Page 34 of A Festive Surprise

The hot water revived her chilled skin and she tipped back her neck, letting it gush over her for several minutes.

Steam billowed out of the bathroom around her as she opened the door. Clattering from the kitchen meant Farid had returned and was making himself at home.

Now, how to dress for the day… casual clothes or jammies? She settled on jeggings and a long burgundy jumper with a wide neck, almost Bardot-style.

‘So beautiful,’ said Farid as she entered the living room.

She tucked her long brown hair behind her ears. ‘Jeez, how to make a girl blush. What are you doing?’

‘I have the raisins and other things but I need sherry and this I don’t have.’

Holly screwed up her face. She’d done this once, a thrill of anticipation coursing through her veins, the box containing the dried fruit steeping in the sherry hidden away from Gavin until it was complete. Then Christmas Day arrived with a surprise that backfired like a Christmas cracker laced with dynamite. A bitter end for her one and only Christmas cake. ‘You can’t actually make the cake today. You have to let the fruit soak.’

‘Ah yes. I see. But I haven’t the sherry anyway.’

‘You can use tea.’

‘Really?’

‘So my mother told me. They had to one year because my grandma had drunk all the sherry.’

‘You know everything.’

‘Hardly.’

‘Come. Let’s do this.’

How could she resist that smile? They found scales in the cupboard and weighed out the fruit. Farid leaned over, squinting as he cut glace cherries into precise quarters.

He peered up at her and grinned over the top of the knife. ‘Ah, the smells. This will be a beautiful cake.’

Holly arched an eyebrow and tossed in the mixed peel. He added the cherries and poured in the tea.

‘I hope this works.’ She rubbed her sticky palms together.

‘Have faith.’ He pressed a lid onto the box, blocking the tangy citrus scent and the floral aroma of the tea. ‘Now, you take a rest and let me make you a breakfast you won’t forget.’ Rolling up the sleeves of his blue checked shirt, he exposed his beautiful forearms; a smattering of dark hair covered them. He lifted a large shopping bag onto the worktop.

‘What have you got in there?’

‘Ah, jamilati, I have what I get in the island shops. It’s not right, but it will do for now. I have eggs, fava beans, hummus, yoghurt.’ He placed them on the worktop, as he named them. ‘We have to use Greek yoghurt, not as good as labneh but…’ He held out his palms and side pouted. ‘We make do, huh? Also, I have olives, cucumber, tomatoes, pitta, haloumi and some other cheeses. They will be ok if not perfect.’

‘For breakfast?’

‘Of course.’ He looked up and smiled. She held his gaze. Those gorgeous eyes called to her; his pupils were wide and filled with stars, reflected from the lights. ‘Once you have a breakfast like this, you will never want your porridge again.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I do, jamilati, wait, you see.’

Holly sat on the opposite side of the breakfast bar, watching him. He grinned as he opened packets and took out bowls, arranging the food and mixing the herbs and spices. He set eggs to boil, sliced the haloumi and laid it on the grill.

‘You don’t need bacon when you have this.’

‘Do you eat bacon?’

‘Nope. Never tried. We don’t eat any kind of pork. When this cooks, it smells like bacon. I smell it at the grill in my old lodge house, and when you taste it, you will like it even more.’

Holly smiled. She couldn’t help it. Everything he did made her smile. His enthusiasm and zest. He’d had months of hardship, yet here he was cooking and laughing like someone at ease with the world. She’d had a few hours of stress and felt like death warmed up. Time to channel some of his energy and let go. What was the point of life if she couldn’t enjoy it?

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