Chapter Thirty-nine
Alex couldn’t believe the day had come around so fast, but tonight was almost upon them and he was going to have to dance, and make a complete fool of himself, in front of the most breathtaking, passionate dancer he had ever seen.
That aside though, things had been going quite well. Marion had turned up at the cottage at eleven and confirmed that she had arranged some additional way for Sylvie to be detained at school after the staff meeting. Alex didn’t dare ask.
But now, as he was leaving the house to go and pick up Ellie and Sam, he was proud of what they had achieved.
The tent looked fabulous, really conjured up the air that Alex had wanted.
Marion was an absolute bloody marvel; what that woman could do with a few metres of voile and some ribbon was nobody’s business.
He found it a little disconcerting that she brought a couple of minions with her, all very similar, one in a dress with synchronized swimmers on and the other wearing clothing dotted with giraffes.
He was more than a little uneasy with her methods; they smacked slightly of Egypt’s ancient era of slaves, although on a much smaller scale.
He was half expecting her to whisk out a bullwhip at any moment.
In fact, had Marion been alive then, it would have been quite possible that pyramids would have dotted the entire globe.
Watching her in full-on Marion mode this afternoon had made him consider starting a revolution in the PTA; he had never seen himself as particularly rebellious in nature but watching this made him feel very uncomfortable.
Why these women never snapped back at her he did not know.
He couldn’t help but think if Chase and Marion ever joined forces then world domination would be but a step away.
Now though, the food was all laid out and covered ready for this evening.
Couscous jewelled with roast peppers and olives; lamb marinated with ginger, turmeric and cinnamon; a myriad of salads, one peppered with feta and pomegranate and mint, another a traditional zaalouk made with tomatoes and aubergine.
He had even imported a special flour to make the flatbreads to accompany the home-made hummus.
The whole kitchen was filled with the most delicious smells, with preserved lemon, rosewater and ras-el-hanout all competing for primacy.
All that was left to be done was assemble and bake the baklava, weave some lights through the gauzy voile and prod some of the super-sized bamboo candles into the garden to create a lit pathway to the tent entrance. Oh, and practise the bloody dance one more time.
He returned to his cottage with both children, accompanied by Marion and her brood.
He left them in charge of organizing the lighting.
Marion was to weave the lights through the top of the tent and the children were given the responsibility of banging the bamboo torches into the ground.
He was fairly sure Marion’s boys were strong enough to do so and hoped that with her eagle eye they could be trusted to behave.
He had pistachio-and-filo pastry to perfect.
He heard the sounds of children laughing and relaxed as he daubed his pastry with the syrup he had made from honey, water and lemon juice.
He was loving this life. If you had told him years ago that he would have found his happy place in a small village in Cornwall, constructing sweet pastries for an ex-ballerina, listening to the sounds of children playing just as dusk descended, he would have laughed his leg off, yet here he was, happier and more relaxed than he had ever been, looking forward to every new day.
Just as he placed the tray on the side ready to pop in the Aga, he heard a child’s scream rend the air and felt a chill clutch at his very core.
As he raced outside he saw Ellie’s back, her shoulders shaking and her sobs loud, and he took a deep breath of relief – thank God for that, she was fine – only for his heart to still again as Rafe, Rufus and Rupert moved a fraction and he saw, just by the entrance to the tent, Sam’s little body splayed out, still and seemingly lifeless, upon the ground.