. He tried not to look at her, if he could help it.
Wray Castle in Claife was their final destination.
Lucas had visited the castle itself once, in school, but he’d forgotten how imposing it was.
They circled into the car park, passing a series of flowers in spaced-apart clusters along the grass, and he peered out of the window.
The Gothic-style castle rose up from behind a high stone wall, some of its jagged towers and stone walls etched with arrow slits, the windows pushed deep into the structure.
The entrance was huge and arched, sitting between two of the towers.
He couldn’t see much else; the stone walls concealed the rest from view.
The contestants filed off the bus, into the coolness of the early morning. Birds were singing their melodies in the trees and a thin layer of mist hung over the surrounding landscape.
‘Nice location,’ Dwayne said at his side. ‘Wonder how Ronan swung this one? Didn’t they film a movie here?’
‘Dunno,’ Lucas replied. The back of his head was warm, as if Clem was a physical heat behind him.
A huge white tent had been erected on the sprawl of bottle-green grass near the castle.
The tent was glowing in the sunshine that had just managed to break through the shrouded clouds.
It wasn’t a run-of-the-mill tent, either: it was luxurious and long, with an entrance at one end, less wide than the rest and topped off with spring bunting.
There were several pointed sections along the top, like miniature roofs or wizard’s hats, and each side of the tent had a transparent film running along it.
Towards the back, there was a canopy to provide shade, and some empty tables.
A short distance from the tent, there was another, much wider canopy offering a patch of shade to a cluster of empty tables and chairs.
Each table was draped with a white cloth; this must be for the small audience invited for each round to taste-test their bakes and to get footage of real people enjoying their creations.
The camera crew were already here preparing, and staff in black Whisked Away shirts hurried about like bumblebees in search of pollen. Lucas caught sight of a row of kitchen counters in pale green, and twinkling fairy lights, inside the main tent.
‘This way!’ a woman called, gesturing at a gate in the fencing, leading onto the grass. ‘Come along, we’ll get you into the tent now.’
The group tramped forward, over the grass. Clem was walking behind him. He cast a glance over his shoulder. Her hazel eyes were wide and there was a pink tint to her cheeks that made his neck prickle.
‘I’m disappointed we aren’t going inside the castle,’ Lucas commented. He was still looking at Clem and she turned towards him, offering up a faint smile.
‘It’s too small,’ Dwayne said. ‘For a big tent and all those workstations, at least. And it’s a visitor attraction so we’d be in the way of everyone else, even if we could fit inside.’
They were ushered into the tent entrance, and Dwayne whistled.
The entrance segment to the tent was decorated with a zig-zag of glittering fairy lights that touched everything with their golden light, like fireflies.
It reminded him of a garden centre, with plenty of shadowy corners provided by the leafy plants, making the lights glow more brightly.
The plants were interspersed with pot animals: white swans, painted badgers, cream-coloured rabbits, hedgehogs, and jewelled turtles with flowers bursting from their backs.
‘No dogs or cats. Scandalous,’ Dwayne muttered in disapproval, as the group of contestants were guided through.
Lucas replied with a wry smile. Behind them, Sylvie laughed.
The mini garden led straight to the workstations.
Two rows of wooden green workstations were set out neatly, with plenty of space between them and a walkway up the middle.
It was spacious and bright in here, the transparent parts of the tent allowing in plenty of light.
There were a few eggshell-blue fridges gleaming along the outskirts, along with more decorations: copper pans hanging from the walls, teacups and fake cakes stacked on more shelving.
One big, wider counter spanned the back of the tent, and to the left was a kettle and coffee-making facilities.
The woman from Whisked Away got them set up at their individual workstations. ‘You’ll have everything you’ll need here,’ she told them. ‘Oven and hob, ingredients, mixer. Take some time to familiarise yourself with the stations before the judges get here.’
Clattering and chatter followed her words as everyone got acquainted with their set-ups. Lucas rummaged around in the workstation with Dwayne. She was right: they were well equipped.
‘They’re near to us again,’ Dwayne muttered, nodding at Sylvie and Clem. They were at the workstation directly beside Lucas and Dwayne, and Lucas was finding it difficult not to focus on Clem’s skirt swishing as she moved, because it made it too tempting to look at her.
Within ten minutes, Ronan and the other judges had breezed into the tent, followed by the camera crew.
As usual, their styles could not be more different: Ronan’s curls were bouncy and he wore a pale green chequered suit with a baby-pink tie.
Viviana was in a long black dress, with a cropped white jacket draped across her shoulders, gold buttons shining.
Beside her, Laurette was in a pair of fashionable dark shorts and a flowery blouse, and Jonathan had on his trademark designer glasses and a perfectly pressed navy shirt.
‘Good morning, all!’ Ronan called out, clapping his hands together and grinning around at them as they fell silent. ‘We hope you’re prepared for round one! Let’s begin.’