Wartime Sweethearts by Lizzie Lane Read Free Book Online Page B

good chance. Your pastry is always better than mine.’
    There was an intense look in Ruby’s eyes. ‘I want more than one chance to win. I want to get away, Mary, and besides – like you said – plenty of women in the village make apple pies, but they don’t bake bread to the Sweets’ standard.’
    It was true. Some of the village women did bake their own bread, but Mary and Ruby had the advantage of tried and tested family recipes and a very hot bread oven.
    Mary sat down on the bed and slid her feet out of her shoes. The apple bread had come out of the oven perfectly baked. The smell was heavenly, the crust golden brown, the underside firm but not tough. She’d tapped it with her fist and been pleased with the sound it made. The loaf of apple bread had a good chance of winning the speciality category.
    ‘I had plans for that prize money,’ she said while kneading the ache out of her toes.
    The prize money this year was a definite plus. It had come as a great surprise to everyone when they were told that the local competition would be part of a nationwide search for the Best of British Baking. The winner of this round would win the right to go through to the next which would be held at the Victoria Rooms in Bristol. The winner of that round would then go on to the finals in London. Travel and hotel accommodation was included, plus two pounds for the winner of the regional event in Bristol and twenty pounds for the ultimate prize in London.
    Ruby knew she was asking a lot, but this might be her only way to get away from here and she desperately wanted to put Gareth and the village behind her. Perhaps her present mood would pass in time, but for now there was nothing more important.
    ‘I want to go to Bristol. I think I might also like to go to London, but I don’t want to come back.’
    Mary stared at the bedroom window. Her sister was asking her to forgo her chances of winning and take her place, entering the apple loaf as her own. Her first inclination was to turn her down flat. She wanted to win and have the chance to go to Bristol and London herself – or did she?
    She looked at her sister, a mirror image of herself except for the mole on her cheek which was roughly the size of a sixpence. Not that it could usually be easily seen; her hairstyle saw to that.
    ‘You’re asking me to give up quite a lot. You do realise that?’
    Ruby nodded.
    Mary considered what her sister was asking her. Would she really be giving up so very much? On the one hand, Ruby asking to enter the bread as her own made her angry. Her sister was being selfish. Or was she? Gareth was not a nice man. Why hadn’t Ruby been able to see that when Mary had seen it so clearly? Perhaps because there wasn’t much choice in the village?
    Thinking that Ruby might not have been telling her the truth about a possible pregnancy, she repeated the question. ‘Are you sure you’re not in trouble?’
    Ruby’s expression turned angry. ‘Mary, I’ve already told you! I am not pregnant! Honestly, Mary, I’m not. I just need to get away.’
    Mary thought about what this would mean. The recipe and loaf she’d given such thought and time to would not be entered in her name. But she wanted it confirmed, she wanted her sister to voice exactly what she did want.
    ‘You think my apple loaf will win and you want to enter it in your name. Is that right?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Ruby, her arms folded beneath her generous breasts, her chin nodding avidly. ‘You’re as good as Dad; he says so himself.’
    ‘And you really want to leave?’
    ‘That’s what I’m telling you. I want to go. I’ll make no bones about it, Mary, I was tempted by Gareth and I do want a sweetheart, but I’m not a tart.’ Ruby pulled a face. ‘I’m still a virgin.’
    Mary raised her eyebrows. ‘Is that so bad?’
    Ruby pouted and tossed her head. ‘I want to live a bit before I settle down.’
    Mary was even more surprised. ‘You mean …?’
    ‘Why not? At least if I get a