Image description: The YeastEnders village of Walnutford, with baked-goods characters gathered in Almond Square outside The Queen Victoria Sponge.
Roxy Rhubarb waited until the mill door closed behind Sticky Nick.
“Well?”
Ronnie Roly-Poly pulled her sister further behind the wall.
“Well what?”
“Do we follow him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re two puddings hiding beside an abandoned flour mill at midnight.”
Roxy smiled.
“So yes?”
Ronnie sighed.
“I knew I should’ve stayed home.”
They crept towards the side of the mill.
One of the windows had been boarded up badly enough to leave a gap.
Inside, Bruno Brioche stood beside three wooden crates.
Sticky Nick stood opposite him.
“You said the papers would be in the tin,” said Bruno.
“They weren’t.”
“I noticed.”
Nick pointed at the crates.
“What’s in those?”
“None of your business.”
“It used to be.”
Bruno smiled.
“And perhaps it could be again.”
Roxy whispered, “He’s playing him.”
Ronnie whispered back, “I hope so.”
A car pulled up outside.
The sisters ducked behind the wall as a thin pastry in a dark suit climbed out carrying a battered leather case.
He entered the mill without knocking.
Bruno greeted him.
“Parker.”
Parker Pastry put the case on a crate.
“You’ve made a mess of this.”
“Nice to see you too.”
Parker opened the case and removed a bundle of papers.
“I spent years making your arrangements look respectable. You were supposed to keep the old records out of Walnutford.”
Nick stepped closer.
“Parker Pastry.”
Parker looked at him.
“Sticky Nick. Still disappointing people, I see.”
“Still charging them for it?”
“Obviously.”
Outside, Roxy grinned.
“I like him.”
“You would.”
Inside, Parker unfolded an old map of Almond Square.
The Queen Victoria Sponge had been circled in red.
Nick pointed at it.
“Why is Bruno suddenly interested in Peggy’s pub?”
Parker looked at Bruno.
Bruno said nothing.
“That,” said Parker, “is the problem.”
Back at the Queen Victoria Sponge, Rye-vita was still sorting through the papers from the blue tin.
Peggy hovered nearby.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“I investigate things.”
“You’re spreading them over my tables.”
“That’s how investigating works.”
“Not during opening hours.”
“It’s one in the morning.”
“Exactly. I’m trying to close.”
Phil the Pudding picked up another sheet.
“This one’s got the pub on it.”
Peggy took it from him.
At the bottom was a faded reference:
ALMOND SQUARE – LOWER STORAGE
Peggy frowned.
“We haven’t got lower storage.”
Dot Crumble looked up from her chair.
“Haven’t we?”
Everyone turned towards her.
Peggy stared.
“Dot?”
“What?”
“Do we have lower storage?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve lived here longer than I have.”
“I don’t go poking about underneath pubs at my age.”
The door opened.
Ronnie and Roxy hurried inside.
“We’ve got a problem,” said Ronnie.
Peggy groaned.
“Get in the queue.”
Roxy told them about Parker Pastry.
At the mention of his name, Rye-vita stopped sorting.
“I’ve seen that name.”
She searched through the papers and pulled out an old agreement.
At the bottom, beneath several signatures, were the words:
Prepared by Parker Pastry.
Peggy read it twice.
“What exactly did this man do?”
Sticky Nick answered from the doorway.
“He made things disappear on paper.”
Dotty Crumble rushed towards him.
“Dad!”
“I’m all right.”
Rye-vita held up the agreement.
“Then explain this.”
Nick read Parker’s name.
“Years ago, Bruno used Parker to move businesses, storage agreements and property rights around on paper. Half the time nobody knew what they were signing.”
Peggy tapped the Queen Victoria Sponge name.
“And this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try harder.”
Nick pulled out a folded sheet he’d taken from the mill.
“Maybe this will help.”
It was another map of Almond Square.
This one showed a shaded area beneath the Queen Victoria Sponge.
Peggy stared at it.
“What is that?”
Nick shook his head.
“Parker wouldn’t tell me.”
A voice came from the still-open doorway.
“Bruno Brioche isn’t interested in your pub.”
Parker Pastry walked into the Queen Victoria Sponge, carrying his battered leather case.
“Then what’s he interested in?” asked Peggy.
Parker pointed towards the floor.
“What’s underneath it.”
Blindman Makes 