by Julie Caplin
Mid clean up, her phone rang.
‘I need you to check we have sugar thermometers and that they all work.’
‘Sorry? Good morning Sebastian, how are you? How’s the leg?’
He huffed down the phone. ‘Sugar thermometers. Can you look for them? Ideally, we want digital ones, they’re easier to use.’
‘I don’t remember seeing any.’ Not that she had the first clue what she was looking for.
‘We’re making macarons and it’s essential that the sugar syrup is exactly the right temperature. If you can’t find any, you’re going to have to go and buy some.’
‘Right. Because I’ve got time to do that. The course is tomorrow.’
‘You’ve got all afternoon or did you have other plans? Funny I thought you were working for me.’
‘It’s going to take me ages to clean up the kitchen before I even start preparing for tomorrow,’ she said, looking at the state of the benches covered in flour and cream after all her experimenting.
‘Why?’
She bit her lip. Oops. Of course, he had no idea that the sink was piled with pans and bowls or that there were a dozen empty egg shells strewn across the top. Making choux was a messy business, especially when you didn’t have a personal tidy upper to swan around after you.
‘Y – you know. I thought I’d pop in and give it a good spring clean.’
‘Well, now you don’t have to, you can go sugar thermometer shopping. I’ll see you in the morning.’
Before she had a chance to say anything, he’d snapped off the call.
‘Miserable pig,’ she muttered to herself.
Chapter 18
The door opened with a crash and then a bang and then the rattle of falling crutches. Nina hurried over to find Sebastian hanging onto the doorframe, his laptop bag slung across his chest and his crutches at his feet.
‘Bastard things,’ he growled, hopping through the door and immediately leaning against the nearest bench. ‘Can you pick up my crutches for me?’
‘Good morning, Sebastian,’ she trilled, deliberately chirpy – and received a scowl for her trouble. Urgh, it was going to be one of those days, was it? She scooped up the crutches and handed them to him.
‘Nina,’ he grunted back, settling his arms into them and swinging forward to the front of the kitchen. ‘Have you got everything ready? The eggs separated. The ingredients weighed out. Sugar and water in the pan.’
‘Yes,’ she ground out, tempted to add, I can read, you know. Instead she said, ‘I’ve done everything that was on the list.’ She glanced around the kitchen. He was earlier than she’d expected but Nina was confident that she’d hidden all trace of her endeavours over the last few days. Somehow, she just felt that it would be another thing for him to disapprove of and she wasn’t sure her various éclairs would pass muster by his professional standards.
Without another word he hauled his laptop over his head and dumped it before inspecting the benches, which Nina had laid out in readiness.
‘You got some, then,’ he said inclining his head towards the newly purchased sugar thermometers. ‘Digital. Well done.’
Not a word of thanks, of course. Instead, he stumped around the kitchen like a territorial dog, checking that each preparation area had been laid out to his liking. It was impossible for him not to tweak the angle of a wooden spoon or to line up a knife in parallel with a whisk. Talk about anal.
‘It’s nearly nine-thirty. Don’t you think you ought to go and check on today’s guests? Make sure they’re all here. I don’t want any complaints about anyone not getting their money’s worth.’
‘They’re all lovely, I can’t imagine any of them would do that.’ Nina’s quick defence brought a sudden frown to his face. She wheeled around and left the cold kitchen.
Immediately she was struck by the warmth and chatter of the patisserie as she walked towards the front of the shop.
Everyone was talking away to each other, like old friends, most of the conversation focussing on the dramatic difference that Marcel had wrought with the move around of the fittings.
‘It looks so much better,’ enthused Maddie.
‘Yes,’ said Marcel, without any trace of false modesty. ‘And it will look even better when I have moved the coffee machine as well.’
‘Big job,’ said Bill.
‘Exactement.’ A smile hovered around Marcel’s mouth as he gave Peter and Bill a rather direct look.
‘And you’d like us to help,’ said Peter.
Marcel nodded.
‘At lunchtime, if you can, or the end of the day.’
‘What made you move things around?’ asked Maddie.
Marcel shot Nina a look and she gave him a tiny shake of her head. She didn’t want this getting back to Sebastian. What he didn’t know wouldn’t harm him and it was only going to be for a couple of weeks.
She was actually rather proud of the fact that when Marcel had put her éclairs in the window they had sold out.
Conscious of the clock ticking and Sebastian’s uncertain temper, Nina decided to round everyone up and herd them towards the kitchen.
Everyone moved straight to what had now become their places in the U-shaped arrangement facing Sebastian who was seated at the front with his laptop open and a notebook at one side.
‘Good morning, everyone. Good to see you all again. This week we are going to learn to make a French classic.’ He paused for a moment as if any moment now a drum roll would follow. ‘Macarons. They’ve been a French classic since they were made popular by the famous patisserie Ladurée in the mid-nineteenth century. You will often see pyramids of them in the windows of luxury patisseries in Paris. They are not too difficult to make—’
‘Easy for you to say that,’ interrupted Maddie with a flirtatious smile.
‘—as long as you follow the golden rules of patisserie, that exact science.’ Sebastian continued his spiel without so much as a bump in the road but he flashed Maddie a broad, playful grin. Nina felt her pulse do a little hiccough. The Sebastian she remembered. It was followed by a painful pang of regret. It was a long time since she’d seen that open, easy expression on his face when she was around. These days the smiles she got were miserly, pinched jobs as if he were holding on to them in case one got away and she took it the wrong way.
It hurt, she realised. This treading on eggshells around each other. For God’s sake, when was he going to realise that it was nearly ten years ago? She wasn’t that teenager anymore. Had she made a terrible mistake coming out here? Had she been less than honest with herself? In that second, she knew she had. She wanted to redeem herself with Sebastian, show him that she didn’t have feelings for him and that they could be friends. And now she wasn’t sure if they could even do that.
‘And with science, a gadget always helps.’ Sebastian held up one of the new sugar thermometers. ‘Anyone know what this is?’
‘I’m not sure I want to know, mate,’ piped up Bill, with a dramatic wince.
Everyone laughed, including Sebastian. ‘Well, if I get less than perfection from you today, you could find out! Being serious, it’s a digital thermometer and for this recipe today, it’s very important. Making macarons relies on making a sugar syrup by boiling sugar and water together. It needs to reach exactly 114 degrees.’
Again, Nina wondered who had discovered that. Had there been a laboratory of scientists beavering away to discover the alchemical mysteries of sugar? She envisioned them making endless batches of macarons, checking and measuring the temperature. What sort of barrage of scientific tests would have been done or would they have relied on a simple tas—
‘Nina!’
She realised everyone in the class was looking at her.
‘Sorry. Miles away.’
Sebastian pursed his lips in disapproval. Just what was his problem! She felt her nails dig into her palms. No one else ever made her feel quite so cross inside.
‘Would you mind weighing the egg whites? While Nina’s doing
that, can you all start weighing out your other ingredients. And for this recipe we’re very precise about the measurements so we do weigh everything.’
Once everyone had done that, he invited them all back to watch as Nina started whisking the egg whites. ‘They need to be whipped enough so that you can pull them into soft peaks. If you whisk too much, the egg whites start to collapse. One way of knowing if the egg whites are ready is if they stay put when you tip the bowl. While Nina is doing that I’m going to put the water and the sugar onto boil.’
Nina carried on with the handheld beater until Sebastian raised a hand to halt her to show everyone what the mix should look like. He got her to drift a fork in to raise a soft peak.
Sebastian gave her the thermometer. ‘You need to be very careful you don’t splash yourself as this can give you a very nasty burn. Now for this next bit, unless you have a fixed mixer like a Kenwood or a KitchenAid, you’re going to need a bit of teamwork. You need to beat the mixture as you pour in the hot syrup, pouring it down the side of the bowl and not directly onto the beaters.’
Nina switched the beaters down a notch and held her hand steady as he poured the hot mix in.
‘Now you’ll see the mixture start to become a little glossy and a bit stiffer.’
‘Gosh, you made that look so easy,’ said Jane.
‘It is easy if you know what you’re doing,’ said Sebastian, flashing another easy smile at her wide-eyed admiration. ‘Now it’s your turn.’
‘Mmm, that’s what I was worried about,’ she laughed. ‘Peter, you can be in charge of the mixing.’
‘Chicken,’ he teased.
Their banter seemed to ripple out through the room. Bill and Maddie were already taking the piss out of each other and Marguerite had teamed up with Jane and Peter. They all seemed to be getting on beautifully. That just left her and Sebastian, who was still treating her with stiff formality, which was ironic given they’d known each other at least five times longer than anyone else in the room.
As soon as they broke for lunch, Marcel commandeered Peter and Bill to move the coffee machine, so that it was now back behind the counter which had been moved so that the end cabinet was in the window. The change made the patisserie feel a little cosier and left one long wall exposed.
‘What’s this? asked Peter, pointing to a patch of wall where the panelling didn’t quite meet.
Marcel gave one of his shrugs. ‘The old décor, I believe. Once, the walls were all hand-painted,’ he said with a twist to his mouth.
‘I remember,’ said Marguerite. ‘Wasn’t it Neptune’s World, where the sea and the sky met. Very detailed and pretty. But that was a long time ago.’
‘They probably put the panels over the top to hide the wear and tear,’ said Peter knowledgeably. ‘A quick decorating fix rather than get someone in to repaint it.’
‘It’s a shame,’ said Jane.
‘It is, as it was once rather beautiful in here,’ agreed Marguerite.
‘Personally, I think the outside could do with a good lick of paint,’ said Bill. ‘It wouldn’t take much. A day or two’s hard work at the most.’
‘I don’t know what Sebastian’s plans are,’ said Nina, ‘but—’
‘Well, he’s going to have to do something with the outside,’ said Maddie. ‘And you’ve still got paying customers at the moment.’
‘More customers,’ said Marcel. ‘The Americans come back every day and they brought friends. Word is spreading about Nina’s éclairs.’
‘Maybe we could paint the outside one weekend,’ said Bill. ‘I’ve got some mates coming to stay soon. It would give the lads something to do.’
‘They’re coming to Paris and you want them to do DIY.’ Nina laughed. ‘Seriously.’
‘Nina, love. They’re not the museum and art gallery type. They’re coming for the craic and cheap booze and a free floor to sleep on.’
‘Well, it’s very kind of you but I don’t think—
‘That’s a great idea,’ said Maddie. ‘I’m free most weekends. I’d love to help. Any of them single?’
Bill gave her a grin. ‘Don’t tell me a gorgeous girl like you doesn’t have a fella?’
Maddie grinned back and indicated her curvy body. ‘I know, shocking isn’t it, when I’m a goddess.’
‘Don’t do yourself down, love. You look grand just as you are.’
‘That would be excellent,’ said Marcel, quickly turning the subject back to the painting, snatching at the opportunity before it was completely side-tracked. ‘The place needs some love.’
‘But we can’t,’ said Nina, feeling that things were spiralling out of control before her very eyes. ‘Not without Sebastian’s permission – besides he’s planning a refurbishment in a few months, so it will be a complete waste of time.’ Given the mood boards she’d seen for his projects, she was guessing that the interior would be undergoing a complete revamp to create the kind of sophisticated décor that Sebastian was aiming for but she hadn’t seen any plans for the exterior.
‘So he won’t mind,’ said Maddie. ‘If he’s planning to change it anyway, he’s not going to worry.’
‘But … but who will pay for the paint? I can’t ask Sebastian.’
‘The éclair money,’ said Marcel, triumphantly waving a jar of Euros.
‘What?’
‘I’ve been keeping the money separately. We can use it for the materials.’
‘Great!’ chorused Bill and Maddie, fist bumping each other.
‘No. We. Can’t,’ said Nina with a touch of desperation. ‘It’s still Sebastian’s money, he paid for the ingredients.’
‘So take that out,’ suggested Peter. ‘Although what about your labour? Is he paying you for that?’
‘Sort of.’
‘He’s paying you full time?’
‘Ah…’ Nina stuttered to a halt. Sebastian was paying her for two days a week. She’d definitely done more than that, although she was benefiting by practising her skills. And maybe the patisserie deserved to go out in a blaze of glory.
‘Exactly!’
By the end of lunch there was an air of suppressed excitement. Operation Éclair had been agreed with Bill as self-appointed foreman.
‘Me-an-the-lads can get here early. Me-an-the-lads can strip the paint. Me-an-the-lads can sand. Then we’ll need to prime the wood.’ He opened his mouth to draw breath again and everyone joined in. ‘Me-and-the-lads.’ He stopped and grinned. ‘They’re grand lads. From my old unit. Salt of the earth and good workers. And when we’ve done all the hard work, you lot can set to with paintbrushes.’
Even Marguerite was planning to come along as provisions supplier. Jane and Peter had plans for the Sunday but would help on Saturday.
‘And I can help direct everyone,’ said Maddie. ‘I’ve got the bossy credentials.’
Bill and Peter folded their arms in united scepticism.
‘Some men like to be told what to do,’ said Jane, with a teasing glint in her eye.
‘And some don’t,’ Peter mock growled back.
When Nina nipped back to the kitchen ahead of the others to warn Sebastian of their imminent return, he was on his mobile, his laptop set up in front of him. ‘I don’t care, Patrice, it has to be done this Friday. The cookers are arriving on Monday and the electricians need to have got all the wiring done.’
He looked up and checked his watch, his mouth firming in a line of frustration. ‘I gotta go. I’m teaching this bloody course. I’ll speak to you later but make sure those electricians realise they’re not getting paid if the work isn’t done in time for the cooker’s arrival.’
He snapped off his phone and put it down, his gaze coming to rest on Nina.
‘Bloody course,’ echoed Nina.
He didn’t answer.
‘Really?’
Sebastian sighed. ‘What do you want me to say? It’s not as if I object to any of them but I’m only running it to fulfil the terms of the sale. I really don’t have time for it, I could
be doing a hundred other things.’
‘They all have a reason to be here. You should respect that.’
‘I do respect it.’
‘So you should be making a bit more of an attempt to teach them.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Macarons. There are hundreds of flavours and colours. What are you doing?’
For a second, Sebastian looked hunted and she knew she’d got him. Since she’d been to Marguerite’s, she’d been busy researching patisserie online. Macarons were big news in Paris.
His body language told her everything she needed to know although to be honest she’d know him long enough to know that he already knew he was taking a shortcut.
‘I’m teaching them the basics. Patisserie takes years of training. No one is ever going to be an expert after seven weeks.’
‘Yes, but you’re not making any effort to show off or show them what could be achieved, are you?’
Sebastian looked mulish.
‘Are you?’ It made a change for her to feel that she was the one in the right and she pressed her advantage. ‘You didn’t ask me to buy any special colourings or flavourings.’
‘I don’t need to. I’m teaching them how to make macarons. What more do you want?’
‘I want you to put some effort in. They’re good people. You’re short changing them. Plain macarons with vanilla buttercream isn’t that adventurous.’
‘If they wanted adventure they’d be kayaking down the Amazon or hiking up to Machu Picchu,’ retorted Sebastian.
‘Or you could show them how to include raspberry coulis to make rich pink-coloured macarons – or yuzu-flavoured cream. The possibilities are endless.’
‘That’s not why they’re here.’
Nina looked up sharply at him, surprised. She knew that, but did he? Everyone in the group was looking for something.
‘So why are they?’ she challenged him.
‘To learn to cook the basics.’
He hadn’t seen beneath the surface, that nearly all of them were looking to reconnect with their lives in some way.
‘But you could inspire them, inspire them to achieve so much more.’
