I am sitting opposite Mary Berry in her kitchen. Why? I can’t remember. She looks at me across the table with her piercing blue eyes. Is that hunger I see in them? Fear? Loathing?
Why don’t you try the Battenberg cake? We need to fatten you up a bit.” The cake sits on the table between us, glistening. Did she bake it? Did I? I look down. I’m dressed in a pink shirt, halfway undone. A fresh scar crosses my chest. I look up. Mary is holding a fistful of Battenberg cake in front of my mouth.
“Open wide.” I chew.
“It’s a bit dry. I can feel it falling apart in my mouth. I think you over baked that.” Did I say that?
“Ooh yes, very good. Now -” A woman walks into the room holding a parcel. “Mary, this arrived for you -” A flash of fuschia.
“GAAAAAH.”
Mary is panting, her nails streaked with blood. The woman is crying as the four gash- es across her face weep onto the floor.
“What did I say about interrupting me? Get out of here, Perkins.” Mary picks up the parcel as the woman crawls away.
“I’m ever so sorry about that, where were we? Ah yes, the procedure…” A man in a white lab coat walks in, brandishing a nee- dle.
“Perfect, my afternoon pick me up.” The man wraps a plastic belt tight around Berry’s raging bicep, then pecks and hunts for a vein for several minutes, as she pumps her fist fu- riously to get the blood flowing.
Berry turns away from me. The needle plunges into her forearm, and she throws back her head. A scream of carnal pleasure rings out. Some spittle lands on the table. It dissolves. She turns back to me.
“Now as I was saying, we’re ready for the final stage of the procedure. We had to track these all the way from India, quite the hunt but it’s part of the fun.” Her eyes glint wildly as she passes me the parcel. “Why don’t you open it?” I open it. I stare. A pair of icy blue eyes stare back.
“Now, we’ll just pop these in, and then I think you’ll be ready for some promo shots, wont you, ‘Paul’?”