by Confetti
‘So, Imogen, how did you and Alex meet?’
‘You’ll love this, Millie,’ said Carla, washing her hands and retrieving her camera to take a few snaps of the fish-shaped cake pop she had made for Greg that looked more like a melancholic manatee than a ferocious shark.
Imogen laughed, her eyes alight with happiness at being given the opportunity to talk about her fiancé. ‘We met on the London Eye, would you believe?’
‘Ask her to tell you the details,’ said Harriet, popping a huge chunk of white chocolate in her mouth and rolling her eyes in ecstasy.
‘Okay, ladies. I think we’re finished baking for the day. Why don’t you grab one of Denise’s cocktails and take your gossip out onto the veranda to enjoy the view,’ suggested Ella in her sing-song Caribbean accent, its cadence more pronounced after a long day spent on her feet. Despite Millie’s cajoling, Ella had refused to shelve her addiction to heels and had steadfastly continued throughout the day in a pair of scarlet heels that clashed winningly with her voluminous orange and yellow kaftan.
Ella shooed the four women out of the kitchen to give her the chance to make adjustments to the six huge chocolate cakes that were cooling on wire racks on the demonstration workbench. She and Denise had decided to double-up the recipe so they could choose the best one of each size to decorate.
With a sigh of relief, Millie selected a Paradise Daiquiri made from local rum, freshly squeezed lime juice and sugar syrup, and sank into a deckchair overlooking the pool. It was five o’clock and she had been concentrating so hard on that day’s bakes that she hadn’t noticed the arrival of the daily deluge. The wooden boards on the veranda were dotted with puddles and the air held a distinct aroma of damp earth with a floral top note from the garland of roses that grew around the French doors. The parrots had resumed their cacophony of early evening chatter and Millie sent up a quick missive of gratitude to her personal director of fate that she was in such amazing place surrounded by a group of wonderful people.
‘So, how come you met on the London Eye?’
Imogen took a sip of her pina colada and ran the tip of her tongue along her lower lip before launching into her story. ‘Well, one of my customers loved the wedding jewellery she’d commissioned so much that she gave me tickets for a VIP experience in one of the pods. I have to confess, I’m not keen on heights, but I’m even less keen on enclosed spaces. I thanked her, of course, but I had no intention of going.’
‘But I persuaded her,’ said Carla, zooming in on a pot of pink and white geraniums on the steps leading to the swimming pool.
‘It was fate,’ added Harriet.
‘When we arrived at the wheel to check in, we were informed that our pod had been double-booked…’
‘Or Carla had got the time wrong…’
‘It turned out that Alex’s company had also reserved the pod to entertain a couple of clients but the clients hadn’t showed, so they suggested we join them.’
‘Immie was going to refuse, but I leapt at the chance,’ said Carla, taking up the story. ‘One of the guys was hot, hot, hot. I made a bet with Harriet that I could wangle a date with Mister Blue Eyes by the time the wheel had completed its rotation.’
‘It was before Greg came on the scene,’ Harriet explained to Millie.
‘Yes. Harriet is to blame for introducing me to Greg,’ said Carla, her eyes narrowed in fake irritation.
‘Carla!’
‘Anyway,’ interrupted Imogen. ‘We all piled into the pod. There were the three of us and Josie – one of my friends from Pilates – and Alex and four of his colleagues. It was a bit awkward at first and I was getting more and more uncomfortable as the pod travelled higher and higher. But we got chatting and it turned out Alex had studied architecture at uni so he took pity on me and started to point out all the landmarks on the London skyline – which was great until we reached the highest point and my knees just crumpled.’
Imogen’s face took on a dreamy expression as she recalled what had clearly been, for her, the most momentous day of her life.
‘Alex caught me and talked me through how safe we were. By the time I looked out of the window again we were on our way back down and I started to relax. He told me about the four years he’d spent in the army before joining his uncle’s architects’ practice in the City. You know how sometimes you feel as though you’ve known someone for years, when something just sort of clicks? Well, that’s what happened with Alex. Carla thinks it’s ridiculous but I knew straight away that I’d met my soulmate. When we got back to terra firma, Alex asked for my number. He called the next day to ask me to go to the women’s quarter finals at Wimbledon with him. We’ve been together ever since.’
‘And I met Owen through Alex,’ said Harriet, sipping her mango mojito and staring out at the Pitons. ‘He was still undergoing rehab after he’d been medically discharged from the army. I’m a sports physio so I was interested in what kind of therapy the army physios had planned to help him get back to peak fitness.’
‘Did I hear you say Owen was a doctor?’ asked Ella when she and Denise joined them on the veranda with a huge glass jug of freshly squeezed lemon-and-lime juice crammed with crushed ice and a handful of fragrant mint leaves.
‘Yes, he was an army medic before he was injured when the vehicle he was travelling in was hit by a roadside bomb while he was stationed in Afghanistan. He almost lost his leg. Apparently, he now has more metal in his ankle than bone.’
‘Ergh,’ cringed Carla, turning her lips downwards in a grimace as she rubbed her palms along her forearms to erase the goosepimples. ‘I could never be a medic!’
‘He was one of the lucky ones, though,’ murmured Harriet, a shadow of sadness flitting across her expression. ‘Ever since the accident Owen’s hated driving any kind of vehicle. It’s just the way the trauma of what happened affects him. He’s got a great little scarlet-red MG, but he prefers to use public transport whenever he can. I usually do all the driving at home, but I’m terrified of driving abroad so Owen agreed to drive the hire car from the airport to the hotel. He hated it and he’s made me promise that we’ll get a taxi back when it’s time to leave.’
‘Don’t worry, Harri, you can come with me and Greg in the Jeep. However, I feel it’s my duty to warn you in advance – he drives like he lives – without fear or favour. I think he might have been Guy Martin’s cousin in a former life.’
‘How did you and Greg get together?’ asked Millie, finishing her cocktail and refilling her glass with the home-made lemonade.
‘Greg met Owen when he was stationed in Helmand Province. Harriet very kindly set us up on a blind date. I loved his zest for life, his willingness to try anything and give it his best shot. It’s as though he’s squeezing every last morsel out of the time he has to honour all those friends who didn’t make it home. It’s just that sometimes he can go a bit too far.’
‘Who can blame him?’ said Denise, her dark brown eyes filled with compassion.
‘Alex and Owen know what he’s like. It’s just that when I introduce him to my friends and their partners he’s so full-on he tends to terrify them,’ Carla laughed, but her expression had softened.
‘So, Millie.’ Imogen swivelled round in her chair to face her, her pale blue eyes crinkling with interest. ‘What’s going on with you and Zach? And don’t say nothing because I’ve seen the way he looks at you.’
‘What do you mean?’
Heat seeped into Millie’s cheeks and she shot an anxious look at Ella, who simply offered her a calm smile in return.
‘You know exactly what I mean,’ laughed Imogen, warming to her mission of interrogation. ‘In fact, I thought you two were never going to climb out of that ditch you ended up in yesterday. You both looked very comfortable lying there with your arms wrapped around each other, his lips inches from yours. I definitely sensed a sparkle of electricity between the two of you. Are you…’
‘Hey, hey, leave the girl alone, Immie!’ giggled Harriet. ‘Can’t you see
she’s uncomfortable? Just because you’re all loved-up with your handsome prince doesn’t mean we all want to start feathering our love nests.’
‘But she wants to…’ teased Carla, eyeing Millie carefully before raising her camera lens and taking a quick snap.
Fortunately, Ella decided it was time to come to Millie’s rescue before she melted from embarrassment. ‘Girls, girls. It’s six o’clock. I think the guys will be wondering where you’ve got to if you don’t get a move on. Weren’t they expecting you at The Blue Orchid at five-thirty?’
Imogen took the hint. ‘Why don’t you join us, Millie? You’d be very welcome. You too, Ella and Denise. The drinks are on Alex and I as a token of our appreciation for everything you’ve done for us today.’
‘That very kind of you, dear, but look, that’s my Henri.’ Ella indicated the tiny red Fiat struggling to make its way up the steep driveway to the villa, a familiar calypso tune thrumming from the open windows. ‘He’s come to take me and Denise home. I’m sorry, Millie. I’m afraid we’re going to have to leave you with the clearing up.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. It’s definitely my turn.’
Millie waved off Ella and Denise with Henri and then watched the three girls tumble, laughing and giggling, into their hire car for their trip down to Soufrière and their rendezvous with the men.
She made her way from the courtyard back to the kitchen and surveyed the workbenches. A long sigh escaped her lips. It would take her until bedtime to wash everything up and return it to its allocated space ready for the next day. After consuming two of Denise’s potent rum cocktails, her head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool so she decided her first job should be to make a cafetière of her favourite Blue Mountain coffee.
After a couple of gulps, she felt her energy seep back into her veins. She filled a bowl with soapy water and knelt down on the floor, her buttocks high in the air, rocking from side-to-side to the reggae rhythms blasting from the radio as she washed the marble floor tiles until they shone.
‘Great view! Do you welcome all the Paradise Cookery School’s guests like this? I’m not sure it’s the best marketing strategy if you want repeat bookings. What do you think, Binks?’
‘Woof!’
Chapter Seven
Millie scrambled upright too quickly and had to grasp onto the countertop to stop herself from falling. She had been working non-stop in the humid kitchen for eight hours with only a short break for a couple of cocktails. Her stomach rumbled in objection to the lack of consideration for lunch and she rubbed her palm over her eyes to erase the stars that were floating across her vision.
‘Hey, are you okay? Here, why don’t you sit down for a minute.’
‘I’m fine. It’s just been a really long day.’
‘Looks like you’ve been experimenting with culinary pyrotechnics! How can so few people make so much mess? When I offered to help you tidy up earlier I didn’t think the place would be taken over by a bunch of baboons enjoying their annual picnic.’
Millie tried to assess the disarray through Zach’s eyes. The demonstration bench where Ella, Denise and Imogen had spent the day preparing the replacement wedding cake was spotless. Every mixing bowl, spatula and whisk had been washed, dried and returned to its rightful place in the cupboard, and the marble worktop had been wiped down until it sparkled in the last rays of the setting sun. The chocolate cakes sat in descending order on a wire rack to cool beneath three huge glass domes to prevent them from becoming a passing bug’s gourmet evening meal. She knew Ella and Denise had also whipped up the three varieties of buttercream, which would be piped into rosette swirls the next day before the final embellishments of chocolate hearts and butterflies were scattered on the sides.
However, when Millie swung her gaze to the benches on her left and right where she had instructed Harriet and Carla in the art of creating cake pops, it was a completely different story – more in the horror than the romance genre. Whilst the cake pops were safely stored in the huge Smeg freezer, there were cake tins, spare lollipop sticks, snail trails of chopped hazelnuts, splodges of cocoa powder, and discarded coffee cups and cocktail glasses cluttering every available inch.
‘It’s not that bad. I’ve seen worse.’
‘Now why doesn’t that surprise me?’
Millie flicked the end of a tea towel at Zach’s smirking face and experienced a swift arrow of desire jettison into her lower abdomen when he grabbed her wrist to stop her. He really was extraordinarily handsome, with his tousled ebony hair and eyelashes the colour of liquorice which, being blonde, she would give her eye-teeth to possess. Her fingertips tingled at his touch as she took in the dark golden hairs rippling over his forearms.
For several delicious moments she held his eyes, enjoying the way her heart fluttered against her ribcage and electricity reverberated in the space between them along with the heady fragrance of his lemony aftershave. However, what really ignited her senses was the way Zach was looking at her and the most natural thing in the world was to take a step forward to meet his lips. Unfortunately, her sudden movement dislodged a pyramid of china plates and, as if in slow motion, she watched a glass measuring jug tumble onto a pan handle which then catapulted its contents into the air, landing with a splatter at Binks’s feet.
‘Woof!’ declared the delighted spaniel, licking up the surprise gift of icing and crumbs.
Millie raised her mortified eyes to Zach and waited for the inevitable pronouncement on her lackadaisical approach to culinary orderliness. She saw the corners of his lips twitch then he crumpled into laughter. She paused for only a couple of seconds, then joined in, laughing with him until tears sparkled on her lashes and the tension that had been building all day evaporated.
‘Oh my God. Mishap Millie strikes again! You are a complete liability. What on earth have you been baking in here this afternoon?’
‘Ella made those chocolate cakes, and I made over fifty cake pops which are setting in the freezer.’
‘Cake pops? No, don’t bother. Let’s just get started on the chores or we’ll be here all night. You take the washing up and I’ll dry and put away. Here.’
To Millie’s amazement, Zach produced a pair of bright pink Marigolds from his back pocket. Now it was her turn to smirk.
‘Are you seriously expecting me to believe that you wear Marigolds when you wash up your dinner plates?’ An image of Zach standing at his sink in a frilly apron sporting a pair of rubber gloves floated across her mind and she had to quash a rising giggle. ‘What’s the matter? Worried about your manicure?’
Zach rolled his eyes in reply and started to rummage in the drawers for one of Claudia’s signature yellow tea towels. Whilst he had his back to her, Millie took the opportunity to continue with her appreciation of his impressive physique. At six feet two inches, there wasn’t a spare inch on his frame, yet she knew his muscular body had not been achieved from anything as boring as sweating over the equipment in a gym, but from working the land.
An unexpected image of Luke flitted across her mind. Her former boyfriend hadn’t been blessed with the height gene so he had made up for his lack of stature with a forceful personality. He was slender too, but that was because he had no interest in consuming the food he lavished so much care and attention on creating. Why hadn’t she seen that as odd?
Also, Luke was as fair as Zach was dark; any contact with the sun turned his skin an unattractive shade of ripe tomato on the rare occasions she had been able to persuade him to leave the restaurant they ran together for a trip to the beach or countryside when the sun was shining. The final item on Millie’s list of contrasts was the fact that Luke had steadfastly refused to entertain the possibility of owning a pet. She would have loved a dog or a cat. In fact, even a hamster would have done but there had been no persuading him.
Whilst Millie loaded the dishwasher with the kitchen utensils, Zach filled the sink with hot soapy water to wash the glasses. To the smooth rhythm of the Caribbean music drifting fr
om the radio, they worked in easy harmony until every last piece of cutlery and crockery had been returned to its resting place ready for use the following day. When Millie finally hung up her apron, she had to admit it was a very satisfying feeling to see the kitchen returned to its chaos-free glory. Fitz and his friends – the gang of builders Claudia had employed to upgrade the villa’s kitchen – might have possessed a laid-back attitude to timekeeping, but their workmanship was exemplary.
Millie found a small aluminium bowl in the cupboard underneath the sink, filled it to the brim with fresh water, and offered it to Binks, who guzzled it noisily. She fondled his silky ears with affection as she watched Zach scrutinise the room like a surgeon in an operating theatre. She thought he was about to declare himself satisfied when he sighed, snatched up a slice of kitchen towel, and wiped away a miniscule splodge of ground coffee from the marble bench top.
‘I think it’s even tidier than when we started this morning!’ she smiled. ‘Thanks, Zach. Without your help I would have been here until well past midnight.’
‘You’re welcome. I did offer to help and I’m a man of my word. Anyway, I have an ulterior motive.’
‘What sort of ulterior motive?’
Millie’s stomach performed a backflip of anticipation and a whoosh of desire rotated through her body causing her skin to prickle. Her thoughts spun to her bedroom in the studio across the courtyard with cool white cotton sheets and muslin drapes floating at the window. But then her mind diverged onto a different tangent – knowing Zach, his intentions could equally involve the quad bikes lurking in the shed behind his lodge or the archery targets she had seen affixed to the coconut trees while on her early morning walks.
‘Since you arrived on St Lucia, you’ve hardly taken any time off to explore the island. You’re leaving on Monday and who knows when you’ll get the chance to come back.’
‘Well, I have been a little preoccupied with supervising the kitchen renovations and then presenting a luxury cookery course. Anyway, you did take me on that amazing trip to the Diamond Waterfalls last week…’