‘Trust me, she doesn’t usually behave like that.’ Nick suddenly felt it important that Philippe didn’t get the wrong impression. ‘She is normally sweet and loving. She is warm and compassionate, funny and fey, she was my little fairy queen.’ He brushed away the tears that had started to flow. ‘Sorry, this is a bit of a strange time for me, for all three of us.’
‘It’s a tricky situation.’
‘That’s one word for it,’ Nick said grimly.
‘Sorry.’ Philippe grimaced. ‘Sorry, Nick, that was inadequate. This is a bit out of my remit.’
‘It’s a bit out of mine too.’ Nick drew deeply on his cigarette.
‘How did it happen?’ Philippe was curious.
‘No idea really.’ Nick was silent for a moment. ‘It sort of crept up on us. Sky was, well, she was ill a while back and when she was in hospital Miles and I necessarily spent a lot of time with each other. I mean nothing happened then but I guess that was the catalyst.’
He could remember with clarity the exact moment when it had happened. Miles had popped into the restaurant one evening before service. They had been leaning on the bar chatting and laughing at some joke when one of the young waitresses had come up.
‘I hate to disturb you handsome lovebirds but you’re wanted in the kitchen, chef.’
Nick had been about to put her right when suddenly, like the proverbial bolt from the blue, it hit him that she was right. He was in love with Miles.
It felt like his heart stopped beating for a moment. He had looked at Miles and seen the exact same reaction mirrored in his eyes. They had stared at each for the longest time before Miles had whispered, ‘I’ll come back after you’ve finished, Nick.’ And for the first time ever in a kitchen Nick had thought of something other than food.
A cough from Philippe brought him back to the present day. He glanced over. ‘That sounds terrible, doesn’t it?’
Philippe shrugged. ‘These things happen.’
There was another pause and then, surprising himself and Philippe, Nick said, ‘I’ve always got on really well with Miles, he’s relaxed, easy-going and good-looking, but I never thought he was quite right for Sky.’
‘Why?’ Philippe was intrigued. ‘Did you guess he was gay?’
‘Christ no, otherwise I’d have told her.’ He stubbed his cigarette out and immediately lit another. ‘Sky is passionate, she’s creative, she’s emotional, she needs to be allowed to fly and she needs someone who stimulates her. Miles doesn’t and before long she would have got bored.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I’ve never voiced that to anyone before but it’s true.’
‘You know her very well.’
‘I know her inside out, or I used to.’
‘It will get better, Nick,’ Philippe said.
‘Will it? How do you know?’
‘I don’t, but Beatrice says so and she has a sixth sense about these things.’ Philippe smiled.
‘Well, I don’t need a sixth sense to tell me that Sky will be feeling like shit in the morning.’
‘I take exception to that.’ Philippe was indignant. ‘My wine is organic, it is not stuffed with sulphites. Sky may feel a touch jaded but she certainly won’t have a hangover.’
‘Really?’ Nick stared at him. ‘Is that really true?’
Philippe nodded.
‘Bloody brilliant, in that case I may risk another glass.’ Nick grinned. ‘Let’s go and join the others.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘What a bizarre group we are. There’s me and Sky, and then there’s Gail and Tariq. It’s like a movie plot.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Nick was lying in bed contemplating things. He was clearly getting nowhere with Sky. In fact he may well have made things worse. He should have let her come alone. She obviously didn’t want him here. She’d wanted to escape and he had come barging in without thinking things through.
He could hear Nonna now with one of her favourite expressions for him. ‘Don’t jump into the river before first looking to see if there is a bridge, Nico.’ But Nick had never learnt to curb his impetuosity. He thought longingly now of Nonna and Sky’s father, Carlo, in their big stone house with the roaring log fires burning all year round. Nonna had never got used to the Scottish climate. He wondered if he would ever be welcome there again. He decided it was time to go home. He was in limbo here.
He phoned Miles.
‘Stay one more night, Nicky,’ Miles advised. ‘You’ve gone this far to talk to her so try one last time.’
‘I miss you, Miles,’ Nick said.
‘And I you,’ he replied ‘And Sky.’
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m watching tacky daytime television.’
‘Where are you?
‘In a tacky hotel in Bayswater.’ Miles looked around the room. He had deliberately chosen a nondescript hotel. He could have afforded somewhere better but it had felt so wrong to stay somewhere luxurious. Bayswater was not an area that he and Sky frequented and therefore he would be unlikely to bump into any of their mutual friends. Luckily everyone thought they were in Marrakech together so the phone stayed reasonably silent.
‘What a bloody mess.’ Nick sounded incredibly despondent. ‘The whole situation is hopeless.’
‘Keep trying, Nick.’ Miles was desperately sad. Nick had been so positive that he would be able to talk to Sky and make her understand. He himself had been less optimistic but had been buoyed up by Nick’s confidence.
‘Keep trying,’ Miles repeated. ‘You love each other so much, you can make it work.’ He tried to inject some confidence into his voice.
Diving neatly into the pool Nick decided that Miles was right. He had come this far, he would stay another night and give it one last shot. If he got kicked in the teeth again then so be it, he would walk through hell for his fairy queen so it had to be worth another try.
Also, if he were absolutely honest with himself, he was reluctant to give up the market and the cooking sessions with Bushara. He loved learning new things and couldn’t quite believe that he’d never delved into the delights of Moroccan cuisine before. He had already planned several new recipes for the re-opening of his restaurant and Bushara was taking him for a special lunch today.
Last night’s meal had been an enormous success and Philippe’s wine had been the icing on the cake, especially since it appeared that there were indeed no after-effects. At least, he didn’t feel any and he very much hoped that Sky didn’t either. That really would be some marketing ploy – a wine guaranteed not to give you a hangover. The punters would love that.
In her study Beatrice tipped back her chair and watched Nick slice through the water. He was a truly exquisite chef. His dishes were amongst the best she had ever tasted and she knew that great Moroccan cuisine was hard to conquer. It was no wonder he had a Michelin star.
He was also a lovely guy, natural, wickedly funny and unpretentious. She could see why he and Sky made a good team, they were both creative, and his outgoing nature would complement her more natural reserve. She would be intrigued to meet Miles, she would very much like to see what he was like.
There must be a way forward for them and Beatrice determined that she would do everything she could for them, even if Philippe accused her of interfering. For some reason she felt close to both. No other guest had ever had the same effect on her and she couldn’t quite fathom why.
She heard Philippe’s voice calling a greeting to Nick. She just had time to cover the notes she had been making before he appeared in the doorway, resplendent in his flowing kaftan.
‘You are looking furtive, Bea,’ Philippe stated as he walked into her study and bent to kiss her. ‘What are you hiding? Is it your cigarettes?’
‘That’s rich coming from you, you reeked of cigarettes when you came down last night after taking Sky to bed.’
‘I’d been chatting with Nick on the terrace and he was smoking. Naturally it contaminated me.’
‘You would have had to have kissed him for i
t to contaminate you that much,’ she commented drily.
‘Well, why not? He’s a nice guy, a sublime cook and he enjoys my wine.’ He grinned at her before gently removing her hand from the notebook. ‘Come on, Bea, I know that look, what plans are you hatching?’
She glared at him before capitulating. ‘I’m thinking about your wine.’
‘Isn’t it a little early, cheri, even for you?’
She tried to remain serious but ended up giggling. ‘OK, I admit it, I’ve a few ideas.’
‘You never stop, do you?’
‘Do you want to hear them?’
‘I doubt I have a choice.’
‘Sit down then, you make the place look untidy.’
With a resigned smile he sank into the chair opposite. Beatrice continued, ‘As you said, Nick enjoyed your wine.’
‘And you think he should buy it for his restaurant and so do I.’ He smiled smugly. ‘I planned to talk to him today about sending him a sample case, so for once I’m ahead of you.’ He sat back and folded his arms.
‘Almost but not quite.’ She smiled sweetly and reached for her coffee, taking her time. This was a game they had played many times. ‘Not just Nick, but other restaurants. He must know many chefs that he can introduce you to. In fact, I was thinking that instead of sending one case, you should send several.’
‘Nick has a Michelin star, Bea. If he finds a wine which he thinks is special, and mine obviously is, then he won’t want to spread the word to anyone else. He will want to keep it to himself.’
She paused for a moment before replying, ‘Well, maybe you could let him have first choice, he could have the best vintages, or the old vine wine.’ She paused again. ‘There must be a way of utilising his contacts. This is a God-given opportunity, we can’t let it pass.’
‘I’ll have a word with him today, but don’t hold your breath.’ He smiled at her. ‘He asked me yesterday whether you and I would get married again?’
Beatrice raised her eyebrows in astonishment. ‘Whatever gave him that impression?’
‘He said it was clear we loved each other.’
‘We do, which is why we should never marry.’
‘I adore your logic, cheri.’ He laughed. ‘Now, have you got any of my sweet wine left in your cellar, I have a feeling Nick would love that.’
‘The pool is ready and waiting for you, Philippe,’ Nick said, appearing in the doorway. ‘I’ve finished thrashing about.’
‘You’re a powerful swimmer, Nick,’ Philippe observed.
‘I learnt to swim in a Scottish loch. Sky’s dad didn’t believe in going to public baths when you had a natural resource on your doorstep. You learn to swim bloody fast in a Scottish loch – it’s the only way you can survive.’ He grinned. ‘You should see Sky in a pool, she’s like a seal – or a selkie as they’re sometimes known in Scotland.’
Philippe had a sudden vision of Sky sliding through the water, her long dark hair fanning sleekly out behind her.
‘Philippe learnt to swim in the Med.’ Beatrice was smiling. ‘He barely moves a muscle.’
‘Whereas Beatrice…?’ Philippe looked at her.
‘Sits on the edge dangling her toes in the water.’ Beatrice laughed.
‘Complete with sunglasses, hat and cigarette – in the old days anyway.’ He winked at her.
‘Not a swimmer, Beatrice?’ Nick laughed.
‘Not when anyone is looking.’
‘Changing the subject completely, can we talk wines, Nick?’ Philippe asked.
‘Sure can, I was going to suggest it myself.’
‘Maybe after breakfast.’ Beatrice spotted Sky entering the courtyard. ‘Nick is dripping everywhere and, cheri, you need to do your exercises. Go on, get out of here, this is supposed to be my private study!’
CHAPTER TWENTY
I woke once again to the sound of the muezzin and realised that I was still fully dressed. The events of the previous night were hazy to say the least, but I did have a vague recollection of someone bringing me to bed. I rolled over and saw the tumbler of water and my flower placed beside it. It had to have been Nick, no one else could have been that thoughtful.
But something was nagging at the back of my mind. I had a feeling there may have been two of them. Snippets of conversation came floating into my mind. Had Beatrice or Gail come with me, or, and my sprits plummeted at the thought, maybe it had been Philippe? He had a fairly low opinion of me as it was and last night would have done nothing to alter that. I don’t know why that bothered me but it did.
Gingerly I sat on the side of the bed and waited for the hangover to kick in, but despite the amount of wine I’d consumed I felt remarkably OK. I had no doubt made a complete tit of myself but somehow I didn’t really care all that much. In fact, I seemed to be drained of any emotion. I was becoming very tired of constantly feeling hurt and angry. I wished with all my heart that I could turn back the clock but I couldn’t, nothing would ever be the same again and I needed to face up to that.
Maybe I should go home, I thought, being here was only making things worse. Everything had taken on a very surreal quality in the riad and I felt that I was living in a strange parallel universe.
I made up my mind. I would check the flights and take the first one home. There was no point in staying any longer. I was simply in the way, annoying everyone and behaving very badly, and Gail no longer needed me as she had found Tariq.
Well that was the solution, then, I would talk to Beatrice this morning and explain my change of plans. It was definitely the right thing to do, so why then did I feel quite so reluctant?
Shaking myself I got up and went to the computer, intending to search for flights, but the pictures I’d begun to paint of Beatrice’s new roof terrace were resting against it. I hesitated for a second and then grabbed the canvases. Sod it, I decided, if I was going to jump ship today then I may as well make full use of the time left. I could check flights later. Pulling on a jumper and seizing my paints I went onto the terrace.
I painted as usual for a couple of hours before the coffee craving kicked in. I was pleased with my work. I felt I had captured the essence of what Beatrice wanted to create, but sadly doubted that I would ever see the finished rooftop bar.
I hesitated as I entered the courtyard. I could hear them all laughing and once again was overcome by a horrendous feeling of separation. I felt like an outcast and as vulnerable as a teenager. How the hell was Nick managing to have such a great time? Did he feel no remorse? I was angry.
Beatrice called to me from the window.
‘I’ll come back another time,’ I replied tersely. ‘I can see you’re all busy.’
‘Not at all, Sky, please come in, these two are on their way out.’
Reluctantly I made my way over to the study.
‘Delighted that you enjoyed my wine so much last night, Sky.’ Philippe was grinning at me. He clearly had no intention of brushing over my bad behaviour and I felt the blood rush to my face.
‘I do apologise for being such a lush,’ I said very quietly before turning to Nick and saying, ‘Thanks for taking me to bed.’
‘No worries, Philippe helped me.’ Nick smiled gently.
I closed my eyes as my worst fear was realised.
Still grinning, Philippe added. ‘I honestly don’t think I’ve ever heard someone snore standing up.’
‘God, how mortifying,’ I replied. Christ, this man was insufferable. Would he never let up?
‘Au contraire, it was rather sweet. It reminded me of our piglet.’ He winked at me before leaving the study.
As they both left the office I heard peals of laughter. No doubt directed at me? My paranoia was working overtime. They seemed to have bonded so quickly, but then Nick always bonded with everyone quickly.
It certainly reinforced my decision to leave. I was like a fish out of water here. Philippe obviously disliked me and from Beatrice’s comments last night it was clear that she also had little patience towards me. I’d
never felt quite so solitary or ill at ease in my life.
‘Sky?’ Beatrice called gently. ‘Sky, are you OK?’
‘Sorry?’ I turned around. ‘Sorry, Beatrice, what were you saying?’
‘Sit down and I’ll fetch you a coffee.’
‘One broken bird in my office,’ Beatrice announced as she walked into the kitchen.
Bushara frowned and grabbed the long broom.
‘No, I don’t mean literally!’ Beatrice laughed. ‘I mean one of our guests.’
‘Sky?’
‘Indeed.’
‘Nick is talking about her all the time,’ Bushara said, preparing the coffee without having to be asked. ‘Everything he has ever done seems to be connected with her.’
‘We have to find a way to help them. She looks so sad and vulnerable. I hate to see anyone looking like that,’ Beatrice said, opening the drawer where she had kept her cigarettes hidden. Philippe would have found them in the office.
Bushara said nothing but gave a small cough.
‘Just a few drags while you’re making the coffee,’ Beatrice pleaded. ‘I need to have a sharp mind right now and nicotine helps.’
‘Oh, Sky, these are incredible!’
Beatrice was staring at the two pictures I’d laid out on her desk. She handed me my coffee without taking her eyes off them. She seemed genuinely impressed and I couldn’t help smiling.
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