Read Online Wartime Sweethearts by Lizzie Lane - Free Book Online Page A

the huddle, the whispering somewhat intense, the odd word tumbling out like a tin can thrown over their shoulders.
    ‘Superior …’
    ‘Classical …’
    ‘Traditional …’
    ‘British taste …’
    Then there was quiet. The judges came out of their huddle, the bakers looking pleased with themselves, the chef looking resigned, the corners of his mouth drooping beneath his moustache.
    Bullhorn looked self-satisfied as though, just like a circus ringmaster, he’d tamed professional egos. Before announcing the results, he had a quick word with a representative of the company sponsoring the competition.
    ‘Ladies and gentlemen!’ He began shuffling his papers, back to the first category, the split tin loaf. ‘And the winner is …’ A roll of drums was intimated, though none was heard. Bullhorn was standing with his arms above his head, like an auctioneer about to bring down his hammer on the last bid.
    ‘Mrs D Leyton!’
    A loud cheer went up in response to Bullhorn’s resonant pronouncement as Diane Leyton, an active member of the local WI, went up to receive her prize and the chance of going forward to the next round.
    As they beamed round at everyone, she waved the five pounds she’d won. Her supporters, all of whom were in the WI too, cheered loudly.
    The next winner of the plaited bread section was a baker from Quedgeley near Gloucester and turned out to be only sixteen years old. Her mother had come with her.
    ‘Miss Joan Forester!’
    The cheers weren’t quite as enthusiastic, but young Joan didn’t seem the sort to enjoy being the centre of attention as, after accepting her prize, she marched swiftly away, head down, as though winning was something to be ashamed of.
    Now it was the turn of their category to be judged. Mary patted Ruby’s shoulder. Smelling of best bitter and red in the face, their father and Charlie joined them.
    ‘Lost Miriam?’ Mary whispered.
    Charlie grinned. ‘Her mother sent a message she wanted her at home.’
    Mary grinned. ‘Lucky for you.’
    He didn’t answer, his gaze attracted to a dark-haired beauty who seemed to be standing slightly apart from anyone else.
    ‘Who is that?’ he asked his sister in an oddly awestruck voice.
    The young woman was wearing a dark blue hat, a crisp veil skimming the bridge of her nose.
    Mary shook her head. ‘I’m not sure. She might be the woman staying with Mrs Hicks at Stratham House.’ Eyeing her brother sidelong, she gave him a warning nudge in the ribs. ‘And before you get entangled, I hear she has two children with her.’
    Mary turned back to the main event. There was no sound from Gareth Stead. He wouldn’t dare make a move now her brother and her father were with them. She smiled reassuringly at her sister. Ruby smiled nervously back.
    Bullhorn cleared his throat. ‘And now we come to the loaf that, in the judges’ opinion, is an imaginative use of ingredients. This is the category for something creative as well as tasty.’ He paused, cleared his throat again and nodded at the sponsor before proceeding.
    ‘Ladies and gentlemen. The judges could not agree on an outright winner in this category …’
    The crowd gasped. Mary and Ruby looked at each other in dismay. This couldn’t be happening.
    ‘Therefore, our honourable sponsor, Mr Leonard Neate of Spillers Flour Limited, has decided to award two prizes. The first to …’ The crowd held its breath. ‘Miss Ruby Sweet for her apple loaf.’
    A vast cheer went up from the gathered locals. For a moment Ruby stood with her mouth open until her sister pushed her forward.
    ‘Go on. Go on!’
    Mary covered her mouth with her hands. Ruby looked like a little girl collecting her prize, half excited, half scared to death. It should have been me up there, she thought to herself and felt a pang of regret. Even if Ruby did leave home, it wasn’t likely she would stay away forever.
    A pink flush of pleasure was spreading over her sister’s face. Even from this distance, Mary