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Millie fished around in her shoulder bag for her phone to check the instructions for locating the key. Much as she would have loved to stay in the villa, she was more than happy to have been allocated a studio in the modern addition to the property – a pristine garage complex at the other side of a courtyard with housing for three vehicles and a small apartment above boasting floor-to-ceiling windows and a cute wrought-iron balcony. The front door and the shutters had been painted blue in keeping with the theme of the main house and a smile of satisfaction curled at the corners of her lips.
She might have arrived in the middle of a monsoon, but this was a little slice of heaven.
She located the key under a large ceramic pot containing a tumble of crimson geraniums and dragged her luggage up the stairs. Abandoning her suitcase in the hallway, she cast her eyes around her temporary home. Compared to her cramped cupboard that masqueraded as a studio flat under the eaves of Café Étienne where she worked, this apartment was a palace. She adored the whitewashed, vaulted ceiling with a lazy fan wafting the air and the voile curtains around the bed. The open-plan living area boasted two over-stuffed white sofas resting on bleached wooden floorboards, and whilst the kitchen wasn’t huge it was still larger than her own. She peeled off her travelling clothes and gathered her hair into the pretty hair tie Pippa had given her as a going-away present.
Pippa!
What would her friend say when she told her that instead of spending two weeks with her dance-obsessed mother in Provence, she had diverted her route to the Caribbean and was staying for a fortnight in the lap of luxury. A sharp spasm of loneliness shot through her chest. How fabulous it would have been to share her good fortune with Pippa, but then, wasn’t she supposed to be in St Lucia to work? She made a promise to herself that when she got back to London, she would make a concerted effort to socialize more, and not just to stop Pippa and Jen from lecturing her.
She strolled to the French doors and looked out to the balcony. Once again, the spectacular view stole her attention until she wrenched her thoughts back to the challenge ahead. Claudia was relying on her to get this right. With over twenty cookery books published, a popular vlog and a YouTube channel with thousands of subscribers, Claudia Croft was well respected in the baking-enthusiast community in the UK and beyond. Plus, she had a proven track record in delivering bespoke culinary courses, having perfected her skills at the Claudia Croft Cotswolds Cookery School over the last ten years. Claudia’s eagerly anticipated debut into gastronomic education in the Caribbean had to go without a hitch and Millie knew there could be no allowances made for her tendency to flirt with calamity. A frisson of trepidation shot down her spine and fizzled out to her fingertips.
She scrolled through her phone until she reached Claudia’s email setting out the details of the renovations:
The precise layout of the kitchen area has been architecturally designed to enhance the available space as well as take full advantage of the view whilst the Paradise Cookery School’s guests prepare their culinary masterpieces. It is imperative that every detail, however insignificant, be adhered to by the builders. It’s your job, Millie, to ensure they do this. It’s as simple as that. As an accomplished chef yourself, I know you’re going to love what I’ve chosen. I’ve sourced the marble countertops from Italy and the cabinets are handmade by a manufacturer in Germany. The crate containing the cabinetry and the kitchen appliances should have already arrived at Soufrière. The delivery company have assured me that the incline is not an issue.
Millie did not share their optimism. If her taxi driver’s reticence was anything to go by, she hoped the kitchen delivery men would at least avoid the “daily deluge” time slot.
The carpenters, electrician and plumber will all begin work first thing on Monday morning. There’s a clause in the contract that says the work must be finalized to my specification by the following Friday, but I’m sure we won’t need to refer to this. The men come highly recommended, and I have every faith in them finishing in time for the wedding party to start their Chocolate & Confetti tutorials on the Monday morning.
A sharp nip of anxiety pierced Millie’s chest. Two weeks to fit any kitchen was pushing it, never mind one as high-spec as Claudia wanted.
Now for the most important part. All the recipes that are being featured on the course have been drafted, but they still need to be triple-tested on site before I authorise their inclusion. That’s where you come in, Millie. I know the kitchen in the studio is tiny, but it should be okay for what you need to do, and I’ve arranged for the cupboards to be stocked with everything you need. I have also engaged the services of Ella Johnson, a highly respected St Lucian chef, to assist you as I want every recipe to be as authentic as possible. Ella has many years of experience cooking with the spices produced on the island and has access to recipes that have been passed down through generations of St Lucian cooks. I just know the two of you will get on like a house on fire.
Millie’s stomach lurched to her toes and back. Claudia made it sound like they were rehearsing for roles in a theatrical show – certainly the final performance would be in front of an audience, so maybe that was exactly what itwaslike. Still, there was a lot to achieve in just two weeks. With difficulty, she tore her eyes away from the view and trotted down the stairs to see if the taxi driver had managed to negotiate the hill and deliver Ella to the villa.
She couldn’t wait to meet her.
Chapter Three
The monsoon was still baring its teeth, refusing to slacken its ferocity, and within seconds she was drenched to the skin again. She jogged across the courtyard and was about to take the path towards the pool terrace when, despite the downpour, she stopped in her tracks.
Was that a dog barking?
She squinted into the foliage to her right and thought her eyes must be playing tricks on her. What looked like a dark silhouette loitered on the periphery of the tangled trees. As the shadow grew closer, it took on the shape of a grizzly bear. Did they have bears in St Lucia? Her heart thudded – a bass drumbeat to accompany the symphony of pounding rain and her sporadic breathing.
At the same time as the figure emerged from its forest camouflage, a loudwoofrang through the air and a cannonball of fur launched itself at her. For the briefest of moments, she had a vision that she was about to be mauled to death, one limb at a time, by a rabid Caribbean beast and the howl of objection that erupted from her lips could have matched the intensity of any horror-movie wolf.
She continued to scream, her lungs ablaze with the fire of fear, her throat hoarse and dry. Her mind blurred, then stalled, her internal mutterings making no sense. Her legs seemed to have frozen on the spot, their control disconnected from her brain and refusing to respond to her need to engage the “flight” option – she was no good at the “fight” alternative.
An upswing of serrated emotion rolled through her veins. Why did this always have to happen to her?
Millie flung her arms over her head to protect her face and spun round. The heel of her sandal caught in a crack between the paving stones and she was jettisoned, bottom first, into a very inconveniently placed puddle.
‘Argh!’
She cowered, expecting the sharp stab of an incisor to impale her skin any second. Instead, she felt a warm, wet tongue licking the raindrops from her cheeks and depositing a generous splodge of drool on her chin and the back of her hand.
‘Euww!’
A welcome wave of relief washed over her when she peeped through her fingers and saw the friendly face of a black-and-white Springer spaniel, followed immediately by an almost overwhelming surge of exhaustion. When she thought about it, her over-the-top reaction could be put down to the fact that she had been awake for over twenty-four hours and her body was screaming its objection to her lack of recent indulgence in restorative sleep.
‘Don’t worry, Binks won’t hurt you unless I ask him to. Here, let me help you up.’
She accepted the man’s outstretched hand and allowed him to pull her upright.
‘Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who are scared of dogs? Or, judging by the expression of horror on your face at our arrival, maybe it’s not just the canine fraternity that upsets you? Perhaps your phobia extends to the whole of the animal kingdom?’
Millie was temporarily struck mute at the prickly, suspicious words of her rescuer. With tufted mahogany hair, eyes the colour of liquid coal, a cute nose and a welcome added dash of the height gene – he was movie-star handsome. She couldn’t quite place his accent.
