Chapter 13
C lem couldn’t decide if Genie’s smile was genuine, or cunning.
Like a fox, Genie could be pretty and glossy, but sly, if she was after scraps.
What was going on? Why was she here? There was no time to ask and Clem certainly didn’t want that particular conversation to be caught on camera, either.
She had to get away as quickly as she could before the film crew noticed anything odd here.
‘Hi,’ said Clem stiffly. ‘Excuse me . . . I have to . . .’
She hurried away after Sylvie, the excuses dying in her throat. Clem raced across the grass, towards the others. She didn’t once glance back to see Genie’s reaction, or if she was following.
‘Who was that?’ Sylvie whispered to her.
Thankfully, the camera wasn’t focused on them anymore, as the next pair of contestants were taking their biscuits across to the crowd.
‘Someone I used to know . . .’ said Clem slowly. Her insides were blazing, like she’d been run through with a hot poker, and there was a roaring sound in her ears threatening to drown everything else out. ‘I don’t know why she was there . . .’
‘Maybe she heard about you being in the contest?’ Sylvie suggested.
Numb, Clem nodded. ‘Maybe . . .’
But why had she joined the audience – or more accurately, how ? Clem had heard they would be a mixture of the camera team’s family, and friends of the contestants. Genie hadn’t been her friend in a long time. Why was she here? Did she know someone on the film crew?
When the guests had been served and were enjoying their baked goods, the Whisked Away team led Clem, Sylvie, and the other contestants across to the canopy running along the side of the tent.
Clem was mildly dizzy, and wished she’d brought her squishy cat so she could clench it, but she’d been afraid of another Reina-style incident.
Refreshments had been laid out for them to enjoy: fluffy triangular sandwiches, bread sticks with assorted dip, tubs of creamy pasta, bowls of crisps, slices of bright watermelon, sausage rolls and miniature pies, and various colourful fruit juices and fizzy drinks.
There were huge cool boxes filled with ice for keeping drinks chilled.
Clem was grateful this part wasn’t being filmed – Genie’s face was imprinted on her memory, as if she’d stared too hard at the sun and it had left a garish mark.
The audience was on the other side of the tent, out of sight, having their reactions and responses to the bakes filmed, but she couldn’t let her guard down even if she wanted to.
What was she up to, coming here? Clem assessed the refreshments but was too uneasy and swirly inside to touch anything, including the strawberries, which looked plump and delicious.
The sun dipped behind a cloud, making everything duller.
‘You did such a great job, Clem,’ Sylvie said, helping herself to a paper plate and napkin, and selecting a few sandwiches.
Clem smiled, hoping the alarm about Genie wasn’t showing on her face. She tried to school it into neutrality. ‘Thanks, so did you.’
‘Hey, congratulations,’ said a voice.
Sylvie and Clem turned. Dwayne was standing behind them, Lucas a few steps away, looking unsure if he should approach. Around them, the other contestants were milling around, grabbing plates and pouring out cups of orange juice and fizzing Coke.
‘You too!’ said Sylvie. ‘The dog versus cat game continues!’
‘It’s more fun this way,’ said Dwayne, reaching around Sylvie to grab a bottle of water. He threw one to Lucas, who caught it. Clem lifted her eyebrows at his reflexes. Why had that done all sorts of things to her chest, making it feel tangled and jumpy?
Clem drifted to the side table to get some orange juice while Sylvie and Dwayne chatted absently about their cafés.
By the time Clem had finished pouring herself some orange juice and grabbed some ice to dump into the plastic cup, Lucas was at her elbow, fumbling with his water bottle, as if something was on his mind.
Her heartbeat was loud and furious in her ears; it wouldn’t settle down, still stuck in panic mode because of Genie.
What was she doing on the other side of the tent right now?
Was she being filmed by the crew, and telling tales about Clem to the camera?
What if she’d somehow found out Clem hadn’t really chosen to enter the competition herself initially, and had come here to reveal that to everyone?
No , Clem told herself. There was no way she could know; only Clem and Sylvie knew.
She took a swig of orange juice, the ice cold against her teeth, trying to dispel her speculations.
It was cool and refreshing and eased some of the panicky heat inside her.
‘Why did you do that, back there?’ she asked Lucas, desperate to stop thinking about Genie.
‘Do what?’ he asked her.
‘You know . . . you helped me, twice. With the eggs, and when I tripped . . .’
‘Oh.’ He scraped a hand along the top of his neck, ruffling some spiky strands of dark hair.
She’d never wanted to mimic someone’s actions more – to run her own fingers along the bottom of his hair – and she had to look away.
Everyone was speculating about them online already, and she was developing a crush.
How could she not? He was gorgeous, helpful, kind.
But she should quash this before it got out of hand.
There were too many things to worry about already.
‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘I didn’t really think, if I’m honest.’
She didn’t understand. He must have seen those comments online, like she had. Sylvie and Dwayne had drifted away from them to help themselves to some mini desserts – jelly and cupcakes – spread out on another table nearby, which some of the other contestants were clustered around.
‘I guess I did it automatically,’ he elaborated, with a shrug. ‘Habit, from work at the café and . . .’ His sentence petered out.
‘It’s probably not a good idea to help me,’ she said, ‘even though I do appreciate it.’
‘You mean because of what everyone’s saying about us, online?’
‘Well, yes.’
He sighed. ‘I know what you mean. I don’t want them to get the wrong idea either . . .’ He cleared his throat. ‘But we’re part of this competition together, whether we like it or not, aren’t we? We have to interact at some point.’
‘I know.’
He smiled at her. ‘Though maybe I’ll try to restrain myself . . . with the helping.’
She couldn’t help it – she laughed. Because that conjured up many different kinds of thoughts in her brain about not wanting him to restrain himself with her.
For a split second, she allowed herself to slip into a daydream where he came over to help her in the tent, and instead scooped her up, lifting her onto the workstation so her legs dangled over the sides, before leaning in for a delicious kiss . . .
Nope. Absolutely not. This was not a daydream she should indulge, even if he did look as delicious as the best kinds of dessert.
‘Sorry,’ Lucas added. ‘I hope I didn’t get in your way.’
‘Of course you didn’t. It’s really that automatic?’ she said, pushing aside her wild imaginings. ‘Helping others?’
Now he looked uncomfortable, shifting on his feet in the grass, and she wasn’t sure why. ‘Maybe? I dunno.’
‘It’s fine,’ she said quickly. ‘Like I said, I do appreciate it. I just wish people weren’t talking about it all over the internet . . .’
Genie’s laughing face swam in her mind – the way she’d thrown her head back and mocked Clem, years ago – and she took another swig of ice-cold juice.
It should hurt less by now, but it didn’t.
She must have heard about Clem making it onto the contest. But she didn’t even live in Cumbria anymore.
So why was she here now? Had she moved back permanently, or had she only come to bother Clem during Whisked Away ?
Clem swallowed; she wasn’t sure how she’d feel if there was a risk she’d bump into Genie more frequently.
‘Maybe try to avoid helping me on camera,’ she suggested to Lucas, shoving aside her Genie-related worries yet again.
They were like an overly persistent bluebottle fly, and less pleasant than her daydreams about Lucas, which seemed more appealing suddenly.
‘Don’t give them any more fuel,’ she added.
‘Don’t feed the trolls?’ he said, with a light smile, which she returned.
‘Sure, but . . .’ It was his turn to hesitate now, and she looked at him curiously.
He gave what sounded like a nervous laugh, and the sheepishness transformed his face, making him look several years younger.
And downright adorable. ‘Well, are you okay being the centre of attention on-camera, by yourself, if something happens, like it did with the eggs?’ Before she could process what he was saying, he was carrying on, in a rush of words: ‘If the attention’s that bad for you, maybe it’s better to share it? ’
When Clem finally realised what he was getting at, a lump rose so quickly to her throat, she had to take another drink of juice to fight it down. He was offering to shield her from the attention.
‘Why would you do that?’ she said. ‘Do you like being on camera?’ Maybe he was a natural at it? He did seem more confident than she was. She thought of what he’d said at Catpurrcino. ‘Or is this one of your strategies, for handling it?’
‘It could be?’ he said. ‘I see how it freaks you out, whereas I really don’t care what people say, or think, about me.’
‘Really?’ Clem studied the smoothness of the orange juice in her cup, swirling it absently, the ice cubes reflecting the light like orbs of glass. The offer was kind. ‘I wish I could be more like that.’