Chapter Fifty
Ruby
Clive coughs, splutters, and shouts all at once. I cover my face as if I’m shocked, but it’s to prevent me from revealing my smile.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” I squeal, my body trembling.
He gulps down water. His face is bright red, and his eyes bore into me, but he can’t get under my flesh, although my petrified stare suggests otherwise. “What did you do to that cake?”
I know his reactions before he does. The first is shock about how gross the cake tastes, but I’m holding out for the second reaction.
He gags, and I shake violently as if I put my heart and soul into every crumb. Technically, I put my love for Garett into it.
“I made it to the recipe,” I stutter. The exact recipe.
Now comes the aftertaste.
His eyes are wide, and he presses his lips together.
Boom.
“Is everything okay?” I ask as he takes another bite. The two cameras are fixed on this moment. Everyone in the audience is silent as the scene unfolds. Garett whispers to my dad. I can lip-read Dad’s reply. Just wait, champ.
Clive’s eyes pinch, and his tongue moves around his mouth, pressing his cheeks out occasionally. “Clive, I’m so sorry if I did something wrong,” I say. Every pathetic moment in my relationship with Neil helped me create that confused, sad voice.
“What is in this cake? Specifically, what ingredients?” he snarls at me.
“Self-raising flour, milk, softened butter, eggs, a little baking powder, sugar—caster sugar.” I reel off the ingredients while ticking the things off my fingers. I do it slowly as if I’m confused. It will annoy him further. I know what he wants, but he doesn’t realise that yet. “I used muscovado sugar once. That was a big mistake.”
I laugh, but he doesn’t laugh with me. Betty and a couple of the other bakers do, though. They know what a mistake that would be.
He taps his fork hard and repeatedly against the countertop until the floor manager waves his arms. He sneers, “And what else?”
“Ummm.” I tap my fingers against my chin. Clive’s face gets redder. “Good question. Oh yes.” He raises his eyebrows. “There’s buttercream, too, and all the decorations. So we have softened butter. I’ve used so much of that when practising. Icing sugar, vanilla extract. Everyone in my family loved my preparation for this competition, including my boyfriend, who is a chef. He’s called Garett. You might know him. He’s outstanding. Anyway then, for the decoration we have—”
“Stop,” he roars. The filming crew wave their arms and rush around behind the cameras. Clive is meant to be less nasty than Gordon Ramsay but fiercer than Martha Stewart. I gasp as if scared. I want to bring this man down. Barry smiles awkwardly at the audience, but Clive hasn’t finished ranting. “Your boyfriend is Garett Kelsey?”
I nod. I suck my lips into my mouth and make my eyes wide like I’m an innocent young woman. “He helped me with a few bits. I hope that’s not cheating.”
“Did he give you ingredient ideas? I meant the ingredients you haven’t mentioned yet, the ones that have given your cake its… unique flavour.” He presses me with his questions.
I smile broadly. “Yes, he did. He’s so good to me. I don’t deserve him.”
Clive’s jaw hardens. I laugh but cover it with a fake sneeze. “Sorry, Clive. Allergies.” Allergies to massive shitheads.
“And what ingredients make your unique flavours?” He nears me, and I step back as if worried. Again, the filming crew shake their heads. He can’t be seen bullying a lovely baking contestant.
“That’s a good question.” I tip my head to the side. “It’s a really good question.”
Time ticks by slowly. His body shakes beside me with increasing anger.
“Answer me, then!”
I hold my tongue as someone from the filming crew rushes to him and says in his ear loudly, “Maybe we should announce the winner.”
He pushes the staff member hard enough to make the audience murmur.
“Not yet. I need to know what’s in this cake.”
And that’s when I land my blow. “You should know. They’re the same ingredients from ‘your’ famous pasta recipe,” I counter, “the one you haven’t made since you won that competition.”
The crowd gasps, led by my mum, Kath, Amber, Wicksy, and Kalen. They’re loud and attention-seeking, and everyone joins in.
Clive fists his hands. “I’m aware. You’ve stolen my secret ingredient.”
“That’s impossible, Clive. How would I know it? They’re your secret ingredients”—I emphasise the plural—“that you famously said you never told anyone.”
“But I—”
I turn from confusion to confrontation. “So what is in the cake? If you don’t tell everyone, then I will. Why haven’t you made any pasta since the competition?”
He stutters before snapping, “I haven’t been able to source the ingredients. They’re hard to get hold of.”
“That’s weird because I bought them from the local supermarket. Try again. Why haven’t you made it since?”
He bashes his fist on the table. “Tell me what the ingredients are.”
“Clive, why are you so angry? You must know,” Barry Barringer replies. “Whisper them to me, and I’ll get Ruby to whisper, too, and I’ll tell you if they match.”
“I can’t,” he snaps.
“Why not?” An unsuspecting Barry does my job for me.
Clive looks around. His eyes are wild. “Maybe we should cut to something else.”
“That’s not how livestreaming works, Clive.”
“Tell them, Clive,” I say slowly. “Tell them why you can’t reveal the ingredients, or I will.”
Clive looks set to run off, but that’s when Dad and Garett walk on. They stand on either side of him.
My family in the audience start the chant, “Tell us. Tell us. Tell us” Soon, the audience roars the words while the cameras film. A staff member whispers that the number of viewers are going up and up.
Barry silences the crowd with his raised hand. “Maybe you should tell us what this is all about,” he says, turning to me.
I don’t miss a beat. “For this year’s Cotswold’s Best Restaurant, Garett Kelsey made a special pasta dish with his secret ingredients.” Barry tries to jump in, but I shake my head. “As soon as it went to judging, Clive Macdonald ditched Garett. They’d developed the restaurant together, but for reasons I won’t share, Garett wasn’t on the deeds. Once he’d ousted Garett from the restaurant, Clive threatened every restaurant, eatery, and cooking school in the area with ruin if they employed him. The Cloud Cookery School doesn’t respond to the threats of bullies, so he’s run sessions at our cookery school ever since. He’s made pasta and bread using the secret ingredients at school. I used them in the cake today to show what a fraud Clive is. Clive can’t distinguish what they are because he never knew.”
Barry rounds on Clive. “Is this true?”
“Clive also stole Garett’s dog, Cookie, the face of the restaurant, and sent cruel messages to Garett. He treated Cookie badly, but we rescued him,” I add.
The audience shouts in disgust.
Clive bellows, “You took him?”
“We rescued him,” a member of the audience hollers. Red hair flies as she runs down the stairs to stand in front of the camera.
Barry’s eyelids flicker. “Who are you?”
“I’m Clive’s sister. Everything Ruby said is true. My brother is a nasty piece of work. I’ve tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but I can’t anymore. Do you know that he now employs the prettiest inexperienced women in his restaurant and then tries it on with them even though he already has trained and experienced staff?”
The audience gasps.
My sister yells, “Oh my God. He’s a dog-stealing misogynist.”
“And he’s stolen someone else’s hard work. He’s the worst. I’d hate to eat his food. I bet it tastes of lies,” my mum shouts.
It’s all I can do not to laugh. There’s no one like a Cloud woman.
“Everyone, calm down. There’s one key person we haven’t heard from. Garett Kelsey, I recognise you,” Barry says, turning to Garett, who works his jaw like he’s trying to destroy his teeth. I slip a piece of gum out of my pocket and pass it to him. His stare is all knotted eyebrows and twisted lips. I’m not surprised. I angrily blasted him out of the cookery school the last time I spoke to him. “You’re an amazing chef. I still remember the focaccia starter you made at a restaurant two years ago. I asked for extra to take home.”
“You should taste this.” I tip my head at Mum, who rushes down with a Tupperware box.
“I'm a big fan, Barry. Massive. If I weren’t married, I’d want your number,” Mum says with a wink.
“Mum, get back up the stairs,” I hiss.
She winks at Barry. “I’ll look you up if anything happens to my man.”
Amber moans, “Mum.” Kath chuckles, and Dad shrugs.
“Anyway, I'm afraid this is a day old, but we’ve tried to keep it fresh.” I pass Barry some of the bread that Garett brought to our Christmas meal yesterday. “While you enjoy it, Garett can fill you in.”
Barry pulls a bit off the remaining loaf and pops it into his mouth. His loud moan echoes around us. “That’s bloody gorgeous.”
I nudge Garett. “Tell him what happened.”
As Barry stuffs more of the bread in his mouth, Garett tells him and the cameras everything that Clive did. It’s honest and raw, and I want to pull him into my arms. To my surprise, he also explains why his credit was so low. The Garett who had more barriers than an army base is now so beautifully open that I find tears slipping down my cheeks. I push them away, shaking my head. He sees though. Of course he does.
“Every story needs a hero, and you’re ours,” Barry says, returning to the camera.
“The Cloud family are your real heroes. They were the only ones who gave me a chance, and they welcomed me like no one ever has. Clive’s sister, Flora, is also an honorary Cloud family member.”
“Then let’s bring them all down.”