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Chapter One
‘Have you checked in yet, Millie?’
‘No, not yet, but don’t panic, Jen. I told you that I’d make an extra special effort to arrive at the airport in plenty of time, didn’t I? I’m just grabbing a cappuccino and a glossy magazine before joining the queue – which, I have to tell you, ishuge. The French Riviera must be the place to be this month!’
Millie had no intention of admitting to her super-organised sister that the only reason she had arrived at Gatwick with time to spare was because Pippa had insisted on collecting her from her studio flat above Café Étienne that morning at a ridiculously early hour. Her best friend and colleague had then driven them at stomach-churning speed to the airport and had marched her, still stuffing her passport and sunglasses into her hand luggage, to the check-in desk.
Pippa had even suggested she might hang around until Millie made it through security, just to make absolutely sure she didn’t meet with some diversion and miss her flight – not an unknown, or indeed infrequent, occurrence. Millie had rolled her eyes, given her friend a tight hug, and sent her on her way before she got a parking ticket, something she had a habit of collecting.
‘Oh, that’s great news! I was hoping you’d stuck to your usual schedule of taking every deadline down to the wire!’
Millie detected a note of excitement rather than impatience in Jen’s voice.
‘Why? What’s happened?’
‘Well, before you say anything, promise you’ll hear me out?’
‘Jen, what’s going on?’
A coil of panic began to wind its way around her chest, just as it always did whenever arrangements got changed at the last minute. Millie knew her reaction was something she would have to live with for the foreseeable future after what had happened. It was just another item on the lengthy list of newly developed challenges she had Luke to thank for.
‘I know you’re super-excited about spending your break from the café with Mum in Antibes, but the most fabulous opportunity has come up. If I wasn’t booked to do a presentation at the Cornish Living show next weekend, I’d jump at the chance myself.’
‘Jen, please, you’re killing me here.’
‘Sorry. Okay, do you remember Claudia Croft? The celebrity cookery book writer who also runs culinary workshops and classes at her country manor house in the Cotswolds? I helped her to deliver a couple of her very popular Christmas tutorials last year? It was the most fun I’ve had for years!’
Millie allowed herself to relax a little. If her sister was talking about cooking, a passion they both shared, there was no cause for anxiety. She scanned the check-in queue, saw that it was less busy than before, and decided it was time to join the end of the line for her flight to Nice.
‘Of course I remember her. I also remember how envious I was when you got that gig!’
‘Well, now I can make up for it. I’ve just spoken to Claudia. Sadly, she’s broken her leg in a horse-riding accident and she’s currently in hospital waiting for an operation. She was supposed to fly out to St Lucia today to supervise the finishing touches to her brand-new project – the Paradise Cookery School. She needs someone who knows what they’re doing to go in her place, so, after I reluctantly told her I had to turn her offer down, I suggested you. It’s perfect, Millie. You’re more than qualified and a trip to St Lucia is just the opportunity you need to move on and start getting over what happened with Luke.’
‘Jen, you know I’m—’
‘So, as you can imagine, Claudia leapt at the chance to have a Cordon Bleu-trained chef to oversee the renovations. The school is being run at Claudia’s villa in the hills overlooking the bay at Soufrière in the south of St Lucia. Apparently, the builders have almost finished bringing the kitchen up to the professional standard needed to host a luxury cookery school so there won’t be much for you to do except soak up the sunshine and explore the local cuisine. It’ll be fabulous!’
‘But Jen—’
‘It’s all organised. There’s a ticket waiting for you at the British Airways desk – business class, no less! Oh, Millie, I just know you’re going to have the most amazing time out there. This is more like the sort of thing you should be doing instead of working all hours of the day and night at that dingy little café in Hammersmith.’
‘It’s not a “dingy little café”, it’s a high-end French patisserie that supplies—’
‘Mum thinks, and I happen to agree with her, that you just took the first job you were offered so you could get away from Oxford and everything that happened there. But it’s been six months now, darling. I know how painful it was, but it’s time to drag yourself out of the doldrums and start living again. Who knows, you might even have a holiday fling while you’re there!’
‘There is no way I’m going to have a holiday fling!’
‘But it’s a yes to going to St Lucia, though?’
The magazine Millie had been clutching under her arm whilst juggling her phone from ear to ear to improve the signal, clattered onto the marble floor and she sloshed a generous splash of her coffee down the front of her white Capri pants. She groaned, but before she could bend down to retrieve it, a tall, designer-clad guy with mirrored sunglasses scooped it up, gifting her with a flash of his neon-white teeth when he handed it back to her.
‘Erm, thanks.’
The handsome stranger bowed his head in acknowledgement before sauntering off towards the newsstand, glancing over his shoulder in Millie’s direction as he selected a copy of theFinancial Times. Heat rose to her cheeks, and she quickly averted her eyes.
‘Millie? Millie, are you still there? Are you listening to me?’
‘Sorry. Just a little coffee mishap. I’m still here. What about Mum, though? I haven’t seen her for ages, and I was really looking forward to spending some time with her. When I spoke to her last week to tell her what flight I’d be on, she reeled off a whole catalogue of things she has planned for us while I’m there.’
