A/N

So this is inspired by a Tumblr post by OxfordKivrin, who speculated on the Foyle's War characters as Bake Off contestants. This is my interpretation of that and differs slightly from the original post (I just couldn't have Andrew go out in the first round!) but I hope I have done it some justice.

I apologise for the lack Foyle in this chapter, he will appear in future chapters, if people want future chapters.

"And so that's when he taught me the secret to his Madeira cake." Sam finished her tale triumphantly, only to register the looks on the people before her. Mary had a somewhat fixed smile, with an 'interested' look Sam had tried for years to perfect. Paul had a glazed expression, like he'd stopped listening five minutes ago. Mel simply looked confused.

"Is that the uncle who's a vicar?" Sue, bless her, tried to keep the conversation flowing.

Sam poured the flour in the mixer. "Actually, most of my uncles are vicars…" she started, ready to launch into a familiar story, only to pause as she noticed the identical looks of horror on her audience's faces. She stopped herself and smiled.

"Ok, thank you Sam." Paul looked more relieved than a person had a right to when not faced with imminent death. He left Sam's station quickly.

Mary, Mel and Sue followed, with a parting "Good luck." The camera went with them, much to Sam's relief. She had no problem with the judges or Mel and Sue, but the camera made her uncomfortable – which made her babble.

"Well, done Stewart!" she berated herself, mostly under her breath. She must have been talking to them for a good 15 minutes!

"Don't worry about it." The smooth voice of Paul Milner, on the station behind her, startled Sam and she spun to look at him. Milner smiled gently at her. "They'll edit it down."

Sam closed her eyes in relief, remembering that this wasn't a live show. Thank God. Maybe editing would be kind to her. When she opened her eyes, Milner had an amused expression on his face. Before she could say anything, or thank him, another voice broke in to the conversation.

"Did you seriously say that all your uncles are vicars?" Andrew Foyle was leaning over her counter, an arrested look on his handsome face.

Sam wasn't sure what to make of Andrew. Yes, he was handsome, but he seemed a bit of an ass. When they had first been introduced, he had made some smartass remark about not realising that you could get such pretty engineers. Sam had pokered up, unable to tell whether he was flirting (badly) or taking the mick. It had been frosty between them ever since. Andrew seemed happy enough, flirting with Violet Davis, another contestant.

Sam turned back to her mixer, suddenly remembering that this was a competition and she was supposed to be baking a cake. "Not all of them, just most of them."

"What was that like growing up?" Sam lifted her gaze to his, surprised by this question. Although Andrew's eyebrows were raised, she could only read genuine curiosity in his face. Still, it wasn't something she wanted to go into with him.

She switched on her mixer and raised her voice to say, "Oh, it wasn't too bad," in as off-hand a manner as she could manage. Andrew didn't look convinced but left it alone. Instead, he swiped a segment of orange, stuffed it in his mouth with a grin and turned back to his own station before she could say anything. She gave a huff of annoyance and caught the eye of Christopher Foyle, diagonally across the aisle from her. He raised an eyebrow and then looked at his son, shaking his head. He then gave Sam lop-sided smile. She smiled back, reading in his expression his exasperation with his flirtatious son.

Turning back to her mixer she wondered what it was like to be competing against your family? She tried to picture her mother or father in the tent and could only laugh. The Foyles seemed to be alright, trading banter back and forth across the aisle. Mel and Sue were having a field day with them. Sam could already imagine the voice-over for the first episode, 'and in a first for Bake Off, we have a father-son team, no not team, rivalry...' She reached across for her next ingredient.

Sam managed to stay focused on her orange and green cardamom madeira cake long enough to get it in the oven. Just as she was closing the door, she heard soft swearing. She stood up to see the camera crew sweeping over to the station in front of hers. "What's the matter?" She felt suddenly anxious, wondering if Andrew had made a mistake that she had somehow made too.

"I forgot to turn it on." He gestured to the oven, a sheepish look on his face. Sam clutched at her chest in relief, her heart pounding.

"I thought it was something really bad!" Her voice was perhaps a bit more jovial than was kind, but she really couldn't help it.

Andrew frowned. "It's pretty bad for me." Sam couldn't tell if he was really annoyed or just putting it on.

"Well yes, but I thought it was more like you'd forgotten the sugar or something." Andrew's face took on a look of complete horror and the bottom of Sam's stomach dropped out. Then he laughed. Sam threw her orange rind at him, which he dodged with ease, and resolved to ignore him from now on. It was only as she was weighing out her icing sugar that she noticed the camera crew moving off and realised they'd filmed the whole exchange. That knowledge left her felling odd, somehow exposed.

Judging had to worst experience of her life. Her mouth was dry, and her hands were sweaty, as Mary took a delicate bite of her cake. Please like it, please like it was the only thing that ran through her head. "Texture's good," Paul spoke around his mouthful of cake, and Sam had to stop herself from telling him off. This man is judging your cake, don't turn into your mother! Mary made noises of agreement, too polite to speak with food in her mouth. "Flavour's interesting, that cardamom really works." Paul's voice rose at the end, but Sam wasn't sure if it was surprise or intrigue or something else.

"I really like it. A nice, light bake, delicate flavour. I would never think of adding cardamom, but it works so well." Mary was easier to read, smiling and enthusiastic.

Paul was nodding along, which had to be a good sign, right? "A very good bake. Well done Sam." He gave a final nod, a moved on.

Sue took two extra pieces of cake as she left. "Some for the road" she said with a wink. When they had all moved on, Sam practically melted onto the worktop in relief. Thank God that's over!

"Well done." Andrew's voice was low, but the tone was sincere, and he was smiling when she looked at him. In her relief she beamed back. Andrew seemed slightly taken aback, before his smile grew into a grin.

A frosted walnut cake. With three layers, a meringue topping and caramelised walnuts. Sam knew the technical was going to be hard, but she hadn't expected the recipe to quite so… sparse. Looking around, she was astonished and alarmed to see that the others had started already. She started randomly grabbing ingredients and got to work.

The atmosphere during the technical bake was very different to the signature, so much more tension-filled. Sam tried not to let it affect her, but she could feel herself becoming more stressed as the time passed. There was flour on her cheek, butter on her jeans and her second lot of caramel had just burnt. The camera crew had a sixth sense for any kind of baking crisis and had swooped over before she'd had a chance to hide the evidence. Mel was there to offer a sympathetic shoulder, and Sam did her best to laugh it off.

The cake she produced was almost enough to make her cry – lopsided, the meringue not set, and the caramel was still burnt. She came last and did her best to take it with good grace. Andrew, sat next to her, nudged her with his shoulder when he came 11th. She glanced at him to receive a sympathetic smile in return. She was fairly certain her return smile was a very poor effort. At least it was all over for the day.

Only it wasn't of course. They wanted to film everyone's reaction to the judging. Sam managed to say something along the lines of 'must try harder', a remembered notation from her school report with regards to her art lessons. Then finally she was allowed to escape to the hotel. There were arrangements for them all to meet for dinner, but she had a good hour to herself before she needed to get ready. She decided to take a walk to clear her head.

Maybe Mother was right, maybe I'm really not that great a baker. It was a depressing thought. She had been so excited when she applied to Bake Off only for her mother to point out that they only took the most extraordinary. Which clearly Sam was not. When she had got the acceptance, she had nearly jumped in the car to drive home, just so she could wave it in her mother's face. But now it seemed as if Mother was right, and Sam really wasn't good enough.

"Hey, Sam, wait up." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Andrew Foyle was the last person she wanted to talk to right now. Still, she had been raised to be polite, and so she turned around. She couldn't quite manage a smile however. Andrew jogged the last few yards towards her before slowing down. He wasn't smiling either. "Are you alright? You seemed a bit down when we left the tent?"

He gestured for her to keep walking and fell into step beside her. She wondered what his motive was in following her. "I suppose I was just disappointed to come last." She tried to sound unconcerned but feared that she was a poor actress.

"You'll be alright." Andrew sounded absolutely certain. Sam looked at him but he was looking at the hotel gardens, walking with his hands in his pockets. "Your cake this morning was a cracker, and I'm sure your Showstopper will be just as good." He looked at her then, the corner of his mouth turning up. "There's plenty of other people who messed up more than you, including me." He gave a small shrug as she went to reassure him. "I always let myself down in the execution. Anyway, there's no need to go around looking like it's the end of the world."

She felt oddly cheered by this, words of encouragement from an almost complete stranger.

"Thank you, Andrew. That's very kind." She looked at him, trying to guage how he would take advice. He seemed pleasant enough, but you couldn't always tell. "You know, you would have a lot better chance if you took things more seriously."

Andrew looked chagrined. "That's what my dad says. He thinks I think everything's a big joke. But, really, it's just a baking competition – it's not life or death."

Sam frowned. "Don't you want to win?" He shrugged. "Why come here at all if you don't want to win?" She was confused now. It seemed like a lot of effort to go to, to then not really bother with it.

"I'm afraid I have moments of striving for something and then…" he tailed off.

"You let yourself down in the execution," Sam finished for him. He laughed.

Andrew suddenly waved to someone. Sam followed his gaze to see Violet Davis walking towards them. She suddenly put two and two together to realise that Andrew hadn't followed her, he'd been coming out here to meet Violet. She felt slightly put out by this, but then told herself she was being silly. Just because he hadn't deliberately sought her out, didn't mean Andrew hadn't meant what he said.

"I'll, er, leave you to it," she said, gesturing vaguely in Violet's direction. Andrew grinned at her and then headed over to Violet. Sam shook her head and headed into the hotel. It was probably lucky that there weren't that many women in this year's competition, otherwise Andrew Foyle would be a very busy man! She went to get changed, feeling much happier than she had half an hour earlier.

She felt much more confident with the Showstopper challenge of Black Forest Gâteau. Since chocolate was her favourite substance on earth, Sam had chosen to do a quadruple chocolate Black Forest Gâteau, with four layers, cherry jam, chocolate buttercream, chocolate mirror glaze and chocolate decoration. She may have overreached herself this time.

Still, she had so much to do it kept her from being distracted by Andrew at the station in front of her. Surely such tight jeans should be illegal? Especially when doing so much bending and reaching?

"What have you done to upset Violet?" Milner sounded amused. Sam glanced at the pretty blonde across the aisle and was taken aback at the venom in her gaze. She snapped her head back round.

"I have absolutely no idea!" She racked her brains, trying to think of a moment she'd even talked to Violet, but came up empty. "I don't believe we've even spoken, so even I would have found it difficult to my foot in it."

Milner lowered his eyes and smiled a somewhat secretive smile. "I think it's more about who you have been speaking to." Sam stared at him, confused. He glanced up, saw her expression and then nodded past her. She looked over her shoulder, only to see Andrew bending over to look in his oven. Oh, for Pete's sake! She looked away quickly. Then Milner's meaning struck her.

"You mean, she's jealous?" She couldn't help but sound incredulous. Milner nodded, an amused expression on his face. Sam shook her head. "Ridiculous!" She turned back towards her station. "I'm just here to bake cakes."

Sam was more than please with her final creation. It looked almost exactly how she hoped it would. Paul and Mary were very complimentary, calling it 'mouth-watering'. She couldn't help but feel that she had done enough to scrape through to the next round. Andrew's Black Forest Gâteau had turned out alright too, so maybe he would make it through too. Violet had had a disaster though, with her sponges being dry and over-baked. She was glad to get out of the tent while the judges made their decision.

"I'm glad that's over." Andrew had materialised beside her as she took her cup of tea over to the benches where the rest were waiting. "Far too stressful." He grinned at her. Ridiculously attractive. She blushed slightly and turned her face away, annoyed at herself. "You did fabulously though." He nudged her shoulder with his, gently enough not to jostle her tea, but firm enough for her to know it was deliberate. "Just like I said you would."

"Yes, thank you for that. You really cheered me up." Sam turned towards him as she spoke, using it as an opportunity to step slightly further away from him.

"It was the truth." His grin became something softer. She looked away, aware that she was blushing again. He's a practiced flirt, it doesn't mean anything. She caught a glimpse of Violet watching them. The other woman looked more upset than angry, and Sam suddenly felt frustrated with Andrew, playing with Violet's affections like that.

"Maybe you should go and see if Violet needs cheering up. Her showstopper didn't go that well." She gave Andrew a pointed look, and to his credit, he looked abashed.

"We, er," he started, then stopped. He took a sip of his tea, wincing at the heat. "I may have…"

"Led her on?" Sam was cross now, annoyed on the other woman's behalf.

Andrew looked properly ashamed now. "It was just flirting."

"Not for her." Sam gestured at Violet with her teacup. "You owe her an apology." She suddenly realised she was lecturing him, when she barely knew him. Never stopped you before. "Or something."

Andrew didn't seem to take offense at her words, just nodded. "Yes, I suppose I do." He suddenly squared his shoulders. "You're right." He walked with purpose towards Violet, leaving Sam staring after him in bemusement.

Sam couldn't believe it was over. It was over, and she had made it. She wanted to shout it to the sky, she wanted to tell everyone, but she couldn't. The only people she was allowed to tell were her parents, and she wasn't even sure they would be interested. She looked around, to see the other contestants on the phone to their loved ones, except for Violet, who was facing the camera while trying to hold in tears. Sam felt a twinge of sympathy, it must be awful to go out in the first round.

Still, she had to tell someone that she's got through, or she'd burst!

"Hi Dad, it's me!" Her voice was ringing with excitement.

"Samantha?"

"Yes, Dad." Well, really, who else calls him 'Dad'? "I just thought I'd call to say I've made it."

"Made it where?"

Sam rolled her eyes, of course her parents hadn't remembered. "I've made it past the first round of Bake Off." She could feel her enthusiasm waning.

"Really? That's excellent news! Well done, Samantha."

Sam was astonished. Her parents rarely showed enthusiasm, particularly when it came to her doings, outside of academia, that is. "Thank you, Dad. Um, they really liked my quadruple chocolate Black Forest Gâteau."

"You will have to thank Uncle Aubrey next time you see him."

"I can't do that until they broadcast the show, but I will certainly thank him, and everybody else who's helped me." Sam felt suddenly impatient. Why couldn't her parents be like other parents, and just be proud of her?

"I suppose that means you will be going back for another week?"

"Yes." Sam smiled to herself. "Yes, I suppose I am."

She caught the eye of Andrew, who waved. Another week of him. She didn't know whether she was pleased or resigned. Both probably.

A/N

Any good? Want any more?