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“I knew Ruby’s signature wasn’t her best,” Paul says miserably, “but this has to take the cake.”
“Ha!” Sue says, delighted. “Cake!”
“Now is not the time, Sue,” Mel says, and it’s extremely jarring to watch her say those words, because—well—because she’s in Sue’s body, and Sue has to stand here and watch her own mouth say things.
Mel is Sue. Sue is Paul. Paul is Mary. Mary is Mel. Everyone is having a really bad day.
“Well,” says Samantha, the producer, “I’m sorry, but we can’t stop filming. You’ll have to just push on through and make it work.”
“Sam,” Paul says, and goodness it’s strange, to see an expression that stern and belligerent on Mary’s face. “I’m five feet tall and I’m wearing a twin-set. How can I possibly push on through?”
“You will make it work,” Samantha tells him firmly, and Sue really isn’t sure they can, but Sam is scary enough that Sue knows that they’ll all certainly try .
“So, Paul, ” Paul says pointedly to her, “why have you chosen to assign this bake as the technical?”
Sue looks down at the glass plate sitting in the middle of the gingham tablecloth. It has what looks like a fiendishly complex and suspiciously pink pastry confection sitting pertly in the center, and Sue has literally no idea what it is.
“Well,” she says weakly, “it’s just so difficult to make. There’s simply … so much that could go wrong here.”
From behind the camera, she sees Sam nodding along encouragingly, so she continues. “The bakers will have to get the timing absolutely right if they want to pull off a perfect ... “
Sam mouths something mumbly and possibly French at her.
“A perfect MILFy,” Sue says confidently.
“Mille-feuille,” Paul whispers at her.
“That’s what I said!”
“Cut!”
If the technical was bad, the Showstopper is even worse.
“Absolutely fantastic,” Paul says, which is bad enough all on its own, but then he starts to reach out one tiny genteel hand towards Kimberley and Sue realizes with dawning horror the mistake that is about to occur.
She makes a split second decision and sharply kicks Paul’s ankle from behind the table, which on second thought may actually have been a pretty severe lapse in judgement. Paul winces, and Sue really hopes she hasn’t actually broken any of Mary’s fragile bird bones. She’s made a lot of mistakes in her life, but none of them have been quite so bad as “maiming classic icon Mary Berry on national TV.”
There’s a silence then, and Sue realizes with a jolt that she’s supposed to say something about Kimberley’s bake now, Paul-slash-Mary’s delicate ankles be damned. “Oh, ah, well, now this is a fantastic biscuit, Kimberley,” she says, doing her best. “It’s got a nice snap and the flavors are really … uh, good.” Out of the corner of her eye she sees Mary bury her face in her hands, a gesture that looks hilariously out of place in Mel’s body. Sue just mentally shrugs. She did her best, okay.
“This isn’t a biscuit,” Kimberley says, confused. “This is a meat pie.”
“Oh,” Sue says. “Well, it’s still got a nice snap.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Paul says.
“No, it doesn’t,” Sue repeats.
“Cut!” Sam yells. “People, I really need you to try harder!”
Ruby, standing back at her station, looks affronted. “I’m doing the best I can!”
“No, no,” Sam says, “not you. You’re doing amazing, sweetie. I mean these four so-called professionals–”
“Hey,” Mel says, “me and Mary are doing just fine!”
“You’ve got the easy job,” Sue protests. “You just have to be me! I have to be this one–”
“And you’re doing a terrible job of it,” Paul snaps.
“Let’s all try and calm down,” Mary says bracingly. “I know that if we just do our best and keep on, we’ll get this filmed.”
“I am calm,” Paul and Sue shout in unison.
“Okay,” Sue says after a long silence, “right. I see what you mean now.”
“Sorry about that,” Paul says grudgingly. “We’ll do better.”
“See that you do,” Sam says. “Rolling!”
“I can’t go on like this,” Sue says after the fifth take of her sampling Frances’ Showstopper. “I really can’t.”
“I believe in you,” Kimberley says encouragingly, and she does look very supportive, but standing one station behind her something looks fundamentally broken in Ruby’s eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” Ruby says, “I really didn’t think those spices would have this effect, I really didn’t.”
“It’s fine,” Mel says. “Mostly.”
“Have you tried anything to switch back?” Kimberley asks. “Like, reversing the ratios of the spices or setting the pastries on fire?”
“I don’t know,” Mel says, “I rather thought we were intended to learn a lesson about friendship and respect and how to walk in each other’s shoes.”
“I hate your shoes, Mary,” Paul says. “My feet hurt so much, how do you do it?”
“They’re a sensible two-inch heel, Paul,” Mary says.
“I definitely respect Paul’s qualifications more, now,” Sue says. “If I have to say ‘buttery pastry’ one more time—“
“It’s not about having realizations or any of that,” Ruby says. “It’s just a freak combination, and it should wear off by tomorrow.”
“But we have to film this today ,” Samantha says insistently. “Surely there has to be a better way.”
“Can you write me cue cards, Paul?” Sue asks plaintively.
“Oh, that’s actually a brilliant suggestion,” he says, brightening. “Mary, can you get me some too?”
“Of course,” Mary says. “Mel?”
“I don’t think you need them, honestly,” she says, “but I can slip you some puns if necessary.”
“Can’t believe none of you thought of this before the Technical,” Samantha says, annoyed, “but that sounds like a plan. Get to it.”
“See,” Mel says brightly, “we are having realizations and respecting each other and doing teamwork!”
“It’s not about teamwork,” Ruby repeats, but she’s looking a little less desolate all the same.
“I don’t care what it’s about,” Sam says, as Paul finishes scrawling his notes on a piece of poster board one of the runners had brought over, “we just need to get this filmed. Rolling!”