Trudy made an early trip to Finlay West’s spice shop. The bell over the door jangled musically to announce her arrival. She took her usual moment to drink in the heady blend of fragrances that always teased her when she entered his premises. In a single swift breath she caught the mellow fragrances of chillies, the sharp bite of various peppers and the spicy sweet scent of cardamom. Then she smiled at Finlay as he appeared from the back room, wiping his hands on the rounded belly of his apron and greeting her with his usual broad, welcoming grin.
‘Imogen isn’t here,’ he began apologetically.
He pulled a large brown-paper package from beneath the counter and placed it in front of Trudy. She guessed it contained the spices he’d promised her when they last spoke at Boui-Boui. She tried not to study it with the desperate longing of a child on Christmas morning but she suspected her eyes were shining with avarice. She was desperate to discover if she could possibly create something that resembled Kali’s mini carrot cakes.
‘I know Imogen had been wanting to see you,’ Finlay went on. ‘She thought you seemed upset at the wedding and she’d wanted to make sure you understood some of the things that had been happening behind the scenes of the marriage.’
Trudy tried to make her shrug look natural and indifferent. She had visited the spice shop early to avoid having this conversation with Imogen. She was adamant that she wasn’t going to go over the same subject with Finlay.
‘I’ll catch up with Imogen later,’ she told him. She grabbed the package and held it like a barrier between them. ‘I was wanting to make an early start to the day,’ she explained, turning toward the door. ‘So I’d best get to work on those mini carrot cakes.’
Finlay gave a solemn nod. His welcoming smile had become a frown of concern. ‘You look tired.’
She nodded at that.
After returning home from Bill’s cottage she had tried to sleep but her thoughts refused to allow her that luxury. She had spent a restless night tossing and turning as she worried about the stories that Donny might now try and sell to the newspapers and magazines. If she had lived alone, Trudy would have spent the day in her kitchen trying to work on new recipes. Because she shared her home with Daryl and, occasionally, Charlotte, she didn’t dare risk her friends seeing her while she was in such a weary and vulnerable state. She feared it would take little more than the comfort of a single hug and she would be sobbing her way through the miserable confession of her current unhappiness.
‘I am tired,’ she agreed. She glanced at the package of spices and said, ‘Thank you for these. You’ll put them on the Sweet Temptation account, won’t you?’
He nodded and allowed her to escape from the shop and into the marketplace. She rushed from there to the sanctuary of the Sweet Temptation research and development kitchen. As one of the first to arrive at the bakery she was able to lock herself in the private kitchen and shut out the outside world. Her mobile, she realised, was left in her bedside cabinet back at Eldorado. There was no radio in the kitchen to blurt any breaking celebrity news or local scandal. She was alone, her thoughts occupied only by the need to create mini carrot cakes.
The Sweet Temptation kitchens were the perfect hiding place. The surfaces were so shiny, Trudy felt able to lose herself in the patterns of glossy light and the reflections that stared back at her. The layout of the room had been designed for ease of use. With a substantial stack of ingredients and utensils at her disposal, Trudy felt sure she could stay in the kitchen for the remainder of the day.
‘You started early this morning, didn’t you?’ Charlotte grinned, stepping into the kitchen. She looked perfectly prepared for the day in a business suit and stylishly understated make-up.
Inwardly, Trudy groaned. She had locked the doors to the kitchen but had forgotten that her business partner had a spare key. She quietly cursed the idiocy that had made her think the kitchen was a good place to hide and avoid the world.
‘Are you OK?’ Charlotte pressed.
‘I’m OK,’ Trudy said tonelessly. She spoke whilst measuring spices. She made no attempt to stop her work and talk with her friend. ‘I made an early start because I wanted to make some progress on trying out this recipe.’
‘How did your meeting with Bill go last night?’
Trudy shook her head. She wouldn’t meet her friend’s gaze. ‘There’s not much to say. Are we OK to talk about it later?’
‘Of course.’ Charlotte put a reassuring hand on Trudy’s arm. The contact was embarrassingly tender. ‘You know where I am if you need me for anything.’
Trudy spent a long and industrious day in the kitchen. She was conscientiously not thinking about Bill and deliberately not thinking about the sordid stories that Donny would be trying to sell to the media.
Of course, it didn’t help that Donny’s sordid story was true. Bill was technically a married man, which made Trudy’s sexual relationship with him adulterous. And yet, even though the revelation was not fabricated, Trudy didn’t want it exposed through the media. It wasn’t that she cared about her status as a minor celebrity. The thing that worried her most was that she had told her closest friends that she was no longer involved with Bill and they would be scandalised to learn that she had been deceiving them.
‘Are you OK?’ Daryl asked.
Trudy glanced at the key in Daryl’s hand and realised it was Charlotte’s.
‘I’m golden.’ Trudy said the word without enthusiasm.
Daryl gave a dry chuckle. ‘You forgot your mobile when you left this morning,’ she said. She reached into her purse and pulled out Trudy’s smartphone.
‘Thanks.’ Trudy frowned as she accepted the phone and tried to think what circumstances would have made Daryl go exploring in her bedside cabinet.
‘Bill called the landline wanting to talk with you,’ Daryl explained. ‘He said he’d tried your mobile but you weren’t picking up. I figured you might have forgotten your phone so I went through your drawers. You don’t have many sex toys, do you?’
‘Did Bill say anything else?’
‘He asked if you could call him when you have a minute.’
Trudy didn’t bother switching the phone on. She pushed it into her pocket and returned to the process of baking and perfecting the first batch of mini carrot cakes.
She had shredded the carrots, coarsely ground the pecans and added a fistful of sun-ripened sultanas. As well as flour and a soft, dark sugar, Trudy had been measuring spices into the mix from the suggested notes that Finlay had provided: cardamom, mixed spice, cinnamon and nutmeg. The range of powerful flavours was going to make the mini carrot cakes irresistible.
‘Are you going to tell me what’s troubling you?’ Daryl asked.
Trudy glanced up, surprised her friend was still there.
‘There’s nothing troubling me.’
Daryl shrugged at this but then nodded as though accepting the lie. ‘Fair enough, golden girl,’ she said easily. She headed towards the door, seemingly aware that she was being dismissed. As a parting shot she added, ‘I just hope you’re in a better mood for your date tonight.’
‘Shit,’ thought Trudy. She’d forgotten she was supposed to be seeing Mark. She opened her mouth to ask Daryl how she could conveniently get out of the date.
But Daryl had already closed the door behind herself.