by N/A
“Hurry up. Jump on.”
Her inability to move her extremities had nothing to do with ice clogging up her veins. A swirl of horror tightened the muscles in her stomach as realisation dawned and she gawped at Zach like a traumatised goldfish. Strapped to the back of the machine more regularly used by adrenaline junkies was her wheelie suitcase and the comprehension was complete.
“No way am I getting on the back of that!”
“You don’t have any choice if you want to get to Stonelea Manor today. Now stop whinging and hop on. Grab my waist and hold on tight. We’ve only got about five minutes of daylight left and I don’t want to risk driving this thing in the dark.”
Zach reversed the angry insect and pulled up beside Millie. She swallowed down on the maelstrom of emotions churning through her body, hoisted up the mammoth coat, and threw her leg over the seat. But Zach pulled away much quicker than she had anticipated, and she tumbled backward from the seat, landing in a conveniently soft pile of snow, legs akimbo. Zach had the audacity to laugh and she scowled at him as she pushed herself upright and dusted down her glamourous wax coat, trying to remember the last time she had felt as wet and miserable as she did at that precise moment, dressed like a gamekeeper’s moll and frozen to her core.
“Ah, Millie, I’ve missed you,” Zach chuckled as he shook his head with amusement. “Life definitely has less sparkle without you in it! This time, grab hold tight!”
Millie jumped back onto the throbbing machine and snaked her arms around Zach’s waist, leaning her cheek against his back to protect her face from the persistent onslaught of hailstones as they made their way, bucking and bouncing like an arctic kangaroo, to the front steps of the manor. The wind had picked up its velocity to ferocious, whipping up a helix of snow only to dump its frozen treasure on to the road ahead.
Just as Millie’s ears began to scream with a searing pain, and she thought she couldn’t cling on to Zach a minute longer, he swung to the left and cut the engine. In her eagerness to escape from her undignified transport, Millie kicked her leg high, missed her footing and tumbled to the ground for a second time.
If she didn’t know better, she would have suspected Zach had orchestrated the whole scenario. As it was, it was probably the most undignified arrival Stonelea Manor had ever witnessed in its two-hundred-year history and she sent up a prayer to her personal director of fate that Claudia wasn’t watching the impromptu farce from one of the upstairs windows.
Chapter Three
“Millie, darling, it’s so good to meet you in person at last! Oh, you poor thing, you look frozen! Come in! Come in! I’ve made some hot chocolate and a fresh batch of chilli-chocolate brownies which should warm you up in no time. Isn’t the weather just dreadful?” declared Claudia as she greeted Millie on the threshold of Stonelea Manor with a smile radiating welcome and warmth before enveloping her in a Chanel No 5-infused hug. “Can I tempt you to join us, Zach?”
“No, thanks, Claudia. I’m sure you and Millie have a lot to catch up on, but I’ll see you tomorrow night at the Berryford tree-lighting ceremony.”
“Okay, but would you mind popping your head round the door of Tim’s workshop before you go back to the lodge? He mentioned something about a sprocket, or a socket, or it could have been a rocket! And whilst you’re there, maybe you could introduce my husband to a dose of your superb organisational skills? That place is starting to look like a cemetery for rust-blistered tools. In fact, things have got so bad recently I’m worried about him injuring himself! And what if one of our more inquisitive cookery school visitors inadvertently strays from a stroll in the gardens and meets a grizzly end in the jaws of one of those so-called life-enhancing mechanical contraptions he’s invented? I really wish he would stick to designing houses instead of dreaming of being the next Thomas Edison.”
Claudia rolled her eyes in frustration, but Millie could see the genuine affection in her expression. She also filed away the very welcome knowledge that Tim Croft was a fellow enthusiast when it came to clutter – she suspected they were going to get along just fine.
“Will do,” smiled Zach, tightening his scarf as he prepared to brave the elements once more. “Catch you both later.”
“Bye, Zach. Thanks for the lift.”
“No problem.”
“Why don’t you leave your suitcase at the bottom of the stairs and come through to the kitchen, Millie?”
Millie followed Claudia into the oak-panelled hallway, smiling at the clickety-clack of her host’s heels on the polished parquet flooring. The whole room looked like a 1920s murder mystery film set, complete with a magnificent grandfather clock standing to attention like a soldier on parade. Straight ahead of her stood the most magnificent mahogany staircase, its banister just crying out for a session of unrestrained sliding when no one was watching.
A surprisingly modest fir tree, dressed in twinkling fairy lights and a tasteful selection of red and gold baubles and almost concealed from view by a painted Chinese screen, was the only nod to the fact that it was the Christmas season. Where were the holly wreaths, the pine-cone-and-mistletoe garlands, the tinsel draped over the picture frames? It was another mystery to add to her lengthening list.
“Wow, this entrance hall is amazing!”
“Wait until you see where we’ll be delivering the Festive Feast course on Monday! Come on.”
A whoosh of heat whipped into Millie’s cheeks as she realised she was still wearing the voluminous wax jacket Zach had insisted she put on. Whilst Claudia’s back was turned, she quickly shrugged it off and stuffed the offensive-smelling garment underneath an antique console table, causing a Clarice Clift vase to wobble precariously. All thought of the strange absence of festive decorations vanished from her mind as a pirouette of excitement began to wind through her chest, culminating in a blast of unadulterated pleasure when Claudia pushed open an oak-panelled door to reveal the house’s engine room in all its splendour.
Millie couldn’t prevent her jaw from gaping as she feasted her eyes on every modern appliance a professional chef could possibly ask for; stainless-steel food mixers, liquidisers, juicers, copper pans of various sizes, and pots filled with every utensil imaginable from balloon whisks to spatulas, slotted spoons to cake slices. Two enormous American-style refrigerators stood sentry at a second door which Millie suspected would lead to an old-fashioned pantry filled with a kaleidoscope of ingredients, more than any self-respecting chef could ever need.
The whole room was a veritable Aladdin’s cave for the passionate culinary junkie and she couldn’t wait to spend a few hours familiarizing herself with every last corkscrew and cheese grater. However, her eyes were drawn to the central island unit topped with white marble – so familiar from the Claudia Cooks… cookery books, but what the glossy photographs hadn’t shown were the four identical workstations facing the island unit, decorated in a variety of pastel shades, each with its own sink and swan-necked tap, from where the students watched Claudia demonstrate her recipes before attempting to recreate them for themselves under her expert guidance.
When Millie had finished drooling over the facilities, she switched her attention to the French windows that stretched the full width of the wall to her left forming an orangery-like extension presided over by a twelve-seater white marble table where the amateur cooks could sit down and sample their creations.
“Claudia, it’s…”
Millie struggled to choose an adjective sufficient to describe how she was feeling. In that precise moment, her decision to change career direction from working as a pastry chef at Étienne’s patisserie to presenting her own cookery courses - even if it was at the local school or college - crystallised. She knew it was time for her to grasp her courage by the scruff of the neck and embark on the next chapter in her culinary story.
“No words necessary, Millie. Your face says it all!” laughed Claudia, the delight evident in her voice. “Now, grab a seat and I’ll get you that hot chocolate.”
“Tha
nks, Claudia. I think the feeling in my fingers has just about returned.”
Millie sat down on one of the barstools at the island unit and switched her scrutiny from the room she would be spending most of her time in over the next week to the person she would be spending it with. She estimated Claudia’s age to be anywhere between thirty-five and forty-five. With flawless skin and mesmerising blue eyes, even relaxing at home on a Saturday evening she looked every inch the celebrated chef in a figure-enhancing dark green dress, emerald earrings the size of olives and one of the jaunty Hermès scarves she was famous for tied elegantly at her neck. Unlike Millie’s unruly corkscrew curls, Claudia’s caramel-coloured graduated bob was salon fresh, highlighted with golden strands that shone under the intensity of the overhead lighting, and her makeup was photoshoot ready.
“I’ve popped in a tot of rum for medicinal purposes,” smiled Claudia, handing Millie a mug decorated with the Claudia Croft logo and sliding into the seat opposite her. “I knew you’d love this kitchen. Tim designed it for me from scratch; he really listened to my brief and made sure I got exactly what I wanted - and more. He’s a talented architect - I just wish he could reign in his obsession with squirreling away every last screw and nail ‘in case it comes in useful one day’! Let me give you a piece of advice, Millie – steer clear of his workshop if you value your sanity, unless, of course, you happen to be a sucker for broken bits of old washing machines, which I doubt.”
Millie sipped the sugar-sweet, chocolatey heaven that was in her mug, savouring the way it slipped down her throat like liquid velvet and sent warmth cascading into every extremity. She didn’t think now was the right time to confide in Claudia about her own personal battle with the clutter monsters – in her case of the culinary variety. There was plenty of time for her employer to find out about that flaw in her personality during the next seven days. Or perhaps she was doing herself a disservice? Over the last few weeks, with Poppy’s encouragement, she had been working hard on her predisposition to bring chaos to an empty room.
“Claudia, it’s beautiful. You are so lucky to call this wonderful place your home as well as your place of work.”
“You’re right. I am very fortunate, even more so because you’ve agreed to step into the breach once again, Millie. I know I’ve said this already, but I’ll be eternally grateful for what you and Ella achieved in St Lucia with the Chocolate & Confetti course – not to mention the tremendous success of Imogen and Alex’s wedding celebrations! It really is beyond the call of duty to ask you to come to my aid for a second time. Étienne is an angel for letting you have another week off from the patisserie – although that might have something to do with Tim’s offer of our villa for two weeks in January as compensation! He adores the sunshine, not to mention the plentiful supply of rum cocktails. You should ask him to tell you about his exploits when we were studying at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris together.”
Claudia ran her fingers through her hair, allowing the glossy tresses to fall back around her cheeks like toffee-coloured angel’s wings. She expelled a long sigh of fatigue and for the first time Millie noticed the dark smudges of exhaustion beneath her eyes that no amount of expertly applied foundation had been able to erase.
“Is everything okay, Claudia?” she asked tentatively. “When Tim called me last week he sounded worried about you?”
“I’m fine. I just don’t seem to be able to shift this sluggishness that’s been grabbing at my bones since I had my riding accident. Some days my legs feel like they’re encased in concrete and every step’s a struggle. I really don’t know why I’m so tired all the time because I sleep like a churchyard resident. But I’m sure that with your expert help, we’ll sail through the Festive Feast course.”
“Absolutely! I probably don’t have to tell you how excited I am!”
“Well, there’s a packed itinerary to get through. Did I mention in my email that a selection of the recipes we’ll be demonstrating during the week have been suggested by the residents of Berryford?”
“Really?”
“Every year we hold a fun bake-off competition at the end of November where we ask the villagers to make something that’s been handed down from their mothers’ or grandmothers’ cookery books and the best four recipes are selected to be showcased on that year’s Festive Feast cookery course. It’s been a great way to involve the whole community in what we’re doing here, but it’s more than that; it’s a way of keeping all the traditional family recipes alive for the next generation – especially the Christmas ones.”
Millie’s heart gave a nip of surprise when she heard the catch in Claudia’s voice and saw a necklace of tears appear along her lower lashes. She hesitated, unsure how to react to the unexpected display of emotion. Although she’d had lots of contact with Claudia since returning from St Lucia, via regular telephone conversations and emails, this was the first time she had met her mentor in the flesh. She didn’t want to invade Claudia’s privacy, and yet she couldn’t ignore her distress.
“Claudia, what’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry, Millie. I seem to succumb to tears at the slightest provocation. It’s just that the Festive Feast course was the very first one we ran at the cookery school and I think it’s the one I will miss the most.”
Claudia fished in her sleeve for a tissue to blot away her tears before making a valiant attempt to settle her attractive features into a mask of false bravado.
“So what Tim said is true? This is going to be the last Festive Feast cookery course?”
“Forgive me, Millie. I know you’re here to help with the presenting, not to become embroiled in our family politics. I really don’t understand why I’m so tearful when I should be seething with anger – although Tim has enough of that for both of us. Why don’t you finish your drink and I’ll show you to your room, let you get settled in and have an early night. We’ll do all our preparations for the course tomorrow, and then there’s the tree-lighting ceremony in the village at seven p.m. – yet another tradition that the Berryford residents look forward to each year. If you’d like to come along you’d be very welcome?”
“I’d love to come, Claudia, but… erm, well… this is a little awkward…”
“Oh, don’t worry, Zach’s invited too! A little Caribbean bird told me about the sparkle of mutual attraction that developed between the two of you whilst you were over in St Lucia!”
Claudia’s eyes held Millie’s with playful enquiry and her cheeks flooded with heat.
“No, no that’s not what I meant! It’s just… do you think I could borrow one of your winter coats? In all the rush to get here, I’ve, well… I’ve forgotten to pack one.”
“Ooops, sorry,” laughed Claudia. “No problem. The boot room is through that door over there. We keep a selection of outdoors wear for our cookery school guests to use. Just help yourself to whatever you need. You might also want to avail yourself of a pair of the Wellington boots. I think the forecasters are predicting a fresh deposit of snow tonight. Gosh, I do hope next week’s students are able to make it through!”
Claudia led Millie back out to the hallway to collect her suitcase.
“I love this staircase!”
“Oh, I agree! I think it’s the best feature of the house. My cousin Dexter and I spent many a happy hour sliding down that bannister when we were younger, much to my grandmother’s exasperation. She was right, of course, because sure enough, one Christmas Eve, Dex broke both his wrists after spraying wax polish on his handrail so he could beat me in a race. He’s never changed – he still thrives on extreme competition and adrenalin.”
Millie noticed Claudia’s jaw tighten when she spoke of her cousin, causing her to suspect that her annoyance was related to more than mere childhood antics.
“Here we are. I’ve given you the Hummingbird Suite. I hope you like it. No prizes for where I got inspiration from,” Claudia laughed, striding forward to close the curtains, leaving Millie on the threshold to gaze in wonder at the Caribbean-insp
ired décor that conjured up such happy memories. “The bathroom is through there. Make yourself at home and I’ll see you downstairs at eight a.m. sharp for a quick breakfast before we get stuck in to a full day of culinary fun! Goodnight Millie, and thanks again for coming to our rescue.”
“Good night, Claudia.”
Millie stood in the middle of the room and performed a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree inspection of the place that would be her home for the next week. The suite was bigger than her whole flat back in London. However, the size had no bearing on her excitement – that was solely down to the fact that there wasn’t a splash of magnolia in sight, just a riot of exotic colour and fabric, not to mention her own personal Christmas tree decorated in colourful parrots and baubles in the shape of pineapples and bananas.
Garlands of fuchsia pink, emerald and sky-blue tinsel had been twisted together and draped over the picture frames and there was even a mirrored musical box that played jingle bells when she opened the lid. The headboard, too, had been dressed in brightly coloured bunting and the mantelpiece displayed an impressive collection of painted wooden artefacts from St Lucia, interspersed with a variety of Christmas snow globes. Millie selected a globe containing a miniature replica of the twin Pitons and gave it a vigorous shake, watching with pleasure as the tiny snowflakes descended over their peaks – something that would never happen in real life. The room was her own personal version of paradise and she wondered how Claudia had known what a perfect match it was.
She decided to take a shower to try and wash away the still-lingering odour of dead ferret. The bathroom door was stiff, buckled by the passage of time, and she grinned like a child in a sweet shop when her eyes fell on the black-and-white floor tiles of an oversized chessboard, clearly the Victorian originals. It was a perfect example of a luxury hotel bathroom suite - free-standing roll-top bath, a waterfall shower, even a chaise longue sporting the pyramid of the fluffy white towels guests expected of modern day spas. She almost swooned when she saw the array of bath oils, shampoos and soaps, and stripped off her clothes quickly so she could relish the cascade of hot water on her body.