by Confetti
‘Thank you so much for coming. Are those the cupcakes you told me about on the phone? Oh, they look amazing! Gracie will love them.’
A white-jacketed waiter arrived with a silver tray holding a pitcher of mango juice and several crystal glasses. Millie thought of the psychedelic sludge Travis had served them earlier and smiled.
‘Thanks, George. Do you think you could bring us a bottle of Laurent-Perrier, please?’
‘Yes, madam.’
The last thing Millie needed was to indulge in more alcohol. She was still experiencing the after-effects of the white rum cocktail and if she added a glass or two of champagne to the mix she would be asleep all afternoon. While she didn’t have anything other than a sun lounger calling her name, she wanted to make the most of every remaining moment at the villa and in the swimming pool before she boarded her flight back to the UK. Who knew when she would next see the sunshine?
‘This hotel is absolutely gorgeous,’ said Ella, sipping her mango juice, taking in her surroundings, clearly storing away every tiny detail so she could relate it all back to Denise later.
‘It is,’ smiled Imogen, staring at the view, the dark rings beneath her eyes apparent to even the most unobservant onlooker.
‘Where are the men today?’ asked Millie.
‘Gone to watch a cricket match in the village. They should be back in an hour or so.’
The champagne arrived, along with Julia and Karen, and Millie had an idea.
‘I’d love to see where your wedding ceremony is being held?’
‘Oh, you’ll love it. It’s just the most romantic place to get married. Come on. Then, I’ll show you the Hummingbird Suite where we’re having our reception. Would you like to join us, Ella?’
‘No thank you, dear. I think I’ll just sit here with Julia and Karen and admire the view.’
The waiter popped the cork and poured three glasses of champagne, handing one crystal flute to each woman with a theatrical flourish.
‘Perhaps you could bring another bottle, George,’ said Julia, settling in for a gossip with Ella about the exhausting search she’d endured in the boutiques of London for mother-of-the-bride outfits suitable for a Caribbean wedding.
Imogen rolled her eyes at her mother and led Millie down the steps of the bar and onto the pristine lawns to the front of the hotel. Every single one of the borders was filled with a profusion of multi-coloured flowers, from scarlet to cerise, from vermillion to salmon-pink.
‘The flowers are amazing,’ said Millie.
‘I agree. I spoke to one of the gardeners when we arrived and he told me that the hotel is blessed with fertile volcanic soil which means that even if you stick a wooden pole in the ground it will sprout leaves,’ laughed Imogen. ‘Here we are. What do you think?’
Looming in front of them like a wedding cake fashioned from white wrought iron and filigree, was the most perfect garden gazebo – an absolutely stunning location in which to exchange wedding vows. Millie expected to be transported back to her own debacle of an engagement party when her fiancé-to-be had failed to do her the courtesy of turning up, but she was surprised to find that the turmoil of emotions did not materialise. It was a revelation that made her smile.
‘It is just the most amazing place. Sunday is going to be fabulous.’
‘Thanks, Millie. I hope so. Mum’s still anxious about the flowers not arriving in time. I think we’ll be sorted in time for Sunday, but it definitely hasn’t been the smooth, relaxed, tranquil experience she had been expecting. Nevertheless, one good thing has come out of it. Mum and Brad are like a pair of lovebirds and I’m so happy for her. It’s about time she enjoyed a bit of romance.’
‘St Lucia seems to have that effect on people,’ thought Millie, not realising before it was too late that she had actually said the words out loud.
‘What do you mean?’ Imogen narrowed her eyes in curiosity.
‘Oh, nothing. Weren’t you going to show me the Hummingbird Suite?’
‘Yes. Oh, you’re going to love it, too! The walls have been hand-painted with beautiful hummingbirds sitting in tropical foliage and the floral arrangements for the tables were supposed to be Birds-of-Paradise set in these amazing tall, slender glass vases. Mum hasn’t been able to source them, so I’m not sure what we’ll end up with.’
They had arrived in the corridor leading to the Hummingbird Suite. Despite the whole building having been taken over by Imogen and Alex’s wedding guests, the hotel felt deserted. Apart from a lone gardener mowing the already pristine lawn next to the gazebo, Millie hadn’t seen any other staff. Maybe the whole ethos of the place was that guests should feel as though they were visiting a friend’s home rather than staying in a hotel – that’s how she felt.
As they made their way towards the double doors, Millie’s sandals clacked on the shiny wooden flooring like a pair of castanets. It was much cooler inside, with the air conditioning working overtime, causing goose pimples to ripple along her forearms.
‘Okay. Ready to be amazed?’
‘I am.’
Imogen grasped the brass handle and went to push the door open with a flourish, but it didn’t budge.
‘Oh, it’s locked. That’s strange. It wasn’t locked when me and Mum came to check on the place settings earlier this morning.’ Imogen gave the handle another wiggle for good measure and sighed.
‘Don’t worry. I’m sure it looks fantastic. I’ll look forward to seeing the photographs on Facebook and Instagram,’ laughed Millie.
‘No. I’d really like your opinion on the layout of the top table. You’ve got a real sense of style, Millie, but I’m sure you’re told that all the time.’
‘Really?’ Millie was about to utter a self-deprecating contradiction but stopped herself. It was about time she learned to have the confidence to accept compliments and to have more conviction in her own abilities.
‘Come on. Let’s find Jerome and ask him to open the doors.’
Imogen spun on her stilettos and marched off back down the corridor. They didn’t have to search too hard to find the hotel manager, who was chatting to Greg and Carla on the pool terrace. Handsome enough to take the leading role in a Hollywood romcom, Jerome was clearly a man comfortable in his designer suit and starched collar despite the humidity. Millie caught a whiff of his expensive aftershave as he turned to welcome her to the hotel.
‘Hi, Jerome. Can you unlock the Hummingbird Suite, please? I want to show Millie the table layout. I’m still not convinced about where the top table is.’
‘Unlock it? But we never lock the doors to the Suite.’ Jerome’s dark brown eyes crinkled in confusion.
‘Well, they are definitely locked now. We’ve just come from there.’
‘No problem. I’m sorry you’ve been inconvenienced. I have the keys here.’
Jerome produced a bunch of silver keys from his pocket and strode towards the hotel with Imogen, Millie and Carla scampering in his wake. They reached the Hummingbird Suite and Jerome tried both the handles himself which caused Imogen and Millie to exchange a look of ‘told you so’.
‘Strange.’
Jerome selected a key, inserted it into the lock and pushed the door doors open. ‘Voila!’
‘Oh…’
‘Oh my God!’
‘Argh!’
Millie blinked, unable to believe what her eyes were telling her. Every table had been turned upside down, the linen tablecloths torn into pieces and scattered around the room like discarded wrapping paper, along with the serviettes. The silver cutlery had been strewn everywhere and the hummingbird paintings had been removed from the walls and stamped on. The room looked like a tornado had hit and done its worst.
‘Oh, my God!’ cried Imogen, her hand covering her mouth, tears collecting along her lashes. ‘What…?’
Millie and Carla moved forward in unison to link Imogen’s arms as Jerome dashed into the suite, rushing from table to table until he came to a sudden standstill, his gaze fixed on the wall to t
heir right.
‘Argh!’ screamed Carla, who was the first to see what he was looking at.
When Millie followed Jerome and Carla’s line of sight, her stomach dropped to her toes like an anvil down a well. Her heart flayed her ribcage so hard that she thought it would escape. Nausea threatened until she turned to see the expression on Imogen’s face. If she and Carla hadn’t been holding onto her she would have crumbled to the floor.
‘What’s…? Is that…?’
The maelstrom of destruction wasn’t limited to smashed furniture and broken picture frames. Everything in the room had been doused in what Millie sincerely hoped was red paint; the floor boards, the drapes, the walls, even the crystal chandeliers. The whole place looked like a scene from the Caribbean Chainsaw Massacre.
‘Is that blood?’ muttered Carla, her eyes wide with horror.
Jerome was the first to pull himself together, yet his hands were shaking and his pallor had turned two shades lighter than it had been a few minutes earlier. He took a tentative step nearer the wall and sniffed.
‘What are you doing?’
‘It’s not blood, Carla. This is tomato ketchup, and this,’ he indicated the curtains and the floor, ‘seems to be red spray paint.’
‘But why would anyone…’
Imogen could hold onto her emotions no longer and burst into loud raking sobs, her body shaking uncontrollably.
‘Someone doesn’t want me and Alex to get married! They’re doing everything in their power to destroy our wedding plans, but what I want to know is: why? What have we done to deserve this?’
‘Carla, I think you should go and fetch Julia and Karen.’
‘Right away.’
As Carla sprinted from the room, Millie lead the distraught Imogen to the only chair left standing and, with Jerome’s assistance, settled her down in the seat and handed her a bunch of tissues from her pocket.
‘I’m so sorry, Imogen. Please rest assured that the hotel will investigate this incident…’
‘Darling!’ cried Julia from the doorway, her hand flying to her chest as her eyes surveyed the damage. ‘Oh my God! What in heaven’s name happened in here? Is that blood?’
Before Julia and Karen had even taken a step into the room, a woman launched herself from behind an upturned table, a pair of kitchen scissors clutched in her fist raised high in the air, heading straight for Jerome.
Chapter Sixteen
‘Oh my God! It sounds like the plot of a murder mystery show set on a Caribbean island,’ declared Lottie, her eyes stretched wide with interest. ‘So was Jerome hurt?’
Millie and Ella had returned to the Purple Parrot to give the wedding party some privacy whilst they came to terms with what had happened and decided what they wanted to do about their wedding arrangements. It was clear to everyone that the reception couldn’t take place in the Hummingbird Suite.
‘Superficial cuts to his arm and chest. He’s been taken to hospital for stitches.’
‘Poor Jerome. What on earth had he done to deserve that? Surely it couldn’t have been a disgruntled guest!’
‘Well, you’re not going to believe this, but Jerome did know his attacker.’
‘Who was it?’
‘Fleur Markham.’
‘Who’s Fleur Markham?’
‘She’s Imogen and Alex’s wedding planner.’
‘Really?’
‘Well, she only met with them once. Imogen and Alex did think it was strange that she had disappeared, but they never expected anything like this to happen.’
‘And she decided to wreck the place and then stab Jerome with a pair of scissors, because…?’
‘It turns out Imogen’s mother, Julia, was right all along. Fleur and Jerome have history.’
‘It’s a very disturbing story,’ muttered Ella, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since they had arrived at the bar, clearly very upset at the personal tragedy that had unravelled before their eyes. She twiddled the stem of the empty wine glass on the table in front of her, her eyes fixed on a spot on the horizon where the sea met the sky.
‘What sort of history?’ pressed Lottie, refilling everyone’s glass with a tot of rum: her prescription for the recent shock.
‘Apparently, a few months ago, Jerome ditched Fleur and ran off with her cousin. He had to leave his job as a hotel manager in Rodney Bay because Fleur was constantly harassing him after he’d terminated their relationship – he thinks she must have gone a little bit crazy. She had no idea he had relocated to Soufrière and found a new position at a local hotel; he thought he was safe. But as fate would have it, when she met with Imogen and Alex to discuss their wedding last Sunday, she caught a glimpse of Jerome in the hotel lounge. She returned later and sought him out – that was when Julia saw them arguing by the gazebo.’
‘So what’s happening about the wedding reception? I take it the Hummingbird Suite will be out of action for a good few weeks? Oh, no, don’t tell me they have to call off the wedding? That would be just too awful!’
Millie saw Lottie cast a quick glance out into the bay where Dylan’s boat was on its way back to shore after that morning’s diving excursion. The expression of undiluted adoration on her pretty face made Millie think of Zach and her heart gave an uncomfortable kick. Because of everything that had happened over the last few hours, she hadn’t had a chance to dwell on what he and Chloe were doing, but now she remembered that Chloe had said they would have a full itinerary. What if Zach had taken her to Treetop Adventures? She was more upset than she cared to admit about that possibility.
‘Ella and I left before any decisions about the wedding were made, but Jerome couldn’t be more apologetic. He honestly didn’t connect the kitchen fire incident – the one that destroyed Imogen’s wedding cake and favours earlier in the week – with Fleur. We know she was responsible for that too because when Alex and Greg arrived to drag her off Jerome she was screaming incoherently about the kitchen fire and how she had hoped he’d be caught up in it or sacked for the damage.’
‘How utterly dreadful,’ murmured Ella, her brown eyes filled with compassion for all the players in the story.
‘So where is Fleur now?’
‘She was also taken to the hospital with cuts to her hands. The paramedics sedated her and I think I heard them mention a referral to psychiatric services.’
Silence descended around the table as each of the women contemplated the recent turn of events.
‘Hey! Why the long faces, girls? Aren’t you sitting in the best bar in the Caribbean, ably managed by the most wonderful woman on the island of St Lucia?’ Dylan leaned down to deposit a kiss on the top of Lottie’s head, causing a splash of colour to appear on her pale cheeks and her eyes to dance with delight. ‘Drinks are on me this afternoon. Just finished diving the coral reef with a bunch of corporate types from Texas who insisted on rewarding me with a huge tip!’
Dylan grinned as he shoved his palms deep into the pockets of his cut-off denim shorts and meandered towards the bar where he greeted Travis with a friendly handshake and slap on the back. Millie watched the two men share a joke, her heart ballooning at their display of relaxed camaraderie, and her faith in human nature leapt up a notch.
‘So what do you think will happen about the wedding?’ asked Lottie, her eyes still resting on her boyfriend, who wouldn’t have looked out of place carrying a surf board along Waikiki Beach with his tanned features, sun-bleached hair and the leather thong around his neck sporting a huge shark’s tooth.
‘I really don’t… Ah, well, perhaps you can ask Imogen that question yourself.’
Millie nodded in the direction of the wooden steps leading up to the veranda from the beach where Imogen was kissing Alex goodbye, before waving him off with Greg and Owen. Carla and Harriet followed their friend onto the terrace.
‘Is it okay to join you?’
‘Of course!’ said Lottie, leaping from her chair. ‘I’ll get you some drinks – on the house.’
Imogen dr
opped into a padded cane chair next to Millie. Every ounce of her previous vitality seemed to have seeped from her body. Her eyes were still pink from the copious tears she had shed and her skin had taken on a translucent sheen. She let out a long, ragged sigh, and her resigned shoulders slumped into her chest.
‘Alex thought it would be a good idea for us to get away from the hotel for a while. He’s gone to the Blue Orchid with the guys, but I thought I’d find you both here. Karen and Gracie have gone on a shopping trip to Castries with a few of the other guests. Mum’s distraught, understandably, but Brad has taken her to the Sulphur Springs for a detox to soothe her nerves and I’m sure he’ll work his magic to calm her down.’
Imogen attempted a watery smile but she couldn’t quite pull it off. She grabbed a beer mat from the table and started to pick at the edges. Millie’s heart went out to her. None of what had happened had anything to do with Imogen or Alex, they were just innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire of a toxic relationship breakdown.
‘I’m so sorry this happened, Imogen.’ Millie reached over the table and squeezed Imogen’s hand. ‘What have you and Alex decided to do about the wedding?’
‘Well, we could have had the reception out on the lawns at the front of the hotel. There’s a spectacular view of the Pitons and plenty of space for the tables. However, when the staff were escorting Fleur from the premises, she not only confessed to the destruction of the furniture and decorations in the Hummingbird Suite, but she also hinted that she may have tampered with the food in the fridges.’
‘What?’
‘She refused to elaborate, and it’s unlikely she was able to gain access to the kitchen this morning without any of the breakfast chefs seeing her, but we can’t take the risk of poisoning our guests. So…’ Imogen gulped down the gin cocktail Lottie had set in front of her and ran her tongue along her lower lip. ‘Alex and I have decided to cancel the wedding. Alex is philosophical. He says it’ll be a great dinner party story to share with our friends when we’re old and grey.’