The Little Paris Patisserie

by Julie Caplin

  ‘I sent you an email.’

  A comment in the subject line, an attachment with a lengthy list and nothing in the body of the email, did not count. Apart from that she hadn’t heard from him since he’d got in the taxi nearly a week ago.

  ‘Is that what you call it?’ Using sarcasm was the best way to disguise her disappointment at his silence, and to try and get her body to back off with its usual overexcited response at the sound of his voice. When was her heart or whatever part was in charge of the silliness – it certainly wasn’t her brain – finally going to tune into sense and get the message that that boat had sailed, long ago?

  ‘Very funny. I’ve been busy. Where are you?’

  ‘In your apartment.’ She rose from the table where she was having a late and rather leisurely breakfast and wandered to the window to admire the view of the Eiffel Tower. Every day when she came into the kitchen it was a welcome reminder that she’d chosen to come here, a symbol of her independence, which went a long way to appeasing the solitude of her quiet, unhurried breakfast. No one in their right mind would miss the chaos of the Hadley family orchestrated bundle in the mornings with hurried cups of builders’ strength tea, bodies dodging each other as toast was grabbed and arms were thrust into coats, packed lunches swiped from the side against the sounds of Radio Two, sizzling bacon in the pan and shouts of ‘anyone seen my car keys/phone/phone charger!’

  Nina realised that Sebastian had gone quiet too. Was he picturing his kitchen and missing the rather wonderful view?

  ‘Did you want something?’ she asked. Of course he did, he wasn’t just ringing up for a friendly chat. She was his employee if you wanted to be precise about it. That was the sum total of their relationship.

  ‘Actually, I do. Can you bring over my chef whites when you come to the patisserie tomorrow? I should have worn them last week. Icing sugar on black doesn’t look good.’ Nina allowed herself a small smile. Not from where she’d been standing. That black T-shirt hugged his chest and shoulders rather nicely. No doubt about it, he had muscles in all the right places. Surprisingly well-contoured biceps. And the ugly joggers, which should have kept any illicit thoughts at bay, kept slipping down to reveal a taut stomach and a trail of dark hair. Seriously, couldn’t he have kicked the stereotypical handsomeness and have the decency to be a bit pudgy around the belly after a couple of weeks of inactivity?

  ‘OK. Where will I find them?’

  ‘Er … do you know what? I’m not a hundred per cent sure. They might be in the bottom of one of the chest of drawers or they might be in the top of the wardrobe or failing that in one of the boxes in the utility room. I must have brought them to France when I moved here but I can’t remember where I put them.’

  ‘Don’t you wear them anymore?’ Nina was astounded.

  ‘Too busy to get in the kitchen that often. Now, is everything ready for tomorrow?’

  ‘No,’ said Nina, rolling her eyes even though he couldn’t see her.

  ‘What do you mean, no?’ Sebastian’s voice pitched up a level and Nina bit back a naughty smile and let the silence speak for itself for a minute.

  ‘Of course it is.’ Honestly, did he really think she would deliberately let him down? ‘I can read,’ she pointed out with a bite to her words, letting him know that the solitary email she’d received the day before yesterday had irked her more than the fact that she hadn’t heard a single word from him since the first day of the course.

  ‘Honestly Nina, some of us are busy. Email is the most effective way of communicating sometimes. I’m running a business. If you recall I’m trying to set up two new restaurants as well as the bistro and run the ones back in the UK. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve employed you to run the patisserie side of things, so that I don’t have to think about it. The only input I need to make is turning up on the day and teaching. Everything else is down to you.’

  Nina straightened, surprised that he was willing to let go of that much. ‘I’ll remember that.’

  ‘So everything ready?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve done all the shopping. I’ve set up all the work stations.’

  ‘You found the wholesalers OK?’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Nina guiltily, thinking of her visit to the next best thing to a patisserie heaven.

  ‘And you used the account there OK?’

  ‘Ah, yes.’ The wholesalers had been absolutely mind-boggling. She’d never seen such a variety of specialist ingredients in her life.

  ‘I gave you a list.’

  ‘You did.’

  ‘Please tell me you stuck to it, I know how easy it is to get carried away in there.’

  ‘I might have bought a couple of extra things, but I didn’t spend as much as I could have done.’

  ‘And I’m supposed to be thankful for that.’

  ‘Very,’ said Nina with a smug laugh. He’d got off lightly. The gold leaf had looked so intriguing, and so had the chocolate couverture and of course the praline sauce. She hadn’t been able to resist any of them and had crossed her fingers when she’d signed for the account, hoping that perhaps Sebastian wouldn’t check the bill too closely. Who was she kidding? At least she’d been too bamboozled by the incredible selection of highly specialised equipment to buy any of the sugar paste tools, silicon cases in a multitude of shapes and sizes or any of the array of different shaped cutters and cake tins.

  ‘I’m relieved to hear it.’ For a moment, she could have sworn she heard dry amusement in his voice.

  The next morning, she walked briskly to the patisserie carrying Sebastian’s chef whites, grateful that the promised rain was still holding off. At this time of day, the wide tree-lined street was calm and pedestrian free, the quiet broken by the occasional scooter. It had taken her ages to find the white jacket with Sebastian’s name embroidered on the chest in red italics. A fair amount of cursing him had gone on until she’d finally found the darned things, buried at the bottom of a box in the utility room, along with a hot water bottle and an unopened pack of sensible black socks, the sort of thing your mother might pack you off with.

  She was looking forward to seeing everyone again. Everyone. Not just Sebastian. They were such a lovely bunch of people and she’d really enjoyed seeing Maddie this last week. Even Marcel seemed a tiny bit more approachable, although that was relative.

  Who was she kidding? As usual there was the same old stupid part of her that was a little bit tingly, the same old anticipation that danced and sang in her veins despite the stern lectures she regularly gave herself. If only when she heard his voice, she felt the same as she did when Alex, for example, had phoned up. On short acquaintance he seemed a lovely guy and there was no denying he was good looking and charming. Why didn’t she get a tingle around him?

  ‘Morning Nina.’

  Jane’s gentle pat on her shoulder made her realise that Peter and Jane had said it before.

  ‘Oh, sorry.’ She stopped in the street. ‘Good morning. I was miles away. You’re both very early. How are you? Have you had a good week?’

  Peter took Jane’s hand. ‘We’ve had a wonderful week. None of the family bothering us. Just the two of us wandering around Paris. Shopping. Cooking.’

  ‘And eating far too much,’ said Jane, running a hand across her tiny waist. ‘It’s been bliss.’ She and Peter exchanged a wry smile. ‘And definitely worth coming to Paris.’

  Nina sensed there was more behind their words but didn’t want to be nosy. ‘And are you looking forward to lesson number two?’

  The three of them fell into step, bunching together as they skirted the trees that lined the wide street.

  ‘Yes, I can’t wait to get cracking. After Sebastian said it was all about science, it suddenly makes a lot more sense to me.’

  Jane let out a tiny teasing sigh. ‘There’s just no romance in his soul. An engineer through and through. You can see what I have to put up with.’

  ‘Romance, my darling, is my middle name.’ He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and
patted it.

  Once they reached the patisserie, it seemed everyone was an early bird or perhaps, Nina guessed as she watched them all greet each other like old friends, they were keen to meet up again. Maddie and Marguerite hugged each other while Jane and Marguerite exchanged quick kisses on the cheek and Bill and Peter shook hands with hearty enthusiasm. Even Marcel raised a smile and gave Peter an approving nod as they all congregated around the counter ordering coffees.

  With plenty of time before the course, they sat down and began chatting with enviable ease. Nina, sitting between Maddie and Jane, was laughing so hard at Maddie’s terrible Welsh accent as she attempted to imitate a character from Gavin and Stacey, that she didn’t hear her phone ringing until it was too late. Whoops, it was five past ten and Sebastian had texted her five minutes ago, with an impatient: Where are you?

  It took her another few minutes to round everyone up and chivvy them along down the hall. By the time she descended the short flight of stairs into the kitchen she felt like an incompetent sheepdog. They were still chatting as they fanned out around Sebastian to their stations, in exactly the same spots as the previous lesson. Standing isolated at the bottom of the steps, the tight expression on Sebastian’s face reminded Nina of a forlorn child excluded by his disability and unable to be with his peers.

  Before she could frame an apology, he leaned towards her and hissed, ‘I wanted my whites before we started.’

  ‘Sorry, I bumped into Jane and Peter and then everyone was here and there was—’

  ‘Spare me the excuses,’ sighed Sebastian and with a lightening change of expression, turned to the others. ‘Good morning everyone. I hope you had a good start to the day. So today we’re going to making one of my favourites. Mille-feuilles.’

  And he was off, explaining the history of the pastries and the different ways of filling and presenting them. Today’s lesson was going to be more about technique and practical skills, which put Nina on a much better footing. Pastry, she could do. Nothing fancy but she knew what she was doing. Cold hands, cold fat, minimal contact – she knew the rules.

  Over the course of the morning, as Sebastian taught them how to make puff pastry, Nina darted here and there, collecting bowls, wiping up flour and rounding up utensils but she also helped guide Jane’s hands on the rolling pin when her pastry threatened to go AWOL over the edge of the worktop, showed Peter how to be more gentle with rubbing his butter into his flour and demonstrated to Maddie how to liberally coat her rolling pin with plenty of flour to stop it sticking to the pastry. A couple of times Sebastian’s eye caught hers as she was helping one of them and he would give her a quick nod as if to say, ‘good job’. Despite his best efforts he was still slow, his progress cumbersome around the kitchen and he couldn’t quite get to people to help before their pastry went pear shaped. Leaving Nina to it, he focused on Bill and Marguerite, who both seemed to have a pretty good idea of what they were doing. Both had some previous experience.

  ‘Good job, Nina,’ said Sebastian, when the others headed for their lunch break.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, still miffed that he’d been so short with her earlier. Turning away from him, she began filling the sink full of hot soapy water.

  ‘I owe you an apology. And I should have said thanks for looking after me the other night when you came back to the hotel with me’

  She shrugged but didn’t turn around.

  ‘Nina, please look at me.’

  With a disgruntled sigh and a pursed mouth, she turned around slowly and folded her arms.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ve been difficult this morning.’

  ‘Do you know what, sometimes sorry doesn’t cut it.’ Was that really her speaking? But hell yes, she was fed up with him taking out his bad moods on her. ‘And difficult doesn’t even cover it. I get that you’re frustrated, that your leg bothers you, fine. But you manage to be civil to everyone else.’

  Sebastian had the grace to wince. ‘Before you get into another snit with me, I was about to say, you’ve been great this morning. Anticipating things and really saving me moving about too much. I’d forgotten how many things can go wrong with pastry and amateurs.’

  ‘I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere,’ said Nina, trying to sift through what he meant. She had to admit he was a very good teacher, explaining things with great patience and never making anyone feel stupid when they asked a question, even her.

  ‘I wasn’t being funny. It’s so long since I’ve made puff pastry, but it’s still second nature to me. So when someone over rubs the fat or adds too much water, I have to take a second to catch up whereas you were straight on it.’

  ‘Years of incompetence,’ said Nina completely blank-faced.

  ‘You manage to misread what I say so often, I wonder if you do it on purpose.’

  ‘Maybe because you underestimate me so often,’ said Nina with a snap, immediately regretting it when she realised she’d let some of her resentment towards him show.

  ‘I’ve never underestimated you,’ said Sebastian, looking a little nonplussed.

  Nina stared back at him. ‘You mean you don’t still think of me as Nick’s little sister.’

  Sebastian looked pained for a brief second before muttering. ‘I try hard not to.’

  Sebastian and Nina were standing to one side of the kitchen while the others had gathered around one of the benches, where the last of the mille-feuilles to be completed had been arranged on the stands for the official tasting session at the end of the day. Marcel had just brought coffee through and was invited to take the first bite.

  ‘Very good,’ he said, with his usual dignified air, having studied them carefully before selecting one from the middle tier. ‘Excellent. Who made this one?’

  Everyone laughed, before Maddie said, ‘Of course, that’s one of Sebastian’s.’ She rolled her eyes.

  Marcel’s mouth twitched, it might almost have been a smile. Sebastian stepped forward and took a small bow while flashing everyone a charming smile before stepping back.

  ‘I meant to ask you, where did the cake stands come from? They’re a nice touch.’

  ‘I found them up in one of the rooms upstairs. There’s a ton of stuff up there. China, cutlery, furniture. It’s all—’

  ‘Going in a skip. I’d forgotten there was all that junk up there.’

  ‘But some of it’s lovely.’

  ‘And of no use to me.’

  ‘But you like the cake stands.’

  ‘Only in so far as they’re useful today.’

  ‘But you can’t just throw all that stuff away.’

  ‘I can if it’s never going to be used. It’s just not a good use of time to go through it all. I’ve got a business to run, if I was going into the salvage business, that’s what I’d have done.’

  Ignoring Nina’s horrified face, Sebastian hobbled over to the group and helped himself to a coffee.

  The man was a business automaton. How could he even think of throwing away all that beautiful china? Nina shook her head and picked up a broom to start sweeping up the near sand dune piles of flour on the floor. As she passed the back door, she saw it open and a very svelte blonde woman step inside.

  ‘Bonjour,’ she said before rattling along in a stream of very fast French. The only word that Nina could distinguish was ‘Sebastian’ but of course pronounced very sexily as if there were about ten ‘n’s on the end of his name.

  ‘He’s over there.’ She indicated with her head in case this woman didn’t speak English.

  ‘Ah bon. Merci.’ The woman flashed her a thousand-watt smile and tapped across the floor in extremely elegant high heeled shoes which did fantastic things to her already amazing legs.

  ‘Sebastian, cherie,’ she called, as without any hint of self-consciousness she waded through the crowd of people around him and planted her plump plum painted lips on his.

  ‘Katrin.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘You’re early.’

  She shrugged, the languorous movement someh
ow chic and effortless, like a gentle wave rolling up her body.

  ‘Everyone, this is, Katrin. Sorry, I’ll be just a minute.’

  ‘Hello everyone, lovely to meet you.’ Suddenly her English was impeccable as she fluttered her eyelashes at Bill and Peter who both looked slightly dazed.

  Sebastian finished up, making his goodbyes to the others and Katrin came to stand by the back door, a bit like a bouncer, clearly keen to get him out of there.

  Nina had never felt more at a disadvantage in her life. Limp-haired, sugar-stained and sweaty, she took in the other woman’s pristine fuchsia pink linen shift dress, the itty bitty black Chanel leather handbag dangling from her wrist and the discreet, expensive-looking jewellery adorning her wrist and ears.

  ‘You must be Nina, Nick’s little sister,’ Katrin suddenly volunteered as she intercepted Nina’s curious gaze. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’ Her smile was wide and winsome, showing off perfect teeth framed by fuschia pink glossy lips.

  ‘Oh,’ Nina shot a glance towards Sebastian, surprised.

  Katrin tittered, Nina’s lest favourite word ever, but at that moment oh-so-appropriate.

  Well, I’ve heard very little about you. Unfortunately, as the cattiness gene had bypassed her, Nina couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud.

  ‘Yes, I was there when your brother, how do you say it, begged Sebastian to give you this job.’ She shook her head as if very amused. ‘He really didn’t want to. I don’t think he likes you very much.’ Her broad smile, with eyes holding just that touch too much twinkle, didn’t take the sting out of her words, not that Nina suspected for a second they were supposed to.

  ‘Sebastian is my brother’s friend, not mine,’ said Nina, clutching the broom in her hand, feeling horribly like Cinderella as Sebastian hobbled towards them on his crutches.

  ‘But of course. Ah Sebastian cherie, shall we go. I am taking you out to dinner at the most divine little restaurant. You will love it. Very exclusive.’

  She missed the slow weary blink of Sebastian’s eyes as she brushed down her dress but Nina spotted it. The man was exhausted. The last thing he needed was to go out for dinner. And he was moving more slowly, a sure sign his leg was hurting. She stepped forward, unable to help herself.