by Daisy James
‘Hang on a minute then.’
Lottie trotted into the restaurant and leaned over the bar to exchange a few words with Marc. He shot a glance over to where Millie and Zach were finishing off their drinks, flashed his movie-star smile, and nodded.
‘All fixed then,’ said Lottie as she returned to the table with Zach’s change. ‘You have a date with Marc next Wednesday night which is his night off. That gives you plenty of time to get ready.’
‘Oh, no! Lottie, I really don’t…’
‘Byeee…’
Zach let out a burst of laughter. ‘Shame she’s not as proficient at arranging her own love life,’ he chuckled, indicating the beach where Dylan had joined Ryan as he headed towards the Purple Parrot.
‘Hi, Millie. How’s things? Hi, Zach. Just spent a great day out on the Nigella diving the reef and exploring the coves out by the marine reserve. Could certainly murder a cold beer!’ Dylan slumped into the chair that Lottie had just vacated next to Millie. ‘Four Red Stripes, please, Marc.’
‘Not for us, thanks, Dylan. We were just leaving, but I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Sure thing. Was that Lottie I saw skipping off?’
‘Yes, she’s gone to help Anisha with the shop.’
Millie saw Dylan nod as he took a slug of his beer. She tried to interpret his expression but failed.
‘Bye.’
Millie wriggled her fingers at Dylan and Ryan and followed Zach to the Roadster for the drive up the hill. Suddenly, her problems with motivating Fitz and his men paled into insignificance when she thought of her forthcoming date with Marc. She was already worrying about what she would wear and whether they would have anything in common, not to mention the fact that there would be an audience at the Purple Parrot watching their every move.
Oh, God! What had she let herself in for?
Chapter Thirteen
‘So you reckon it needs more cocoa, not less?’
‘Yes, it’s not coming through strong enough in the tasting, but a little less on the chillies, they’re overpowering the chocolate and it doesn’t work,’ advised Ella.
It was Tuesday afternoon and a week had passed since Millie’s trip to the Diamond Falls. She and Ella had been working in the kitchen all morning on the final few recipes for the start of the Chocolate & Confetti course in six days’ time. Everything was coming together well and when they had completed the next batch of chilli-chocolate muffins to Ella’s satisfaction they would be finished for the day. Millie was proud of the itinerary Claudia would be offering at the Paradise Cookery School – at least the culinary side of things was on track, ahead of schedule, in fact. She wished she could say the same for the kitchen renovations.
However, for Millie, the best thing about her time in St Lucia had been sharing her passion for food with a fellow baker. She was immensely grateful to Ella for introducing her to unusual Caribbean ingredients and exotic spices, and for demonstrating new techniques. She had listened attentively, consumed every morsel of advice offered, and then put everything into practice with eloquent skill. In a break from the norm, she had used a notebook into which every recipe was copied with her own twists scribbled in the margins.
Then it had been Millie’s turn to show Ella some of her signature bakes – a favourite being the gooseberry-and-elderflower millefeuille. Millie experienced a sharp frisson of pride at being given the opportunity to mentor such an accomplished chef. She had never thought anyone would want to listen to what she had to say, let alone so intently and with such obvious gratitude. She was much more accustomed to being the student than the mentor. It was a special feeling.
They had chopped, sautéed, scrambled and poached all week. They had sliced mango, peeled cassava, scooped out passion fruit and grated nutmeg. They had made pineapple jam and lime marmalade, as well as cooked up savoury dishes with yam, okra and plantain. Freshly caught seafood was a special favourite for both of them and they had experimented with barbequing unusual catches offered by the local fishermen only hours from the ocean.
They tasted every recipe they created with a critical palette. The dish had not only to perform magic on their taste buds, but also to produce a feast for the eyes. Herbs, spices, fruits, everything was discussed and catalogued and graded for its ability to add to or deflect from the main ingredients, be it fish, poultry, meat or vegetable.
But the icing on the cake had been their easy camaraderie. They had laughed and giggled as they ate, sharing increasingly intimate details of their lives, their loves, and their dreams for the future.
‘I would really love to have a go at presenting a cookery course one day,’ mused Millie as she stirred fresh lemon juice into a bowl of powdered sugar.
‘Then do it, my dear,’ said Ella, slotting the final tray of chocolate muffins into the oven. ‘We mould our own destinies, formulate our own dreams. If we don’t chase them with single-minded determination, how are they going to come true?’
Ella passed Millie a glass of home-made lime punch made from the remaining limes she had picked from the garden that morning and wandered out to the balcony. The daily deluge had passed and the puddles in the courtyard were rapidly evaporating. The foliage of the banana trees creaked and groaned as the sun resumed its onslaught and the temperature climbed.
‘Have you followed your dreams, Ella?’ asked Millie quietly, joining her at the railing, sipping from her drink.
‘I have. But don’t go thinking it’s been an easy route. The path to contentment never runs smoothly. It’s scattered with boulders the size of pumpkins!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I loved Henri’s father. Jean-Pierre was in St Lucia for a vacation, but he stayed on – just as you see with many young people who fall in love with our country’s beauty. Dylan, Ryan, Lottie, even Andrew who came here at the ripe old age of forty-five – they have all been seduced by our laid-back lifestyle, our friendliness, our acceptance of life’s bounty. Everyone is searching for their own version of paradise, but for different reasons and with myriad expectations. Some are escaping trauma, whilst others come seeking personal fulfilment, chasing the elusive dream of experiencing happiness every day of their lives. It takes a long time to understand the truth – that change is internal. Most people simply carry their unresolved issues with them into their new lives expecting things to be different. They rarely are.’
Ella paused, her chestnut eyes misting as she thought back to her time with Henri’s father. ‘We partied, we swam, we danced on the beach in the moonlight. We begged a boat and searched for secluded coves where we could make love. He was my soulmate. I was twenty-two and I had never loved anyone as much – nor since.’
‘So what happened?’
‘It’s simple. I fell pregnant. That wasn’t on the agenda. Jean-Pierre had a life in France. I don’t think he’d thought beyond the palm trees and the sunshine and the golden beaches. He certainly hadn’t contemplated living in the Caribbean permanently with a native of the islands. Oh, I don’t think it was a cultural issue. We both spoke fluent French, we were both Catholics. No, I just don’t think having a family was on his radar at that time in his life – having a child anywhere, in fact. He panicked and caught the next flight home. I never set eyes on him again.’
Millie could think of no words to ease the pain etched on her friend’s gentle face, even after all these years. Henri had told her he was twenty-eight, and still a holiday romance had the ability to scar for life.
‘But didn’t Henri study at a French university?’ asked Millie.
‘Yes, he did. It was hard being a single parent, not only financially – there was a stigma attached to being an unmarried mother, especially after a fling with a holidaymaker! I never thought of our relationship as a fling because I had truly loved Jean-Pierre. But we managed, despite the orchestrator of my fate not having the decency to provide me with a variety of options.’
The smooth chocolate of her skin, strong, rounded cheekbones and proud tilt of her chin b
elied the vagaries of a life lived as a lone parent prepared to do whatever necessary to make a better life for her son, despite the accident of his birth.
‘Henri got a job helping out at the newspaper when he was fourteen and that kept him in pocket money and out of trouble. It’s so difficult for young people today, especially the boys. There’s such pressure to hang out with the gangs, get involved in drugs, even guns. I couldn’t let that happen to my Henri so I gathered my courage and contacted Jean-Pierre. It’s easier nowadays with social media. I found him without any problem and he was doing very well for himself too. An equine vet in Bordeaux, no less. Anyway, he agreed to sponsor Henri whilst he did his degree in France.
‘I had told Henri everything as he was growing up so it wasn’t a surprise. I think he did meet his father a few times whilst he was over there, but they never managed to build a relationship. Henri loved France, especially Paris, but he was always eager to catch the flight back home in the summer holidays. Every year he resumed his job at the Soufrière Tribune until he graduated. I think he has plans to be editor-in-chief one day.’
The pride in her son’s achievements shone from Ella’s plump face. It was clear she adored him, but it was much more than that; she respected him, and Millie knew it was reciprocated.
‘Talking of romance,’ said Ella. ‘What are you planning to wear for your date with Marc tomorrow night?’
‘Oh, I’m not even sure I’m going to go.’
‘Why not?’
‘I… I don’t think I’m ready to step on the dating carousel yet, that’s all.’
‘Well, far be it from me to say that it’s just a little bit of holiday fun!’ Ella laughed.
Millie smiled at her friend, and was grateful that Ella didn’t push her for an explanation. She knew that it was the perfect time to share her story, but she wasn’t ready. Since her arrival in St Lucia she had felt as though real life had been suspended, that she was living in an alternate dimension; one that did not include infidelity or heartache. She was enjoying being with people who saw her for who she was, not what had happened to her, and she wanted to extend that feeling for as long as possible. She knew Ella would forgive her reticence.
So, if this was another world, then why shouldn’t she have a night out with Marc? Did it matter how it turned out? They both knew that she was going back to the UK in a few days’ time so what did she have to lose?
She smiled at Ella. ‘I’ve got a lovely peach-and-cream sundress. Shall I try it on?’
‘Absolutely!’
Millie’s spirits edged up a notch and she realized she was actually looking forward to her no-strings-attached date.
Chapter Fourteen
With only three full work days left, including Friday – the scheduled completion day – Millie had to reluctantly admit that the renovations were seriously behind schedule. She had employed every technique in her armoury, every argument, every inducement, every method of persuasion she could think of. She had even resorted to baking a selection of mouth-watering French pastries to cajole the trio of artisans into upping their speed from plodding to at least rolling. But nothing she did or said succeeded in increasing their work rate. The gear stick was well and truly stuck on dawdle.
Every day they arrived in the courtyard to the accompaniment of a Bob Marley classic at eight a.m., instead of the required seven. It was so hot in the middle of the day that the extra hour in the morning was vital to progress. She couldn’t blame them for breaking for lunch, relaxing either on the sunloungers on the terrace or taking a snooze in the back of their van until two o’clock when the sun had burned its brightest. Occasionally they would disappear home for their lunch – or so Millie had naively assumed. She had been informed by an irate Ella the previous day that they were spending their two hours away from the villa in a bar on the road to Soufrière. She should have realized, given Vic’s propensity to drop his tools in the pool on his return.
She had spoken to Fitz that morning about the slippage in the schedule, tried to impress upon him how important it was to get the kitchen finished. He had listened to her litany of suggestions with a serene expression, the habitual cigarette dangling from his lips, a pencil behind his ear, but had simply shrugged and told her to relax.
‘But Fitz, there are six wedding guests arriving on Monday and they will be expecting a high-spec, professional-standard kitchen which is pristine – and safe! Claudia’s reputation is on the line, never mind her money.’ However, Millie knew the words ‘deadline’ and ‘schedule’ and ‘rush’ would never appear on Fitz’s Scrabble board.
‘No problem, Millie.’
‘We’re at least two days behind!’ she had cried, but Fitz simply met her desperate pleading with a slow, languid smile and patted her on the arm before turning the radio up, sucking on his unlit cigarette like a toddler on his dummy. Apparently, Wednesday was a big night out and the guys had spent the whole day chattering about their plans for the evening in a selection of Castries’s infamous bars.
A helix of panic had escalated with each passing day as she surveyed the progress when Fitz, Alph and Vic left for the evening. She knew the delay was her fault and an uncomfortable ball of dread nestled in the pit of her stomach.
At least she was happy with the culinary progress. She and Ella had most of the recipes sorted and what a fabulous selection there was. Waves of excitement crashed through her as she rolled through the list of exotic dishes in her mind. All finalized recipes had been emailed to Claudia who was holed up, bored to distraction in her bedroom at her manor house in the Cotswolds. She was always eager to hear their suggestions for tweaking her recipes. After the operation to pin her ankle the doctors had prescribed her such potent painkillers that she had confessed to not feeling in complete control of her faculties and had told them to trust their instincts and she would accept their judgement. When Millie had questioned whether she would be fit enough to fly out to St Lucia at the weekend, Claudia had assured her that she would be and it was a brave medic that would keep her away.
So, at least the cookery school part of things would be ready. If only she could be as confident about Fitz delivering on his kitchen promise, she would be able to enjoy her adventure in the Caribbean a whole lot more. As the men were currently indulging in their daily siesta, Millie decided to take the opportunity to wash down the paintwork and the marble floor and do whatever she could to get a head start on the finishing touches.
She grabbed a cleaning cloth and a brush and skipped across the courtyard to the villa’s back door. Again, a jolt of surprise hit her. Just that morning she had purposely stacked the empty wooden crates and bamboo basket in the shed behind the garage to remove any further possibility of having to question her sanity. But here they were, back in their usual place on the doorstep, two of them, with the basket perched on the top filled with cocoa pods. Now she knew something was going on. She resolved to speak to Fitz the following day as it could only be one of his gang who had done this – possibly as a joke, but it wasn’t funny any more.
She opened the concertinaed glass doors and stood on the veranda to survey the kitchen. It would be spectacular. The skeleton was in place – the run of worktops in front of the windows to take full advantage of the view, the huge stainless-steel professional-grade oven, the enormous SMEG fridge-freezer standing to attention on the back wall, the marble-topped island unit at the centre of the room – minus its sink and taps – from where Claudia would present her Paradise Cookery School courses.
There was space for two students at each of the four workbenches, which had their own sinks, swan-necked taps and electric ovens. A white granite-topped table had been delivered the previous day and would easily accommodate the course tutor and eight diners sitting down to sample their creations at the end of the day.
Millie set about polishing the table and the countertops, then moved on to brush the floor free of sawdust and splodges of plaster and glue. The carcases had no doors. There were no wall units, no ski
rting boards fitted, and the wall tiles still had to be grouted. A squirm of discomfort reinforced the fear that there was a real risk the project would not be completed on time. There was no way they could accept paying guests into a work-in-progress.
She ditched her cloth and scoured the room for her favourite appliance – a Fracino Retro coffee machine. Every item that had been delivered had been unpacked and most of the appliances were in place. But she couldn’t see the coffee machine anywhere. It wasn’t difficult to perform a search as the cupboards were all open. She scoured the larder, whose shelves were bare save for a pile of handles and hinges. Then she sauntered down the corridor to the six bedrooms; nothing.
An unpleasant thought entered her head. She had definitely seen the box and now it was missing. Just like the cocoa pods. Was there more to the mysterious disappearances than she was giving credit for? Okay, the pods had no value, but a commercial-grade coffee machine was a different league. Should she share her concerns with Claudia? First the obvious delay in the schedule, and now the possibility of a theft of the appliances she was responsible for?
Millie’s throat tightened around a knot of anxiety that had nothing to do with the fact that the renovations were behind schedule. Perhaps unwisely, she had told Poppy about her date with Marc and her friend was so excited about her first foray into the dating game since they had met that she had been emailing and texting her every couple of hours with tips on what to wear and what to talk about on a first date.
Yet Poppy was right. She should be looking forward to spending time with such an attractive and charismatic guy. The gnawing sensation in her stomach was just nerves because her confidence in the field of romance had taken a battering. She had to believe that she was ready to move on unless she wanted to end up as a lonely old spinster and there was no way she was going to let Luke do that to her.
Anyway, what better time to dip her toe in the water than whilst away from the normal routine with someone she was unlikely to see again? Her date with Marc that evening was a great way to break the monotony of her celibacy. If she didn’t go for a drink with Marc, when would she get the chance to go on a date next? She never met anyone in London – she was always too busy at the patisserie.
