The Winner
In the museum, Albert found the photograph he wanted. It was hung on the wall at head height with the names listed beneath. The proud faces stood in front of an enormous Yorkshire pudding on a sunny day, each of them smiling at the photographer and forever captured in their glory. Except their glory was about to be overshadowed by a new record and the photograph would be replaced by a new one. He hadn’t spotted it when he first saw the picture, but right at the front, just left of centre, a small boy held his mother’s hand and smiled for the camera like everyone else. The boy wasn’t named as part of the record-breaking team, but the mother was, and that was all Albert needed to confirm what he already believed.
With a sigh, he patted Rex’s head where the dog sat on his haunches obediently waiting for his human to finish whatever he was doing.
Arriving back in the marquee, Albert could see all the way down to the stage located in the middle of the tee. It was as he expected: the hub of activity for everything about to happen. Ethan Bentley was hovering at the back of the stage with Alan Crystal and a woman Albert assumed was the third judge. He knew nothing about her other than her name was Amber, and she was a local, but apparently nationally known, food critic and writer.
At the left of the stage, assistants were erecting a pair of tables. Albert could see a line up of bakers all queuing at the left side of the stage as he faced it. Each was carrying a platter of their freshly baked Yorkshire puddings for the final showdown. They would, he guessed, be invited to place their offering down and then wait behind it while the judges sampled and marked their puddings. It was a lot like a baking show he’d once seen on television. His wife, Petunia, God rest her soul, had watched it every week and commented on technique and the complexity of the dishes. Albert sat in his chair and read because the program held little interest, but he looked up every now and then when Petunia said something, just so he could agree with her and pretend to be paying attention.
By the time Albert made it to the vicinity of the stage, the platters of Yorkshire puddings were laid out – ten of them from the ten heats, and the contestants were standing behind them as expected. They all looked eager, all except one pair, a father and son, who looked relaxed by comparison to their peers.
Albert knew why.
He spotted Rosie and waved, getting her attention. Gamely, the young woman raised Teddy’s hand and made him wave back. Albert indicated that he would be over once the prize-giving was complete. Rosie, standing just off the stage to the right-hand side lifted her other hand to show a brand-new muffin tin.
Looking about, Albert also spotted Gary, his tall son easy to spot among the crowd of people watching the stage. Gary, seeing his father, started to weave through the crowd to join him.
The compere had been dazzling the audience with his wit again, making Yorkshire pudding jokes and being generally self-deprecating about his figure and how many he’d consumed in his life. Just as he began to wrap up and make ready to hand over to the event organiser, Albert patted Rex’s head.
‘Are you ready, boy?’ he asked.
Rex tilted his head, looking up at his human. Quite prepared to answer that he was ready, he wasn’t sure what it was his human needed him to be ready for.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Alan Crystal’s voice rang out loud and clear. ‘Welcome to the most important part of today’s proceedings: the Yorkshire pudding baking championship. As you all know, this year’s winner gets a cash prize of ten thousand pounds.’ The crowd gave an oooh and applauded. ‘They also get to discuss with Ethan Bentley, founder and CEO of Bentley Brothers supermarkets the chance to provide their Yorkshire puddings to every supermarket in the chain,’ he roared with excitement, getting a whoop from the crowd this time along with more applause. ‘Truly a prize worth winning, judging this year has been tighter than ever with more contestants than any year previous.’
‘It’s a fix, I tell thee!’ cried Mr Rose from the crowd again.
Smiling, Alan gave a sad nod in Mr Rose’s direction. ‘There have been many disappointed losers this year.’ His comment got a ripple of laughter as event security converged on Mr Rose again. Alan waited for the noise from the audience to peter out before continuing. ‘However, the judges were unanimous in their decision to award the contract at Bentley Brothers, and the cheque to …’ he paused for effect, baiting the crowd the way Albert had seen television hosts do.
Albert looked down at Rex, then across at Gary, still making his way through the crowd. He felt something akin to butterflies in his stomach, but it was a case of do it now or miss the chance. Drawing in a deep breath, he shouted, ‘Oliver’s Bakery from Wetherby!’
His voice filled the silence of the marquee and turned everyone’s attention his way. Those standing closest to the old man stepped away, trying to make a little distance between them lest others think they might be together. In less than a second, Albert had a circle of space around his body.
Somewhat taken aback, Alan Crystal looked down at the old man, now easy to spot standing all by himself. His thunder had been stolen, and it took him a moment to recover. ‘Why, yes, actually.’ A huge smile appeared on Alan’s face as he looked out at the audience and said, ‘Your winners: Oliver’s Bakery of Wetherby!’
Lee Oliver and his father were embracing each other and then they were punching their
