Confetti & Confusion

by Confetti

  He had seen her reaction and his lips curved into a smirk, producing those cute dimples that caused her heart to flutter uncontrollably. Damn him! Why did she have to discover there was an undeniable chemistry between them when his girlfriend was back on the scene? She was so the mistress of bad timing!

  She spun on her heels and followed Ella and Denise to the veranda where a tray of drinks had been left for the workers to help themselves. She poured herself a glass of home-made lemonade and she had never tasted such sweet nectar. As the ice-cold liquid slipped easily down her throat, a sudden image of Zach swimming in the pool floated across her vision – minus swimming trunks!

  Oh, for goodness’ sake, Amelia Harper! Get a grip, she chastised herself.

  She knew that the sooner she submerged herself into the cooking the better, otherwise she would end up a melted mass of hormones. She paused on the threshold to the kitchen where two young men in chef whites were busily helping Ella and Denise to unpack their shopping baskets, chatting about the menu, making suggestions for variations, and generally indulging in what a chef liked best – talking about food.

  ‘Ah, Millie, there you are,’ said Ella. ‘Boys, this is Amelia Harper, but it’s Millie to friends. Millie, this is Marcel and Eddie. Eddie went to school with Henri and I’ve known him since he was six years old. I am now entirely confident that this wedding reception will be perfect. Eddie is a genius with fish dishes. His grilled lobster with coconut and lime marinade is to die for.’

  Millie bumped fists with Eddie and then Marcel before grabbing an apron and a kitchen knife. To the strains of a jaunty reggae rhythm, the fivesome spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening slicing, chopping, squeezing, whisking, gutting and sculpting, until everything that could be prepared in advance had been stored in the huge Smeg refrigerator where there wasn’t an inch of shelf space to spare.

  Everyone worked together like a synchronised dance routine, no one claiming head chef status, no one relegated to washer-upper. The jerk chicken was marinating, the carrot and sweet potato soup had been made, and Ella had created a mouth-watering lemon-and-lime sorbet with a hint of fresh mint from the garden. All the vegetables were prepared and Denise had been given a lesson by Marcel in vegetable sculptures and had produced a passable rose from a cucumber.

  Millie had been responsible for baking the dark chocolate tortes. She had made many variations on the chocolate torte theme during her career in the kitchen, but she had decided to use a recipe from one of Claudia’s cookery books. She knew Claudia would be delighted and she was proud of how they had turned out.

  By the time Marcel and Eddie had finished wiping down the benches, twilight had begun to tickle the horizon sending long shards of apricot and salmon pink into the sky. Storm lanterns and garlands of white fairy lights transformed the poolside terrace into a mesmerising place to rest weary bones and gulp down a celebratory glass of pomegranate juice before Marcel and Eddie headed home. Only Denise partook in a tot of rum to soothe away the tiredness, the others abstaining for fear of not being at their best the next day which they agreed would start at six a.m.

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ called Eddie as he and Marcel sped down the driveway on their motorbikes, revving their engines like boy racers. Ten minutes later, Henri appeared, poured himself a drink and crashed into one of the deckchairs next to Millie, expelling a long, ragged sigh.

  ‘My God! Julia certainly knows how to squeeze the last ounce of strength from her band of volunteers. However, I’m here to report that everything now matches her vision for her daughter’s nuptials. She and Brad said to tell you how grateful they are and that they’ll see you tomorrow at the ceremony.’

  ‘What? No, Henri, you must have misheard. I’m not invited to the ceremony at the hotel.’

  ‘Well, you are now. Here.’

  Henri handed her a thick white envelope with her name scrawled across the front in Julia’s elegant handwriting. She ran her fingernail under the flap and withdrew the enclosed card, its edge embossed with gold, inviting her to attend the wedding ceremony of Miss Imogen Andrea Faversham and Mr Alexander Fredrick Watson.

  ‘Mum was invited too, but she politely refused because she wants to oversee the final food preparations with Denise, Eddie and Marcel. Like everyone else, she loves a good wedding but she loves cooking more and this is her dream come true. And before you do likewise, I’ll warn you in advance that resistance will be futile. Mum assured Julia that you will be there to see Imogen and Alex exchange their vows in the garden gazebo. I recommend you simply accept with good grace and enjoy the whole confetti-filled carnival.’

  Millie held Henri’s eyes for a moment, but the decision was surprisingly easy. Most of the preparation had been done, and even if she attended the wedding, she would still be able to get back to the villa in time to put the finishing touches to the canapés. Excitement whooshed around her body. Wow! She was going to be a guest at a luxury wedding in the tropical Caribbean paradise – what an amazing honour! She couldn’t wait to call Jen to tell her. Then something else occurred to her. Had Julia invited anyone else?

  ‘Has everyone gone home?’ she asked, feigning nonchalance.

  ‘Yes. Dylan’s taken Zach for a drink at the Purple Parrot. I could give you a lift down to Soufrière before I drop Mum and Denise off, if you fancy joining them?’

  ‘Oh, erm, no thanks,’ she muttered, unsurprised at the dart of disappointment that shot through her chest. ‘I think I should conserve my energy for tomorrow. We got lots done today, but tomorrow is going to be manic.’

  Millie wondered why Henri hadn’t mentioned that Chloe was with Dylan and Zach, but she didn’t want to start that line of questioning. Despite having spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen, she had popped out to the courtyard to take a plate of sandwiches to the workers and there had still been no sign of Zach’s girlfriend, which she thought was strange. Surely she had wanted to be with him at some point during the day, even if she did classify the wedding preparations as Zach’s work?

  ‘I don’t mind admitting that I’m completely bushed,’ complained Henri, stretching out his long legs and running his palm over the shadow of stubble that had appeared on his jawline. His mahogany eyes, identical in colour to his mother’s, were ringed with tiredness and Millie smiled at her friend, who, like her, had French genes running through his blood. Whilst her Gallic roots were courtesy of her mother, Monique, who had met her father whilst he was on a backpacking holiday in Provence, Henri’s had been inherited from a father he had not met until he was at university in France.

  Ella had met Pierre, a student from Bordeaux, while he was holidaying on the island, but unlike Monique, her story did not have a happy ending. When Ella had told Pierre she was pregnant, he had caught the next flight back home to France and Ella had no choice but to raise Henri herself; not alone, but with the help and support of her family and friends. She had nurtured an intelligent, community-minded human being who campaigned fearlessly, via journalistic tenaciousness, for improvements in the funding available for local projects to combat youth unemployment.

  Millie tried to offer Henri a smile but was suddenly overtaken by a huge yawn as Ella and Denise appeared on the terrace from their final tour of inspection of the villa and the courtyard.

  ‘Okay, Henri, I think we should leave Millie to get an early night. Tomorrow is going to be a very busy day. I hope you’ve agreed to attend the wedding ceremony, Millie?’

  ‘I wouldn’t miss it for anything!’ she smiled, gratified to see the approval in Ella’s eyes.

  ‘Delighted to hear it. Good night, dear. Straight to bed, unless something better comes along!’

  Ella guffawed at the look of astonishment her off-the-cuff comment had caused. She gathered Millie into a bear hug, the perfume of sweet jasmine floating in the air between them as Millie hugged her back. Denise did likewise, and then the two best friends ambled in Henri’s wake to where he had left the Fiat, gossiping about another wedding they had att
ended when the groom had fallen into the hotel’s pool.

  Millie waved at the little car until its red tail lights disappeared from view. She locked the French doors and made her way through the courtyard to her studio above the garage, pausing at the front door to drink in the view. She wanted to fix the scene in her mind’s eye as the epitome of paradise with the clicking of the cicadas, the chattering of the invisible night-time creatures, and the gentle swish of the palm fronds in the evening breeze.

  She may be exhausted, but she had never been happier and she wished she could stop the world from turning so she could remain on that spot for ever. However, the cool, crisp sheets on her bed were calling her name and she was desperate to lay her head on the pillow and surrender herself to a deep and dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘Millie? Millie? Are you awake?’

  She prised her eyes open and immediately screwed them shut again as the bright light sliced into her brain with surprising vigour.

  ‘Millie?’

  She pushed herself upright, made her way out to the balcony, and looked over the railings into the courtyard below. A sigh of satisfaction, mingled with relief, escaped from her lips. She hadn’t dreamed it after all. The villa’s courtyard really did look idyllic, and to add to the perfection of the image, standing in between the tables was Lottie, waving a paper bag in the air.

  ‘At last, Sleeping Beauty emerges from her royal chamber,’ her friend giggled. ‘I’ve brought croissants. It’s going to be a long day and I thought you might need something to kickstart your engines. Henri tells me you’ve been invited to the ceremony! So, are you going to come down and let me in or should I devour these buttery marvels on the doorstep?’

  Millie’s heart ballooned with gratitude at the friendship she had encountered since she arrived in St Lucia. Ella, Denise, Lottie, Anisha; they had all rallied round to offer their support when life conspired to toss random grenades in the path of orderliness and best-laid plans. With friends like them around, she knew she could face any challenge. She rushed down the stairs to let Lottie in, only belatedly realising that all she had on was a pair of cotton shorts and a camisole.

  ‘Hi, Lottie, come on in, I’ll put the kettle on and then you can help me decide what to wear.’

  ‘Ah, now that’s where having a friend who’s a fashion connoisseur comes in handy.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Millie followed Lottie up the stairs, filled the kettle, and spooned instant coffee into two mugs as she had no energy to make a cafetière. She tore open the bag containing the croissants sending flakes of pastry cascading onto the counter top. The aroma of sweet, warm pastry was too much to resist and she crammed one the mini pains au chocolat into her mouth and rolled her eyes in ecstasy.

  ‘Anisha has sent you this. I don’t mind admitting that I’m soooo jealous that I won’t be sitting next to you when Imogen and Alex tie the knot, just so I can see you in this creation of sartorial wonder. Go on, open it.’

  Lottie removed a suit carrier from her shoulder and handed it over to Millie.

  ‘But, how…’

  ‘Henri popped into the Parrot last night and told us that Julia had invited you to the ceremony in the gazebo at the hotel. Anisha and I knew you would be panicking about what to wear so she rushed home to collect the dress she wore for her sister’s wedding in the summer. It’s absolutely stunning!’

  Lottie’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she took a seat in one of the cane chairs on Millie’s tiny balcony, tossing her magenta hair over her shoulder as she sipped her coffee and settled down in her front row seat waiting for the impending fashion show.

  Millie unzipped the bag and removed the most exquisite dress she had laid eyes on. Pale aquamarine in colour with a smattering of matching sequins outlining the neckline, it shimmered in the early morning sunlight like a waterfall.

  ‘Try it on!’

  ‘I don’t know what to say…’

  An avalanche of emotions ambushed Millie and a lump appeared in her throat. She couldn’t believe Anisha had offered to lend her such a beautiful garment. Tears gathered along her lashes and she tried to swallow down her feelings, but Lottie wasn’t fooled and she ditched her coffee to draw Millie into a hug.

  ‘You absolutely deserve to wear a dress like that to watch Imogen and Alex get married, Millie. If it wasn’t for you, and Ella, the wedding would probably not be taking place. So, put the dress on, brush a little coconut oil through those gorgeous curls of yours and I’ll give you a lift up to the hotel.’

  ‘Thank you, Lottie. For everything. I couldn’t have done any of this, the cookery school, the recipes, the wedding, without you and Ella and Denise, not to mention Dylan, Henri, Travis and Leon. You’ve all be so kind, and I feel like I’ve known you forever!’

  ‘Haven’t you missed someone from that list of amazing people?’

  Millie experienced a squirm of discomfort. She had intended to keep her feelings for Zach locked securely away, with the key hidden in her pocket so that she could enjoy the celebrations without constantly wondering where he was and what he was doing, and more importantly who with.

  ‘Look, Millie, I don’t know what’s going on with Zach and Chloe but trust your Auntie Charlotte – they are not back together, I just know it. You absolutely have to talk to him before you leave tomorrow. I haven’t said this to you, but there’s something special between the two of you, something I can’t quite put my finger on, but when you’re together I can see the spark that you bring out in each other. Okay, lecture over. Now, off you go and get ready. You don’t want to be late, do you? That the bride’s prerogative.’

  Millie decided that arguing with Lottie would only reaffirm what she knew already – her friend was right, she couldn’t deny the feeling of elation whenever she was around Zach.

  She took a quick shower then slid the dress over her body, buoyed up by the fact that it fitted like a second skin. She dragged a comb through her hair and managed to tame it into a passable chignon, trying not to remember the last time she had worn her hair like that. With a slick of nude lipstick and a spritz of the designer perfume Jen had given her for her birthday, she was ready to attend the first wedding since her broken engagement to Luke.

  And yet, it wasn’t Luke’s face that was meandering through her thoughts. She could honestly say, hand on heart, that she felt no lingering regrets that their relationship had ended.

  ‘Wow! You look fabulous, Miss Harper!’ declared Lottie, hugging Millie for the third time in the space of thirty minutes causing her to cling tight onto her emotions with the last of her fingernails. It wouldn’t do to turn up at the wedding of the decade with bulging red eyes and tears on her cheeks.

  Lottie drove Dylan’s Jeep in the same carefree way she lived her life and by the time they swung into the hotel’s car park, Millie felt as though she’d been dragged through the tropical rainforest on the back of a tractor. She patted down her hair, collected her purse and promised Lottie that she would hop into a taxi for the ride back to the villa as soon as the ceremony was over so that she could be back to help hand round the drinks.

  She glanced around the pristine gardens at the front of the hotel. The neatly clipped lawns and flowerbeds were sporting a profusion of colourful flowers that could rival any English stately home, but what tipped the balance of magnificence was the view. The cerulean of the sky, the sapphire of the Caribbean Sea, the terracotta of the town’s roofs at the foothill of the Pitons, the lush emerald landscape of their flanks, all melded together into a poem for the eyes.

  She made her way to the hotel reception, surprised to find it was deserted; no sign of the nightmare that had taken place at the hotel over the last two weeks. She checked her watch – fifteen minutes to go – and made her way towards the rear of the hotel where the gazebo was situated, realising when she got there she was the last guest to arrive and every one of the pretty white seats, tied with pale pink ribbons, had been taken.

&nbs
p; Several guests lingered at the back of the seating area, chatting to friends, laughing at jokes, exclaiming at the beauty of the scene. The wedding gazebo looked amazing, its white wrought ironwork entwined with a profusion of flowers, paper birds and butterflies. The hotel had clearly pulled out all the stops to make the venue as spectacular as possible.

  Before Millie had a chance to enquire about extra seating, the string quartet struck up ‘Ode to Joy’ and she turned to see Imogen appear on the hotel terrace, walking proudly on her mother’s arm along the red carpet, a wide beam of happiness on her face as she made her way towards where Alex was waiting for her in the gazebo. Millie couldn’t control the turmoil of emotions as she watched Imogen stride towards her new life as Alex’s wife, especially when she saw the bittersweet expression on Julia’s face as she performed the role her late husband would have given anything to perform.

  From her place at the back of the congregation, part hidden by the flower-decked white wooden screens that framed the wedding party, Millie listened to Imogen and Alex exchange their vows and then read a poem to each other they had written only the night before. It was a truly moving experience and there wasn’t a dry eye in the garden afterwards, every single guest rising to their feet to applaud the newly-weds when they sauntered back down the aisle to accept the congratulations of their guests.

  Imogen’s dress was simple yet glamorous; a long strapless column of ivory silk with hundreds of crystals scattered from the waist to the hem glistening in the midday sun. She wore a single white orchid in her hair and carried a bouquet of white calla lilies and roses. Carla and Harriet looked amazing in matching ivory bridesmaid dresses, carrying posies of white and pink flowers to add a splash of colour to the ceremony, along with Julia’s elegant pale pink mother-of-the-bride outfit that at one stage she had no doubt feared she would never get to wear.

  The wedding guests obviously knew what had happened to Imogen’s wedding cake and the favours, had gossiped ad infinitum about the devastation wreaked on the Hummingbird Suite by their wedding planner, and the reasons behind it. It was like a plot from a romcom movie, especially when it had looked as if the whole ceremony would have to be cancelled. The fact that it had been pulled off with such style was testament to what the power of love could achieve.