Sky's the Limit

by Janie Millman

  ‘Come and eat the canapés.’ Nick motioned them to the large table. ‘And we have Chateau Fontaine wine courtesy of Philippe.’

  ‘Chateau Fontaine, as in Riad Fontaine.’ Gail smiled. ‘Who stole the name from whom?’

  ‘It is Philippe’s surname and even though I’m technically no longer entitled to it he allows me to use it here and for my hotel in Paris.’ Beatrice smiled. ‘My maiden name is Pignal, which is far less appealing. Pour some wine, Philippe, let them taste the nectar that is Chateau Fontaine.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Gail got up to go to the table but Tariq drew her to one side.

  ‘I’d very much like Sonny to come and meet my family tomorrow. Would that be alright?’ Tariq couldn’t wait to show his boy off to his father and sister.

  Gail felt a wave of panic engulf her. ‘I’m not sure, he’s um, well he’s only just met you, isn’t it too soon?’ She stammered.

  ‘No, Gail, it’s too late,’ Tariq replied curtly.

  ‘But he doesn’t even know who you are.’ She felt dangerously close to tears.

  ‘Well, we can tell him together tomorrow.’

  ‘I don’t know, Tariq, I’m not sure, I mean he’s so young, he can’t go without me.’

  ‘Of course he can’t go without you.’ Tariq was angry. ‘Credit me with some sense, Gail, of course I’m not suggesting that I take him on my own.’ He glared at her. ‘I assure you I’m not going to kidnap him, Gail, bring Sky if you’re worried.’ There was a steely look in his eyes that Gail recognised from their son.

  The short time they had spent together that afternoon had been fraught. She had told him about Dawn and he had been horrified.

  ‘Why on earth would she lie? Why would she do something like that?’

  ‘I don’t know, I don’t really understand it either.’ She paused. ‘Well, actually, maybe I do but I’m trying very hard not to believe it.’

  He looked puzzled.

  ‘I think she preferred the lifestyle that she thought was on offer with Simon.’

  ‘That can’t be true?’ Tariq was genuinely shocked. ‘She can’t be that selfish, surely?’

  ‘I’m beginning to think that maybe she is.’ Gail spoke very softly. ‘In fact, I think deep down I’ve know that for some time. I’ve just been burying my head in the sand.’ She ran her hands through her hair.

  Suddenly another thought occurred to her, something that had been nagging at her since her conversation with Dawn. ‘She did point out though that you’d made no effort to get in touch with me.’ She looked accusingly at Tariq. ‘Why did you never try and find out if that was the truth?’

  ‘I never thought she was telling anything but the truth,’ Tariq answered. ‘No one in my family would ever lie like that, we weren’t brought up that way.’

  ‘And are you suggesting that is how I brought up Dawn?’ Gail was furious.

  ‘I’m not suggesting anything,’ Tariq retorted, equally furious. ‘I’m merely answering your question. It simply never occurred to me that your sister was lying.’

  There was a long silence. Both of them were thinking of the consequences of Dawn’s actions, and of what might have been had she not lied.

  Then Tariq spoke. ‘I’m sorry, Gail, I didn’t mean to criticise you. I’m sure you did a wonderful job of bringing up Dawn.’

  ‘I’m not,’ she replied sadly.

  ‘I could ask you the same question though,’ Tariq said. ‘Why did you never try and get in touch with me?’

  ‘After reading your curt letter I assumed you wanted nothing more to do with me. I mean, what else was I supposed to think? I imagined that you had met someone else.’

  ‘How could you have possibly thought that?’

  ‘The same way that you thought I had gone back to Simon.’

  ‘And has there been anyone else?’ Tariq asked hesitantly.

  ‘A full-time job and a child doesn’t really leave that much time for anyone else,’ Gail replied. She didn’t add that no one could possibly have matched up to Tariq. The bar had been set very high.

  Tariq let out the breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding.

  ‘And you?’

  ‘My father tried very hard to marry me off but so far I have managed to resist.’ He didn’t add that not a day had gone by when he hadn’t thought of Gail, his English princess.

  ‘So is that OK, Gail?’ Tariq repeated his request, breaking in on her reverie. ‘Will you and Sonny come to the house tomorrow?’ He was impatient. ‘And Sky, if it will make you feel safer?’ he added.

  ‘Yes, I guess so,’ she replied uncertainly. ‘But I’m not sure about telling him. Meeting his father, grandfather and aunt all in one day may be too much even for someone with Sonny’s sanguine disposition.’

  ‘Well, you know our son better than me,’ Tariq conceded. He paused for a moment before repeating the words softly to himself. ‘Our son.’

  ‘This looks amazing, Nick,’ Beatrice said. ‘You’ve worked so hard.’

  ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet.’ Nick grinned. ‘But I did have help. Philippe was my sous chef, Radar proved alarmingly deft with a knife and, of course, Bushara was overseeing everything. We lost Sky to her painting but we made do without her.’ Nick smiled gently over at me. I could sense he was trying to be kind but it wasn’t working.

  I’d had every intention of helping in the kitchen. I had gone back to the rooftop just to put the finishing touches to my picture but as usual had lost track of time and suddenly it had been late afternoon.

  I’d raced to the kitchen but had found that most of the work had been done. Philippe was sitting resting his leg with a glass of beer in his hand and Nick and Bushara were in earnest conversation over the lamb tagine. They all looked cosy and content. Nick of course had told me not to worry, that my painting was more important, and yet again I had immediately felt wrong-footed. I had let him down. Once more I felt that everyone was judging me and had found me wanting

  I had determined to compensate by dressing up for the special dinner, but I’d fallen asleep and had woken with only fifteen minutes before kick-off. Desperate not to be late, I’d had a rushed shower, braided my wet hair into one long side plait and smeared on a quick coat of lipstick.

  There had been no time to iron the beautiful long linen dress I’d planned on wearing, and I certainly couldn’t have worn it as it was: linen may be fashionable slightly creased, but this garment had been rolled into a ball in the bottom of my suitcase and it showed. Packing had never been my strong point. So I had to make do with a simple T-shirt dress and flat espadrilles. I’d wound strings of beads around my neck and then immediately taken them off as they touched my sensitive skin. I’d tied them around my waist instead and draped floaty scarves over my shoulders. At the last minute I’d grabbed a flower from the vase and stuck it in my hair, but it was a far cry from the sophisticated look I’d been aiming for and I’d felt unattractive and childish.

  However, I had managed to walk into the courtyard on the dot of seven o’clock.

  ‘My God, Nick, these are incredible,’ Gail said, reaching for a chargrilled red pepper stuffed with yogurt and pistachios.

  ‘I’m impressed, Nick.’ Philippe was licking his lips.

  I watched Nick beam, nothing gave him more pleasure than seeing people enjoy his food. ‘I will return the compliment, Philippe,’ he said. ‘This wine is bloody marvellous.’ He swirled it around his glass once more and sipped appreciatively.

  ‘I’ll second that,’ I said, helping myself to another glass. ‘I find rosé dangerously easy to drink in the sun, not that I find it difficult in the rain either.’

  Philippe smiled at me and said, ‘Wait until you try the red.’

  ‘You should use this in your restaurant, Nick,’ Beatrice said.

  ‘Maybe I should.’ Nick nodded slowly. ‘It’s being redesigned at the moment so maybe a new opening and a new wine list.’

  Beatrice was instantly alert. Ideas flew rapi
dly into her mind, she was itching to think about them but now was not the time so instead she let them gently settle, waiting to be sifted and analysed.

  ‘Who taught you to cook?’ Tariq asked. He was also clearly impressed.

  ‘Well, I’ve been lucky, I’ve worked under some top chefs,’ Nick replied. ‘But I guess I really owe my love of cooking to Nonna, Sky’s Italian grandmother.’ He glanced quickly in my direction. ‘I could cook fresh pasta before I could even spell my own name.’ He smiled. ‘She was an amazing cook and a huge inspiration.’

  ‘And how about you, Sky?’ Beatrice turned to me. ‘Did Nonna also inspire you to cook?’

  I opened my mouth but Nick got there before me.

  ‘No, Sky was an artist even then.’ He laughed. ‘She was much more interested in what it looked like than what it tasted like. Actually, we…’ He trailed off lamely but I knew exactly what he’d been going to say. He’d been going to say that we made a great team. He always said that. The despair I felt was like a physical pain.

  ‘I’ll just go and check on the rest of the meal.’ Nick departed abruptly without glancing in my direction.

  I stood up and walked towards the pool before anyone could see the tears in my eyes, but I should have known that nothing got past Beatrice. She followed me out and taking my hand said gently, ‘It will be OK, Sky. Things will get better.’

  I didn’t trust myself to speak.

  ‘You think you are broken-hearted but I don’t think you are,’ she suddenly said.

  I stared at her. ‘Really?’ I was bloody livid. ‘Well, thank you for pointing that out, makes me feel much better, can’t think how I got that so wrong.’

  Unfortunately she seemed undeterred by my sarcasm. ‘To have your heart broken you have to give it in the first place.’ She laid her hand on my shoulder. ‘Something tells me that you never gave your heart to your husband.’ She paused.

  ‘Wow,’ I said slowly. ‘You’ve certainly got it all worked out.’ I took a deep breath, trying to control myself. ‘And there I was thinking I was devastated. I’ll bow down to your superior judgment and stop being sad immediately.’ I tried to sound light-hearted but inside I was seething. How dare Beatrice have the audacity to tell me what I was feeling?

  I turned back to the table and grabbed the wine bottle. Why did no one seem to understand me? I poured myself a large glass of wine.

  ‘Sky, I’m so sorry.’ Beatrice was beside me. ‘Trust me, I am only trying to help.’

  ‘Well, it’s not working.’ I tried to smile to take the anger out of my words but failed so I gulped down my wine instead. I could sense Beatrice starting to say something, but thankfully she thought better of it and wisely left me alone. As if I wasn’t going through enough without some meddling mind-reader telling me my heart wasn’t broken.

  I felt terribly alone. I wished I was anywhere but here. I had a desperate longing to be back in Scotland, back in the huge kitchen with the fire burning. I wanted to smell my father’s pipe smoke and Nonna’s cooking.

  Out of the blue a thought came bursting into my mind. With sudden clarity I remembered Nonna saying, ‘Sky, cara, Miles isn’t the one for you, be sure of what you are doing.’

  I had been furious at the time and things had been frosty for a while, but it was impossible to stay angry with my warm-hearted grandmother for long. She had never mentioned it again and those words had been forgotten – until now.

  My thoughts were starting to spin out of control. I felt confused and disorientated and wasn’t sure that I could face the meal. I really didn’t think that I could keep it together for much longer but I had to, I had to get my act together. Christ, I couldn’t break down now, they’d only think I was stealing the limelight from Nick’s meal. Childishly, I didn’t want to give Beatrice the satisfaction of seeing that she had upset me and I certainly wasn’t going to admit to her or even to myself that maybe she had a point.

  I heard Nick announce that the meal was ready and I stood, trapped, hysteria building. And then I felt Gail put her arm through mine.

  ‘I’m here, Sky,’ she said gently. ‘Let’s go in together.’

  Philippe went towards the dining room but Beatrice laid a restraining arm on his shoulder.

  ‘I’ve a feeling that I went too far.’ She pulled a face. ‘I told Sky that she had never given her heart to her husband.’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m used to you interfering with me, Bea, but it isn’t like you to interfere with the guests.’ He looked at her in amusement. ‘What has got into you?’

  ‘I’ve no idea, Philippe.’ She was as bemused as him by her behaviour. ‘I don’t know why but I have a feeling about this group. They are going to be important to us.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘It’s just an impression I have.’

  ‘Well, talking about feelings, I have a feeling that Stephanie was hiding something.’ Philippe looked at her. ‘Did she say anything to you? You were talking for a while.’

  ‘Yes, she said that Emmie had been sick.’

  ‘What’s the matter with her?’ Philippe said sharply.

  ‘Something about a half-cooked pizza and too much ice cream.’

  ‘Who gave her half-cooked pizza?’

  ‘Well, it’s hardly likely to be Rosa, is it?’

  Philippe frowned and started to speak but Beatrice interrupted him. ‘Emmie was also terrified that Sausage was going to be eaten.’

  ‘Of course he’s not going to be eaten.’ Philippe was astonished. ‘Where the hell did she get that idea from?’

  ‘I can think of only one person.’

  ‘Ah, Bea, stop it.’ Philippe was exasperated. ‘Celine wouldn’t say something as cruel as that, or if she did then she obviously didn’t realise the importance of Sausage.’

  ‘Why you persist in defending her is a mystery, the woman is a monster and is capable of saying anything.’ Beatrice glowered at him before heading back to the dining room.

  The meal passed in a blur for me, I was aware of the conversation buzzing around me but I didn’t take part. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Nonna and Beatrice had said. What did they mean? I did love Miles, of course I did. They were both wrong. Everyone else had loved him. My father and sister’s only concern had been that we were rushing things, we hadn’t known each other that long. But then Iona and her Angus had been childhood sweethearts so no wonder she thought seven months too short a time.

  I thought of his sweet proposal. He had woken me up very early one morning and driven me to Westminster Bridge. He knew that Wordsworth’s poem ‘Composed Upon Westminster Bridge’ was one of my favourites and that dawn was my favourite time of day. He’d produced a bottle of rosé champagne and the stunning moonstone and diamond ring which had belonged to my mother. It had been one of the happiest days of my life. How dared bloody Beatrice suggest I hadn’t given him my heart.

  I knew the dishes were delicious, judging from the excited exclamations from everyone else, but I couldn’t taste a thing. I pushed the food around my plate and continued to knock back the wine. I didn’t mean to get drunk but my glass seemed permanently empty and Philippe was generous with the refills.

  I could sense Nick and Beatrice watching me anxiously, well, let them bloody watch, they were responsible. I hoped they felt guilty. Everything was slightly fuzzy, slightly foggy, I was floating in a little bubble of my own. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, in fact I welcomed it. It obliterated the sadness in my heart, the confusion and the terrible isolation I was feeling. I reached for my glass once more but as I did so I felt a tap on my shoulder.

  ‘Maybe it’s time for bed, Sky.’

  I looked up and saw Gail’s two pretty faces drift in and out of focus. I’m sure she wasn’t but it felt like she was yelling in my ear. I smiled and tried to get to my feet. The room swayed dangerously, the world once more spinning too quickly on its axis.

  I closed my eyes and tried to regain my balance. I felt strong arms around me and that is where my memory ended.

>   Nick had leapt up the instant Sky started to sway and Philippe hadn’t been far behind. Together they supported her up the stairs. Once in her room they laid her gently on the bed, Nick easing her sandals off while Philippe covered her with a blanket. Placing a large glass of water by the bed Nick tenderly took the flower from her hair and stroked the dark heavy locks back from her face. He hesitated a moment before gently kissing her goodnight.

  ‘I’m just going to have a quick cigarette on the terrace before joining the others,’ Nick said, reaching for his packet.

  ‘Mind if I join you?’ Philippe asked. ‘Only don’t tell Beatrice.’ Nick looked at him questioningly. ‘We made a pact together to give up. As you can see, I haven’t exactly kept my side of the bargain but neither, I suspect, has she.’ He chuckled.

  ‘Do you think you will ever get married again?’ Nick asked suddenly.

  ‘Beatrice and me?’ Philippe was astonished. ‘Why would you ask that?’

  ‘Well, you seem so close, you still have so much in common.’

  ‘Yes and one of the things we have in common is never to get married again.’ Philippe laughed. ‘I would lay down my life for Bea, we are the best of friends and that is how it will remain.’

  ‘My best friend is lying in a drunken stupor hating me with every fibre of her body.’ Nick ran his hands through his hair.

  ‘She certainly seemed to enjoy my wine.’