The Little Paris Patisserie

by Julie Caplin

  ‘They’ll be here soon, I’m sure. They’re visiting everywhere today, and these things always take longer than people think.’

  ‘Well, they should have planned it better,’ she said, rubbing at the draining board.

  ‘Don’t fret pet,’ said Bill.

  ‘Easy for you to say that. Oh God, sorry. I’m so nervous and I promised Sebastian I’d be there. He hates hospitals.’ She couldn’t even text him to let him know she was running late, her phone had well and truly died.

  ‘And you will.’ Bill patted her on the arm and took the cloth out of her hand. ‘Now leave that. Go and have a coffee and sit.’

  ‘If I drink any more coffee I’ll be peeing pure caffeine.’

  Maddie, Marguerite and Jane were on look-out duty on the street and unable to sit down, Nina joined them.

  ‘I bet that’s them,’ said Maddie. ‘Five o’clock. Blue hat. Big bag’

  ‘No,’ said Marguerite. ‘She’s not smart enough.’

  ‘What about six o’clock,’ said Jane. ‘Older man and woman.’

  ‘He’s wearing a cardigan,’ said Maddie. ‘No way could he be a judge.’

  Nina paced up and down outside the dark grey painted windows, touching the smooth paintwork. They’d done such a good job and … bugger, what time was it?

  ‘There, that has to be them,’ whispered Maddie. Nina whipped her head round to see a glamorous brunette woman in heels trotting towards them, accompanied by a slightly older silver fox of a man.

  ‘You think she’s been walking around Paris judging patisserie shops since 9 a.m. in those beautiful shoes?’ asked Jane in her usual gentle tone. ‘They are lovely but impossibly impractical.’

  ‘Hmm you’re probably right. With that figure, I doubt she’s even so much as sniffed a cake let alone eaten one.’ Maddie’s gloomy observation almost made Nina smile, except she was starting to get exasperated with the three of them. As if they had any idea what the judges looked like or how many there would be or which direction they would be coming.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she snapped. ‘If they’re not here in the next two minutes, I have to go.’

  ‘But you can’t,’ wailed Maddie.

  ‘I have to. I promised Sebastian. You can talk to the judges.’

  ‘But…’ Maddie looked at Marguerite.

  ‘My dear, they will want to talk to you about the inspiration behind the patisseries. No Paris patisserie is anything without its wares.’

  Nina flapped her hands trying to deny the words but Marguerite’s steely blue eyes stared at her.

  ‘I’m going inside,’ she said and wheeled round. She didn’t dare ask anyone the time. She had to go. Crossing to the rack of coat pegs she unhooked her coat.

  Bill and Peter emerged from the kitchen with Marcel.

  ‘It’s no good, I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.’ She took her coat down again. ‘I have to.’

  ‘Ah, pet.’

  ‘Look you can talk about the patisserie. Tell them what we’ve done. Can’t you?’ She looked around the room; they’d achieved so much but it had been a team effort. ‘It’s a shame we never thought to take any before and after pictures. We could have shown the judges, how we’ve brought this place back to life.’

  Marcel smiled. A proper full on smile. ‘Wait here.’ He reached behind her to the hook on the rack where he kept his coat and hat, a smart felt trilby that Nina had never seen him wear but he always hung up. He brought a cloth bag out from behind his coat and opened it up to give her what looked like a scrapbook, looking a little shy.

  ‘I … made this … for you. A memento. It was for when you left … but if you think…’ With an embarrassed shrug, he thrust it into her hands and scuttled back behind his counter busying himself with something. Quite what, she wasn’t sure but there was the sound of china chinking and spoons clattering on saucers.

  Completely nonplussed and still aware of the clock ticking. Nina set it down on the table. The front cover had a stylised table with two ornate bistro chairs, picked out in blue against the backdrop of the Seine. She opened the first page. On the left-hand side was a close up of the peeling turquoise paint on the window sills, even though it was the shabby exterior, it was still a beautiful photo. Opposite was the same sill, now painted in the dark grey matt with golden aura of sunlight glowing on the painted woodwork.

  Each page held pictures illustrating before and after, the horrible pink dado rail, the mysterious secretive glowing eyes of the mermaid, the empty patisserie, the queue outside the door but each of them also told a story.

  Nina touched the pages reverentially, the photos were extraordinary.

  ‘These are incredible,’ she said. It was all she could say as she fought against the lump in her throat.

  She could have predicted the dismissive gallic shrug he gave her as he carried on working at whatever he was doing.

  She walked up to him, joining him behind the counter. As she suspected he was polishing already clean teaspoons.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly. Leaning forward she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘I’ll treasure this. It is beautiful. I’ll wait until the judges get here.’ Sebastian was probably going to be a while at the hospital. She’d just get there late.

  He nodded but didn’t say anything.

  Knowing that he wanted no further fuss, she retreated and went through to the kitchen, feeling a little choked. It was as if all the emotion locked inside him was able to spill out in his photographs. And she’d never ever seen him with a camera.

  She stood for a moment in the quiet stillness of the kitchen, grateful for its coolness, suddenly filled with absolute conviction that she was doing the right thing. She would explain to Sebastian. He might be a businessman but surely no one could fail to be moved by the depth of emotion in these pictures and the passion Marcel had for the patisserie.

  ‘Nina! Nina!’ Maddie skidded to halt nearly falling down the stairs. ‘They’re here.’

  ‘Oh God.’

  ‘You’ll be fine pet. One taste of your cooking and they’ll be eating out of your hand.’ Bill winked and patted her on the back, almost sending her flying.

  She trotted up the stairs, the photo book tucked in one hand, smoothing down her skirt with the other, hoping she looked professional.

  ‘Bonjour, welcome to Patisserie C.’ As soon as she said it, she immediately wished they’d changed the name. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Patisserie C sounded horribly impersonal and nothingy.

  ‘We’ve heard a lot about it,’ said the older of the two judges, once the introductions had been made. With her no-nonsense attitude, smart grey suit and clipboard, she looked more like a government official, while the young man with her, in his beanie hat and heavy framed glasses, looked like he might work for a hip magazine.

  Quickly, they explained that they’d take a look around, select some pastries to try and then ask her a few questions.

  Bill, Maddie, Marguerite, Peter and Jane were all sitting at one of the window tables, with one of the cake stands in the centre as if they were ordinary customers, tucking into an afternoon tea selection. Nina envied them and wished she was sitting with them, instead of sitting here on her own, tapping her foot incessantly. She tried to force herself to stop and then realised she was now rubbing the table with her thumb in endless circles. She watched as the two of them, heads together, nodded, pointed, made notes and murmured in low flat voices, their faces expressionless.

  ‘They hate it,’ whispered Nina to Maddie who walked past on her way to the toilet.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. They’re just not giving anything away.’

  ‘I’m not so sure.’

  Maddie rolled her eyes and then put her fingers in her mouth pulled the sides out and went crossed eyed.

  Nina snorted and then started to giggle, which immediately relieved her nerves.

  ‘You’re mad,’ she said.

  ‘And you’ve only just figured that out now,’ said Maddie with a humorous l
ift of her eyebrows. ‘Lord, you’re slow on the uptake.’ Shaking her head, she disappeared back to join the others.

  Nina’s smile faded when the judges came to join her.

  ‘Perhaps you can tell us why you decided to set up the patisserie?’ The woman’s tone, slightly accusatory, made Nina think of a police officer asking her to account for her actions.

  Her hands cramped with tension out of sight under the table. For a minute, she froze.

  She swallowed. Every word that she’d planned to say had gone. Evaporated.

  ‘Well … it was … erm.’ She could feel the clammy sheen taking hold on her forehead as her tongue flatly refused to cooperate.

  ‘Perhaps, I can be of assistance,’ said Marcel suddenly appearing, bowing with polite formality. ‘I have been here for a number of years and have been delighted to see Nina’s passion and enthusiasm for restoring Patisserie C to its former glory. Perhaps you would like to see what it used to look like before Nina decided upon the renovations.’

  With shaky hands, she slid the book over to them and sat back as Marcel with quiet dignified authority talked them through each page.

  By the time he reached the end, Nina had just about relaxed and she was able to speak normally when the woman said they’d now like to try some patisserie.

  ‘What would you like to try?’

  ‘Everything,’ said the young man in heavily accented English, and then after a quelling look from his colleague, clamped his mouth shut.

  She selected for both of them and Nina was pleased to see that they’d tried the chocolat caramel supreme – it was still her favourite.

  It was all going rather well, and the woman was scribbling hasty notes after taking a forkful of the strawberry and cream éclair, the young man had even let out a little moan as he tasted the chocolat caramel suprême, when Nina looked up to see Sebastian standing in the doorway.

  He looked furious and for a minute she wasn’t even sure he’d noticed the changes, he was staring so hard at her. She tried to give him a tentative smile but it was tricky given the narrow-eyed stare he was beaming her way. She swallowed.

  The judge put down her fork. Nina looked back at Sebastian who’d started to limp forward. The cast had gone. Shit his appointment had hardly taken any time at all. She’d honestly thought she’d get there before he left the hospital.

  ‘Well, Mademoiselle Hadley,’ said the judge as Nina started to rise.

  Her eyes darted to the judge and then back to Sebastian and half in and half out of her seat, she froze unable to move either way. The sudden silence from the table in the window heightened the sudden sense of tension as one by one Maddie, Bill, Jane, Peter and Marguerite’s face reflected horrified awareness.

  The judges had both stood up now and the woman was holding out her hand to shake Nina’s.

  As she took the hand, Sebastian drew level.

  ‘Thank you for your hospitality. We will be deliberating today. Thank you for entering your premises in this year’s Patisserie Nouveau Award.’

  She didn’t need to look at him to know that Sebastian had just gone very still.

  ‘The category winners will be announced this evening. Come, Pierre. Au revoir.’

  ‘Au revoir,’ said Nina finding her voice, quashing the desperate urge to grab the woman and beg her to stay.

  Chapter 33

  Sebastian didn’t say anything which was actually far, far worse. Standing there with that impassive expression on his face was awful. If he’d been angry or upset, she could have gone on the defensive but if anything he looking slightly defeated. There was an uncertainty about his posture as if he were waiting to take a blow and it hurt Nina more than she could have imagined.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I was going to come but…’

  He didn’t helpfully fill in the silence for her.

  ‘You see the…’ The patient expression on his face as he waited for her explanation reinforced the sense of shame rolling over her. She’d let him down … if only she could explain she’d done for a good reason.

  ‘We … I … the patisserie was entered in a competition.’ She drew in a breath. There was no explaining this away. ‘The judges were coming this morning, except they were late and … originally there would have been plenty of time to get to the hospital but … I, well I was going to come but then they turned up and…’

  He frowned as he caught sight of the painted wall, his eyes drawn to the mermaid. ‘Where did that come from?’

  ‘Ah, well …’

  Pacing he turned a slow circle taking in all the changes.

  Nina’s throat constricted.

  ‘Well, you see … the painting. The walls. The mermaid. She was always there. It w – was always there. Just hidden behind the panels.’

  ‘And the chandelier?’ His raised eyebrow, somehow managed to convey a world of displeasure in the single elegant movement or hang on, had she read him wrong? Was he intrigued? He seemed to be studying the chandelier with the same fascinated curiosity that Peter and Bill had when they first mooted putting it up.

  ‘Upstairs in the storerooms.’

  ‘And the china?’ He leaned forward and picked up one of the delicate cups, holding it by the handle between his finger and thumb. ‘Looks expensive. And vintage.’

  ‘That was upstairs too,’ she said before adding defensively, ‘so, it didn’t cost anything.’

  ‘Nina.’ To her surprise, he looked hurt at her insinuation. ‘I was admiring the authenticity of everything. It all looks … beautiful. And perfect. It’s … well, a perfect patisserie. You’ve done … an amazing job.’ He looked around before giving her a slow smile. Nina’s heart picked up in hope. Did he look proud of her?

  ‘And you have a new patisserie supplier, I see. That’s a real improvement.’

  ‘They’re all home-made on the premises,’ she ventured as he crossed to the cabinet to examine them. Behind the counter, Marcel stood watchful and still distinguished.

  ‘Marcel, may I try one of these? And what would you recommend?’

  ‘All of them, monsieur. However, I think that this is Nina’s signature dish.’

  Nina pressed her lips together and waited as Marcel handed over a plate and fork with her millionaire’s shortbread twist.

  ‘Nina’s signature dish?’ Sebastian shot a look her way. ‘You made these?’ His smile broadened. ‘Or course you did.’ He shook his head as if to say, what an idiot, I should have known, and the half smile playing around his lips threw her for a minute before he picked up a fork and took a measured portion, giving a careful once over before putting it in his mouth. For an agonised moment, which had nothing on Paul Hollywood on Bake Off, Nina waited, clasping her hands together.

  Sebastian’s expression didn’t change as he chewed and considered. Nina swallowed and then he nodded, still serious. She wanted to shake him.

  He cocked his head and turned to her, his mouth curving into a slow smile that gradually lit up his whole face like the sun emerging from a cloud. ‘Wow, that is … amazing.’ His dazzling smile of approval made goose bumps rise on her arms. ‘This is really, really good. I love the balance between the crisp biscuit with the mousse and then that lovely sweetness of the caramel. It’s a brilliant idea.’

  He looked back at the cabinet, peering now at the contents. Everyone in the patisserie seemed to be holding their collective breath.

  ‘Clever,’ he said. ‘Very clever. French patisserie meets English teashop.’ With a laugh, he pointed. ‘Are those Jammy Dodgers and custard creams, by any chance?’

  Nina nodded, some of her tension starting to dissipate. ‘Anglo-French fusion.’

  Sebastian shook his head in surprise. ‘It really is a clever idea and the execution looks fantastic. A little rustic—’ he shot her a grin ‘—but they have that “eat me” look about them instead of being too perfect.’

  Nina would take that as praise.

  ‘This place looks amazing. You did all this?’


  A spark of pride burned bright in her chest. ‘Not just me. Everyone. Bill, Maddie, Jane, Peter, Marguerite and Marcel. But yes, we’ve done most of the work ourselves. Painted the outside, removed the old panelling. Everything was already here, it just needed some TLC.’

  ‘You’ve certainly given it that.’

  He began to walk around, taking a closer look at everything. Nina wasn’t sure whether to follow him but in the end decided to stay put, avoiding the what-do-you-think looks of the others who were avidly looking on.

  Sebastian who’d studiously ignored them all, finally finished his inspection.

  ‘It looks great in here,’ he said out loud so that everyone could hear him before he dropped his voice so that only Nina could hear. ‘Your family…’ His words faltered. ‘They’d be very proud of you.’

  A chill crept over Nina as she realised that his stance had suddenly changed, his final words were flat when they should have been more … and with a horrible inevitability Nina realised that despite everything, the battle was lost.

  ‘What?’ she forced herself to ask.

  ‘You told Nick.’

  She closed her eyes in quick acceptance. She had to.

  ‘You told Nick about us.’

  She lifted her shoulders in a silent what-was-I-supposed-to-do?

  ‘He’s … not best pleased.’

  ‘Well, that’s his problem,’ said Nina hit by a wave of fury that made her lock her knees as if she were worried it might bowl her over. For a moment she wavered, unsure as to who she was the most cross with, Nick or Sebastian.

  He shook his head. ‘No, it’s not. And now everything’s…’

  Nina felt her heart stall.

  There was almost a pleading tone to his voice when he said, ‘I thought we’d agreed that we wouldn’t say anything while he was still in Paris.’

  ‘I had to,’ said Nina in a small voice. She’d assumed, wrongfully it appeared, that he’d forgive her.