Image description: The YeastEnders village of Walnutford, with baked-goods characters gathered in Almond Square outside The Queen Victoria Sponge.
The Queen Victoria Sponge had survived another evening in Walnutford.
Technically.
Peggy Cherry Bakewell stood outside the pub examining what remained of her flower tub.
“It was twelve ninety-nine.”
Phil the Pudding sighed.
“Mum, you’ve mentioned that seventeen times.”
“It had begonias in it.”
“Eighteen.”
Across Almond Square, the last of Bruno Brioche’s vans disappeared around the corner.
But the Buttered Bunch had left something behind.
On a table inside the pub sat a brown folder.
On the front were six words.
QUEEN VICTORIA SPONGE.
PROPERTY AND OWNERSHIP.
Sticky Nick stared at it.
Roxy Rhubarb stared at him.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“You’ve been doing that thing where you know something and pretend your face doesn’t.”
“My face doesn’t do anything.”
Dot Crumble adjusted her icing-sugar glasses.
“Your left corner twitches, Nicholas.”
Nick immediately covered it.
Peggy marched back inside.
“If Bruno Brioche thinks he’s getting his buttery hands on my pub, he’s got another think coming.”
Rye-vita carefully opened the folder.
Inside were old deeds, delivery records, maps of Almond Square and several faded pages.
Then something fell from between two sheets.
A small brass key.
Roxy picked it up.
“What’s this for?”
Nick’s left corner twitched.
Dot pointed.
“There.”
“Oh, give over, Ma.”
Before anyone could ask another question, the pub door burst open.
A round, tightly rolled pudding marched through it carrying a suitcase.
She spotted Roxy.
“YOU.”
Roxy’s mouth fell open.
“Oh, crumbs.”
Peggy blinked.
“Ronnie?”
Ronnie Roly-Poly dropped her suitcase, marched across the pub and wrapped Roxy in an enormous hug.
Then she let go and smacked her lightly on the arm.
“Ow!”
“That was for not calling me.”
“You hugged me first.”
“That was because I’m pleased you’re alive.”
Another smack.
“Ow!”
“That was because I’m annoyed you’re an idiot.”
Phil grinned.
“Hello, Ronnie.”
Ronnie pointed at him.
“Don’t start.”
Grant the Spotted Dick emerged from behind the bar.
“Cousin Ronnie.”
They hugged.
Ronnie looked him up and down.
“You’ve got bigger.”
“I’m a pudding.”
“You’ve got much bigger.”
Peggy folded her arms.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’ve spent two days hearing rumours that my little sister’s got herself mixed up with the Buttered Bunch.”
“I haven’t,” said Roxy.
“Who went to an abandoned flour mill at midnight after they sent her a message?”
Roxy paused.
“That’s not the point.”
Ronnie looked at Peggy.
“She hasn’t changed.”
“Neither have you.”
“Good.”
Rye-vita cleared her throat.
“How exactly did you hear about the Buttered Bunch?”
Ronnie noticed Sticky Nick.
Her expression changed.
“Nicholas.”
Nick gave her an awkward smile.
“Ronnie.”
Dotty frowned.
“You two know each other?”
“Everybody knew Sticky Nick in Crumbford,” said Ronnie.
Nick looked offended.
“I had a good reputation.”
“You sold my dad a toaster with no plug.”
“It was heavily discounted.”
“It was on fire.”
“That’s why it was discounted.”
Dot smiled proudly.
“Always had a head for business.”
Rye-vita tapped the folder.
“Can we return to this?”
Ronnie noticed it.
The colour drained from her face.
“Where did you get that?”
“Bruno Brioche,” said Peggy.
Ronnie stared at the words PROPERTY AND OWNERSHIP, then at the key.
“Put that down.”
“Why?” asked Roxy.
“Because I’ve seen one before.”
Nick stood.
“Where?”
Ronnie looked at him.
“You know where.”
Nick’s left corner twitched.
Dot pointed.
“There!”
“Ma!”
Ronnie picked up the folder.
“Years ago, the Bunch used storage tins for documents. Deeds, agreements, names of businesses they could use to make things look legitimate.”
“Fronts,” said Nick quietly.
“Some real businesses, some fake. Some didn’t even know their names were being used.”
Peggy’s expression hardened.
“Like my pub.”
“Maybe.”
Roxy held up the key.
“And this?”
“That looks like a tin key.”
There were three slow knocks at the pub door.
A white envelope slid underneath.
Two flour-dusted letters were written on the front.
BB.
Peggy grabbed it.
“I’m getting very tired of their stationery.”
Inside was a strip of brown baking paper.
Rye-vita read it aloud.
“MIDNIGHT. BY THE RIVER.”
Then the final line.
“BRING THE TIN.”
Silence filled the Queen Victoria Sponge.
Ronnie turned towards Sticky Nick.
“You told them it was here.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then how do they know?”
Peggy looked at the key.
“There is just one tiny problem.”
Everyone turned.
“We haven’t got a tin.”
From behind the bar came a small metallic clunk.
Dot Crumble froze.
Peggy narrowed her eyes.
“Dot?”
Dot glanced beneath the bar.
“Well, I might know where there’s a tin.”
Blindman Makes 