Oh! What a Pavlova: A delicious laugh-out-loud, feel-good romantic comedy - perfect for the holidays... (Foodie Romance Journeys) by May Isabella

Author:May, Isabella [May, Isabella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Isabella May
Published: 2021-03-16T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Santa pop-up books had already loaded their August vessels at port in Singapore, yet if I’d seen two consecutive days of sunshine in Bristol all summer it would have been a miracle. It was such a sluggish month, a time to get round to tending to all of those boring, rainy day jobs, since most of my Europeans and Scandinavians had their backsides planted firmly on sun loungers.

But whilst Hayden’s recent chain of emails still had all the predictability of Mills and Boon – particularly Volume Two of the sheepskin rug, open fire, and secluded Swiss lodge adventure – I sensed he was now definitely as invested as I was.

And it wasn’t just ‘sex’. An underlying friendship threaded through the literary traffic. It was just like having a real physical relationship, and all the ‘getting to know you’ stuff that went with it – just without having a real physical relationship. It was the strangest, most ridiculous thing. Neither of us could stop. Or perhaps it was simply that neither of us was prepared to give the other the last word.

‘You really are a cunning linguist, aren’t you?’ he wrote at the end of a lengthy exchange of Malay puzzles and French proverbs. He, delighting in showing off his moderate (it had to be said for the length of time he had now resided there) language skills.

I wasn’t quite sure what he implied by the ‘cunning’ part, or why he seemed to pleasure in finally enlightening me. So I ran to the study that evening, car keys still jangling in my hand, and made straight for the dictionary. My heart thudded as I flipped through the translucent pages for the start of the CUNs, and despite the fact I didn’t have an audience, the definition it gave for ‘cunnilingus’ induced rouge to my cheeks that could have been bottled and sold for millions. I slammed the book tightly shut for fear of a peeping Daniel.

I hadn’t even realised there was a word for doing that.

How I wished I could re-live that summer of two years ago. No not because of this latest revelation. But because, well, who knows how things would have turned out between us knowing what I knew now.

The Far Eastern Odyssey had started out as an invite to Steph from an overseas agent; nothing more, nothing less.

“Why don’t you tag along?”

“Who me?” I totted up markets and clients on three fingers. “But I don’t really sell a lot to that part of the world.”

“Exactly,” said Steph.

* * *

“So this is what they mean by humidity,” I’d said against the thrust of a nearby jet engine, as I’d emerged behind Steph onto the aircraft steps a few weeks later.

Singapore had greeted us like a hairdryer. And culture shock and familiarity had descended upon me with a loud and confusing bang. I’d found myself in a land where I couldn’t even begin to decode the language, yet trademarks of the colonial past abounded. I knew all of this would be waiting, I’d read the guide book of course.

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