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‘Do you think they’re perhaps disappointed with theChocolate & Confetticourse and are just too polite to say anything?’ suggested Millie, her confidence demons poking their heads above the parapet.
‘No, of course not. Imogen told me that she’s loving the tutorials. Maybe their hire car has broken down. You know what the roads are like round here, those cars do take a battering. Why don’t you give Imogen a call?’
Millie grabbed her mobile and selected Imogen’s number. Anxiety gnawed at her stomach as she waited for her to pick up. However, the phone went straight to voicemail, and she decided not to leave a message. She inhaled a deep breath, but she felt like a slab of concrete was pressing all the oxygen from her lungs as she contemplated the possible reasons behind the women’s failure to turn up for their third day at the Paradise Cookery School.
Then another, even more alarming, thought occurred to her. What if one of them had food poisoning? That would definitely jeopardise any further classes.
‘There’s no point in fretting until we know what the problem is,’ counselled Ella, gifting Millie with a wide smile. ‘Let’s grab ourselves some breakfast and sit outside on the veranda while we wait.’
Within minutes of sitting down under a parasol with her freshly ground coffee and flaky croissant, Millie’s phone buzzed and she couldn’t answer it quick enough.
‘Hi Imogen.’
‘Millie? Is that you?’
‘Yes. Is everything okay? Ella and I were worried about you.’
There was a pause at the other end of the line during which Millie heard what she thought was a gulp.
‘I’m really sorry about this morning, Millie. But the most dreadful thing has happened.’ Again, there was a brief silence whilst Imogen gathered her courage to continue. ‘There was fire in the hotel kitchen in the early hours of the morning.’
‘Oh my God! Was anyone hurt?’
‘No. Thankfully the staff caught it before it had chance to spread from the dessert preparation area, but… but the thing is… my wedding cake has been totally destroyed – unless you like your cake with a chargrilled coating and flavoured with smoke. Not only that, but all the wedding favours Mum and Karen have painstakingly prepared were in a box next to the cake and every single one of them is ruined. It’s a complete disaster. Mum’s absolutely gutted but Brad is doing a grand job of comforting her – he’s turning out to be a complete godsend, to be honest. Even Karen has come around to the view that he’s great for Mum.’
‘Oh, Imogen, I’m so sorry. What a nightmare. Is there anything Ella and I can do to help?’
‘Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think so. Jerome, the hotel manager, is very apologetic and has promised to come up with something for the cake-cutting ceremony. But, do you know what? He actually had the cheek to suggest a cardboard model and Photoshop! He changed tack pretty sharpish when he saw the look of fury on Mum’s face. She asked why the hotel’s chefs couldn’t come up with something, but they’re working flat out to clean the kitchen and feed the guests. It’s a miracle none of the cooking equipment was affected so, after everything has been washed and sterilised, we can at least still have the wedding reception here on Sunday.’
‘I’m really sorry, Imogen. Can’t your wedding planner sort something out for you? Isn’t this the kind of thing she should be used to troubleshooting? I bet she’s got loads of ideas and contacts.’
‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But Mum, as usual, was right about Fleur Markham. She hasn’t even turned up at the hotel yet. One of the waiters let slip that she’s famous for her unreliability – now he tells us! I’ve tried to call her a few times but she’s not answering her mobile. Mum thinks Jerome and Fleur have some personal history because she caught them arguing down by the gazebo last night when she was out with Brad for another of their romantic moonlit strolls. If that’s true, you’d think they would keep their squabbles to themselves until the wedding is over. Mum’s paying Fleur a hefty fee for her services, to make sure everything runs smoothly and every detail is perfect. So far, I don’t think she’s delivered anything we can’t do ourselves! I think we can kiss goodbye to the kaleidoscope of butterflies Mum wanted – but to be honest, I’m not sure that’s a bad thing.’
Imogen attempted a rueful laugh but instead burst in tears.
‘Everything is going wrong. I knew Alex and I should have stood up to Mum and insisted on an intimate ceremony at home with a few close friends, instead of coming out here. I just wanted her to be happy, to be involved in the organising because I knew how much she would miss Dad. Perhaps Alex and I should cancel the whole thing. Maybe this is a sign…’
‘Imogen… Imogen, please don’t say that. It’ll all work out fine,’ Millie reassured her, her heart pounding out a symphony of sympathy for the distraught bride-to-be who should by rights be relaxing on a sun lounger with a book in one hand and a Pina Colada in the other instead of stressing over the wedding arrangements.
Millie flicked a quick glance to where Ella sat, sipping her Blue Mountain coffee, her brown eyes widening as she listened intently to the unfolding saga. She gave Millie a smile and a nod of approval.
‘Look, I have an idea. When you feel up to it, why don’t you come over to the villa with anyone who needs a bit of distraction, and we’ll spend the remaining three days of theChocolate & Confetticourse baking up a storm? Ella and I have made dozens of wedding cakes in our time. I can’t promise you a brigade of sugar-paste butterflies or a froth of lavender-flavoured buttercream roses, but I’m sure we can produce something that will wow your guests.’
‘You and Ella are offering to bake me a wedding cake by Sunday?’
‘Yes. And I’ve got a suggestion for the wedding favours too. How does three dozen wedding-themed cake pops sound? We can mould them into miniature bride-and-groom shapes. My friend Pippa showed me how to decorate them with coloured chocolate melts and they look amazing. We’ll wrap them in cellophane, tie them with colour co-ordinated ribbons, and your guests can take them home as souvenirs.’
‘Wow! That sounds fabulous. Do you think it’ll work?’
‘I’m sure of it.’
‘You are really kind to offer to do this, Millie. I’ll have a chat to Alex and Mum and then we’ll be right over. A day filled with high-octane baking is exactly what I need to settle my nerves. Thank you, thank you, thank you – from the bottom of my heart.’
‘It’s a pleasure.’ Millie sighed as she placed her phone in her lap and met Ella’s gaze.
‘I take it we’ve just been promoted from luxury cookery course presenters to deliverers of confectionary dreams?’ Ella expelled a deep belly laugh that made Millie smile too. ‘Well, we’d better get cracking on a shopping list, hadn’t we? I’ll give Denise a call and she can source whatever we need in Castries. I’ll ask Henri to drive up there and collect everything during his lunch hour. There’s just one thing I’m confused about, though.’
‘What’s that?’
