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Millie glanced down at the kitten heels Ella had customised with gold and silver sequins and smiled. Maybe tomorrow her co-presenter would reconsider her suggestion she choose a pair of ballet flats – or maybe not. Ella loved fashion, the more flamboyant and colourful the better.
They settled in a pair of white rattan chairs, resting their tired feet on the plump cushions, sipping their tangy lemonade and taking the time to enjoy the view. Millie knew she would never grow tired of drinking in its magnificence. In the foreground, just beyond the balcony where they relaxed, was the most stunning expanse of translucent aquamarine. The infinity pool’s decking had been embellished with six navy-and-white striped sun-loungers and was bordered by a necklace of lush cocoa trees, their leaves sporting a glossy sheen from the recent downpour. But she barely noticed this tropical splendour compared to the majesty of the wider panorama.
To her left, at the foot of Gros Piton and Petit Piton nestled the old French capital of St Lucia, Soufrière, its church spire and telegraph poles jutting from a patchwork of red-roofed homes stitched together by swaying palm trees. This was Millie’s idea of paradise and Claudia had certainly selected the most appropriate title for her new venture in the Caribbean. The last vestiges of nervous tension she had harboured in the pit of her stomach all day melted away and she allowed a satisfied sigh to escape her lips.
‘What time is Henri coming to collect you?’
Ella checked her watch, a gem-encrusted masterpiece that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the most bling-addicted celebrity, but it matched her personality perfectly.
‘Around six – after he’s “put the paper to bed”!’
Ella chuckled at the expression, a rich belly rumble that filled Millie with affection for the woman who had welcomed her into her life and nurtured not only her culinary skills, but also her emotional wellbeing. She thought back to the day she arrived on St Lucia, right in the middle of the daily deluge, clutching her trusty scrap box filled with the recipes she had collected over the years scribbled on till receipts and beer mats, wondering why she hadn’t insisted on sticking to her plan to spend the holiday with her mother at her childhood home in the South of France.
But then she had met Ella, and they had spent an amazing two weeks triple-testing every recipe on theChocolate & Confetticourse, whisking meringues, slicing mangoes, peeling cassava, scooping out passionfruit and grating nutmeg. However, the icing on the cake had been their easy camaraderie. They had laughed and giggled as they worked, sharing increasingly intimate details of their lives, their loves, and their dreams for the future.
‘I wonder how Lottie has survived her first day in charge of the Purple Parrot?’ Millie mused. ‘I know Dylan and Travis offered to help her out, but I bet she’s been run off her feet.’
‘Like you, Millie, Lottie is an extremely capable and resourceful young woman. In fact, I’m sure she’ll have that bar ship-shape and running like clockwork in no time.’
Millie’s heart softened when she conjured up an image of her friend Lottie, a gap-year lingerer who had fallen in love with the Caribbean vibe as well as a certain surfer dude by the name of Dylan who owned the local diving school. She had spent months admiring him from the veranda of the bar-cum-restaurant where she had worked as a waitress until its proprietor had been arrested for drug-trafficking using hollowed-out cocoa pods he’d stolen from Claudia’s plantation. Either Lottie pinned on the badge of temporary manager, or the Purple Parrot would have been forced to close its doors and she would have lost her job.
Proving the age-old adage that every cloud had a silver lining, after Andrew’s apprehension Lottie and Dylan had realised that they were perfect for each other, and Millie didn’t think Lottie had stopped smiling since! She was prepared to bet her last bottle of rum that the two of them, along with their friend and local artist Travis, had pulled together to keep regulars and tourists alike supplied with a plethora of delicious, freshly cooked Caribbean seafood and a never-ending supply of the Purple Parrot’s signatures cocktails – although she assumed Lottie would have renamed the eponymous Andy’s Blast whilst its namesake languished in the town’s police station awaiting news of his fate.
‘Has Henri heard anything about what’ll happen to Andrew through his contacts at theSoufrièreTribune?’
‘When I spoke to him at lunchtime he was complaining about Leon’s refusal to divulge even the smallest detail of their investigations to the press. But you know my son, Millie, he’s nothing if not tenacious – and the scourge of the Caribbean drug trade and the criminals who peddle its misery have become something of a specialised subject for him since he joined the paper. I suspect he’ll have spent the whole afternoon pestering anyone and everyone for even a snippet of information to splash across the headlines. Would you like a lift down to Soufrière with us? Or do you have a more intimate evening planned?’
Millie couldn’t fail to catch the glint of mischief in Ella eyes, and she knew immediately what she was alluding to. A plethora of emotions jangled around her body and for a moment she was unable to elucidate her feelings coherently.
On the one hand, she could think of nothing better than waving Ella off in Henri’s rust bucket of a Fiat before sprinting over to Zach’s lodge in the rainforest for an evening of sparkling banter rounded off with several kisses under the stars as he walked her back to her studio. She adored his company and the way he made her feel as though she could accomplish anything she put her mind to. His unassailable confidence in her had worked its magic and she was bursting to relay how successful the very first Paradise Cookery School had been and to thank him for his part in that. And, of course, she couldn’t forget the way her body reacted when his dark mahogany eyes, edged with the longest lashes she had seen on a man, held hers – she positively zinged with desire!
However, on the other hand, she had no idea how Zach felt about her and that scared her. She had thought Luke had loved her. Hadn’t they been about to celebrate their engagement with their family and friends at a lavish party before he dropped the bombshell that he’d been seeing someone else? And did she really want a holiday fling? Whilst there was nothing wrong with that, if she were honest with herself, she knew that where Zach was concerned she would want much more than that. Would they really be able to continue seeing each other when they were both back in the UK, bearing in mind the distance between London and the Cotswolds and the demands of their respective careers? Could she cope with renewed feelings of loss? Could she really do that to herself?
Confusion reigned and she had no answers that would help erase the obstacles to a relationship with Zach. Ella had seen her hesitation and reached across the table to pat her hand.
‘Millie, dear, you look like you’ve lost a dollar and found a penny! Relax! Have some fun – you deserve it after how hard you’ve worked today. It’s obvious to even the most unobservant onlooker that you and Zach have a great deal of chemistry going on. You know, we have to snatch every opportunity life tosses in our path because none of us know what might be waiting for us around the corner!’
Millie met Ella’s eyes and saw the briefest wisp of sadness floating in their depths. The proud tilt of her chin belied the vagaries of a life lived as a lone parent prepared to do whatever was necessary to make a better life for her son. She knew her friend’s story and whilst it was a sad one, Ella had never entertained even a smidgeon of self-pity. She had truly loved Henri’s father, Jean-Pierre, another gap-year rambler who had been seduced by the island’s laid-back lifestyle, exuberant friendliness, and casual acceptance of life’s bounty – until Ella had discovered she was pregnant and he’d hot-footed it back to Paris. Her friend hadn’t seen him since.
‘Ah, here’s my Henri!’
Millie smiled as she heard the high-pitched whine of the Fiat’s tiny engine straining to make it up the steep slope leading to the courtyard at the rear of the villa. Following in Ella’s fragrant slipstream, she grabbed the huge Tupperware box filled with baked goodies Ella intended to share with Henri and her best friend, Denise.
‘Hi Henri!’
Millie leaned into the car and deposited kisses on his cheeks, inhaling the spicy aroma of his cologne. There was no doubt about it, Ella’s son was an extremely handsome guy. With a strong jaw sporting a trendy smattering of stubble and dark ebony eyes oozing intelligence, he could have easily landed a starring role in a Caribbean romcom instead of working long hours as an intrepid journalist – not an easy job when the majority of his stories featured a side order of drug-infused violence.
‘Hey, Millie. From the smiles on your faces, I take it the inaugural Paradise Cookery School course went well?’
‘Of course it did, darling!” declared Ella, squeezing her bulk into the front passenger seat and accepting the Tupperware box from Millie, placing it carefully on her lap. ‘But what I want to know is if there’s any more news on the cocoa pod fiasco? Has Andrew been charged?’
‘Investigations are ongoing,’ parroted Henri, rolling his eyes in irritation at the lack of progress.
‘Good! I hope Andrew gets what he deserves. It was a despicable thing to do to Claudia and Tim. Okay, see you tomorrow, Millie, bright and early.’
Millie stood in the courtyard, waving off her friend, watching the little car scoot down the hill like an out-of-control roller-skate until the red taillights disappeared around the corner. Dusk tickled the far horizon sending tendrils of apricot and salmon-pink across the sky and the silhouettes of the Pitons grew dark against the silver grey of the sea. A pandemonium of parrots flitted from cocoa tree to palm tree to banana tree searching for a comfortable perch upon which to rest for the night whilst the sun-baked earth filled the air with a delicate floral scent.
As Millie climbed the stairs to her studio, a wave of exhaustion descended over her, dragging her bones southwards and causing her eyelids to droop. She decided that the best thing to do would be to take a shower and treat herself to an early night. She was excited about the next day’s itinerary and was keen to ensure it too went according to plan, especially as she now hoped that her dream to become a cookery school presenter when she returned home could actually become a reality.
