come and film you both with the cake then. It should make a great scene!’
Campbell was expressionless as Tilly showed him round the kitchen and then opened her portfolio of designs. She had made cakes in an extraordinary range of designs, from Manolo Blahnik shoes to giraffes to a golfer driving off a tee.
‘As you can see,’ she said for the benefit of the camera, ‘here at Sweet Nothings we make whatever the customer wants. It’s important that they feel that their cake is unique, so I spend quite a lot of time talking to them first, about who the cake is for, and what exactly they want to celebrate.’
She turned a page and the camera zoomed in over her shoulder, missing the real story, which was the tightening of Campbell’s jaw as he realised just what he was getting into.
‘Some people want a fun cake, perhaps to fit in with the theme of a party, or with a particular interest. You’d be amazed what some people are interested in, so you need to be adaptable. So if you had to make a cake for someone with a really strange hobby—an interest in Roman military history, say—’ she said, unable to resist the dig at Campbell, ‘you’d have to do some research to see what a soldier in the legions might have worn, for instance.’
Campbell was looking wooden, and Tilly suppressed a smile. ‘Fortunately, there aren’t too many odd-bods like that around,’ she went on innocently. ‘Most people are normal.’
That would teach him to sneer at baking.
For the benefit of the camera, she turned a few more pages. ‘Some customers prefer a more traditional cake, but they still want the personal touch. The main thing to remember is that I’m making the cake they want, not the cake I think they should have. You’ll have to bear that in mind when you make Cleo’s wedding cake.’
Campbell managed to unclamp his jaw. ‘Has she decided what design she wants yet?’
‘No, she’s coming in tomorrow to talk to you about that. You can discuss it together.’
Campbell couldn’t see that conversation lasting long. He didn’t have the slightest interest in wedding cakes, as Tilly clearly knew only too well. How the hell was he supposed to come up with a design for a wedding cake? There hadn’t even been a cake at his own ill-fated wedding to Lisa.
He eyed Tilly suspiciously, wondering if she was deliberately setting him up, and when she pulled a pink apron emblazoned with ‘Sweet Nothings’ from a drawer, he was sure of it.
‘You’ll need to wear this when you’re baking and decorating,’ she told him, and he recoiled, his expression everything Tilly had hoped for.
‘I’m not wearing that!’
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to,’ she said sweetly. ‘Health and safety regulations.’
‘Do put it on,’ Suzy urged from behind the camera. ‘The viewers will love it!’
Campbell opened his mouth to tell her in no uncertain terms what she could do with her viewers when he caught sight of Tilly’s face. Her eyes were alight with laughter.
‘You planned this!’ he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
‘Only in the way you planned that river crossing,’ she whispered back.
‘It’ll win you so many votes,’ Suzy promised. ‘Roger was none too happy about putting on a special uniform to do the pedicure either, but the viewers do love a good sport.’
‘Does Roger have to wear pink?’ Campbell asked sourly, but he tied the apron round him. This whole experience was going to be humiliating enough without letting Roger outdo him. It would take more than an apron to beat him.
Folding his arms, he glared at the camera. There was a long moment of utter silence while Tilly, Suzy and the cameraman all looked at him, and then there was a muffled snort as Tilly broke first.
She couldn’t help it. Campbell looked so ridiculous, glowering over the pink pinny. On a man who would be utterly at home in camouflage and a black balaclava, the apron looked positively bizarre and his expression was so forbidding that she started to laugh.
A moment later Suzy joined in, too, and then the camera was shaking as Jim, the cameraman, succumbed as well. They laughed and laughed while Campbell regarded them with a jaundiced expression, not at all amused.
‘I didn’t realise you were making a comedy,’ he said caustically.
‘Oh, dear.’ Suzy wiped her eyes and made an effort to control her giggles. ‘I’m sorry, but this is just perfect! The contrast between you two couldn’t be better!’ She sighed happily. ‘This is going to be such a great programme. All you’ve got to do is make that cake now, Campbell—oh, and don’t forget your video diaries again!’
‘Boy, that Suzy knows how to manage you,’ said Tilly as they waved the producer and cameraman off at last.
Campbell scowled as he snatched off the apron. ‘What do you mean?’
‘She knows she just has to dangle the prospect of Roger winning in front of your nose and you’ll do anything to beat him, even if it means wearing a pink apron!’
‘I’m certainly not going to make myself look ridiculous unless I do win,’ said Campbell trenchantly.
‘Campbell, has it ever occurred to you that you might lose?’ Tilly asked, folding her arms and studying him curiously. ‘Someone has to.’
‘Not me,’ he said. ‘I never lose.’
‘Your ex-wife might not agree about that,’ Tilly couldn’t help retorting. ‘You don’t have a very good success rate when it comes to relationships.’
He shrugged that aside. ‘Relationships are different.’
And clearly a lot less important than winning as far as Campbell was concerned.
Tilly remembered Cleo’s advice to have a little fling and sighed. Campbell was far too focused on winning this competition to waste any time on her. She could stand on the table and do the dance of the seven veils until she was stark naked, and Campbell would be telling her to stop wasting time, they needed to get on. He was only here now because he couldn’t win without her.
‘Come on,’ she said, resigned. ‘If you’re going to win, we’d better get on with teaching you how to make a cake. Have you ever done any baking before?’
Campbell was still fuming about the apron episode as he followed her back to the kitchen. ‘No, but surely it’s just a question of reading some instructions?’ he said irritably.
‘Oh, good point.’ Tilly paused and put her head on one side as if struck by his good sense. ‘I never thought of that. Well, that’ll save us some time. Why don’t you go ahead and make one, then, and I’ll put the kettle on? We probably won’t need to bother with the rest of the week. We’ll just have half an hour on icing tips before the wedding, and you can spend the rest of the time working.’
He eyed her for a moment, certain that she was testing him somehow, but then again, how difficult could it be? It was only a cake, for God’s sake!
‘All
