The Dish

by Stella Newman

  I can’t believe The Dish has left – that column was the only reason I still buy your mag – everything else in it is boring as ****. I might as well read the Economist now! Bring her back, pay her double!

  And this, Angry Daily Mail reader from Cheltenham . . .

  Carole Middleton is the future King of England’s mother-in-law, and to make a joke at her expense is tantamount to treason. I always knew your magazine was subversive but I didn’t know it would stoop so low. Shame on you!

  One thing I forgot to mention – for June’s issue, Sandra had a last-minute panic (never seen the woman drop a ball before in fourteen years). She had to fill your space with something – so I told her to take your Second Helpings pieces off the system. I hope you don’t mind – they’re rather charming; will of course pay you accordingly.

  Now how are my croissants coming along?

  To: Amber

  From: Laura

  Subject:Reminder

  Hope all is well. Please don’t forget to water my basil plant, and give Annalex a cuddle from me.

  To: Laura

  From: Amber

  Subject: re: Reminder

  Babe – hope you’re feeling better about the boy. Remember – it’s not actually him you just miss, just the idea of him.

  To: Amber

  From: Laura

  Subject: re: Reminder

  Amber – I do not miss the idea of him. I miss him. I miss him in the morning, like nobody’s business, and I miss him at night even more. I miss him very specifically – his smile, his sense of humour, the way he gets embarrassed when he makes a crappy joke. I miss his body, particularly his mouth. I miss who he is – and I miss what he is too: a grown-up. Hard working. A man who is ready, willing and able to be in a relationship – a rare beast. And I miss what he and I might have been.

  To: Laura

  From: Amber

  Subject: re: Reminder

  Babe – you sound like you need some major therapy! Do you want me to give you my therapist’s number?

  To: Amber

  From: Laura

  Subject: re: Reminder

  Sorry for going off on one, and thank you – but I don’t need therapy – I’ve been here before. Heartbreak is part of life – you have to take the pain, work through it, and it fades.

  To: Roger

  From: Laura

  Subject: Croissant update

  Week three, 36 croissants in, and have struck gold – stumbled across a ludicrously perfect boulanger in the backstreets of Canal Saint Martin, exceptional croissants, paper-thin golden crispy flaky exteriors, soft, fluffy multi-layered insides. Think it is the frontrunner for this year’s Grand Prix at the Concours du Meilleur awards (please can I attend?!). I interviewed the owner – she’s third generation of the family to run the place, recipes handed down, etc. She told me the store’s history – all the ingredients for a great story – love, heartbreak, a cheating husband, and vast amounts of Brittany butter.

  Will obviously keep eating my way through the city to check I haven’t missed a trick – but I’m pretty sure I’ve found The One.

  To: Sophie

  From: Laura

  Subject: The horror

  Shocking day today! I was getting quite a few looks from cute French guys – that never normally happens to me. Decided I should spruce up a bit, so I went along to this cool vintage clothing store where you buy clothes by the kilo. In the changing room, I realised why I was getting so much attention: large dark chocolate smear across my upper lip from eating warm chocolate and pistachio swirl in the street. Worse to come: I forced myself into weird, polyester 1960s dress I’d taken an irrational shine to and got stuck – cheap zip! I had to be cut out by unimpressed owner who obviously made me pay for it, though luckily it was not Big Fat Gypsy Wedding style.

  Thought for the day: all-you-can-eat pastry assignment should come with free gym membership. (Will be going to Wolfie’s daily on my return. Wonder if they do an all-you-can-sweat package?)

  To: Laura

  From: Kiki

  Subject: Your number one fan!

  You won’t believe this but The Laminator might actually be missing you. The other day poor Maisie messed up the agenda for conference and Sandra said, ‘Laura would never have made such a basic mistake.’

  To: Sophie

  From: Laura

  Subject: Aunty Tourettes

  Have now got the girls hooked on cards – we’ve been playing every night. Their favourite seems to be Shithead – though I panicked when they asked what the game was called and told them it was called Shiphead, and now they keep asking what it has to do with boats. I would make such a terrible mother, I didn’t realise how often I swear.

  PS Thought I’d found two French female carb-eaters in Le Marais, lunch plates piled high with couscous, but when I hovered near their table I heard them speaking Dutch.

  To: Laura

  From: Sophie

  Subject: re: Aunty Tourettes

  I reckon women with children swear just as much, if not more, than women without.

  To: Sophie

  From: Laura

  Subject: May kill sister any minute.

  Jess had a go at me this morning for not making her tea to the correct Pantone – it was like that scene in Zoolander where Will Ferrell throws latte in his assistant’s face because the milk is too frothy.

  Then this evening, she insisted on talking about my career. I told her I’m in the middle of writing the piece for Roger, and helping you out, but she pointed out that’s not the most convincing long-term plan . . . Then! While I was cleaning my teeth she sneaked into my room and left a huge presentation about the coffee industry on my pillow.

  And I’m not going to talk about him, but Jess and I did talk about him – and she said that men aren’t worth getting worked up over, which is easy to say from the shores of a secure marriage. She thinks you just have to flick a switch in your brain, on or off.

  And I am trying, Soph, I am. I’m trying to pretend he doesn’t exist. Most of the time I can push him out of my mind, but occasionally I’m hijacked by a thought of him – doing something mundane, like laundry, or cleaning his teeth. And when I think of him as a real person, very much alive and getting on with it – ouch – those thoughts make my heart hurt and I just have to sit and wait while the feeling passes, or at least gets dimmer.

  To: Sophie

  From: Laura

  Subject: Change of plans

  Filed copy yesterday and am waiting for Roger to come back to me.

  Am feeling rather lost. Strange – even though the girls are exhausting and quite naughty, and have to be nagged incessantly to tidy up after themselves, when I say goodbye to them every morning I miss them before they’re even through the school gates.

  Was meant to be coming back to London this Friday but have decided to stay out here another fortnight to hang out with them.

  To: Laura

  From: Sophie

  Subject: Weirdo

  It’s quite peculiar you’re so fond of those two little girls – I mean, it’s not like they’re your kids or anything, is it? When you write about them, it almost sounds like you love them . . .?

  To: Sophie

  From: Laura

  Subject:What?

  What do you mean?? Of course I love them!

  To: Laura

  From: Sophie

  Subject: Der!

  Oh, silly me. I thought you were incapable of loving a child that wasn’t your own . . .

  To: Sophie

  From: Laura

  Subject: Yeah, yeah, very good.

  Meanwhile, I took Dad for dinner last night to his favourite bistro (amazing creamy mash, and they serve chocolate mousse in a giant soup terrine – you’re allowed to help yourself, though if they catch a whiff of an English accent, they whip it away instantly). The food was amazing, but their coffee was crap. It got me thinking, and I’ve had an idea – I reckon it might be an OK one. In the last five
years there’s been a huge boom in restaurants in London, and also in specialty coffee – both have upped their games to New York standards, but the two aren’t aligned. So customers expect better coffee at cafés – but they don’t often see it on restaurant menus. Restaurant owners don’t invest in coffee because it can seem intimidating – but if someone could advise them, they could improve their coffee, charge a bit more, give the customer a better experience and everyone’s a winner, right?

  Freelance Coffee Consultant to the restaurant trade, three days a week. Jess is helping me with the numbers and it looks like there’s a real opportunity. You can earn decent money as a consultant. What do you think?

  To: Laura

  From: Sophie

  Subject: Love it

  It’s a great idea. (Would you still do one day a week with me – and Celina’s horror party?)

  To: Sophie

  From: Laura

  Subject: Breaking news . . .

  Of course I’ll help.

  Meanwhile, I have finally found a French woman with cellulite! – in the Jardin du Luxembourg. Admittedly she is a statue, but still – she’s called La Femme aux Pommes and the sign by her feet praises her ‘sensual grace’. Every time I look at her and feel as though I’m looking in a mirror, I think sensual grace and it makes me feel slightly better.

  To: Laura

  From: Roger

  Subject: Encore!

  Love the piece. We should think about syndicating it to food or travel mags internationally. Now pitch me some ideas for the rest of the year!

  To: Laura

  From: Sophie

  Subject: The one who cannot be named

  Are we really not allowed to talk about Adam? That’s a shame, because he emailed me yesterday. But presumably you wouldn’t want to hear anything about that . . .

  To: Sophie

  From: Laura

  Subject: re: WHAT?

  . . .

  To: Laura

  From: Sophie

  Subject: re: Yup!

  He said he was interested in doing a farmers’ market and could I give him some more info.

  To: Sophie

  From: Laura

  Subject: Oh

  How come he’s interested in doing a farmers’ market? Did he mention me at all?

  To: Laura

  From: Sophie

  Subject: re: Oh

  He asked if you were back yet. And he said to say hi. He used a standard font so I can’t read much more into it than that.

  Re: farmers’ markets – ask him yourself! I swear, the pair of you are as bad as each other.

  To: Sophie

  From: Laura

  Subject: Again, WHAT?

  Why do you say that? Did you speak to him about me?

  To: Laura

  From: Sophie

  Subject: Not in detail

  But I’m sure he’d appreciate you reaching out, that’s all.

  To: Adam

  From: Laura

  Subject: Hi

  I hope you’re well and that everything is calmer at work.

  All is fine in Paris. I am now a world expert on croissants – have eaten many you’d love (pain au chocolat with banana?) – but none quite as good as yours.

  How’s everything with Katie? How’s Josh?

  Are you thinking of doing a farmers’ market? Nothing to do with the restaurant, presumably?

  Let me know how you’re getting on.

  PS I miss you.

  To: Sophie

  From: Laura

  Subject: I feel sick

  Four days, no reply, nothing. Why do people nowadays think it’s perfectly acceptable behaviour to ignore an email? People you have been really quite intimate with?

  He told me he didn’t want to be friends – I shouldn’t have pestered him. I shouldn’t have told him I miss him.

  Four days ago I may have felt miserable and lonely, but at least I didn’t feel miserable and lonely and rejected and exposed.

  To: Laura

  From: Adam

  Subject: re: Hi

  Sorry for the late response – been unbelievably busy. So, I have some news . . . You’ll be pleased to hear I’ve handed in my notice. Speaking to Mum and my solicitor, if I’m going to make a decent case for any sort of part-time access to Josh, I’m going to have to dramatically rethink my set-up. I’ll never be able to do head chef hours and build a meaningful relationship with him. Or anyone else.

  Besides, not sure my soul would have survived much longer at LuxEris. I’ve been focusing my energies into savoury pastries – made one last week with white beans and rosemary, Italian style – you would have liked it.

  To: Adam

  From: Laura

  Subject: Wow!

  Congratulations – that’s fantastic news. They didn’t deserve someone as talented as you. What will you do instead? If you’re thinking of the Breakfast on a Bike idea, I could be your coffee consultant – I’d give you a mate’s rate – haha.

  That bakery with the banana pains au chocolat also sells delicious escargots – snail shape, not snail flavour. They do a fantastic strawberry one – if you’re not working and fancy popping over to Paris for a day trip, I could take you there?

  To: Laura

  From: Adam

  Subject: re: Wow!

  Strawberry snails – what a very Jonn idea. I’ll make sure not to mention it to him.

  Nice thought re: Paris, but I’m working out a month’s notice and getting my own stuff together in the few hours I can grab in between. Anyway, I wouldn’t feel right taking advantage of a mate’s rate – we’re not mates.

  Cheers.

  To: Sophie

  From: Laura

  Subject: Cheers?

  He leaves me with Cheers?

  And seriously, what is up with the bitchy point scoring? – We’re not mates. Yeah, well, next time I won’t bother trying to be friendly.

  To: Laura

  From: Sophie

  Subject: re: Cheers?

  You dumped him by email – you have no right to get the hump about any of this.

  And when he said ‘you’re not mates’ – don’t you think he might be holding out for more than mates??

  To: Sophie

  From: Laura

  Subject: Adam

  Right, so when you emailed Adam last week, did you tell him I’d be back this Friday?

  To: Laura

  From: Sophie

  Subject: re: Adam

  Yes, I told him – when I saw him – yesterday . . .

  To: Sophie

  From: Laura

  Subject: ?!?

  Oh, come on!

  To: Laura

  From: Sophie

  Subject: Yeah

  We had a quick coffee – he didn’t realise the farmers’ market was so competitive. I think he thought he could just turn up and get a stall, so he wanted to chat. Anyway, he did me a favour with the pecans, so I’ve offered to trial a couple of his flavours on the stand this Saturday – they’d better not outshine mine, though I guess they’re complementary.

  But why are you even asking about Adam? If it’s over it’s over . . .

  To: Sophie

  From: Laura

  Subject: Sophie!

  I’m just curious what he’s up to. It’s not like my feelings for him have stopped overnight. Anyway, I didn’t end it because I wanted to end it – I ended it because I had to.

  To: Laura

  From: Sophie

  Subject: Laura!

  Just get in a room with him and talk about it, for God’s sake – you’re both as stubborn as each other. Right – when exactly are you back?

  To: Sophie

  From: Laura

  Subject: Friday

  Train gets in at 10.35 p.m. on Thursday night so shall I pop in for breakfast Friday? No more croissants, no more toast, even. Grapefruit, every day for a month.

  To: Laura

  From: Sophie

  Subject: re: Fri
day

  I’m in Clerkenwell on Friday at lunch, looking at packaging for goody bags. (Seriously, it’s a ‘40th’ – the way Celina’s carrying on, it’s bigger than Kim and Kanye at Versailles.)

  Meet me at Fabrizio’s at 11 a.m. I haven’t been for ages, and I could do with pitching some new flavours to him. Why have I not done a dark chocolate espresso brownie before? Do you reckon he’d go for it?

  To: Sophie

  From: Laura

  Subject: re: Friday

  I’ll just see you in the flat, it’s easier.

  To: Laura

  From: Sophie

  Subject: Fabrizio’s!

  No can do – I’m at Borough first thing. See you at 11 a.m. at Fabrizio’s.

  To: Sophie

  From: Laura

  Subject: re: Fabrizio’s!

  Fine – I’ll bring you some Jean Clement praline millefeuilles – if I don’t eat them on the train.

  63

  Amber is asleep by the time I arrive back on Thursday to find my basil plant a month dead, shrivelled brown leaves curling on my window ledge. She’s been in my room, though, because she’s left a pastel-covered self-help book on my bed: Raging Angels – Silencing Your Inner Saboteur and Finding Compassion on the Road To Healing.

  I could probably write a self-help book myself now: The Paradox of Pastry on the Road To Recovery: How Stuffing your Face with Proper French Croissants Can Make You Feel Better – Yet Worse.

  At least Annalex is pleased to see me – you can see the delight in her eyes, aided by the velvet Alice band keeping the fur from her face. If this coffee consultancy works out, in six months’ time I might be earning enough to rent my own flat. It would be nice to have more toast in my life – more toast, more space. But poor Annalex might feel lonely without me – or perhaps the other way around.

  I give her a quick cuddle, chuck the basil plant in the bin, put Sophie’s pastries in the fridge and I’m asleep a moment after my head’s on the pillow.

  There’s a strange stillness in the flat when I wake the following morning. Amber must be out walking the dog. I lie for a minute, listening to the sound of my breathing. I forgot how quiet a home can be when you’re the only one in it. Outside it’s a grey, heavy sky – great British summertime. It was easier in Paris – a different country, another life. Two little faces every morning, sometimes covered in jam or Marmite – two faces that brought sunshine in, regardless of the weather.

  The thing to do when you’re feeling down is get straight out of bed and up to standing position before the sadness can creep under the covers with you. I take a quick shower, then search my wardrobe for something to cheer me up. My blue polka dot dress always does the trick. As I hold it up to the light I notice a tiny mark on the front – either from a potato scone or French toast – and a twinge of memory, of riding in a lift, sears up through my chest. I hang it back in the wardrobe and put on my jeans.