Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
As soon as the taxi pulled up outside the quaint seaside café, Clemmie’s eyes were immediately drawn to the Royal Yacht anchored in the distance, its regal silhouette sharply outlined against the late evening sun.
A shiver ran down her spine, though not from the coastal breeze.
She had envisioned this moment, her triumphant return, imagining herself walking into the café after attending the royal garden party with a story of success and joy that would have the regulars beaming with pride.
Instead, the knot in her stomach told a very different story.
Her train ride from London had been a battle against tears, her trembling hands clutching the strap of her bag as if it were the only thing keeping her from falling apart. Somehow, she had managed to hold herself together … until now.
The bell above the café door tinkled softly as she stepped inside, the familiar aroma of freshly baked scones enveloping her.
The café was still festooned with Union Jack bunting, and the life-sized cutout of the Queen stood proudly by the counter, her cardboard smile radiating unflappable cheer.
It was as though the celebrations of her winning the competition were still going on, a stark contrast to the storm raging in Clemmie’s heart.
Before she could say anything, Betty appeared from behind the counter, her face breaking into a concerned smile as she took in Clemmie’s tear-streaked face and trembling body. ‘Oh, Clemmie,’ she murmured, pulling her into a tight embrace.
The dam burst. Clemmie clung to Betty, sobbing uncontrollably. Betty’s sturdy arms were a safe haven, and Clemmie allowed herself to crumple completely, her muffled cries soaking into her granny’s apron.
‘What the hell has gone on?’ Betty asked softly. Before Clemmie could summon the strength to reply, the door jingled again, and Amelia burst in, her face alight with worry.
‘I saw the taxi arrive. Oh, Clemmie,’ Amelia exclaimed, rushing forward to hug her friend. ‘Are you all right?’
Between them, they guided Clemmie into the living room. Amelia and Clemmie sat on the sofa, while Betty settled into her armchair, her eyes never leaving Clemmie’s face.
‘Right,’ Betty said firmly, ‘start from the beginning.’
Still trembling, Clemmie began to recount the disastrous chain of events that had unfolded at the royal garden party, right down to the moment the Queen herself mentioned the Earl of Aberford.
The baking competition had been meant to be the crowning achievement of her career, a chance to showcase her family’s cherished recipe in front of royalty and some of the finest culinary minds in the country. Instead, it had descended into chaos.
‘Okay, I know the ending to the garden party wasn’t brilliant,’ Amelia interjected when Clemmie paused, her voice kind but firm, ‘but don’t let Fiona Fairweather or Oliver take this away from you.
You know what she’s trying to do. She wants that cookbook in her name.
But you were there on your own merit. Someone nominated you.
Someone chose you, and decided your baking was worthy of being showcased among the elite, and they weren’t wrong. ’
Clemmie nodded weakly, though her tears hadn’t entirely stopped.
Amelia pressed on. ‘If there is an investigation, so what? You’ve got the evidence.
That recipe book dates back decades. Generations.
It’s as authentic as they come. I’m sure they won’t even find grounds for an investigation.
At the end of the day, it’s a baking competition, not a political scandal. ’
Betty snorted at that. ‘Honestly, I’m sure what Fiona Fairweather baked wasn’t some cherished recipe passed down by her great-great-grandmother either. It was probably something she pinched off the internet and her personal chef whipped up last minute.’
That drew a small, watery smile from Clemmie, and Amelia seized the moment to lighten the mood further.
‘As for Oliver,’ Amelia said with a dramatic eyeroll, ‘he’s got a long way to go to redeem himself. If he’s even capable of that.’
Betty’s expression darkened. ‘He’s not welcome in my café, I’ll tell you that much. If I see him, I’ll chase him out with my rolling pin.’
The image of Betty wielding her rolling pin like a sword sent the three women into a fit of giggles, the tension in the room easing ever so slightly.
As the laughter subsided, Clemmie took a deep breath. ‘It doesn’t matter as he’s off to America. I don’t think I’ll ever hear from him again. Thank you. Both of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
Betty said simply, squeezing her hand, ‘We stick together, always.’
Amelia leaned forward. ‘You said, the Queen mentioned the Earl of Aberford. Who is he and how does he factor into all of this?’
‘The Earl of Aberford.’
Betty froze, the colour draining from her face. ‘Say that again?’ she said staring.
‘The Earl of Aberford,’ Clemmie repeated slowly. ‘Apparently, there was some kind of scandal. He decided not to use his title and then disappeared from royal life, years ago. Why?’
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft ticking of the clock on the wall.
‘I’ve actually heard that name before,’ she said.
Clemmie and Amelia exchanged a curious look.
Betty’s eyes looked up towards the hatch in the roof in the hallway. ‘And I’ve seen that name before.’
‘Where?’ asked Clemmie.
‘There’s a box in the loft with that very name on it. I asked my mother about it and she said it belonged to her mother and it was never to be opened.’