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Millie studied the drawings and resolved to ensure that she was acquainted with every detail before Monday. She did not want to let Claudia down, but from the little experience she had of building work, everything always took longer than expected. The builders would have to work long days to get it finished on time.
She followed Ella back outside to the veranda and feasted her eyes on the pool, its surface reflecting the sky above like an aquamarine mirror. She took in the terracotta pots crammed to bursting with bright orange begonias as well as the sweeping palms offering essential shade to the avid sun-worshipper. She wondered whether she would have any spare time to take a dip in its cool waters.
‘Claudia adores this house. She’s spent a small fortune on restoring it to its former glory. But her true passion lies in the plantation itself. One day she hopes to grow cocoa commercially again and to offer guided tours of the plantation with sampling. It’s the reason she set up the cookery school – to encourage visitors.’
‘I can see why. The place is absolutely my idea of paradise.’
‘Ah, but when she and Tim bought the estate, it was in a dreadfully dilapidated state and the cocoa crop had been left to rot on the trees. Harvesting the pods is such a labour-intensive activity that it was no longer worth the effort. But the trees are a variety called Trinitario which produces the very best cocoa beans. Claudia engaged an expert in the cultivation of cocoa to check on the health of the trees and to advise her on their care. With his help, she has planted new saplings, grafted from their older cousins, and even started to harvest some of the pods – following the old methods of maturing, fermenting, drying, then finally roasting the beans in an outdoor oven built specially for the job.’
‘So that’s what’s in those crates by the front door?’ Millie couldn’t wait to investigate the unfamiliar fruit further by performing a gastronomic autopsy.
‘Yes. And that’s why the first Paradise Cookery School courses will focus on all things cocoa-related.’ Ella paused as she cast her eyes over the cocoa trees that congregated at the other side of the infinity pool. ‘Did you know it’s not just the cocoabeanswe use? The white flesh from the pods can be used in rum-based cocktails. Andrew, the owner of the Purple Parrot in Soufrière, makes a mean daiquiri – Andy’s Blast, he calls it. I’ll ask Henri to take you to sample one of his liquid masterpieces. Mind you, only indulge in the one, though. Andrew has a loose wrist when it comes to the spirits in his signature drinks!’
‘Henri?’
‘My son. He’s a journalist during the day and a bit of a rum connoisseur when the sun dips over the horizon,’ she laughed, a full-body rumble from deep within her chest which made Millie smile. Clearly Ella adored her son and was proud of his profession. ‘I’m sure you’ll have plenty in common. He studied for his degree in Bordeaux. It was the only decent thing his father ever did for him.’
A cloud flitted over Ella’s face and her jawline tightened slightly, but she swiftly erased it.
‘Sorry. Anyway, as you know, Claudia wants every one of her recipes triple-tested before they’re allowed to feature on the final menu. We’ll be offering the students lunch though, so we’ll need a couple of standby dessert recipes to complement the fish dishes.’
‘What about atarte au citron, but made with limes? There’re loads in the grounds and it’s one of my favourite recipes.’
‘Sounds delicious. I’m really hoping this new venture of Claudia’s takes off. This part of St Lucia needs all the enterprise it can get. It’ll also be a chance to showcase our amazing culinary heritage to a wider audience. If this first course is a flop, or even if there are teething problems, you know what people are like. They’ll tear it apart in a mean-spirited review and the Paradise Cookery School will be over before it’s even got started.’
‘Don’t worry, Ella. Nothing will go wrong.’
Millie spent the next two hours indulging in her second-favourite pastime – gossiping about food, ingredients, utensils, old recipes, new recipes, experiments she had tried and scored a fail. If she couldn’t spend her time slicing, chopping, beating, whisking, then she wanted to be chewing over new possibilities with someone who shared her passion, like Jen or Pippa. Now she had found herself a culinary soulmate in the Caribbean and her heart, like her hair, ballooned.
Night fell with unexpected haste and in the darkness the humidity took on a velvety texture. The silhouette of Gros Piton presented an eerie, almost menacing presence, and the town scattered at its base sparkled with myriad amber lights. Out in the bay, tiny specks of light danced on the surface of the waves as the yachts and schooners entertained parties of tourists with barbeques, live calypso music and locally produced rum.
The toot of a horn sounded from the courtyard.
‘Ah, that’ll be Henri.’
It hadn’t occurred to Millie until that moment that she would be spending the night on the hillside alone. From what she could see, the villa had no immediate neighbours. She shoved the unsettling thought of her isolation in an unfamiliar country deep into the crevices of her mind.
Ella gathered Millie into her arms and deposited a kiss on each of her cheeks.
‘Now, it’s all arranged. Tomorrow morning, I plan on introducing you to the delights of Castries market. You need to touch, squeeze, sniff, as well as taste the sensational produce we St Lucians take for granted before we begin to test out their ability to merge with the spices in our recipes. I’ve sorted out your transport. Oh, I just know that the Paradise Cookery School is going to be amazing! I can’t wait to get started.’
Ella collected her huge canvas handbag and bustled off to the tiny red Fiat which sped away down the hill before Millie could catch a glimpse of its driver.
Chapter Five
Millie opened the door to her balcony and blinked into the early morning sunlight. Despite her initial fear of being alone on the hillside, she had slept from the moment her head hit the pillowcase; a combination of exhaustion, jet lag and the tranquillity of the surroundings, not to mention the fact that she was so far away from home and its accompanying problems. She truly believed in the old adage that physical distance offered an alternate perspective.
She showered, washed her hair and ran a splodge of coconut oil through the strands. For her forthcoming saunter around Castries, she decided on her navy capri pants and a Breton-striped T-shirt – one of her favourite combinations. Sequinned sandals completed her ensemble with her bug-eyed sunglasses perched on the top of her head and trusty straw bag slung over her shoulder. She was eager to familiarize herself with the local produce, the fruit and vegetables, as well as gauge the availability of freshly caught seafood. Her brain bulged with a myriad of possibilities to add to her recipe scrap box.
Millie skipped down the stairs and into the courtyard, surprised to see an unfamiliar vehicle waiting for her. She opened the passenger door.
‘Hi! I’m Millie… Oh, it’s you.’
‘Well, Ihadexpected a barrage of effusive thanks for giving up my morning to drive you to Castries, but I suppose I should have known better,’ said Zach, rolling his eyes. ‘Henri couldn’t make it – some emergency or other at the newspaper. Ella says she’ll meet you at the market. She grabbed a lift with her friend Denise – the other half of the village gossip-vine.’
‘Great, thanks. Yes, it’s very kind of you.’
Millie jumped into the passenger seat, but as she slammed the door shut one of her sandals dropped from her toes. Zach was so swift off the mark that they had reached the end of the driveway before she had time to shriek for him to stop. With her face flushed with embarrassment, she scrambled from the SUV, hobbled back up the hill to collect her flip-flop, and resumed her seat next to him, unable to meet his eyes.
