Page 26 of The Sunrise Sisterhood

‘Skye.’ She tucked her hair behind her ears, envious of Marta’s ability to chat so comfortably with a stranger. ‘Thanks for the suggestion.’

‘Nice to meet you, Skye,’ Marta said, producing a dress out of her bag and pulling it over her head. ‘Maybe next time I see you will be at the end of the jetty in your bikini?’

‘Maybe,’ Skye replied. ‘Either that or in the queue for coffee.’

Marta laughed, getting to her feet. ‘Go well, Skye, enjoy your day.’

‘You too.’

Skye couldn’t resist turning her head to watch as Marta walked away purposefully, still rubbing her wet hair. As she reached the corner of the street, Marta turned back to look at her and both women laughed at being caught out by the other.

She was cool, thought Skye, happy that their paths had crossed this morning. She stood up to leave and, for a moment, she was so wrapped up in their conversation that she completely forgot where she was supposed to be going. Oh, yes, Liz’s lock-up. But maybe first coffee.

The door of the coffee shop on Fore Street was open and the smell was amazing.

The girl behind the counter smiled as Skye entered the café. ‘What can I get you?’

‘Just a black coffee please.’ Skye had been a latte lover at one time, but she’d quickly discovered that drinking it without milk was far easier in a hot country.

She sipped the coffee and sighed with joy. It was good, nutty and rich, and by the time she’d reached Island Street and found the little building belonging to Liz, she had finished it. Skye dropped the empty cup into a recycling bin and, after wrestling with a rusty padlock, pushed her way into Liz’s lock-up. It was dark inside and smelled musty. She propped the door open with a heavy cardboard box to let in some fresh air and flicked the light switch. As a row of fluorescent strip lights buzzed into life, Skye scanned the room.

‘Wow,’ she murmured. ‘This is a lot of kit.’

It was an Aladdin’s cave for keen cooks. On one side, two huge appliances – a fridge and a freezer – hummed industriously next to a stainless-steel worktop which had a double sink and drainer set into it.

Opposite, covering the entire wall, were rows of metal racking, stacked high with all manner of equipment. Skye saw wicker picnic hampers, champagne buckets, serving platters of all shapes and sizes and crates and crates of dishes, glasses and cutlery. Tablecloths, napkins, towels, vases … She shook her head, remembering the sparse contents of her kitchen cupboards in Kampala.

Everything was going to need a good spring clean before it was fit to be used. And that she could manage.

There was a water heater above the sink, and after running the tap for a couple of minutes, hot water began to trickle through. She found an upbeat playlist on Spotify, located cleaning materials and got to work.

Two hours later, Skye was in desperate need of a wash herself, but the lock-up was looking a million times better than it had when she’d arrived. She stepped back out into the fresh air for a breather and heard a faint ringing from her pocket. She pulled out the business phone and answered it.

‘The Seaside Gourmet Girls, Skye speaking.’

‘Hello? This is Ele. Are you the person I spoke to about the vegan menu?’ asked the woman from yesterday.

‘Yes, hi.’ Skye tucked damp tendrils of hair behind her ear.

‘It’s my friend’s birthday and she loves Indonesian food. Rather than a buffet, could you do a tasting banquet?’

‘I’m sure we could,’ she replied, hoping she was right.

‘And I guess that will be more expensive?’

‘Um … yes?’ She was out of her depth here. By rights, she should keep quiet and say that she’d get back to her to confirm. But the thought of landing her first solo deal was too tempting. ‘It would be thirty-five pounds per head. Plus another six if you wanted a dessert course.’

‘Oh!’ Ele sounded surprised. ‘Right.’

Skye winced – she’d blown it. Maybe that was too much for dessert. Damn.

‘I thought you were going to say much more than that.’

‘Did you? That’s good then.’ Now Skye was worried she’d gone in too cheap. Perhaps she should have waited and checked with Liz.

‘How much would you charge for a birthday cake? Vegan obviously.’

Skye had just washed several gorgeous cake stands, so she assumed making cakes was part of their repertoire. ‘Fifty-five pounds, including a cake stand to serve it from.’