Rosaline Palmer Takes the Cake (Winner Bakes All #1) - Alexis Hall Page 0,134

but she was also committed. “If my arc is that I’ve got more confident, because I’m a woman and not a grandmother and therefore that’s the only arc I can have, why do you need my parents to validate that?”

“Context, sunshine, context. We need to know how diffident and shit you used to be, so everybody can think Gosh, hasn’t she come a long way. We want sad little girls and stifled housewives up and down the country to look at you and think, If she can do it, then so can I. And if enough of them think it, you’ll get a huge book deal at the end of this, which you can use to put your daughter through university or rehab, whichever she winds up needing.”

Rosaline just stared at her. “You are the worst human being.”

“Flattery’ll get you nowhere. Smile, look relatable, and ride this train to Big Pile of Money Station.”

If Jennifer Hallet had a superpower more subtle than shouting, it was her ability to make you question yourself. Because, ultimately, money mattered, especially with Amelie in the picture. And maybe the mature thing to do was to swallow her pride and leave everything to the professionals. After all, if Jennifer was right—and Rosaline thought she probably was—then she could be throwing away the very opportunity she came on the show to get.

“Look.” One more try. Then she’d cave. “If that’s the story you’re telling, why can’t I be the one to tell it? Because, yes, you’re right. I’ve got things out of the show, and I’m a stronger, more confident person because of it. Which is why I’m pissing you off so much right now.”

Jennifer Hallet’s eyes had narrowed in a way that was either very good or very, very bad. “You’ve been pissing me off for a lot longer than that, but I’m listening.”

“You’ve got a file on me. You know the deal. I got pregnant at nineteen and now I’m a single mum in a dead-end job. But my parents have never made me feel anything but shitty about myself. So I don’t want them to be part of my story. Not when there are people in my life—like Amelie and my ex-girlfriend Lauren—who can say all of this, but the difference is that when they say they’re proud of me, they’ll fucking mean it.”

“Fine. The moppet will probably play better anyway.”

“On top of which—Wait. What?”

“You win, sunshine.” It was hard to tell just then if Jennifer Hallet was secretly respecting Rosaline or hating her guts. “But if this isn’t the most heartwarming bucket of oversweetened bull semen I’ve ever poured down the throat of the nation, I will come to you in the night and burn your pubes while you sleep.”

Rosaline felt actually slightly dizzy with adrenaline, success, and several mental images she really hadn’t wanted. “Okay. Deal.”

And so, with Rosaline’s tiny living room stuffed full of filming equipment and production crew, Lauren and Amelie sat on the sofa and tried to take Colin Thrimp seriously.

“What’s it been like,” he was asking, in the terminally misguided tone of somebody who thought he was good with children, “having Mummy on Bake Expectations?”

“It’s been good. I’ve been staying with Auntie Lauren and she tells me things she’s not supposed to and lets me get away with murder.”

“I do not,” Lauren protested.

“You bloody well do,” said Rosaline from the doorway.

Colin Thrimp wrung his hands. “Um, ladies. Can we make sure this is usable footage? Amelie, would you say that Mummy has, for example, made a lot of cakes?”

Amelie nodded emphatically. “Yes.”

“Could you say that, please?”

“Why?”

“So I can film you saying it.”

“But you’ve said it.”

“I’m not going to be on the television. You’re going to be on the television. So you need to say the things. And what I’d really like you to say is something nice about your mummy.”

“Oh.” Amelie seemed to be thinking about this for a moment. “I am very happy Mummy’s on Bake Expectations because it means she’s made loads of cakes and normally I have to eat healthily because she’s a responsible parent. Which is why social services shouldn’t come and take me away.”

There was a moment while Colin Thrimp listened to his earpiece. “No, no—I think that’s fine. We’ll just cut the bit about social services.”

“Don’t cut that bit,” said Amelie. “That’s the important bit.”

“Amelie darling.” Despite it being fairly early in the afternoon and there being, Rosaline could have sworn, none left in the house, Lauren had somehow acquired a