Image description: The YeastEnders village of Walnutford, with baked-goods characters gathered in Almond Square outside The Queen Victoria Sponge.
It’s a blustery morning in Walnutford, and The Queen Victoria Sponge is already thick with the scent of burnt crumpets and brewing scandal.
Behind the polished bar stands Peggy Cherry Bakewell, not a tart, but a proud Bakewell pudding. Small in size but solid in presence, she wears her crisp icing topping in a blonde-style bouffant crowned with a glossy cherry that gleams like a jewel. A tiny silver fork is tucked into her apron string like a dagger.
“They’ve got some flaming nerve,” she mutters, polishing a teacup with one hand while gripping the fork with the other.
The source of her fury? A new café has opened across Almond Square, Ye Olde Crumb and Butter, run by two smug sourdough types from Pastry Park. Worse still, they’re luring in locals with free slices of plum loaf and promises of hand-whipped oat foam.
At her usual seat by the fondant flower display, Dot Crumble peers over the rim of her mug. She’s an elderly square of soft stewed apple wrapped in a flaky pastry crust, her icing sugar glasses balanced neatly on top.
“Trying to poach our punters,” she sniffs. “It’s not right, Peggy. It’s unbaked behaviour.”
Suddenly, the pub door bursts open.
In stomps Phil the Pudding, Peggy’s son and a true chip off the pudding block. He’s a hefty slab of chocolate sponge coated in rich ganache, with a slow leak of custard from one side. His face is red with rage.
“Mum! They’ve only gone and nicked our treacle sponge recipe. Slapped candied walnuts on it and started calling it their ‘signature dish’!”
Peggy slams her fork onto the bar.
“Not in my pub,” she snaps. “You don’t mess with a Bakewell and walk out with your crust intact.”
Meanwhile, across Almond Square, Sharon Scone has been spotted slipping through the back door of Ye Olde Crumb and Butter.
She’s a soft-centred scone with a jammy heart and a cracked sugar glaze. Her usual cherry topping is missing, and her expression is every bit as flaky as her edges.
Dennis Danish, her partner-in-pastry, is all golden folds and secret fillings. With too many layers and an easy smile, he has the look of someone who always knows more than he’s letting on.
Watching from the opposite side of the square is Stacey Swiss Roll, bold, bright and coiled tight with jam. Her chocolate coating gleams in the morning light, and her expression suggests she’s ready to unravel at any moment.
Dot Crumble leans back in her chair.
“You mark my words,” she says quietly. “The jam’s about to hit the fan.”
Back behind the bar, Peggy Cherry Bakewell throws open the doors of The Queen Victoria Sponge.
“Meeting tonight,” she declares. “Bring your buns. This means war.”
Across Almond Square, the curtains of an upstairs window in Ye Olde Crumb and Butter twitch ever so slightly.
For just a moment, a shadowy figure can be seen watching the square.
Then…
The curtain slowly falls closed once again.
Dot Crumble narrows her eyes.
“Oh… now that’s interesting.”
Nobody else seems to have noticed.
Yet.