Dr Bakewell and the Cupcake Queen

By L. T. Talbot

As September falls, so beckons the start of another year at Dr Bakewell's Wondrous School of Confectionery.

After a delightfully sweet and eventful year at Honeycomb Hall drew to a close in July, Vaughan, Verity and Caroline are eager to be back at school, ready to start Year 9 and catch up with friends.

Their Headmaster, Dr Bakewell, is equally eager to start the new school year - following the discovery of hidden treasures the previous year, he is desperate to find a way he can use his discovery to save his threatened school from closure.

But Dr Bakewell's nemesis Henry Sorrel is out to stop him. Can the children again find a way to help Dr Bakewell or is the school doomed to close?

In this second book of the Dr Bakewell series, amidst the sweetness of the confectionery, bubbling tensions finally begin to simmer. As old rivalries rise to the surface new friendships are strengthened - but which will be the stronger? Will Sorrel be successful or will Dr Bakewell rise triumphant?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781326879464

Book preview

Dr Bakewell and the Cupcake Queen

DR BAKEWELL AND THE CUPCAKE QUEEN

by

L.T. Talbot

Copyright

Copyright © L. T. Talbot 2016

eBook Design by Rossendale Books: www.rossendalebooks.co.uk

eBook ISBN:  978-1-326-87946-4

All rights reserved, Copyright under Berne Copyright Convention and Pan American Convention. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author. The author’s moral rights have been asserted.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organisations, events or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

Also by this author

Also available in the Dr Bakewell Series:

Dr Bakewell’s Wondrous

School of Confectionery

(2015)

ISBN   978-1-326-44486-0

Dedication

For Mark

Who patiently puts up with me writing most evenings,

cake decorating until the early hours of the morning

and listens to me gabbling on endlessly about

Dr Bakewell.

Thank you for your unfailing support and encouragement

All my love

Xxx

Chapter 1

The Baker’s Kitchen

The Baker household was chaotic. Mrs Baker stood at the kitchen worktop, wearing her ever-present flowery pinafore, buttering toast. VAUGHAN!  IT’S GETTING COLD! she shouted, distractedly tossing the knife down before rummaging through the cupboards searching for some honey.

I want honey on mine Manuka piped up, sitting at the kitchen table. Muuuumm!

All right, Manuka said Mrs Baker, becoming increasingly exasperated. Roland, have you seen....

It’s here, love.  Mr Baker entered the kitchen and slid a jar of honey along the worktop to his harassed wife.

VAUGHAN!’ Mrs Baker shouted once again, looking up at the ceiling before grabbing the honey jar and discarding the knife in the sink. Thank you" she smiled at her husband, opening the jar.

Just as she placed the now-open honey jar in front of her daughter, Vaughan rushed into the kitchen, hurriedly tucking his school shirt into his trousers. Have you seen my tie? he asked urgently as he quickly scanned the room for the vital part of his uniform.

You mean... this tie? Mr Baker raised his hand, revealing a blue and white striped tie dangling from his fingers. Don’t leave it on the floor next time.

Vaughan grabbed his tie and stood in front of the fireplace where he studied himself in the large mirror which hung above the mantlepiece. He carefully tied his tie into a knot, making sure it was centred correctly. Vaughan’s Headmaster, Dr Bakewell, was a well-known perfectionist and he expected his students to demonstrate the same pride in their appearance as they would in their baking. Having won a scholarship to the school only the previous year - and receiving a detention on the first day - Vaughan was keen not to attract any more unwanted attention and so every little detail mattered, even something as small as making sure his tie knot was perfect. After all, he wanted to prove that he was really worthy of studying bakery under the great, Dr Bakewell.

Having straightened his tie and flattened his hair, Vaughan returned to the kitchen table to eat his now-cold, limp, toast. Feeling better than last year eh? observed Mr Baker as he watched his son guzzle down a glass of orange juice. Vaughan nodded as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Last year, Vaughan was so nervous about starting his new school that he couldn’t eat a thing. This year would be his second year at the school, but he was going into Year Nine, as he was now thirteen. He hoped it wouldn’t be quite so hard this year. Winning his scholarship at age twelve meant he started the school in Year Eight and had had a year’s catching-up to do. At least there would be no more catching up to do this year - he had found that very hard and very tiring indeed.

Alright then? asked Mr Baker, getting to his feet. You sure you’ve got everything you need?  Everything packed?

Yeah answered Vaughan as he shrugged his caramel-colour blazer over his shoulders and tugged it neatly into place. I checked my bags last night to make sure.

All your clothes, your books? asked Mrs Baker, unconvinced.

Yes Mum, I just told you said Vaughan impatiently. What time is it?

Time we got going replied Mr Baker, checking his watch or you’ll miss your bus.

What? squealed Vaughan, I CAN’T miss it!  Come on, let’s go. Manuka, come on!  Mr Baker’s words did the trick - in less than five minutes Vaughan, Manuka and Mrs Baker were all ready and waiting at the front door, Vaughan’s bags in tow. Dr Bakewell arranged for special school buses to collect his students on the first day of term but it was the students responsibility to make sure they were at their point of collection on time. Today’s collection point would be the local honey factory, where Mr Baker worked, so they knew exactly how long it would take to get there. One of the many facts Vaughan had learned about his Headmaster last year, was that he did not tolerate lateness. Well, there were a few things Dr Bakewell did not tolerate to be honest, but poor punctuality was one of his pet-hates. If Vaughan missed his bus there was no way he would get to school in time, there was only one bus and if he missed it - well, it didn’t bear thinking about. It was a risk he just couldn’t take. No, this year he must prove his worth to study at the world-famous School of Confectionery. This year he would have to find a way to impress the incorrigible Dr Bakewell.

Chapter 2

Welcome Home

Verity Rose trudged over the dew-soaked field with her father, the school chef, Tony Rose. Pulling a shiny blue pull-along wheeled suitcase behind her, she tutted as the wheels stuck in the uneven, boggy surface, spinning the suitcase and lengthening their journey time considerably. It seemed that every few steps they had to stop to swivel the suitcase back into position before proceeding again.

Can you manage, Peach?  asked Tony as he watched Verity struggle for the umpteenth time that morning. Carrying a large barrel bag on his back, he was bearing the greatest weight but had no trouble stepping over the clumps of soggy grass, unlike his thirteen year old daughter.

Yeah, it’s just.... ow! Verity tutted as the wheels collided with a large stone flipping the suitcase around again and yanking her arm with it as it did so, this wet grass. I’m fine - anyway, you’ve already got my clothes bag.

Tony Rose raised his eyebrows at his independent daughter. Mm - I know! he half-smiled, thinking that Verity must own the heaviest clothes in the world. He didn’t mind though - this school was his livelihood now and he owed it all to Dr Bakewell. A tricky walk over sodden grass carrying his daughter’s heavy luggage was a small price to pay for what Dr Bakewell had given him. Given his whole family, really. As the back of the school came into view and loomed up before them, he smiled. ‘Home from home’ he thought to himself. See, Peach, he said. He had always called her ‘Peach’ ever since she’d been a baby - he’d told her it was because when she was born, her cheeks were as soft, pink and downy as a ripe peach and the pet name ‘Peach’ had stuck ever since. Nearly there.  Looking up at the stately home before her, Verity smiled as they reached the end of the wild fields and entered the edge of the manicured school gardens. "Home from home’ she thought to herself.

* * *

Rapidly unpacking her cases and trying to keep her clothes neatly folded, Caroline Coleman stood by her bunk bed in St Oswald’s Girl’s Dormitory, transferring her clothes from suitcase to her chest of drawers. Caroline was in the same year as Verity and their new-found friend Vaughan, who had joined the school the previous year as a Year Eight student. Unpacking her belongings and carefully propping up her childhood floppy toy rabbit against her pillow, Caroline grinned, growing excited. Now that she and Verity were entering their third they moved up the ladder - literally. As Year Nine students, they would now occupy the middle bed of the triple-bunk beds that lined either side of the dormitory walls. Years Seven and Eight slept on the bottom bunks, Years Nine and Ten had the middle bunks whilst the top bunks were strictly reserved for Year Elevens only.

As she was putting the last of her clothes in the chest of drawers and pushed the open drawer closed, darkness descended upon her as a pair of hands appeared from nowhere and wrapped themselves around her eyes, temporarily blinding her.

Guess who? teased a familiar, excited voice as the blindfold of fingers released their grip allowing Caroline to spin round.

VEE! she squealed with delight, as the two girls hugged each other with glee. They had been best friends since they started studying at Honeycomb Hall - the name of the stately home in which Dr Bakewell ran his School of Confectionery - two years previous. How was your summer?

Okay thanks replied Verity as she twisted her arms to shake off the barrel bag her Dad had loaded onto her shoulders once they entered the school. Seeing Verity’s shiny blue suitcase standing by the door to the dormitory, Caroline ran to retrieve it for her friend as Verity fiddled with the straps on her bag.

As the girls began putting away Verity’s belongings in her drawer and Verity found her name card placed on the middle bunk bed right next to Caroline’s, they chatted excitedly about what they’d done during the holidays. A few moments later they heard a familiar, steady rumble in the distance which grew progressively louder as it came closer to the school. The buses! the girls chorused together and they ran to the window which overlooked the driveway to the school. Indeed, a line of ten double-decker red buses were trundling down the driveway, each containing pupils of Dr Bakewell. The buses are here! announced Verity as they watched them line up and come to a stop in front of the school.

Come on said Caroline, let’s go and see if Vaughan’s here yet.  Verity and Caroline were the only children who had made friends with Vaughan the previous year so they were eager to meet him off his bus. Grabbing Verity by the elbow, Caroline ran to the door tugging her friend along behind her. The girls ran out of the dormitory and through the common room to Ozzy, the suit of armour that guarded the corridor to St Oswald’s Quarters. As Caroline yanked the pole-axe that ‘Ozzy’ held fast, they watched as his shield moved out of the wall, revealing a mysterious dark hole. One after the other the girls leapt straight into the newly-appeared black hole - completely unafraid - and disappeared into the inky blackness.

* * *

Ready for another year, George? asked Professor Derek Drumgoole as the two men sat in Dr Bakewell’s office, sharing a pot of dandelion tea and enjoying their last moment of peace and quiet before the bedlam of a new school year officially began.

As ready as ever replied Dr Bakewell, taking a sip from his white china teacup. I wonder if this year will be as eventful as last year he pondered, as he placed his cup into its saucer and nestled it with a satisfying ‘chink’ as it secured itself in the centre circle.

Dr Bakewell’s School of Confectionery was under threat of closure due to falling pupil numbers and lack of income needed to run and repair the stately home which housed the school. In his enthusiasm, Professor Drumgoole had suggested providing scholarships - much to the chagrin of Dr Bakewell - but this suggestion had rewarded them with much better results than even Professor Drumgoole could have imagined. Yes, it generated more pupils and publicity for the school, but three of the students - one of them a scholarship student - had discovered that unbeknown to any of the staff, the school had been growing its very own treasure for years. The school itself was silently providing the means to save it, if only someone had found it. And that’s exactly what Caroline Coleman, Verity Rose and Vaughan Baker had done last year. They helped discover the school’s hoard of confectionery gold - in the form of natural, edible, home-grown truffles. Up until last year, they had no idea how to save the school. This year, they believed they had found the means to save the school but the question now, was how to use it.

* * * 

Caroline and Verity tumbled out of the giant mouse-holes into the school’s foyer a little more unkempt than when they had jumped in a few seconds earlier. That was the mode of transport to get from their dormitories on the third floor down to the foyer - giant wooden slides similar to those giant waterslides you find at waterparks, only made out of wood. All enclosed so you feel like you’re sliding down a highly-polished, slippery wooden tube.

Quickly adjusting their uniforms they ran across the foyer towards the back of the school; they needed to run through the kitchen gardens past the orchard and around the corner of the school fields where they held their now-annual Summer Fete, in order to reach the school’s tree-lined driveway. Of course, it would have been much quicker if they could have gone straight through the old, black front door which opened directly in front of the drive where the buses were now unloading excited and nervous children, but that was out of the question. No pupils ever used the front door, that was strictly for Dr Bakewell and important visitors only. And just to emphasise the point, standing guard at the door keeping a close eye on the Time-Keepers Clock opposite, stood frail, old, Mrs Hilderstone, clasping her enormous bunch of Housekeeper’s Keys in her contrastingly delicate, bony fingers.

Morning girls! chirped Mrs Hilderstone pleasantly, as Verity and Caroline straightened their clothing, Welcome back!

Morning Hilda! echoed the girls as they raced past the elderly Housekeeper. The girls weren’t being cheeky when they called Mrs Hilderstone ‘Hilda’ - it was a term of endearment in the form of a nickname Mrs Hilderstone graciously allowed them to use, after Caroline twisted her ankle breaking Mrs Hilderstone’s fall when she toppled off a stepladder the previous Christmas. Admittedly, Caroline ran to steady the wobbling steps but slipped and the ladder collapsed, Mrs Hilderstone tumbling straight on top of Caroline as she did so. So ‘Hilda’ was eternally grateful to Caroline for preventing her from breaking her wrist - or worse.

As the girls rounded the corner of the school they found Vaughan and some others collecting their luggage from the bus conductor. They immediately ran to greet him and help carry his bags to the bag tent.

I can’t believe that was me last year said Vaughan, thumbing over his shoulder to a group of twenty, nervous students who were looking very small and rather lost in their surroundings, gathering in a small babble in front of the heavy black arched door. It feels kind of like I’m coming home more than going to school now.

Wonder if any of them’ll get a detention before the end of the day? giggled Caroline, making reference to Vaughan’s very first day at the school.

Doubt it said Verity bitterly, not unless they end up with Avery Sorrel in one of their classes.  Suddenly the air cooled and it felt as though a dark rain cloud was hovering above them.

Let’s not mention him, ’eh? said Caroline brightly, it’s our first day together for four weeks, we’ve loads to catch up on. There’ll be enough chances to moan about Avery Sorrel later, I’m sure.  The three of them mumbled agreement as they heard the clock in the clock tower strike eight o’clock. Ey up said Vaughan here he comes.  The three children quickly trotted back through the gardens to enter the school through the back door. They heard the distant voice of Professor Drumgoole begin his welcome speech to the new children gathered before him, wondering what lay before them behind the sombre black door.

Chapter 3

Decision Day

Are we all in agreement?  At the top of a three-storey old Georgian house, a group of eleven people sat around a highly-polished wooden oval table, as the low Autumn sunlight streamed in through the paned windows behind them, bathing the room in a warm, soft, golden glow. The rays of sunlight fell directly upon the table, illuminating the small, ribbon-wrapped box that sat in the centre of the gleaming table, as if it has been beamed down from heaven.

A mixed group of people, the Council of Confectioners nodded silently. Very well - then we have two votes to cast.  The same voice spoke again - clear and strong and came from the elderly man standing at the head of the table. Wearing a grey suit, white starched shirt, red waistcoat and a red-n-white stripey bow-tie that looked like a giant wrapped-sweet, it was easy to see he was the most senior member of the gathered Council of Confectioners - even if he hadn’t been the only one on his feet.

Frank Chewdle, the Head of Confectionery and the Head of the Council (of COCOA as it was  otherwise referred to - an acronym of Council of Confectioners Organisation and Administration) gave his instructions to the assembled Confectioners. The first vote... is whether we give our seal of approval to George Bakewell. Raise your hands if you agree to allow Doctor Bakewell to harvest and sell these truffles as pure and natural.  Instantly every hand around the table was raised. The smartly dressed Caribbean lady sitting next to Confectioner Chewdle jotted the number of votes down in the open book that lay before her on the table. And the second vote. Raise your hands if you are in agreement that Confectioner Henry Sorrel be dishonourably discharged from this Council.  One second passed then another. Slowly, one of the men sitting on Frank Chewdle’s left, Tommy Albright, raised his hand. Looking at his fellow councillors he swallowed as he saw that his was the only raised hand in the room and Mrs Beard, the secretary of COCOA, began writing in her book again as Frank Chewdle acknowledged him, saying Thank you, Tommy. But then another councillor - a plump lady in a navy blue skirt suit which was at least one size two small for her given the way it was almost bursting at the seams - also raised her hand. The brave councillor that voted first gave a small smile and ever-so-slight nod if his head in appreciation for her vote. Lady Batternberg. Thank you.  More jotting in the book by Mrs Beard. Then one by one another five councillors raised their hands and Mrs Beard continued to record the votes. Is anyone in disagreement of the discharge of Henry Sorrrel?  Two councillors raised their hands under the watchful eye of Frank Chewdle as Mrs Beard also recorded the votes in her book. I see said Chewdle, noncommittally. Mrs Beard quickly tallied up the number of votes recorded in her book, nodded to Frank Chewdle to confirm all votes had been recorded, at the same time informing Chewdle that he had enough information to close the meeting.

He began his closing speech. Councillors, thank you for your time today, we will now contact both Dr Bakewell and Confectioner Sorrel to inform them of our decisions. 

Hang on a minute! As one of the councillors rudely interrupted Frank Chewdle’s summing up of the vote, the ten others stared at