Free The Christmas Bake-Off by Abby Clements Page A

more closely. Joe Carmichael took a spoonful of a different entry and visibly winced when he tasted it. The judges pulled back in unison, glanced at each other, then stepped away from the table. They conferred in whispers.
    ‘Excuse us a moment,’ Diana mumbled apologetically into the microphone.
    Rachel furrowed her brow. What could possibly be the delay? After a moment or two, the villagers in the crowd, growing restless, began muttering to one another as Joe Carmichael talked animatedly to his co-judge.
    When Diana retook the microphone, a hush returned to the hall. ‘Sorry about that,’ she said, her voice a little strained. ‘It seems we have a problem.’
    Joe Carmichael’s face had taken on an expression of irritation.
    ‘Well, I can hardly believe it,’ Diana said, with an awkward little cough, ‘but it seems we’re looking at a case of sabotage.’

Chapter Two
    Friday, 22 December, 6.30 p.m.
(The night before)
    Katie Jones switched off her till and took one last look around the shop before closing up for the night. Business had been brisk today – she’d sold over a dozen boxes of her handmade mince pies, and the traditional Christmas cakes had been popular too. Skipley High Street was busier than she’d seen it in months, full of friendly locals snapping up last-minute festive essentials.
    She thought back to the previous winter, when she’d only just moved to Skipley from nearby Leeds, and the shop she’d dreamed of opening had hardly any customers. To make matters worse, it had been her first Christmas on her own, after ten years with Matt. Twenty-nine, single again, and struggling to pay back her small business loan – she had wondered if she’d made a terrible mistake starting again in Skipley. But today, it was a different story.
    Normally, at this point in the day, Katie took off her apron and headed home across the village. But today she pulled her long chestnut hair up into a practical ponytail and tightened her apron straps over her full-skirted indigo dress, ready to start baking again. She went over to the glass front door to bolt it, turning off the shop lights on the way.
    As she reached the door, she caught sight of John approaching in paint-covered jeans and a dark jumper, a smile on his face. She reached for the handle and opened the door.
    ‘Time for one more customer?’ John asked, hopefully. ‘I know you’re closed, and it’s cheeky. But I was late closing up – and then the carol singers arrived at the shop …’
    ‘Come in,’ Katie said, feigning a sigh. In reality, her heart lifted – it was nice to see a friend, and fellow shop-owner, at the end of such a busy day. As John came in and rubbed his hands together to warm up, she reached behind the counter and got a couple of chocolate muffins. She slipped them into a paper bag and handed them over. ‘I know you like these.’
    He handed her some coins, but she shook her head. ‘They’ll only go to waste otherwise. You’re welcome to them.’
    ‘Well,’ he shrugged and dropped the money in her charity tin instead. ‘I didn’t expect a freebie, but thank you.’
    John took a bite of one of the muffins hungrily, and smiled. ‘Delicious. As always.’ As he ate, he glanced down at one of the glass-fronted cabinets Katie used to store her cakes in, and noticed something. The top hinge had broken, leaving the door at a slight angle. John opened and closed the cabinet door gently. ‘I can fix this for you, if you like.’
    ‘Are you sure?’ Katie said. ‘I’d appreciate that. Once the Christmas rush is over. Can’t really think beyond the bake off right now.’
    ‘Of course, how’s your cake coming along?’
    ‘Ask me tomorrow,’ Katie said, laughing. ‘I’m just about to start.’
    ‘Me too,’ John said hesitantly. ‘Well, good luck. Not that you’ll need it. See you tomorrow.’
    ‘See you then,’ Katie replied, as he walked out the door.

    An hour later, Katie was in the kitchen at the back of her