by N/A
How did she feel about the possibility of Zach returning to St Lucia? If he did go, it would probably mean she would never see him again. But then their busy work schedules, coupled with her lingering fear of rejection, had conspired to keep them apart anyway. Nevertheless, it was still easier to dream of spending cosy weekends in the company of a gorgeous estate manager with a witty repertoire and a knack for making her feel like she could conquer the world when he was living in a cute little stone lodge in the Cotswolds rather than in a wooden cabin a ten-hour flight and a very bumpy taxi ride away!
Was that why he hadn’t kissed her? Fear of starting something that couldn’t be finished? But did that matter? She had definitely wanted him to kiss her. Maybe she should have taken Poppy’s advice and carried an emergency sprig of mistletoe in her back pocket!
She undressed quickly and slid beneath the duvet, her thoughts chasing a myriad of possible solutions down blind alleyways, craving a lightbulb moment in which she could come up with a way to allow Zach to continue in the job he so clearly loved, and preferably closer to home.
Sleep came quickly again. It was so peaceful in the Hummingbird Suite; no sirens, no dogs barking, no crows bouncing on the TV aerials on the roof above her head, no late-night party goers shrieking their favourite rock ballads in the street below her attic window. She was well on her way down the chute towards slumber before she realised that the reason she was stretching her brain cells to come up with an answer to Zach’s dilemma was because, despite the lack of a goodnight kiss, the emotions she was experiencing had progressed well beyond the bounds of friendship and into the less-well chartered waters of romance.
Chapter Seven
“Good morning everyone and a warm welcome to the Festive Feast cookery course at the Claudia Croft Cookery School. It’s an early start so it’s great to see you all so bright-eyed and raring to go!”
Gina laughed and nudged Leo who clearly looked as though he had just been dragged out of bed. His hair had ballooned into a halo of auburn curls that framed his ruggedly handsome features just like his namesake. He hadn’t had chance to shave, and the smattering of golden stubble gave him an attractive, more relaxed look than the clean-shaven face he had presented when they had arrived the previous day. Gina had dressed for a day out on a Mediterranean yacht, her pixie-style crop immaculate just like her flared white trousers and Breton stripped tee shirt with the instantly recognisable designer logo on the sleeve. Unlike Leo, Gina was leaning across her workstation hanging on Claudia’s every word.
“Okay, as you know, you are here to discover the variety of culinary delights on offer at Christmas. You will have seen from the itinerary that the week has been organised as a gastronomic journey through the various meals served on the most wonderful day of the year. So, today is all about preparing a sumptuous breakfast. Millie and I will demonstrate the recipes, coaching you where you need it, then we’ll share the meal we have prepared, taking the opportunity to appraise each other’s offerings.”
“Marks out of ten?” asked Mike, pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose and patting his quiff nervously.
“Mike, darling, it’s not a competition! It’s a tutorial,” smiled Marianne who sported a scarlet cashmere jumper with sparkling silver snowflakes and the legend ‘Let it Snow’.
“Well, thank God for that. You know how hopeless I am in the kitchen. I’d be the proud owner of five wooden spoons by the end of the week! So, Claudia, what do you have planned for us tomorrow?”
“A slightly later start, you’ll be relieved to hear,” she laughed. “We’ll be focussing on a delicious brunch menu, which will lead us nicely to the main event on Wednesday – Christmas lunch with all the trimmings. On Thursday we’ll be baking up a storm as we create an amazing High Tea, and then on Friday we’ll make canapés and petit fours for an elegant evening soirée that will be the envy of your guests. As Friday will be our last day together, I thought it might be nice to invite a few friends from the village to join us in celebration of what you have achieved, and to help us to eat all the products of your labours!”
“Sounds amazing!” exclaimed Marianne, clapping her hands in excitement, her eyes shining as she tied her pale lemon CC-logoed apron around her slender waist and positioned herself behind her workstation, ready to get started. “Mike, you’re useless – you’ve got your apron on the wrong way round!”
There followed the best two hours Millie could remember in a kitchen. When she had worked with Luke in their restaurant in Oxford, every shift had been so full-on that she hadn’t had time to appreciate the finer points of what she was creating. Then, at Étienne’s patisserie, she was part of a team that worked together like a well-oiled machine producing the finest French pastries in Hammersmith - everyone in the room knew exactly what they were required to do so there was no need to discuss why the eggs had to be at room temperature, or the butter super-cold, or the flour sieved from a great height.
Chatting to Gina and Marianne, guiding them through the recipes by demonstrating and then assisting and explaining, was so rewarding that her self-confidence burgeoned until she was enjoying herself more than she had ever expected. She really hoped that the experience she had gained at the Paradise Cookery School, as well as here under the mentorship of the celebrated Claudia Croft, would stand her in good stead when she pursued her goal of becoming a presenter herself.
By ten thirty everything was ready and laid out on the huge marble table next to the French windows with cafetières of coffee, teapots of Earl Grey tea – as well as Marianne’s favourite English Breakfast - set with a spectacular table decoration Claudia had fashioned from freshly harvested holly leaves, pine cones and wide gold ribbon. The four empty chairs had been removed, but Millie was a little saddened that their numbers were so depleted, especially as the roads had now been gritted – although the flat white expanse of snow on the manor’s lawns remained undisturbed.
“So that’s how you make the most fabulous breakfast with which to wow all your friends and family on Christmas morning!” smiled Millie, adding a sprinkle of fresh parsley to the platter of fragrant Kedgeree and setting it down on the table next to the basket of egg and smoked salmon cupcakes. The sweet aroma of warm buttery pastry pervaded every corner of the kitchen and her stomach rumbled in anticipation of sitting around the table with Claudia, Leo and Gina, and Mike and Marianne to sample the delights they had rustled up that morning.
Bright sunlight streamed through the French doors, washing the kitchen with a pale ivory glow and happiness spread through her veins. The group of avid foodies had turned out to be fascinating company, especially Leo who had regaled them with anecdotes from his daily life as a high-flying solicitor in the City specialising in matrimonial disputes for High Net Worth clients. What warring couples argued about amazed Millie. Why would anyone care enough about a silver cruet set to instruct a lawyer to correspond with their spouse’s counterpart about it?
However, Millie felt more of an affinity with Marianne, not because she possessed a similar profusion of curls - hers the colour of burnished wheat, Marianne’s the colour of a fox’s tail - but because she was a cookery course addict. It turned out that she had attended over twenty tutorials in the last two years alone ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous – critter salad anyone?
“Oh, my God! I can’t believe I made this!” exclaimed Gina, rolling her eyes in exaggerated ecstasy as she tasted the cranberry and cinnamon whirls she had created.
Her smile said it all, and the pleasure at accomplishing what was her first attempt at puff pastry was apparent. Even if Gina hadn’t shared her occupation with the group before they had started their week-long culinary journey, Millie could have guessed that she was a member of the creative industry as her presentation of her savoury cupcakes was superb – just a shame about the non-artistically inspired burnt edges and the overzealous addition of a finely chopped red chilli. Leo had loyally declared that he loved them, only for his smile to turn to a
frown as he reached for his coffee to douse the flames.
“I can’t wait to get down to Cornwall and start preparing for the most fabulous Christmas ever!”
Whilst Leo had been concentrating on slicing his smoked salmon as thinly as possible, Gina had confided in Millie that her mother-in-law had never completely accepted the fact that her precious son had married a ballet dancer, hoping he would chose his partner from the ranks of his own profession. It hadn’t helped that when they were first introduced Margaret Groves had thought her son had said his new girlfriend was a belly dancer and she had only been disabused of the fact when they had been invited to the theatre to see her perform, by which time the image had been stuck in her head for six months. Even now that they were married, whenever her mother-in-law visited them at their home in Kensington, she had taken every opportunity to question Gina’s choice of furnishings, the way she folded her laundry, not to mention how far down the culinary scale her supper offerings fell. But this year, Gina had declared that things were going to be different and Millie’s heart blossomed at her enthusiasm.
“You know, if it was up to me we would just pile a load of ready-prepared food from Waitrose in the middle of the table and invite our guests to help themselves,” laughed Leo. “That way everyone can eat whatever - and as much - as they like and no one would go hungry. It’s such a waste of time and effort making all these magnificently intricate recipes to adorn the table! No offence Millie, but you wouldn’t believe the stress levels last Christmas when we rented a cottage in the Lake District. Gina was so busy cooking in the kitchen, then making sure the table was perfect, that she hardly had any time to spend with our guests. Christmas is about the people you spend it with not about the food you devour! I know my mother is difficult to please, so why even try? She’s a stubborn traditionalist - which is fine - but she can’t understand that we want to create our own family traditions that might be different from hers – especially when we have a family of our own.”
As he spoke the last words, Leo looked across the table at Gina with such adoration that Millie’s heart performed a gymnastic tumble. Gina smiled back at him, raising her chin in a confident pose.
“Well, I now intend to channel my inner Claudia Croft to provide a sumptuous traditional feast which will be so outstanding in its excellence that everyone will declare me to be the new maestro on the culinary rostrum!”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, darling, but my mother would find fault with the Queen’s dining table!”
“I had the most fabulous mother-in-law,” smiled Claudia, digging into her poached quail’s eggs on home-made granary bread. “She was supportive of everything I tried to achieve. When I got my first publishing deal she threw the best party Hampshire had ever seen and invited every single one of her friends from the WI, even the local butcher, baker and upmarket candlemaker came along and she refused to allow them to leave before they had bought a book for me to sign. The Baking Blend was my first book and it’s still my best seller, which I put down to Grace’s own special brand of marketing and publicity skills.”
Millie smiled as a warm blanket of contentment wrapped its corners around her shoulders while they enjoyed the products of their labours. Throughout the morning she had sent many glances in Claudia’s direction, searching for the right moment to say something about the sale of the manor, but each time she got her on her own, Claudia excused herself and rushed off to assist Mike, the least accomplished of the foursome, before his cheese soufflé dissolved into mush.
It didn’t take Millie long to get the hint that Claudia knew what was on her mind and was employing avoidance tactics. She was okay with that; after all, even though this would be the last Festive Feast course it was still Claudia’s business and she had to maintain a professional approach even if her heart was cracking into tiny pieces. All she wanted to do was let Claudia know that she was there for her, to offer whatever help she could.
“Claudia? I have a favour to ask,” said Leo as he scraped up the final grains of rice and swallowed down the last of his coffee, flashing a quick glance at Gina. “I know tomorrow is scheduled to feature a fabulous Christmas brunch, but do you think it would be possible to start the course after lunch? I’m sorry, there’s a business deal I’ve been working on that I thought had gone off the boil, but it seems to have come back to life again. I need to make a couple of conference calls in the morning, and Gina and Marianne have a bit of Christmas shopping to do in Cheltenham.”
“No problem at all,” smiled Claudia, her crystal earrings shining like pole stars at her cheeks setting off her complexion perfectly. That morning, underneath her Claudia Croft Cookery School apron she wore a beautifully cut woollen drees in a gorgeous saffron colour that Millie knew had cost more than she earned in a month. “I have an idea. Why don’t we move Thursday’s demonstration of a Festive High Tea to tomorrow? That way it will be perfect timing to indulge in a spot of afternoon tea afterwards and we’ll do the brunch on Thursday instead?”
“Oh, definitely! I love afternoon tea,” squealed Marianne in delight. “My sister and I had the best Afternoon Tea at Fortum and Mason for my birthday in June. I’d love to learn how to make all those dainty French fancies.”
“Well, you are in luck,” smiled Claudia, flicking a smile in Millie’s direction and causing her cheeks to colour. “Because Millie just happens to be an expert in French patisserie. So we’ll make gourmet sandwiches, not a crust in sight, the best fig-and-walnut scones you will have ever tasted, and a selection of macarons, chocolate éclairs, strawberry fraisiers, and fresh fruit tarts.”
“Mmm, my mouth is watering already!” laughed Mike, running his tongue over his lips in anticipation.
“Thanks for being flexible, Claudia. I’m sorry about messing up the schedule.”
“It really isn’t a problem. I’m sure Millie and I can find plenty of things to occupy ourselves in the morning.”
“Yes, I did see Millie chatting to the most handsome man in Berryford last night,” said Gina with a gleam in her eye. “Do we get an introduction?”
If Millie had coloured at Claudia’s compliment earlier, this time she glowed with embarrassment. She jumped from her seat and made an attempt to collect the breakfast plates and slot them into the dishwasher. She could feel everyone’s eyes scorching into the back of her head, so she took infinite care to load the crockery in the appropriate place, something she had never done before, preferring her usual haphazard approach to clearing up.
Claudia laughed. “I think you’re referring to Zack Barker, Stonelea’s estate manager. I’m sure he would be delighted to be invited to our soirée on Friday evening to sample our canapés, so you’ll get to meet him then.”
“Fabulous – this week just gets better and better!” laughed Gina, leaning forward to deposit a kiss on Leo’s lips to indicate her true feelings. “Thanks for a great introduction to seasonal breakfasts, Claudia, Millie. I promise we’ll be here for one o’clock sharp tomorrow, raring to go to learn how to bake the lightest scones this side of the M25. I can’t wait because mine always seem to turn out like boulders, although I tell people they are actually rock cakes.”
Millie watched their guests make their way back up the staircase and turned to smile at Claudia. “That went really well, didn’t it?”
“Yes, thanks to you, Millie. But I have to admit, I’m exhausted so if you don’t mind, I’m going to go for a lie down. Everything is sorted for tomorrow so why don’t you have the rest of the day to yourself? Do you know what you might like to do?”
“Oh, I thought I’d choose a book and curl up on one of the window seats in the library.”
“Well, if you don’t mind, would you be able to help me out and deliver this package to Zach’s lodge? I really don’t have the energy to get bundled up in a hat, scarf and gloves, not to mention a pair of Wellington boots, and go trotting down the driveway. I think I’ll feel better after a snooze.”
“No problem.”
; Millie smiled, but concern for her friend swirled through her chest. However, a small part of her did wonder whether Claudia was really exhausted, which seemed unlikely as she was a seasoned presenter and they had only spent three hours in the kitchen, or whether she was intent on giving her potential relationship with Zach a helping hand.
She took the parcel, gave Claudia a hug, and strode to the boot room. She surveyed her choices and selected a fleece-lined wax jacket and a woolly hat with cute mouse ears and a pink nose and whiskers sewn onto the brim, and set off down the driveway towards the entrance gate. It was just after midday and the sun was trying its best to wriggle through the grey clouds. There was a nip in the air - it wasn’t as cold as when she had arrived but not warm enough to melt the snow on the lawn.
She pushed open the tiny wooden gate to Zach’s lodge and a huge smile stretched her lips at the sound of excited barking coming from behind the pale green door.
Binks!
She should have been prepared for the bundle of black-and-white fur to launch a frenzied welcome, but she wasn’t, and ended up on her bottom as the springer spaniel whom she had met in St Lucia welcomed her to his home.
“Hi Binks! It’s great to see you, too, but do you think you could just let me get up – it’s bit cold on the buttocks down here!”
Binks gave her an affectionate lick and trotted back to his master’s side, his pink tongue hanging from a wide grin.
“Hey, Millie. For a girl who professes to hate the snow you do seem to spend an inordinate amount of time rolling in the stuff!” smirked Zach, his eyes twinkling as he offered her his hand to drag her upright.
A surge of relief whipped through Millie at the re-emergence of the upbeat animation that had always been a permanent fixture in Zach’s demeanour: Zach being cheeky about her foibles - the world was turning normally; Zach being downbeat and introspective - very disturbing indeed. His sarcasm had irritated her when she had first encountered him in St Lucia – sadly whilst rolling around in a puddle - but she had grown to enjoy their verbal sparring, to appreciate the way he challenged her to look at life from a different perspective, to seek out new adventures, to squeeze every last crumb of pleasure from every situation. She knew that if she hadn’t met Zach, she would still be wallowing under a cloud of misery at the way Luke had dumped her, instead of viewing it as a blip on life’s rocky highway.