Page 21 of Barging In

C lem surveyed the ingredients laid out across the stainless steel worktop in the wharf’s kitchen. There was a lot to get through in a few hours, even less time than planned thanks to Victoria running late. With two cups of coffee inside her, though, Clem felt up to the task.

She’d politely declined Victoria’s offer to assist; the half-covered yawns and heavy-lidded eyes suggested she’d be more of a hindrance than a help.

So Victoria headed off to her office, giving Clem space to focus on the task ahead, without distractions.

Because that’s exactly what Victoria was: a distraction.

Clem still couldn’t believe she’d winked at her the previous afternoon.

It had just happened, in an instinctive, automatic way.

She’d briefly caught her reaction and could’ve sworn she saw Victoria leaning against the car as if her legs had stopped cooperating.

Perhaps she had stumbled, though, or was simply tired from her stressful day. What else could it be?

Clem opened a bag of flour and began weighing it.

Victoria’s words — that she needed the ‘best’ — unhelpfully drifted into her mind.

Clem smiled as she closed the bag, the words dancing inside her.

Of all the compliments she’d received about her cakes, this one felt different, more personal and therefore more poignant.

She’d even come out to Victoria, and after a brief ‘Oh’, the conversation had moved on. There wasn’t a flicker of awkwardness. It clearly hadn’t bothered her. And why would it? Victoria didn’t strike her as ignorant or narrow-minded; she appeared to be open and educated.

Having mixed the batter and distributed it evenly in the cake tins she’d brought with her , Clem left the Victoria sponges to bake.

She mixed the ingredients for scones by hand with the lightest of touches; no one would want them dry and airless.

Once they were in the large oven, she left the sponges to cool, turning her attention next to a banana loaf and a cherry Madeira.

Florence needed supplies for the day’s trading, and both were quick and reliable options.

As they baked and the scones cooled, Clem whipped cream in an industrial-sized whisker, giving the machine an envious eye as she did.

The whole kitchen stirred jealousy inside her.

It offered so much open, flexible working space compared to Florence’s cramped galley, and there was little chance of knocking into anything.

The machinery was second to none as well, the oven being triple the size of her own.

Being able to mix all the batter at once saved a significant amount of time.

She could far too easily get used to this.

Pleased with her productivity, Clem found it was soon time to track down Victoria. She left the kitchen and headed to the office, where she found the door ajar. Poking her head around it, she spotted Victoria curled up on a sofa in the corner, fast asleep.

Clem hesitated, not wanting to disturb her but knowing she must. Victoria’s gentle breathing and the slow rise and fall of her shoulder made her look so peaceful. Clem stepped closer. A stray strand of hair had fallen across Victoria’s face, adding to her quiet charm.

Crouching beside her, Clem brushed it from her cheek. “Victoria,” she whispered.

Victoria’s eyelids fluttered until her blue eyes finally settled on Clem with a smile.

“Sorry. I didn’t want to wake you, but?—”

“No. No, it’s fine,” Victoria replied, getting up so quickly Clem was sure the blood would rush from her head. “I could’ve slept for a week, so I’m grateful you did. I’ve got a lot to do today.”

“I need to know where you want everything stored.”

“You’ve made everything already?”

“Yes,” Clem said, taking the slight tone of surprise in Victoria’s tone as a compliment. “Come and see.”

She held the door open for her, admiring just how shapely her figure was cut in the cute, navy, corduroy pinafore dress.

How did she miss that earlier this morning?

As she passed, the air stirred, and Clem caught a pleasant scent of jasmine that she now associated with Victoria.

It had lingered in the close confines of the Jag.

As they arrived in the kitchen, Victoria’s face lit up at the sight of the cakes.

“Oh, my. These look wonderful.” Turning to the scones, she added, “And these — they’re so small and cute!”

“Intentionally so,” Clem replied. “Scones aren’t the easiest to eat while chatting at a party, so I figured bite-sized might be preferable. With cake on offer, too, not everyone will want a big one. Those who do can have two. I’ve made plenty.”

“Brilliant,” Victoria said, turning around, her hands clasped in front of her. “You’re brilliant. I wouldn’t have thought of that. Thank you for all this. ”

Clem’s cheeks warmed at the praise.

“Anytime. Although a bit more notice next time wouldn’t hurt.”

Victoria laughed. “I don’t plan on making a habit of losing catering managers. Be sure to send me an invoice, won’t you?”

“You bought all the ingredients, and we can call my time an apology for taking you for that swim.”

“Oh…” Victoria’s face seemed to fall in that moment. “Are you sure?”

“I am,” Clem said firmly, hoping she wouldn’t put up a fight.

“Well then, thank you again,” Victoria replied, her smile so soft and endearing it made Clem’s hectic morning feel worthwhile. “Right, I’d better crack on. I have a mountain of sandwiches and sausage rolls to make. Salads to prep…”

“Alone?” Clem’s voice lifted, more sharply than she’d intended.

“Yes.” Victoria arched a friendly eyebrow at her. “Might I remind you I’m short-staffed because I sided with you.”

Clem grinned. “Remind me again why you did that?”

“Christine was out of order. A bit of competition is fine, but I draw the line at dirty tricks. Those reviews were unjustified.”

Clem felt a pang of disappointment that it wasn’t for any reason beyond standing up for what was right, even though that was a fair justification. Before she could dwell on it, a young woman appeared at the kitchen hatch. Clem recognised her: Blueberry Muffin, another of her wharf regulars.

“Morning, Victoria.”

“Morning, Emma. This is Clem. She’s made all this for the party,” Victoria said, smiling broadly and gesturing towards the centre island.

“Oh, hi — Clem,” Emma said, biting her lip. Her eyes bulged at the cakes as she tied her hair back in a ponytail. “Wow. They look amazing. I can’t wait to try them later. They look way better than the sh?—”

“Yes, thank you, Emma,” Victoria cut in quickly.

Emma grinned and vanished, leaving Clem to stifle a laugh — only to fail miserably.

“Yes, even the staff despised them,” Victoria acknowledged with a huff.

“Oh, I know. She comes to me every morning for a blueberry muffin.”

Victoria rolled her eyes. “Why does that not surprise me? It seems Jasper’s addicted to your coffee and walnut cake.”

She was about to reply that she knew that, too, when she noticed that Victoria was frowning and rubbing her chin.

“Maybe I should close the café earlier today. Not that I can afford to, but poor Emma’s having to cope out there alone.”

Clem reached out and gently squeezed Victoria’s arm. “I could stay and help.”

Victoria looked down at her hand. “I wasn’t trying to guilt-trip you.”

“It was a genuine offer,” Clem asserted, drawing her hand back. She’d only meant to offer comfort; now she was left feeling like she’d overstepped.

“What about Florence?”

“Max would probably look after her.”

“All day?”

Clem made a quick calculation in her head. “With the two of us, the rest of the food will take half the time. Why don’t I come back after the lunch rush? You’ll be free to help Emma until then.”

A flicker of relief crossed Victoria’s face as her shoulders relaxed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Clem said, trying not to sound too eager at the prospect of spending more time with her. “As you pointed out, it’s my fault you’re in this mess,” she snarked.

“I took particular pains not to say it like that.”

“Victoria, I’m teasing you,” Clem said, nudging her gently.

“Oh.” A sheepish smile crossed Victoria’s lips as her gaze dropped.

“We need to stop reacting off each other; we’re not enemies.

I don’t get up at six a.m. to bake for someone I don’t like.

At most, we are adversaries. Or maybe… competitive friends.

For what it’s worth, I don’t want this place to fail.

I think it’s great. I’m sorry it’s not thriving — and if I’ve made things harder.

I seem to cause you nothing but problems.”

“I don’t blame you. Even if my ex-catering manager does,” Victoria added with a wry smile.

“Our problems go deeper than a bit of competition. You’re just the tipping point, it seems. A mix of bad winter weather and fading novelty with the locals haven’t left us in a great position.

I should have been working here full-time when we opened. ”

“Why weren’t you?” Clem asked, intrigued to know a little more about Victoria.

“I had big projects in London I couldn’t abandon. Some of them take years to complete, and I couldn’t walk away. I guess I’ve taken my eye off the ball. Or it was never on it to begin with.”

“But you’re here full-time now,” Clem said reassuringly, knowing that showing up was a vital part of any successful business.

“Yes.”

“Then it’s onwards and upwards. You can’t change the past, but the future’s up for grabs. And you know, the novelty wearing off isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

“How so?”

“It means they know you exist. Now you need to find a way to lure them back.”

“That’s the problem,” Victoria sighed. “I don’t know how. I’m not a marketing whizz.”

“Well, that’s where you’re in luck — I am,” Clem said, her tone light but steady. “It’s not as daunting as it seems. You’ve already laid the groundwork; now you just need a few gentle nudges in the right direction.”

“I’d really appreciate that. I need bums on seats — and fast.”