with my sexuality.’
She found herself smiling. ‘You really upset the poor woman.’
‘She’ll get over it,’ Carlos said. ‘She’s basking in her fifteen minutes and I suspect she’s got a new best friend in Tom.’
Trudy glanced toward the pair.
Nicola was hugging Tom and laughing with him as the pair finished off the blintz she’d made. Tom was smiling enthusiastically and hurling dismissive waves in Carlos’s direction.
‘How does he do that with people?’ Carlos marvelled. ‘How does he get them to like him so effortlessly?’
Trudy wanted to tell him it was probably easy if you didn’t insult them and their hard work, but she kept the opinion to herself. ‘Everybody loves Tom,’ she said quietly.
‘Everybody loves him,’ Carlos repeated. ‘That sounds like the surest way to get a disease.’ He shrugged the matter aside and stepped forward to meet the final contestants.
Alongside the bald and goateed man called Victor was a shy young woman, Amy, who seemed petrified by the TV cameras. Trudy said hello to them both and then studied Victor’s face more closely.
‘I’m sure I know you from somewhere,’ she told him.
He raised an eyebrow and seemed curious. ‘Where?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘I can’t remember. I guess it’ll come back to me soon.’
‘Let me know when it does.’
His smile, while civil and polite, seemed to be masking something. She wondered if he already knew where they’d met before, and then dismissed that idea as paranoid. Why would someone keep such information secret?
Then the hubbub of the show was beginning and Victor and Amy were being rushed off to their separate workstations where they were working on the next stage of the evening’s desserts. Victor was making crêpes tulipes with raspberry sorbet whilst Amy had elected to serve a traditional apricot-almond clafoutis. Some preparation had been needed for both dishes and the chefs quickly immersed themselves in their work beneath the intense pressure of the cameras and the lights.
Trudy wanted to spend some time on Victor’s station so she could solve the mystery of his identity. To make the situation even more infuriating, whenever she tried to chat with him and learn a little more about him, Victor seemed strangely evasive and uncommunicative.
She mentioned this to Daryl, who told her she was worrying for nothing.
‘He’s a chef,’ Daryl reminded Trudy. ‘You’re all peculiar when you’re cooking. I’ve seen Charlotte concentrating over her pizzas like she’s giving birth to an immaculate conception. You can spend days brooding on a single flavour if you don’t think it’s quite right and I’ve seen Bill go –’
She stopped abruptly.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to talk about him.’
‘Do I really spend days brooding on a single flavour?’
‘Days,’ Daryl agreed. ‘How long were you working on your mocha-chocolate ganache recipe?’
Trudy nodded reluctant agreement. She couldn’t recall exactly how long she’d been working on that dessert but she did know that the worst parts had covered a stressful couple of weeks. Although Daryl hadn’t finished voicing her sentiments on Bill, Trudy knew that he could sometimes be aloof when his thoughts were preoccupied by something in the kitchen.
‘In other words, I don’t think his behaviour is particularly peculiar,’ Daryl said. ‘It’s certainly no more peculiar than the rest of you moody culinary types.’
As an explanation, Trudy knew it made sense. And, even though it wasn’t a satisfying response, she refused to let herself dwell on the problem any longer. She went to find Nicola and see how she was coping after Carlos’s unforgivable outburst.
Fifteen minutes later the desserts were finished and served. Trudy complimented Amy on the lightness of her clafoutis whilst Carlos exclaimed enthusiastically over Victor’s tulipes. Another break was called while the three judges retired to a small room where they discussed their choices and made a final decision on the winning two contestants for the week. The format was now so familiar to her that Trudy was the first to speak when the door closed behind them.
‘Amy needs to be in the final,’ she explained. ‘Her clafoutis is gorgeous.’
They argued and cajoled for half an hour. There was a cameraman with them, filming as they exchanged cutting comments about each other and murmured compliments and condemnations about the chefs and the dishes they had prepared. Eventually, the three of them went out to face the contestants and announce their verdict.
‘It’s been a close debate,’ Tom explained, acting as spokesman. ‘But we’ve finally come to a decision. The two contestants going through to the semi-finals are Amy and Victor.’
There was good-natured handshaking and murmurs of congratulations. Victor and Amy hugged and the scene ended with a shot of Nicola scowling at Carlos. Trudy pulled her gaze away from the woman’s expression of pained animosity. She didn’t like to see someone so upset and she tried to find something of interest to watch that would give her a reason to look in a different direction.
Her gaze fell on Victor.
She watched him walk away from the studio’s set of kitchen work surfaces and cookery paraphernalia and step over to someone in the front row of the studio audience. It was not unusual for contestants to have family and friends in the audience to offer support. Trudy wondered if a glimpse of his friends and family might give her a clue where she knew him from.
Victor bent down. From the way his shoulders were bent, Trudy guessed he was whispering confidentially to his friend. The lights on the studio set were so bright it was difficult to see beyond their glare. Trudy craned her neck and shielded her eyes to peer, still anxious for a clue to his identity. She sat quickly back in her chair when she saw who he was talking with.
Victor was a friend of Donny.
The air inside the Sweet Temptation HQ was rich with the scent of maple syrup and pecan muffins. The fragrance was intoxicatingly sweet and made Trudy’s stomach growl. She had always thought there was something compelling about the smoky caramel tones of maple syrup. It was one of those flavours that made her mouth water and urged her to give in to hunger cravings. Blended with the other ingredients, the smell was a constant distraction and dangerously irresistible.
Trudy had just finished working on her column for the week. Inspired by Kali’s mini carrot cakes at the wedding reception, Trudy had charted a brief history of the carrot cake and included in the article a couple of eighteenth-century Georgian recipes for carrot pudding. She would have been happier if she could have included a copy of Kali’s recipe in the text but she knew that was too much to ask from the pâtissier. Also, she relished the challenge of trying to recreate her own mini carrot cakes as a homage to Kali’s speciality. Uploading one of the photos she’d
