by Julie Caplin
‘I have my uses. Now, instead of these sophisticated Parisians thinking you’re a greedy wee piglet, they’ll just think you’ve been led astray by the strapping Scottish lad.’
‘I’ll need to go for a long walk after this to burn off the gazillion calories.’
‘I don’t think you need to worry but I’ll happily walk you home. We could walk down through Place de la Concorde, cross the river over the Pont de la Concorde and down past the Palais Bourbon into the 7th arrondissement?’
‘That sounds perfect.’
On second perusal of the menu, she was torn between the pistachio religieuse or the rose Saint-Honoré.
‘I can’t decide.’ She pulled a mournful face which made Alex laugh. ‘I need to go to the loo. And as you think it’s so funny, I’ll leave the decision with you. Both will be delicious but you can choose for me.’
When she returned Alex had an I’m-about-to-burst-with-a-secret expression on his face.
‘What?’ asked Nina, narrowing her eyes. He looked like he was up to no good.
‘Nothing.’ The saucer-like eyes didn’t make him look any more innocent.
‘So, what did you order me?’ she asked and then with a sudden afterthought added, ‘Please tell me you didn’t order both.’
‘Wait and see,’ said Alex, with a mischievous, infectious grin.
She laughed, realising that he probably had.
‘The responsibility was too much for me.’
A few minutes later a waiter appeared carrying a small table and behind him, two waiters with a tray each. There was a polite to-and-fro dance as the new table was set up and the waiters proceeded to unload ten plates from the trays.
‘Alex! You didn’t.’ Nina started to laugh at the sight of so many of the colourful pastries, the pale green of the pistachio icing of the two-tiered religieuse, the vivid pink of the glorious Ispahan, a raspberry macaron filled with rose cream and topped with deep red rose petals and the glistening caramel glaze of a rum baba. Extravagant swirls of cream rubbed shoulders with delicate peaks of meringue. ‘You’ve ordered one of everything!’
Alex beamed, delighted with himself. ‘I figured what we can’t eat we can always take away with us.’
‘You … idiot!’ She giggled. It was ridiculously indulgent but totally glorious and spontaneous. ‘But I love it. It all looks heavenly … and almost too good to eat.’
They took their time, and it felt terribly decadent, taking a forkful of this and a taste of that but luckily the pastries weren’t huge. She was just savouring her second bite of the vanilla mille-feuille, almost sighing with pleasure, when her phone rang, loud and shrill in the quiet, demure atmosphere.
Alex laughed at her as she scrabbled with the mute button.
‘Embarrassing,’ said Nina glancing at the screen. ‘Oh, it’s Sebastian, I wonder what he wants. I’ll call him later.’
‘Well, I hope he’s in a better mood. He was foul this morning when I popped in.’
‘Maybe he’s still in pain.’ Although now he was taking his painkillers properly, because she’d nagged him, he seemed a lot better if still grumpy.
‘No, he’s bored. Wanted me to take him out somewhere today. Was well pissed off when I said I couldn’t because I was taking you out. Poor bugger is bored rigid.’
Nina glanced up sharply.
‘I suppose I should have been a bit more sympathetic, he’s been cooped up in there for days. I’d be going bonkers. Maybe I’ll take the poor sod down to the bar later. A change of scene might cheer him up.’
Five minutes later, Alex’s phone rang.
‘Oh balls, do you mind if I take this. Downside of being GM, you’re pretty much always on call.’
It was funny; almost before her eyes, Alex straightened up and turned back into general manager mode. Again, it reminded of her brothers Nick and Toby who both joked about perpetually at home but in a work situation were totally responsible and sensible.
‘Bollocks. If he’s really kicking up that much of a stink, try offering him the presidential suite. Otherwise he’ll have to wait a couple of hours to check in and we’ll have to move Sebastian and get housekeeping to clean the room pronto. That’s what I thought. I’ll be there soon.’
‘Damn.’ He removed his phone from his ear glaring at it with a thorough look of dislike. ‘I’m sure life was better without these things.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Duty calls, I’m afraid. An irate customer who booked the suite Sebastian is in for his anniversary. I need to go back to calm him down and see if an upgrade will placate him, otherwise I’ll have to move Seb. It’s one thing to put your friend up but another thing to ask the staff to start packing for him.’
As they left the patisserie – having had quite a battle over the bill, which to Nina’s dismay Alex had won saying she could pay next time – he gave her a kiss on the cheek, hopeful eyes meeting hers. ‘It’s been great, Nina, and I’m really sorry to cut and run. I’d like to—’
Much to her relief, his phone beeped again.
‘I’ve got to go, I’ll call you.’ With a last quick kiss, he grazed her lips before raising a hand in salute and dashing off.
Nina took her time ambling down to the Pont de la Concorde tipping her face up to the sunshine and trying not to think what she was going to say next time Alex called. What was wrong with her? He was lovely, how could a man who bought an entire shelf of cakes just for her not be right? But he didn’t give her goose bumps or that stomach-in-freefall-after-a-dip-in-the-road feeling. Was that important? Shouldn’t being with a nice guy, who made you laugh and looked after you, be enough? Cross with herself, she wandered over the bridge where people lined the low balustrade taking photos and she stopped to look at the broad expanse of river, gazing down at the houseboats and the barges below as they slid slowly and languorously along the surface of the water. Their paths looked serene and uncomplicated. Why wasn’t life that simple? Amused by one of the boats sliding beneath the bridge, which bizarrely had a small car on the back upper deck, she took a quick picture, knowing it would appeal to Jonathon’s sense of the ridiculous and unusual. As she sent him the picture on WhatsApp, her phone buzzed into life and she very nearly dropped it into the river.
Typical. It was Sebastian. Feeling out of sorts, she answered with ill grace.
‘Hi.’
‘Hi, Nina.’ There was a pause. What did he want now?
‘I’m … erm, just checking that you … haven’t got any queries for our next session.’
Nina frowned. What? She held the phone away from her, giving it a quizzical look.
‘Nina? Are you still there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where are you? Sounds noisy.’ There were a group of loud teenagers to her right, shouting and messing about, and a tour guide talking in a loud American accent to a group of middle aged tourists.
‘I’m on a bridge looking down at the Seine,’ she answered, watching the barge with the car chug away disappearing under the next bridge straddling the river.
‘Romantic,’ he said, with a definite edge to his voice.
‘Not particularly. I’m surrounded by tourists and I’m on the phone to my boss.’
‘I’m sure Alex is looking after you.’
‘He’s hot footing it back to the hotel to stop you being evicted from your suite by a rather irate customer.’
‘He is?’ Sebastian sounded pleased.
‘Feeling lonely?’ asked Nina.
‘No.’
Nina quirked an eyebrow even though he couldn’t see it. Someone sounded a touch defensive.
‘So, what are you up to?’
‘I’m just headed back to your apartment. Walking. I love walking through Paris. I really feel I’ve got my bearings now.’
‘And is everything alright? Finding everything in the apartment?’
‘Do you not think it’s a bit late to be asking that? I’ve been here for several weeks,’ said Nina, slightly bemused by his uncharacteristic wooliness.
‘Yes. Sebastian. This is the fifth one, I think I’ve got the hang of it now.’
‘And we’re doing sugar craft, remember.’
Nina frowned, completely puzzled by the conversation. ‘Nothing wrong with my memory or your lists Sebastian.’
‘I’m just checking.’
‘Right.’ She leaned against the parapet, now amused. ‘I’m really looking forward to that. You can do amazing things with spun sugar. That will be fun,’ she said with genuine enthusiasm. ‘Everyone’s really enjoying the course. Have you ever thought about keeping the patisserie open?’
‘No.’
‘Apparently back in the day, it was quite famous. Both Marguerite and Marcel remember when it was something really quite special.’
‘Back in the day so was George Best, but times move on. It’s old news. Sad and tired. Nothing short of a miracle is going to make that place look any better.’
‘But if you could make it look better …’
Sebastian snorted. ‘With respect Nina, I’ve been working in the business for the last fifteen years, I think I probably have considerably more expertise in these matters than you.’ He didn’t say it but she could almost hear the words … and you didn’t even manage a full term at catering college.
‘So have you seen any of the sights?’ he asked suddenly.
‘Pardon?’ The complete about-turn of the conversation made her stop dead on the pavement, eliciting a series of tuts from the people behind her.
Nina frowned again and started walking. Now this was odd. Sebastian making small talk. What was wrong with him? ‘No, but I’ve arranged to go to the Musée d’Orsay with Maddie tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ he echoed. ‘Oh. That sounds nice. I’ve not been there.’ Did he sound envious?
‘Right then. I’ll see you next week.’
‘Erm, Nina,’ he started again. ‘Actually I … need some stuff from my flat. I wonder if you would mind bringing it over.’
‘Yeah sure, but it will have to be the day after tomorrow.’
‘That would be OK. And maybe we could go out for lunch or something.’
‘What do you need?’
‘Erm… er … a book. Yes, my book. The one I was reading. It might be on the … er … coffee table.’
‘That’s it?’ That was all he wanted?
‘Yes.’
‘There’s a book by … the bed.’ Thank goodness he couldn’t see her turning bright red, as she very nearly said our bed.
‘Yes, that one,’ said Sebastian just a shade too quickly. Nina frowned. Did he even know the title of the book or what it was about? If it had been her or her bookworm mother, she’d have asked for the book on the very first day.
Suddenly the penny dropped. Was Sebastian feeling bored? She could bet her last penny that he had no idea what the book was called or what it was about.
‘The thriller?’
‘Yes.’
‘Enjoying it, were you?’ asked Nina, amused to have the upper hand for once with Sebastian.
‘Yes, it’s very good.’
‘What’s it about?’
‘Nina, I don’t have time for this. If you could bring it over, that would be great.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Just the book. About lunchtime?’
‘I’ll see if I can squeeze it in,’ said Nina, enjoying herself now.
‘So I’ll see you at twelve?’
Was that a hint of desperation in his voice?
‘I’ll see you then.’
‘Thanks. Bye.’
And suddenly he was gone, leaving Nina totally bemused. Presumably during the day his girlfriend and other friends would all be working, if they weren’t in the hospitality trade. Clearly, he was so bored even her company would do.
Chapter 22
She eyed the thriller on the bedside table, still pondering Sebastian’s odd phone call from the day before. Stretching, she got out of bed quickly. She was meeting Maddie later that morning to go to the museum but ever since she’d been to Ladurée yesterday, something aside from Sebastian’s call had been nagging at her. Before she left the apartment, she hunted down a few tools she’d spotted in one of the cupboards and set off to the patisserie.
‘Bonjour Marcel,’ she called as she walked through the door. The patisserie was empty this morning but it was still early. She looked at her watch. It was only a few minutes after ten. It suddenly struck her that she had no idea what time Marcel started or finished. He just seemed to always be here.
‘Bonjour Nina.’ He gave her one of his nods, which was as close to him being friendly as she was going to get. ‘Café?’
‘Yes, please.’ She put down the plastic bag of tools with a clatter on one of the tables. Marcel looked up with a brief frown, exhibiting the closest thing to curiosity she guessed he could muster.
She crouched down by the panelling which ran the whole length of one wall beneath the pink dado rail. Above the rail the walls were painted pale blue and sported two large gilt mirrors, which were rather lovely and looked quite old with tiny spots where the silver had worn from the back. They reminded her of the mirrors in Ladurée and firmed her resolve.
‘Have these always been here?’ she asked.
‘Not there, no. They used to be at the back. When the chandelier was here—’ he pointed to the blank plaster rose above, now heavily painted, and gave a little smirk before continuing ‘—they were placed at opposite sides of the salon to reflect the crystals and light.’
‘Well, if Bill and Peter have their way, the chandelier will be put back up any day now,’ said Nina with a grimace.
‘Yes,’ said Marcel, again with the little smirk.
‘What do you know?’ she asked suddenly suspicious.
‘I believe that Bill is looking for a suitable ladder. I might have made a few enquiries on his behalf.’
Given what she was about to do, she could hardly complain.
‘Would you mind if I take a look behind this panel?’ she asked.
Marcel’s eyes widened for a moment before his face settled into its usual impassive indifference. ‘It’s not my patisserie.’
With the large screwdriver she pulled out of the plastic bag, she jimmied the bevelled edge into the top of the loose panel and used the handle to lever against the dado rail. With a creaking groan that set her teeth on edge, she pried the panel away from the wall. Despite being a little loose at the top, it was much harder work than she’d expected and it took a good five minutes battling with the MDF material before she’d prised enough away from the wall to see inside. Grabbing her phone, she switched on the torch and shone the beam down into the gap between the panel and the wall. She was loathe to remove the whole panel if there was nothing there but it was difficult to see much; she was going to have to go for broke and take the whole panel off. With a sigh, she sank onto her haunches.
Marcel brought her coffee over and put it on the nearest table.
‘How certain are you that the original décor might be behind this panel?’ she asked.
He lifted his shoulders in his usual Gallic shrug. ‘I’m not sure but I remember the decorators were very lazy. They painted around the mirrors.’
‘They did?’ She stood up and went over to the nearest mirror, pushing at the frame moving it slightly to one side. Beneath the mirror the wall was painted a paler, more delicate blue, with tiny puffs of cloud scattering across the top. Once upon a time this place must have been beautiful.
She turned around and inserted the screwdriver down the side of the panel pulling at the edge, until with another unworldly groan the panel gave way, the whole thing popping out.
‘Oof.’ Surprised, she fell backwards onto her bottom, both hands clutching it like a shield, feeling like an upside down tortoise.
Marcel rushed forward and helped her to her feet and together they stared down at the wall.
‘Can I have your clo
th?’ she asked and when Marcel handed her the cloth that was always tucked in the front of his apron, she gently rubbed away a layer of slightly greasy dust. ‘Oh my word.’ The tiny clear patch revealed an azure blue eye tipped with golden eyelashes and circled with creamy skin. It was a tantalising promise of more.
Marcel actually smiled. Well, it was almost a smile.
‘That’s beautiful.’ She leaned forward and touched the painted surface, her finger removing another layer of dust and beneath the patch the colour intensified.
‘Why would anyone cover this up?’ asked Nina, her eyes shining with sudden unshed tears.
Once again Marcel shrugged, although she hadn’t expected an answer.
She sat on her haunches considering the grimy paint. Despite her efforts it needed a really good clean but already she could see the potential.
She bit her lip and looked at the rest of the MDF panels lining the wall. And then she looked at Marcel.
‘What do you think?’
He gave another crooked half-smile but didn’t say anything and disappeared back to his spot behind the counter.
Considering the task, she sat there for another few minutes. What if she peeled all the panels back and the painting was damaged in any way? What then?
A drip of water hit her back and she turned to find Marcel bearing a large bowl of soapy water.
‘Do you think we should? Will it damage the painting?’
Marcel shook his head. ‘No, I remember seeing the waiters cleaning it. I’ve only put a little soap in.’
Gingerly, Nina dipped a cloth in the water and squeezed it out so it was damp rather than wringing wet, and very carefully started to clean the paint. Within seconds, the colours emerging from the grimy layer of dust sharpened and she could see the tiny brush strokes.
Sea greens and blues swirled across the surface, while half of a mermaid with silver flowing hair smiled shyly holding out pearly conch shells. Tiny fish dotted the scene dancing in and out of a triton held by a hand, the rest of which was hidden behind the next panel.
She wished she knew something about art…
‘Maddie!’ she said, and turned to Marcel. ‘She knows about art.’ With that she pulled out her phone, swiping the screen quickly.
