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‘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 Clio 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 attended when the groom had fallen into the hotel’s pool.
Millie waved at the little car until its red taillights disappeared from view. She locked the villa’s 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 prized 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 skimpy 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 countertop. The aroma of sweet, warm pastry was too much to resist, and she crammed one the minipain au chocolatinto her mouth and rolled her eyes in ecstasy.
‘Anisha has sent you this. I don’t mind admitting that I’msojealous 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. Alisha 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!’
