Narrative: Iris at the bake-off Who: Iris + unnamed woman from the WWN! What: The apple pie bake-off! When: Sunday 19th December Where: Presumably London?
Perhaps this isn't so bad, Iris thought as she carefully poured a little more water into her mixing bowl, using a knife to bring the dough together. She had felt incredibly nervous earlier, sure that she didn't belong in the final with the other five contestants, and her hands had shook as she'd chopped her apples. But now she was fully absorbed in her task, the noises of the other participants little more than a background hum, and if she didn't look up then she could almost pretend she was at home.
She was completely unprepared for the microphone that was shoved under her nose.
"And now we come to Iris Selwyn, our youngest contestant!" the woman holding the microphone said cheerfully. "How are you doing, Iris?"
Iris froze. A hot flush spread up from her neck all the way to the roots of her hair. She knew she should open her mouth, say something -- anything -- but her body seemed to have stopped working. She imagined people at home -- classmates, people she knew -- sitting and listening to the wireless, listening to the lengthy silence that stretched on. She imagined them laughing at her. If possible, she went even redder, but still she couldn't make herself respond to the question.
"Hard at work, I see," the presenter said, covering up the gap. "And it looks like it's going to be a cracking pie when it's finished. We'll come back to you later, Iris."
Iris stared down at her pastry. She let out a breath that she didn't realise she'd been holding and picked up the rolling pin. Her hands were trembling again.