The Little Paris Patisserie

by Julie Caplin

  ‘Shame. He’s rather yummy.’

  ‘And far too sophisticated for you,’ said Bill, a little too bluntly, Nina thought, although Maddie didn’t seem to mind as she patted his big hand. ‘Not my type at all, but I like to look. I’m an Art History student, we’re all about looking at beautiful things. Talking of which…’ She drew herself up proudly. ‘I. Have. Finished repainting the mural and I’ve only got a few clouds to sponge in on the walls.’

  Everyone turned to looked at the sea painting, the mermaids smiling sunnily at them and the fishes so colourful it was easy to imagine that if you blinked they’d dart away.

  ‘Oh my gosh, it’s absolutely beautiful,’ said Jane.

  ‘It is wonderful to see it again,’ said Marguerite. ‘I’d forgotten how stunning it was. Seeing it again brings back lots of happy memories. It will be lovely when the chandelier is back in place,’ she added with a wistful glance up at the plaster rose above them.

  Nina felt she was in the path of a runaway train with about as much chance of stopping it. She held up a hand. ‘Look this is all great and I really appreciate the work you’ve done today.’

  ‘Aw pet, you haven’t even seen it, yet. Come on, you need to see what we’ve done.’

  They all nodded and as one they rose and, crowding round her, they led her out of the shop.

  What do you think?’ asked Bill as he stepped out into the sunshine.

  ‘Oh my goodness! You’ve done an amazing job. It looks…’ She let the brilliant smile on her face do the talking. They’d done a fantastic job and the front of the patisserie in its smart dark grey livery looked so different. A place that you would take a second look at, you might consider stepping into. The worn, battered old lady was gone and in its place was a smarter, more elegant woman. What Nina really loved was that the new paint wasn’t some brash upstart replacement but a respectful, sympathetic updating that didn’t scream ‘look at me’.

  The windows sparkled in the late afternoon sunshine and through them you could see the glass counter centre stage. What a transformation. Then she laughed as she caught sight of the small selection of Sebastian’s recently made macarons on display.

  ‘Thank you so much, all of you. Bill, you must say a big thank you to “an-the-lads”. I…’ Sudden tears filled her eyes. ‘I can’t believe what a difference there is, and I didn’t even help. I feel bad now.’

  ‘Don’t you worry, pet.’

  ‘We’ve had so much fun, haven’t we, Peter darling?’

  ‘What?’ He pretended to rouse himself as if he’d been miles away. ‘Yes dear,’ he teased.

  ‘Seriously Nina, we’ve had such a laugh but…’ Jane’s voice trailed away.

  ‘Some of us have been thinking…’ said Bill, looking at Peter.

  Peter nodded, he had clearly been nominated spokesperson. ‘The thing is Nina, we’ve really enjoyed working on the building today. It’s been a rare privilege to see the transformation, especially with the painting on the walls being revealed and we’ve all become quite attached to the place. It would be lovely to see the patisserie be returned to its full glory. Seeing it as it should be. We’d like to carry on working on the fabric of the building tomorrow.’

  ‘We thought the floor,’ said Marguerite. ‘All it needs is the old seal stripping off the tiles and giving them a really good clean and then resealing. With all of us working on it we could do it in a day and we could close the patisserie.’

  ‘And Peter and me sorted a ladder, we’ll get the chandelier up tomorrow,’ Bill added.

  ‘Whoa! Whoa!’ Nina held up her hands to hold back the tide of enthusiasm. ‘It’s not my patisserie. It belongs to Sebastian. And remember he’s planning to close it and refurbish it.’ Although he still didn’t have clear plans for this site.

  ‘Yes, but if he saw its full potential, he might change his mind,’ said Maddie. ‘People are loving your Anglo-Fusion patisseries.’

  ‘Yes, but I’d need to make a lot more on a daily basis.’ Although if she got herself organised, that was possible.

  ‘I can help you,’ said Maddie. ‘My lectures don’t start until ten most days.’

  ‘And so can I,’ said Marguerite. ‘I’m always up early.’

  ‘We can have a little production line,’ said Maddie.

  ‘We can help too,’ said Jane.

  ‘The royal we,’ said Peter with a resigned expression on his face which he then spoilt by winking at his wife.

  ‘Yes but…’ Nina frowned. ‘You can’t all do that. And I’m only here for…’ She pulled a panicked face, where had the time gone. ‘I’m only here for another a week and a half. After this week’s class, there’s only one more. And I’ll be going home. But … I’ve got so many ideas I want to try out.’ She started telling them about her twists on traditional recipes.

  ‘Well, that’s it, then,’ said Maddie. ‘Posh Jammy Dodgers, I’m in.’

  ‘And clotted cream and strawberry éclairs sound divine,’ said Marguerite.

  ‘But I can’t ask you to do all the work, and not for free,’ said Nina, feeling totally out of her depth.

  ‘Of course we can,’ said Marguerite firmly, with that regal tilt of head that indicated she’d take no nonsense.

  ‘You do realise Sebastian’s going to have his cast off and then…’

  ‘So, we’ve got the rest of this week to bring this place back to life. If Sebastian sees it then, he might see the potential and change his mind.’

  Nina wavered. Was it wrong to encourage them? What if she were to really work hard, creating her cake ideas? If the patisserie was full of her Anglo-French creations, Sebastian might be impressed.

  ‘Well.’ She shouldn’t really be entertaining the idea, but she turned and saw Maddie’s eyes shining with hope and enthusiasm. ‘The thing is…’ Should she tell them? Bill laced his fingers together over his belly. Her breath hissed out. ‘Sebastian’s contractors have been held up elsewhere and so work isn’t going to start here for a while.’

  ‘So, the patisserie could stay open for longer and then if you showed it was making money, he might change his mind,’ said Marguerite clasping her hands together over her heart in a gesture that melted away any further doubts in Nina’s mind.

  In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she persuaded herself it was quite a good idea. Better that the shop was busy with customers and making some money than lying empty.

  ‘So, shall we go for it?’ asked Maddie.

  ‘OK,’ said Nina, ‘but there are no guarantees.’

  ‘Oh, you’ll bring him round, I’m sure,’ said Jane linking her arm through Peter’s and giving Nina a warm smile.

  ‘Jane. Jane. Jane. You’re a bad woman,’ Peter gave a reproving shake of his head as he winked at Bill. ‘Encouraging Nina to use her feminine wiles.’

  ‘Why not?’ she asked, her eyes bright with mischief. ‘It worked with you.’

  Everyone laughed. ‘Right troops. Dinner. I’m starving. Nina, you coming? We’re all off to the brasserie around the corner for a quick bite.’

  ‘I’d love to…’ And she would have loved to but despite the draw of their happy post-job-well-done camaraderie, dinner with Sebastian was just too tempting. She had to know what was going on.

  ‘Aw Nina, come on,’ said Maddie leading a chorus of protest.

  ‘OK, I can come with you for one drink.’ It would help calm her nerves, she reasoned to herself, which were jangling for England at the thought of going to dinner with Sebastian.

  Chapter 27

  Not going on a date still didn’t stop Nina doing that tripping over her own knickers thing as she tried to strip them off and walk at the same time.

  She took out the silky orange shift dress from the wardrobe where it hid in the third of the space that she’d taken for herself. Looking at Sebastian’s clothes hanging on the rest of the rail, she felt the familiar sense of intrusion. There was still the feeling that he might come back any day. An unconscious hand strayed t
o touch the sleeve of one of his shirts. She shouldn’t be here. With a horrible feeling of embarrassment, she realised she was a bit like her clothes, even after all this time still trying to find a space in his life.

  She was an idiot. A complete idiot. It was well past time that she stopped hoping that one day he might notice she wasn’t that love-struck immature teenager.

  With a shake of the hanger, she eyed the orange dress that she’d packed at the last minute and laid it on the bed. Eminently suitable for a dinner not-date, it had only been worn once, at her cousin’s wedding. They were the posh side of the family. With a wince, she remembered the day, the dress elegant and expensive making her feel as if she fitted in but it had been tight across her chest, a touch scratchy on her back and constricting when she sat down.

  Fresh from a very quick shower, she picked up her hair straighteners, and advanced on the mirror prepared to do battle with her hair which had a slight curl. At first when she’d whirled into the flat having been persuaded by the others to stop and have one drink with them, she’d planned to straighten it, to reinstate the perfect glossy bob that was there when she came out from the hairdressers but which she never managed to achieve again without straightening. With a decisive twist of her mouth, she put down the hair straighteners. Life was too short to be beholden to them and if a key part of this trip was to show Sebastian the new grown up her, she’d failed miserably. In the kitchen, she was invariably darting around, and a red shiny face wasn’t exactly flattering. Over the years he’d seen her in just about every guise, so being glossy and perfect for one evening was hardly going to give him complete memory loss. With a sudden lowering of her spirits, she mused, he pretty much always saw her at a disadvantage.

  So while this should have been an opportunity to dress up, put on her make-up, wrestle her hair into glossy perfection and show him that Nina ballerina had a sophisticated side, she put down the straighteners and pushed aside her make-up bag. What was the point of trying to show him someone that didn’t exist? As a teenager, she’d been desperate to impress him. Part of why she’d signed up for the cookery course … look how that had ended. A laughing stock among her family when she fainted at the sight of raw meat.

  With a firm shake of her head, she dragged her brush through her hair and mouthed at herself in the mirror. This is not a date. Remember. It’s like a date but not a date.

  Ignoring the orange dress, she pulled out a plain white cotton shirt and teamed it with a pair of navy Capri pants and her favourite red ballet pumps. This was her and there was no point trying to be something she wasn’t. He’d see straight through her and then she’d end up making even more of a fool of herself.

  From here on in, she had to get over Sebastian Finlay.

  Despite all her mantras and promises to herself, it seemed her body was determined to wangle out of the deal. She couldn’t stop her heart skipping about stupidly when she saw Sebastian waiting for her in the lobby. He wore a pale blue shirt and a pair of dark grey trousers, which were stretched obscenely tightly over the plaster cast. She bit back the smile at the sight of his wonky legs, one so much wider than the other. He had made an effort to dress up and look smart and judging by the expression on the face of Nina’s favourite receptionist, it had been worth it. She was casting longing looks at Sebastian from her post on the other side of the room. Nina had to admit he did look a little bit luscious.

  ‘Nina, you look … nice.’ He eyed her neat trousers and pristine white shirt, an amused smile playing around his lips as if he were sheltering a secret.

  ‘What?’ she asked, full of suspicion.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Shall we go?’

  She narrowed her eyes at him and he looked guilelessly back at her and she decided to let it go. Clearly something had amused him.

  ‘You’ve scrubbed up quite well, although—’ she nodded down at his leg ‘—are you going to be able to get those trousers off later?’

  ‘Are you offering to help?’ he asked, that amused smile back again in spades.

  ‘No!’ she squeaked and ducked her head. What was he playing at? This was not a date and he was being all smiley and secretive.

  ‘This way.’ He turned and headed towards the lift.

  Thank goodness she hadn’t given into temptation and got all dressed up, dinner in his room didn’t warrant the discomfort of the orange dress, even though she looked good in it.

  To her surprise the lift sailed past the third floor. She gave him a quizzical look as the lights flicked through, four, five, six before finally settling on seven.

  His face hummed with that slightly suppressed smile, as if it might leak out at any second.

  ‘After you,’ he said when the lift doors opened. They stepped out into a small square, white corridor which was clearly a service area. But he nodded towards a door six or seven steps to the right.

  The door opened to a flat roof, encircled by a low-walled balustrade. She looked back at Sebastian.

  ‘We’re not allowed within five feet of the edge. I promised Alex. We’re breaking every health and safety rule in the book. This way.’ He gestured with one crutch and she turned left and walked around the brick built block housing the stairwell.

  ‘Oh!’ She stopped dead. ‘Oh,’ she said again as she took in the view of Paris and the fairy lights strung around a small oasis on the roof. A blanket had been spread on the floor filled with jewel bright cushions, and in front of it was a blue velvet sofa, each end bookmarked with a table and a tall vase of deep blue iris. Around the blanket were pretty glass votives with tea lights that flickered in the early evening dusk.

  ‘Oh,’ she said for a third time, completely unable to string a sentence together. Her brain was too busy trying to compute what was going on. It was rather like swimming against the tide.

  ‘I thought this was easier than going to a restaurant,’ said Sebastian with a hesitant smile. ‘I wanted to do something special … to thank you.’

  For a moment hope warred against all her good intentions.

  ‘Consider me well and truly thanked,’ she said, matter-of-factly. All the thoughts in her head were fighting against each other, as if her brain was trying to do impossible sums and reject the answers because she had no idea whether they were right or wrong. ‘This is gorgeous. And totally unexpected. Getting that sofa up here must have taken some doing.’ She looked from it to his crutches.

  ‘Admittedly, I can’t take the credit for the actual work, Alex and his team helped out but … it was my idea.’

  ‘It’s lovely. Thank you.’

  ‘Have a seat.’

  They made their way to the sofa, Sebastian glancing at his watch, and Nina perched on the edge, not wanting to relax in case she let her guard down and her brain came to the wrong conclusion. The skyline around them was breathtaking and after taking in the overall shimmering view of golden lights and shadows, she took her time focusing on individual elements, the dark path of the Seine meandering under the bridges, lit up with the gilded glow of lights, the elegant upward sweep of the Eiffel Tower picked out against the dark sky and the elegant straight lines of the wide boulevards fanning out through the city.

  ‘Would you like something to drink?’

  ‘Yes please.’ Nina looked around expectantly but couldn’t see any sign of a champagne bucket – which surely the scene cried out for – or glasses or bottles of any description. That reassured her. She’d read this right. This wasn’t romance.

  Sebastian handed her a menu.

  ‘We’re ordering by text. I wasn’t sure what you’d like.’ The uncharacte‌ristically uncertain smile he gave her confused her again. ‘Alex has a waiter on standby.’

  ‘Handy.’

  ‘It’s amazing when you know the manager … and have lots of dirt on him.’

  ‘That’s clearly a man thing, as I thought he seemed quite nice.’

  Sebastian’s face sobered. ‘He’s a good bloke. And very nice. I don’t really have any dirt on him. He
’s just a good person and a great friend. And if I’m honest probably a better man than me, but I don’t care about that anymore.’

  She frowned. It seemed as if he were trying to make a point but she hadn’t a clue what he was getting at.

  ‘He … he wants to go out with you again.’

  ‘I know,’ said Nina feeling guilty but also hopeful. Her heart started to pitter patter with nerves but she forced herself to ask the question. ‘And is that a problem?

  ‘Yes,’ said Sebastian.

  The sums in her head suddenly started to add up and she felt that if she took a step forward she’d be on surer ground.

  ‘You sound like Nick.’ Her mouth twisted in amusement and exasperation. The same sort of protection and concern.

  ‘Nick. Oh shit. Nick.’ Sebastian rubbed his finger along one of his eyebrows as if he were trying to erase it.

  It would have been comical if it weren’t such a visual indication of Sebastian’s agitation. Nina suddenly wanted some straight talking. There was plenty she could read between the lines, but she’d misread Sebastian once before.

  ‘Sebastian. I’m … I’m going to be blunt. I’m a little confused here.’

  He stilled, his finger hovering over his eyebrow, like a clichéd cartoon character frozen with wariness.

  ‘Confused?’

  ‘Yes, Sebastian. Confused. You invited me for dinner. Like a date but not a date.’ She gave him a direct piercing look, to show him she was over taking any crap from him. ‘This is not like any other dinner date or not dinner date that I’ve been on. This feels like a date. A romantic date.’ She raised both eyebrows and folded her arms. Her rib cage contracted almost painfully as she waited for him to speak.

  ‘Would that … would it be a problem if it was? I know you’ve been seeing Alex.’ He reached up his hand and smoothed away a stray curl from her face that danced in the light breeze swirling around the rooftop.

  The barely-there touch stole her next breath. ‘W – we’ve been out a couple of times … he’s lovely but…’