Image description: The YeastEnders village of Walnutford, with baked-goods characters gathered in Almond Square outside The Queen Victoria Sponge.
Crusty Carl’s phone continued to ring.
Nobody in the Queen Victoria Sponge moved.
BRUNO glowed on the screen.
Peggy Cherry Bakewell pointed at it.
“Well, answer it.”
Carl stared at her.
“Are you mad?”
“Frequently. Answer the phone.”
Sticky Nick grabbed Carl’s wrist.
“No.”
Rye-vita looked at him.
“Why not?”
“Because Bruno doesn’t ring for a chat.”
The ringing stopped.
Everyone relaxed.
Then the phone rang again.
Dot Crumble sighed.
“He’s persistent. I had a window cleaner like that once.”
Dotty Crumble looked at her father.
“Who is Bruno?”
Nick said nothing.
“Dad?”
“He runs the Buttered Bunch.”
“We know that.”
“No. You know his name. That’s different.”
Carl’s phone stopped again.
A message appeared.
ANSWER ME, CARL.
Rye-vita took out her crumb notebook.
“Put it on speaker.”
Carl looked horrified.
“You put it on speaker.”
Peggy snatched the phone and pressed the button.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a deep voice spoke.
“Carl.”
Peggy frowned.
“No. Peggy.”
Another silence.
“Where’s Carl?”
“Having a drink.”
Carl shook his head frantically.
“Tell him Bruno Brioche would like a word.”
Peggy glanced around the pub.
“He can hear you.”
Carl looked as though he might crumble completely.
Bruno laughed softly.
“Hello, Carl.”
Carl swallowed.
“Bruno.”
“You took something that belongs to me.”
Rye-vita looked at the delivery sheet.
Carl said nothing.
Bruno continued.
“I’d like it back.”
“You’ll have to come and get it.”
Nick closed his eyes.
Dot whispered to Dotty.
“That was brave.”
“Stupid,” whispered Dotty.
“Often the same thing.”
Bruno’s voice hardened.
“Nick there?”
Everyone looked at Sticky Nick.
Nick stepped towards the phone.
“I’m here.”
“Thought you might be.”
“Leave them out of this, Bruno.”
“You brought them into it.”
Nick’s jaw tightened.
“I didn’t bring anyone anywhere.”
“What about the Queen Vic?”
Peggy leaned towards the phone.
“What about my pub?”
Bruno laughed.
“Ask Nicholas.”
The call ended.
Peggy slowly turned towards Nick.
The entire pub went quiet.
“What,” she said, “does my pub have to do with this?”
“Nothing.”
Rye-vita tapped the delivery sheet.
“Except its name is on here.”
“So is mine.”
“Exactly.”
Dotty stared at her father.
“Tell us the truth.”
Nick rubbed a hand across his worn crust.
“Years ago, Bruno needed businesses he could use on paperwork. Real places. Places nobody would question.”
Peggy’s cherry trembled.
“You used my pub?”
“I used the name.”
“You used my pub?”
“Peggy, listen.”
“How many times?”
Nick hesitated.
Peggy reached beneath the bar.
Phil the Pudding stepped backwards.
“Mum.”
Peggy produced her tiny silver fork.
Nick stared at it.
“Oh, come on.”
“You’ve got five seconds.”
“Years ago. A few deliveries. None of them ever came here.”
Rye-vita frowned.
“Then why is the Queen Victoria Sponge appearing on current paperwork?”
Nick froze.
Carl looked at the sheet.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you.”
He pointed to a date beside the Queen Vic entry.
“This isn’t old.”
Peggy looked at it.
Yesterday.
Nobody spoke.
Then Rye-vita noticed something else.
A delivery number.
And beside it:
OLD FLOUR MILL. MIDNIGHT.
Rye-vita checked the clock.
Eleven fifty-eight.
From somewhere beyond Almond Square came the rumble of engines.
One van.
Then another.
Then another.
Sticky Nick looked towards the window.
“They’re here.”