When Only Cupcakes Will Do (16 page)

‘Ed, I really…'

‘What's the matter? Your face looks like it should be on a pathologist's slab?'

‘I think your idea of fun and mine reside at opposite sides of the spectrum. Can't we just…'

‘The Lucie Bradshaw I knew in Paris wasn't frightened to try something new.'

‘In the kitchen! With flavours and textures and the most exotic, even outlandish, ingredients I could get my hands on! Yes! But I would never in my wildest nightmares have contemplated hurling myself out of a plane for fun!'

‘A plane? You want to do a parachute jump?'

‘No, I don't want to do a parachute jump!'

It was happening again. Her temper had been ignited and she opened her mouth to continue with her litany of justifications as to why she had no intention of throwing herself to her death. Her life might not be perfect at the moment after losing Alex and her home, not to mention her job and the daily contact with Gino, Antonio and Sofia, but she harboured a fervent hope it would improve.

Ed chuckled. ‘Ah, Livid Lucie pokes her head above the parapet! I love her!'

Lucie gawped at him but the car swung sharply to the left and she had to grab on to her seat to steady herself and the moment was lost. The next, much more welcome, sensation in her kaleidoscope of emotions was relief. Although it would never be her first choice of activity for a Sunday morning jaunt, it beat the spots off anything airborne.

‘So are you ready to channel your inner Tarzan?'

‘Do I have any choice?' But she smiled as she accepted a pair of sturdy hiker's boots and a waterproof zip-up jacket that Ed produced from the back seat.

Now she was here she was determined to make the most of the treetop adventure beneath the canopy of leaves in a patch of woodland outside Crawley. The woody aroma of pine and mulched bark tickled at her nostrils and the only sound, apart from sporadic shrieks from participants high up in the trees, was birdsong and the persistent beat of her heart through her eardrums.

They climbed into their safety harnesses, pulled on their helmets and stood in an arc in a clearing with three fellow adventurers for their safety briefing. Lucie listened to every word, wishing she had a
notepad to jot down a few of the tips. But this was not an activity where you could consult your notes if you got stuck and a helix of alarm began to wind its way up her chest. She shoved it aside and jutted her chin in the air. She was going to do this.

Their instructor, Carlton, led them to a rope ladder.

‘Okay, Lucie, it's all yours. Have fun!'

She tossed a glance at Ed and began her slow climb. When she reached the top, she rued her acquiescence to the instructor's invitation to go first. She should have chosen to go last as her climb into the treetops had allowed Ed a glorious view of her swinging behind. However, she refused to dwell on the indignity for too long as a feeling of accomplishment seeped into her veins. Shafts of diaphanous sunlight fell through the branches overhead sending shadows dancing to the forest floor. It was a spectacular view as trees as tall as telegraph poles crowded the area, their trunks laced together with a jumble of steel cables and ropes.

Sadly, her joy only lasted a few seconds. She peeked over the platform edge to the ground below and experienced a sharp nip of vertigo before shooting backwards to glue her spine to the trunk, her stomach contracting around something akin to a thorny pineapple. Already her palms were smarting from the rub of the rope ladder but that was nothing compared to the twist of fear when she saw what obstacle lay ahead.

‘Want me to go first?' offered Ed, his fingers lingering on her forearm.

‘Please.'

She gulped as she took in the taut steel high-wire which was threaded through a drape of rope mesh. She watched Ed trot across the bridge as though he was out on a Sunday stroll. She gritted her teeth, relegated her nerves to the back of her mind and launched herself forward. Immediately the bridge began to swing from left to right and she clutched at the ropes as she struggled to maintain her balance. But she made it to the second wooden platform in one piece. The next challenge was a long cylindrical barrel and, with her confidence blossoming, she crawled through to the other side, a smile stretching her lips.

Her pride was short-lived. Next up was a series of ten circular steel foot hoops dangling from the end of a set of vertical ropes. She inserted her foot into the first and a bout of uncontrollable wobbling overcame her. She just couldn't control her legs and hung there, her thighs splayed, frozen in terror for what seemed like ages.

Sweat trickled from her temples and her damp curls stuck to her forehead beneath her helmet. Her hands were not only red raw but blisters threatened too. She could see Ed watching her from the platform so she gathered every last ounce of courage she possessed, swung her left leg into the next hoop and lunged for the next. As she built up a steady rhythm she managed to reach the platform and slumped into Ed's arms with a whoop of relief.

The fragrance of the forest and Ed's lemony cologne sent her senses into overdrive and she was suddenly overtaken by an onslaught of trembling. Ed held her to his chest, rubbing her back until it passed. Her eyes met his then dropped down to his lips. They were so close she could feel his breath on her cheek, her lips scarcely a centimetre from his. Thankfully the moment was broken by a shriek from the adjacent zip wire. While their earlier safety briefing hadn't banned kissing, a shaky wooden platform eleven metres from the ground wasn't the most appropriate place to indulge in a first passionate embrace.

‘Having fun?'

‘Erm…' she croaked.

‘The best is yet to come. You first.'

Lucie swallowed down the turmoil of emotions and wriggled her toes to the edge of the final wooden platform. All five of her senses had woken from their habitual slumber. Every nerve ending tingled, every pore in her body exuded confidence. She leapt into the air with a whoop. The zip wire carried her on an exhilarating journey through the arboreal canopy, the breeze whipping her hair across her face, her legs swinging free until she landed in an undignified heap on a mound of shredded bark.

‘Awesome!' she screamed as Ed landed next to her, his face alight with pleasure.

‘Told you you'd have fun. And I can see the real Lucie I met in Paris shining through that comfort blanket you wrapped yourself in for some reason. You have to push every boundary and grasp life by the scruff of its neck.'

Lucie couldn't help herself. She was so overwhelmed with what she had accomplished that she slung her arms around his neck and hugged him. ‘Thank you. That was the most amazing thing I've ever done. Now I feel like I can do anything! Overcome any challenge that life throws in my direction.'

Ed didn't let go of her as she'd expected. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer, his curls falling into his eyes as his lips met hers. She responded immediately, savouring the powerful surge of exhilaration coursing through her body. She melted into his embrace, every extremity sending shock waves to her brain until disorientation caused her to break their connection. Ed had promised her excitement but she had never expected it to be delivered in such an intimate way nor with such a forceful effect on her emotions.

‘Come on, let's get some lunch.'

Ed hooked his arm around her neck and they made their way to his car in companionable silence. Lucie felt her skin tingle at his proximity and was grateful when they separated to slide into their respective seats. The strength of her reaction had confused her and she needed some time to think about what had just happened.

‘There's a fabulous Italian restaurant nearby. Fancy a bowl of pasta?'

‘Yes, please!' Her stomach groaned in agreement and she giggled. Fresh air and exercise had pricked her appetite and encouraged her thirst. She couldn't wait to gulp down a glass of sparkling water crammed with ice cubes and a squeeze of lemon. Her hair was more like bird's nest than Sunday best, but her appearance didn't seem to matter to Ed.

As they pulled up outside a tiny Sicilian restaurant, her thoughts spun back to her initial impression of Edmundo Cartolli and the times she had scrutinised him from afar, surrounded by a group of admirers in the kitchen at Le Cordon Bleu, soaking up the praise for achieving yet another top spot in the league table of culinary accolades. Perhaps she had been too hasty in her diagnosis.

Chapter Eighteen

As soon as she stepped over the threshold of Adriano's a warm feeling of well-being enveloped her as the waft of oregano and garlic reached her nostrils and candles flickered in the wine bottles. Of course the food was delicious too. They both had the mussels in a tomato and garlic sauce to start and the courgette and saffron risotto, decorated with a scattering of bright-orange courgette flowers, for their main course. Then, avoiding the tiramisu, Lucie rounded off the meal with a slice of the
torta al limone e pistacchi
.

‘So, what's the verdict?' Lucie asked, surveying the room and enjoying the ambience much more now that the majority of the Sunday afternoon diners had left for home and she could distinguish the swirl of Italian operatic music above the conversation.

Ed laughed. ‘Adriano is a family friend. I promised him I would never mention his trattoria on
Anon. Appetit
. It would be more than my life's worth, in fact. My mother would banish me from our village. Adriano's mother, Teresa, has been her best friend since childhood. They know each other's secrets and have shared over fifty years of celebrations and heartbreaks.'

‘Gosh, how I wish Gino or Francesca had been an old family friend!' Lucie mused as she sipped her ice-cold San Pellegrino.

Ed met her eyes and held them. The intensity of his gaze unsettled her and she was the first to look away. She fiddled with the stem of her glass until her eyes accidentally landed on his right hand resting on his glass. She flicked a silent question to him and saw the sides of his lips twitch downwards. He reached up, scratched at the stubble on his cheeks, and inhaled a deep, steadying breath, his face serious.

‘I lost my fingers in an accident last summer.'

‘You don't have to…'

‘It's okay. I want to.' Ed concentrated his attention for a moment on twisting the stem of his glass on the tablecloth. ‘I grew up with two best friends, Giorgio and Dominico. We were inseparable and our parents nicknamed us the three musketeers. In our teenage years we developed an obsession with extreme sports – white-water rafting, free climbing, paragliding; the more dangerous the activity, the better. We refused to listen to caution. Before we went our separate ways to pursue our chosen careers we decided to take up skydiving. Dominico said it was the ultimate in thrill-seeking and he was right. We couldn't get enough of it. Every spare second, every spare euro, was spent on the next jump. The feeling of pure freedom you experience as you fall through the sky is incomparable.

‘Anyway, last summer Giorgio's uncle agreed to take us up in his Cessna Skylane. When we set out the skies were clear but we were told later that the storm was one of the worst to hit the island in decades and the roads into our village were more like rivers than tarmac. We should have stayed on the ground, had dinner in Comiso, maybe even crashed at a friend's over there for the night before returning to Palermo, but hindsight is a cruel companion, and anyway, we thought we were invincible.

‘Giorgio jumped first, then Dominico, and I went last. I remember the leaden clouds scooting at speed towards us. The wind had whipped up and it blew us off course. I landed in a tree. My parachute was tangled but I was fine; bruised and shaken, but okay. I cut myself loose and went in search of the others. By this time the rain had arrived with a vengeance, turning quickly into a deluge, and visibility was down to mere metres. I found Dominico and we scoured the area for Giorgio. We found him hanging from a branch, his head gashed and barely conscious. We managed to free him and stumbled to the roadside. As we waited to hitch a lift back to the airfield, a lorry came bowling towards us. The driver took the bend too sharply, lost control on the slick road and tumbled down into a ravine. Dominico and I abandoned Giorgio and ran to help. The driver had lost consciousness and was trapped behind the wheel. We fought for an hour to free him using an axe he had in his cab.'

Ed paused, his lips stretched into a pain-filled grimace as he recalled the terror he'd faced that night. He took another swallow of his wine and continued, his voice trembling as he fought to get the words out.

‘Just as we were dragging him out from his seat, the driver's door slammed shut on my hand. Three of my fingers and half of my thumb were severed. I don't remember anything else of that nightmare on the hill until I woke up in the hospital the next day. They told me I'd saved not only Giorgio's life but the lorry driver's life as well; that within seconds of my blacking out the lorry was engulfed in flames. We both could have been in there…' Ed couldn't continue.

‘Oh Ed...' She struggled to find the words to truly express her horror at what he'd just told her.

‘It took months for the injury to heal and when it did I'd lost most of the sensation in my hand. I couldn't work safely in a commercial kitchen. I admit I went through hell. The psychological pendulum swung from anger to grief, from hope to devastation. However, I also knew that there are far worse things that happen in life and I refused to allow my injury to destroy the most passionate relationship in my life – my intimate connection with food. Rosa suggested I spend some time here in England with her and Paolo. I could get to know my gorgeous niece and she promised to give me an insight into food journalism. She was true to her word and I have her to thank for my new passion. She got me a couple of commissions for the local newspaper as a food critic and the rest, as they say… well…'