The Little Paris Patisserie

by Julie Caplin

  A division of HarperCollins Publishers

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  HarperImpulse

  an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018

  Copyright © Julie Caplin 2018

  Cover images © Shutterstock.com

  Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018

  Julie Caplin asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Source ISBN: 9780008259785

  Ebook Edition © September 2018 ISBN: 9780008259778

  Version: 2018-08-15

  For Alison, office bestie, unofficial cheerleader and all round wonderful egg.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  Bonus Material

  More From Julie Caplin

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  About HarperImpulse

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1

  Stamping her sore and tired feet on the gravelled surface to get some warmth into them, Nina looked at her phone for the ninety-fifth time in ten minutes, almost dropping it. Where the heck was Nick? Fifteen minutes late already and her fingers were about to snap off, adding to her general sense of misery. Standing here at the back entrance to the kitchens in the staff carpark, there was little protection from the biting wind whistling around the sandstone manor house and certainly none from the bleak thoughts in her head.

  ‘Hey Nina, are you sure you don’t want a lift?’ asked Marcela, one of the other waitresses, in her heavily accented voice, winding her car window down as she backed with some speed out of one of the spaces.

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s alright thanks. My brother’s on his way.’ At least he had better be. Nina wished she was in the little steamed up car with Marcela and the other two staff members, and almost laughed at the rather annoying irony. Mum had insisted Nick pick her up so that she’d know Nina was safe and here she was standing in a car park in the pitch black about to be completely on her own.

  ‘OK then. See you in eight weeks’ time.’

  ‘Ha!’ piped up a gloomy East European voice from the back seat – Tomas the sommelier, a perennial pessimist. ‘You think the builders finish on schedule.’

  A good-natured chorus shouted him down.

  ‘See you soon, Nina.’ They all waved and shouted their goodbyes, Marcela winding the window back up as the ancient Polo roared away, as if she couldn’t wait to escape the end of her shift and put up her feet. Which was exactly what Nina was hoping to do, if her brother ever got here.

  At last she spotted the headlights speeding down the drive towards her. This had to be Nick. Nearly everyone else had gone. With a speedy gravel-crunching turn, the car pulled to a halt in front of Nina.

  She yanked the door open.

  ‘Hi Sis. You been waiting long? Sorry, sheep emergency.’

  ‘Yes,’ snapped Nina, scrambling in grateful for the heat of the car. ‘It’s bloody freezing out there. I’ll be so glad when my car’s fixed.’

  ‘Tell me about it. It took me all the way here to thaw out. Bloody sheep. There was a ewe stuck in the wire fencing up on the moor road. I had to stop and help the stupid creature.’

  Was it really churlish to think that at least the sheep had a nice woolly coat while she was in a skirt and tights on a cold February evening?

  ‘So how was it? The last night,’ asked Nick, leaning down and turning the radio off, which had been blaring football commentary at full blast. ‘And did your mate get a good send off?’

  ‘Fine. Bit sad as we all won’t see each other for a while due to the renovations. And Sukie will be in New York.’

  ‘New York. That’s a bit of a change.’

  ‘She’s a brilliant chef. Going places.’

  ‘Clearly. To New York. And what’s everyone else doing?’

  ‘The regular staff are being redeployed and having lots of training.’

  ‘Seems a bit unfair. Why not you?’

  ‘Because I’m on a casual contract, I guess.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure we can find you a few extra hours at the farm shop as well as in the café. And Dan can give you a bit of work at the brewery. Gail’s sister might pay you for some babysitting and George can ask in the petrol station, they’re always needing extra staff. Although that’s late hours, so possibly not.’

  Nina closed her eyes. She was absolutely certain that everyone in the family would pitch in to find something for ‘poor Nina’ to do while Bodenbroke Manor Restaurant was closed for refurbishment, whether she liked it or not. It wasn’t that she was ungrateful, they all meant well, but she was a grown up, she was quite capable of finding work without the vast tentacles of her family network spreading their reach on her behalf. She loved her family to bits, she really did but…

  ‘What’s with the huffing and puffing?’ asked Nick, turning his head to look her way.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Nina, closing her eyes. ‘Holy moly, I’m tired. My feet feel like they’ve been stomped on by a dozen elephants.’

  ‘Wuss,’ teased Nick.

  ‘I’ve been on the go since nine o’clock this morning,’ said Nina. ‘And the restaurant was rammed. I didn’t even get lunch.’

  ‘That’s not on. You should say something.’

  ‘It’s not that easy. Everyone’s busy. There wasn’t time for a proper break.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t eaten anything today?’

  Nina shrugged. She’d rushed out without breakfast, much to her mother’s consternation. ‘A little.’ Her stomach rumbled rather inconveniently at the very moment as if to dispute her answer. Clearly it didn’t think that a bread roll and a slice of cheese constituted enough.


  Nick frowned heavily. ‘Even so. Do you want me to say something to the manager, when they re-open?’

  ‘No, it’s fine. We’ll be having dinner when we get home.’

  ‘Well, it isn’t—’

  ‘You don’t work there, you don’t understand.’ Nina’s voice rose in heat. Typical Nick, assuming that he knew best.

  ‘I don’t need to understand. There are labour laws. You’re entitled to breaks. It’s—’

  Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the timely horn fanfare ringtone of his phone booming out through the radio on his handsfree set up.

  ‘Nick Hadley,’ he said pressing the ‘accept call’ button on the dashboard.

  Nina slumped back in her chair, relieved at the interruption; it gave her the perfect opportunity to close her eyes, tune out and pretend to doze for the rest of the way home.

  ‘Hey Shep, how’re the socks?’ Nina tensed, every sinew locking into place at the sound of a familiar mocking voice. Her brother was often referred to as Shep, short for shepherd, by his friends who seemed obsessed with their childhood version of the carol, ‘While shepherds washed their socks by night’.

  ‘All good. How are you, Knifeman? Still supporting that shite excuse for a rugby team?’ And apparently Knifeman was the not-so clever nickname for a chef. An arrogant, supercilious, one at that.

  ‘No words, mate. They were a bloody useless against France. And I paid good money for tickets.’

  ‘What, you went to Stade de France? You jammy git.’

  ‘Not so jammy when the buggers lost.’

  ‘Fancy coming over for the Calcutta Cup? You don’t want to be too long in France. You might pick up some bad habits.’

  ‘Slight problem there.’

  ‘What?’ asked Nick.

  ‘I’m laid up. That’s why I’m ringing you.’

  Nina pressed her lips together in what some might call a snarky smile. Sebastian clearly had no idea she was there, and she didn’t want him to either. Listening to this ridiculous conversation, no one would ever know they were grown men rather than a pair of adolescents, which would be the obvious inference. She definitely did not want to remember Sebastian as a teenager or how she’d made a complete dick of herself over him. Unfortunately having a teenage crush on your brother’s best friend was possibly the worst thing you could do because ten years on, even now, someone in the family would still occasionally bring it up.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I’ve only gone and broken my leg.’

  ‘Shit, man, when?’

  ‘A couple of days ago. Taken out by one of those bloody cabin bag pull-along fuckers. Twisted as I fell.’

  ‘Ouch. You OK?’

  ‘No,’ Sebastian growled. ‘Everything’s gone tits up. Turns out one of the new places I bought in Paris has a metaphorical sitting tenant. The previous owner ran pastry courses and forgot to tell me that there’s a seven-week course coming up that’s all booked and paid for.’

  ‘Can’t you cancel?’ asked Nick, flicking the indicator and turning the car off the main road towards the village.

  ‘Unfortunately, I committed to it. I thought I might as well because I can get my French contractors to start work on the other two places first and they’ll take a couple of months, so I might as well keep this going. Which would have been fine if I hadn’t broken my sodding leg.’

  In the darkness, Nina pressed her lips together. She wouldn’t normally wish misfortune on anyone but somehow Sebastian just irked her. It wasn’t his success she begrudged, Lord knew he’d worked hard enough to become a top chef with a small restaurant chain of his own. Too hard, if you asked her. No, it was his superior, dismissive attitude. Over the last ten years, whenever she’d seen him, she’d always managed to appear at a disadvantage. And the last time had been truly mortifying.

  ‘Can’t you get someone else to do it?’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m going to find anyone at such short notice. The course starts next week. Besides, all I need is a spare pair of legs for the next few weeks. Until I get this cast off.’

  ‘Nina could help. She’s just been laid off at the restaurant she works at.’

  Nina shot up in her seat, narrowing her eyes at her impossibly stupid brother. Had he had a brain fart or something? Seeing the movement in the car, Nick turned and she saw the flash of his teeth in the dark as he gave her a great big grin.

  ‘With respect Nick, your sister is the last person in the world I’d want helping me.’

  Nick’s grin faded. There was a lengthening silence in the car.

  Then Sebastian muttered, ‘Oh shit, she’s there, isn’t she?’

  With an icy smile, Nina drew herself up. ‘Oh shit, indeed. But don’t worry, with respect Sebastian, castrating the lambs on the farm with my own teeth would be preferable to helping you out.’

  With that, she leaned forward and disconnected the call.

  Chapter 2

  The family kitchen was a hive of activity and her mother was bustling about with hands in floral oven gloves, the big kitchen table laid for eight and several pans steaming and bubbling on the big range oven.

  ‘Nina, Nick. Just in time.’

  ‘Something smells good,’ said Nick chucking his car keys on the dresser to join the assorted detritus that seemed to collect there on a daily basis, no matter how often their mother tidied up. Despite all four of her grown up sons having left home in varying degrees they continued to treat the kitchen as their own, which Nina’s mother just adored. None of her offspring had strayed very far. Nick, older than her by two years, lived in the farm cottage across the courtyard and helped Dad with the farm and the sheep. Still single, he seemed in no hurry to find a wife and was taking his time checking out potential candidates.

  ‘Sit down. You must be starving. Where are Dan and Gail? They’d said they’d be here five minutes ago.’

  ‘Mum, it’s Dan. It’s guaranteed he’ll be late for his own funeral,’ said Nick, giving her a quick peck on the cheek as he unwound his scarf.

  ‘Don’t talk about things like that,’ she shuddered. ‘They were very busy in the brewery and the farm shop today. Had a coachload in from North Wales. Poor Cath.’ Nina’s mother, Lynda, shot a sympathetic look at Nina’s sister-in-law sitting down at the table slumped over an empty cup of coffee. Cath, who was married to her second oldest brother Jonathon, one of twins, lifted her blonde head and gave Nina a pathetic little wave.

  ‘It was mental. We ran out of scones and coffee and walnut cake. Honestly those OAPs are like locusts. You’d think they hadn’t had a square meal for days. The cupboards are bare.’

  Her mother gave Nina a worried half-smile.

  Nina groaned as she slipped off her coat. ‘Don’t worry, as soon as I’ve had dinner I can knock up a batch of scones and make a quick cake. I can do the buttercream in the morning.’

  ‘Oh darling, you’ve just got in from work. You must be shattered. I’m sure Cath can manage for a day.’

  Nina caught Cath’s quick eye-roll. ‘Mum, it won’t take long.’

  ‘If you’re sure, dear.’

  Thankfully, her eldest, by five minutes, brother Dan came barrelling into the kitchen pulling his wife Gail along by her hand, the door swinging wildly on its hinges as the two of them came in giggling.

  ‘Hi guys, the favourite child is here,’ boomed Dan. His wife gave him a quick poke in the ribs.

  Suddenly the noise in the kitchen increased tenfold as Jonathon and her father appeared from the hallway. Chairs scraped on the flagstone floor, beer bottles chinked as a handful were retrieved from the fridge, the crown caps dispatched quickly with a firm flip to rattle on the side, while Dad set to work with a corkscrew and there was the satisfying pop of a bottle of red wine being uncorked. Seamlessly, everyone took their seats, a variety of conversations erupting around the table. Nina slipped into her place, next to her mum at the head of the table.

  ‘Are you sure you’re alright to make the cakes? I co
uld get up early and make a batch of scones to tide Cath over.’

  ‘Mum, its fine honestly.’ She’d caught the quick look exchanged by her sisters-in-law and then Gail had winked at her. ‘Once I’ve had dinner, I’ll get my second wind.’ It was only a couple of cakes for goodness’ sake – and it would give her an excellent excuse to escape the usual bedlam here and have some peace and quiet in her own little flat over the old stable block, without anyone worrying about her being on her own.

  Her mum firmed her lips and turned her attention to the casserole dishes on the table.

  ‘Jonathon, you’re dripping that spoon everywhere.’

  ‘Oh Jonathon!’ chorused Dan, immediately taking the opportunity to tease his twin. The rest of the male contingent joined in.

  ‘Dan, don’t you want more than that?’

  ‘See, favourite child.’ Jonathon pointed his spoon at his brother, quickly remonstrated by his wife.

  As always, it was like feeding time at the zoo but Nina was relieved that the attention had moved away from her. She managed to stay under the radar until the very last scrapings of the large casserole dish on the table while Dan and Jonathon bickered over who was going to get the last piece of lamb.

  ‘So what’s happening with this car of yours, lovie?’ her dad asked.

  ‘It’s still in the garage. They couldn’t get the part but they’re hoping it will be in tomorrow.’

  ‘It’s going to take more than a part to fix that thing.’ Her mum shuddered. ‘It’s a death trap.’

  Nina muttered under her breath, but no one heard her because they’d already pitched in with their own views on her car. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her little Fiat.