Christmas Gifts at the Beach Cafe by Lucy Diamond

Author:Lucy Diamond [Diamond, Lucy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781447273646
Publisher: Pan Macmillan

Chapter Seven

Evie

The Christmas Bake-Off was a new thing for the Carrawen villagers this year, and the inaugural judging was taking place in the hall at the top end of the village. It had been suggested by a relative newcomer to the area, a thirty-something woman called Sarah, who’d been a powerhouse in the City, then left it all behind to become a freelance consultant, moving to Cornwall with her husband and two young children in search of a better life. Led by Sarah and organized by a team of volunteers, the Christmas Bake-Off had three different categories: Christmas cake, mince pies and miscellaneous.

Ed and I had both been asked to judge, as had Graham, the chef from the Golden Fleece, and Ella Shipley, who ran the bakery in Tregarrow. As I trudged up the hill towards the village hall, passing all the colourful lights in the shop windows and glimpsing Christmas tree after Christmas tree in family homes, I found myself missing Ed more than ever. With Ruth’s arrival, and the whirl of noise and activity that came with the children, I’d barely had a minute to myself, but now that I was alone again I was conscious of Ed’s absence. I had been in denial, I realized, about how hard it was going to be, spending Christmas apart this year.

Never mind, I told myself. It was Christmas Eve tomorrow and it would be lovely to see the children hanging up their stockings and becoming feverish with excitement. I just wished Ed could have been there to share it, too.

I reached the village hall and pushed open the door, to be hit by a wave of heat and noise. Oh, my goodness. How many people? I had been vaguely expecting a genteel affair: a few white-clothed trestle tables with half a dozen entries, a polite, hushed atmosphere of anticipation. Instead, it felt more like a jumble sale: a crush of people, a hubbub of voices and a steamy cinnamon-scented fug that had me unzipping my coat immediately.

Slightly overwhelmed, I gazed around blankly for a minute before spotting my fellow judges, clipboards in hand, at the far end of the hall, beside three long rows of tables laden with baked goods. The tasting was all to be done blind, so that we couldn’t be swayed by favouritism or friendship, but I could see plenty of familiar faces in the gathered hoards – Annie, Betty, Florence, Martha – and hoped I wasn’t about to insult any dear friends.

By the time I made it across the hall, sweat was trickling between my shoulder blades. ‘Evie, welcome,’ cried Sarah, who was immaculately turned out in a dove-grey woollen dress and glossy brown boots. I found myself wishing that I’d dressed up in something smarter than the cornflower-blue shirt and clean jeans I’d thrown on back at the flat; I’d had no idea this was going to be such a major event.

‘Hi,’ I said weakly, fanning myself with the clipboard she gave me. ‘Is it

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