Chapter 6
Chapter Six
The afternoon sun glinted off the turquoise waves at Blue Water Bay.
Clemmie was sprawled on a pastel chequered picnic blanket, her floppy sun hat shielding her face from the sun as she sipped from her water bottle.
Next to her, Amelia was stretched out with a paperback novel, pretending to read but mainly staring at the waves.
Dilly, their other best friend and owner of the Puffin Island lighthouse, who was having a couple of hours free time from her twins, was carefully assembling an elaborate cheese board for their picnic.
‘This,’ Amelia sighed, gesturing vaguely at the scenery with her book, ‘is what Sunday afternoons are made for. Sunshine, snacks and absolutely no drama.’
Clemmie smiled and watched her friends, knowing the news she was about to share would bring all the drama. ‘You mean, aside from the fact that I nearly kissed Oliver Lockwood in my kitchen yesterday?’
Amelia dropped her book and Dilly froze mid-grape-placement, their eyes wide and locked on Clemmie.
‘Say that again,’ they chorused.
‘It wasn’t intentional! He let himself into the café before opening and caught me mid-flour disaster, then…’
‘Then?’ pressed Amelia.
‘I let him get under my skin and we danced to our old song.’
‘Wait, wait, wait,’ Amelia interrupted, waving her hand frantically. ‘Back up. You danced? Like, actual dancing? With music?’
‘Yes, with music,’ Clemmie admitted. ‘The radio was on, and … oh, it’s too embarrassing!’
‘Please tell me it was something cheesy. Like Whitney Houston,’ chipped in Dilly.
‘No!’ Clemmie laughed. ‘Anyway, we were just about to kiss when Granny walked in and ruined the moment … which, looking back, could have possibly done me a favour.’
‘Oh my, this is brilliant! I told you he’d come back for you.’
‘Although you did tell us that you would never go anywhere near that man even if he was the last man on earth,’ Dilly added.
‘I know, and I could kick myself, but it just happened. I was totally stupid.’
‘It’s clear you two have unfinished business,’ said Dilly.
‘I’m not proud of myself for almost giving into temptation so easily, and it definitely can’t happen again. I need to focus on the competition and not get distracted because the last thing I need is Fiona Fairweather taking the crown.’
‘Who is Fiona Fairweather?’ Dilly leaned over, grabbed a grape and popped it into her mouth.
‘I don’t even know why I keep this in my bag, but…
’ Clemmie muttered, guiltily fishing out the magazine she’d taken to carrying around with her.
‘I’ve read the article so many times I could probably recite it verbatim.
’ She turned to the article and tapped the page as she handed the magazine to Dilly. ‘Fiona Fairweather is my competition.’
‘In more ways than one,’ Amelia teased. ‘She turned up at the pub with Oliver the other night.’
‘Apparently she’s a friend of the family,’ shared Clemmie.
‘Never mind Fiona, what was it like to almost kiss him again after all this time?’ asked Amelia.
‘The blooming butterflies were back, fluttering around my stomach at a hundred knots.’
Dilly and Amelia exchanged glances.
‘I know what you’re thinking.’ Clemmie propped herself up on her elbows, staring out at the glittering water as the tide inched closer to their spot on the shore.
She could hear the faint cries of gulls overhead, their calls mingling with the chatter of children playing farther down the beach.
She looked back towards her friends. ‘I can’t let it happen again.
Kissing him would be…’ She trailed off, pressing her lips together.
‘Thrilling?’ Dilly suggested.
‘A mistake,’ Clemmie corrected. ‘I need to have more self-worth. He’s going to be gone as soon as the competition is over, and after the way he treated me, he doesn’t deserve another chance.’
Amelia drew a heart in the sand with the tip of a piece of driftwood, then idly scuffed it out. ‘You don’t know that,’ she said softly.
‘Yes, I do,’ Clemmie replied. ‘If he ever truly cared for me, he wouldn’t have just disappeared from my life like he did.
He’s here to present the competition, not to win me back.
’ Clemmie sat up fully, brushing sand from her hands and shaking her head as if to clear it.
‘I’ve got to keep my head in the game. Winning this competition would mean a lot to me, and to my granny.
It could also mean big things for the café and to put all my great-great-grandmother’s recipes in a book would mean a great deal to us all. ’
‘Not to mention you’d have a chance of mingling at the palace. Can you imagine?’ added Dilly. Something in the distance caught her eye and she pointed towards the road. ‘Is that a camera crew?’
All three of them turned to look. Sure enough, a van emblazoned with the logo for ‘Fiona Fairweather Fanciable Fancies’ had parked near the beach and a flurry of crew members wielding cameras, booms and clipboards was piling out onto the sand.
And then Clemmie saw him. Oliver stepped out of the van, handsome in a casual white shirt and navy chinos that were somehow both relaxed and tailored to perfection.
‘Oh, great,’ exclaimed Clemmie.
‘Who’s that?’ said Dilly.
‘That is Oliver Lockwood,’ confirmed Amelia.
Dilly stared. ‘I think you should reconsider getting it on with him!’
‘Dilly!’ exclaimed Clemmie.
‘I take it that must be Fiona Fairweather?’ Dilly observed.
Fiona stepped out of the van adorned in a flamboyant floral bikini, a wide-brimmed straw hat and sunglasses so massive they nearly concealed her entire face.
She strutted across the sand with the flair of a runway model, utterly oblivious to how incongruous she appeared amidst the rugged beauty of Blue Water Bay.
‘It most certainly is,’ Clemmie replied.
‘What is she doing?’
‘Probably making her latest TikTok or a feature for her YouTube channel.’
They all watched as the cameras set up in a semi-circle around Fiona.
‘She’s garnering quite a bit of attention.’ Amelia nodded to a group of fishermen who were gawping in her direction.
‘That’s what she wants: to generate publicity. But what she fails to understand is that this competition is not about how great your body looks, or how much attention you attract, it’s about how well you can bake.’
‘Hear, hear,’ encouraged Amelia.
They watched in disbelief as what looked like a film set of a kitchen was unloaded from the van, followed by utensils, bowls and trays of cupcakes.
It was as if the sandy shore of Blue Water Bay had been transformed into the set of a whimsical baking show.
Fiona Fairweather, flamboyant as ever, was pretending to bake on the beach, most likely for her social media followers.
She flourished a mixing bowl and wooden spoon dramatically as she spoke to the camera, narrating her ‘beach baking tips’ with exaggerated enthusiasm.
Oliver was now standing next to her in the make-believe kitchen.
‘She’s all over him. Look at her,’ observed Amelia. ‘But he’s looking a little uncomfortable.’
‘Hey, what have I missed? What’s going on?’ Their friend Verity, the local vet’s assistant, slipped onto the picnic blanket. ‘Who’s that?’
‘That is Fiona Fairweather, Clem’s competition for the baking competition, and that’—Amelia pointed—‘is Oliver Lockwood, Clem’s ex-boyfriend.’
‘Was that the guy from London you mentioned?’
‘Yes,’ they all chorused.
Just at that moment Oliver’s phone rang and he walked towards the edge of the sea to answer the call.
Meanwhile, Fiona, ever the consummate show-woman, carried on addressing the camera, whisking furiously at a bowl that likely contained nothing more than air.
Her dramatic gestures and sing-song voice were delighting a growing crowd of onlookers, who had begun congregating near the jetty, likely half out of curiosity and half in disbelief at the bizarre spectacle unfolding.
The pièce de résistance, however, came when Fiona turned to the oven – a painted cardboard contraption that appeared to be held together with duct tape and wishful thinking – gave a theatrical gasp and flung open the door, revealing a tray of perfectly iced cupcakes.
A few of the children watching actually clapped, while their parents exchanged amused glances.
Fiona, basking in the attention, held up the cupcakes like they were sacred artefacts.
‘Aren’t these just divine?’ she cooed, turning to the camera. ‘Fresh from my pop-up beachside bakery, right here at Blue Water Bay!’
She waved the tray tantalisingly, turning in a half-circle to show her masterpiece to everyone, including a seagull that had begun circling above with keen interest.
As Fiona sashayed towards the edge of the sea, preparing for her grand finale shot, things began to unravel.
A mischievous boy sprinted past her, causing her to wobble on her impractically high wedge sandals.
The tray tilted ominously, and a single cupcake tumbled off, landing in the sand with a sad plop.
Clemmie, Amelia, Verity and Dilly leaned forward on their beach towels like a quartet of judges waiting to see what would happen next.
‘I know we shouldn’t laugh, but…’ Amelia snorted.
‘She’s lucky it wasn’t all of them,’ Clemmie said, shaking her head.
‘Give it a minute,’ Dilly added. ‘There’s still time for disaster.’
Pretending the slip hadn’t happened, Fiona recovered her balance and soldiered on towards the end of the jetty, where a small fishing boat was moored. She held the tray in one hand, placed one hand on her hip and struck a pose.
‘I just don’t get it,’ admitted Clemmie.
‘She’s not just a baker, she’s a brand – or so she believes. By being photographed in a bikini at a picturesque seaside location, she’s crafting an image of herself as a glamorous, multi-dimensional lifestyle guru,’ Verity chipped in.