Ivy Lane: Winter: Read Online Free PDF Page B

you’re concerned. And I’m sorry.’
    I sighed and relaxed against him, inhaling his familiar scent, a mixture of wood smoke and earth. Gemma caught my eye across the room and I felt my face heat up an extra notch.
    ‘Apology accepted.’ I stared down at my feet as I pulled away. ‘Look, Ollie’s waving to you from the raffle, you’d better go over.’
    It appeared that Nigel was doing his best to explain to Ollie that he needed to have the winning ticket in order to take home the chocolate hamper.
    ‘Never a dull moment,’ sighed Charlie, going to Nigel’s rescue. I pressed my lips together hiding my smile. He didn’t fool me; his eyes were shining and I’d never seen him look so relaxed. He was enjoying every minute of looking after Ollie, I thought as I sat back down at my table.
    The door opened again and the waitress from the café launched herself through it, red hair flying in a swirl behind her.
    ‘Am I too late? I’ve made banana muffins for the hidden fruit and veg—’ She clapped a hand over her mouth and opened her eyes wide. ‘Shoot! I shouldn’t have said that, should I?’
    I giggled and shook my head. ‘You could go for another category?’ I showed her the list. ‘I’m Tilly, by the way.’
    ‘Freya. Otherwise known as Freya the terrible cook.’ She showed me the contents of her cake tin and pulled a face.
    ‘Mmm, well, I think you’re spoilt for choice as far as competition categories go,’ I said. I’d never seen such lumpen, wholesome-looking cakes. But bless her for making the effort. ‘Am I right in thinking there’s bran in there too?’
    Freya nodded and opted for the ‘taste better than they look’ category and I sent her off in Peter’s direction with a suggestion that she also book him for a tour of the allotments later.
    I watched her plough her way through the crowds towards Peter. I hoped she would take on an allotment, I liked her. A lot.
    ‘Here you go, love,’ said Christine, setting a cup of tea in front of me.
    ‘Ooh, you’re a life saver.’ I picked it up and took a long slurp.
    ‘I think we should get cracking with the judging, Tilly, we’ve run out of cakes on the refreshments stall and the sooner we can start selling off the competition cakes, the better.’
    Before I had chance to reply, Toni appeared with a blackberry tray-bake that was nearly as big as her.
    ‘Our esteemed judge, hurrah! Just in time!’ I said, jumping up to give her a hug.
    ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I only had time to make one cake.’
    ‘Nonsense, that’ll keep us going for an hour!’ said Christine, whipping it away to serve up to the waiting customers.
    I whisked Toni towards the kitchen to explain the competition rules and passed Dougie on the way.
    ‘Dougie, do me a favour and sit in my seat in case anyone new arrives, will you?’
    ‘No problem.’ He cupped a hand over his mouth. ‘Just watch out for the dark fruit cake, I went a bit wild with the rum.’ He winked at me and sauntered off.
    ‘I’m a bit nervous,’ said Toni. She was in her thirties, had short black hair, sharp blue eyes and an endless supply of patience. She was also incredibly slim. If I worked in such close proximity to Toni’s treacle sponge, I’d be huge.
    ‘There’s nothing to be nervous about,’ I assured her. Except, of course, the ‘unusual flavour’ category. I handed her a glass of water (Mary Berry always has a drink on hand when she’s judging, I’d noticed) and ushered her towards the cakes.
    Thirty minutes later, I was full to bursting and convinced I would never eat another crumb of cake as long as I lived. I had been delighted with the entries; some of the cakes were amazing. My favourite had been a rectangular cake decorated to look like an allotment plot, complete with bamboo canes, tiny pumpkins, perfect little cabbages and even a miniature butterfly. It put my flapjacks to shame! There were one or two less successful entries. One particular fruitcake had been so dry