The Little Paris Patisserie

by Julie Caplin

  Nina, dropping the whisk and spoons into the water, paused. ‘Oh … no, it wasn’t like that but … oh God, I can’t believe I said it now.’

  ‘How does something like that come up in conversation?’ asked Maddie, getting cracking on the pile of washing up.

  ‘It gets worse.’ Nina grimaced at the memory. ‘I also told him I didn’t fancy him.’

  ‘Oh God, that is double speak for I really really fancy you. Denial is the next best thing to admitting it.’ Maddie dropped a handful of suds-covered forks on the draining board with a clatter.

  Nina groaned as she grabbed a tea towel. ‘No! It can’t. I was just trying to clear the air and explain that I’d moved on since I was a teenager.’

  ‘So you told him he wasn’t very good looking and you didn’t fancy him,’ said Maddie, turning to her, amusement dancing all over her face. ‘Nice job. And what did he say to that?’

  Nina looked shamefaced and paused as she rubbed dry a mixing bowl. ‘He told me it was good to know and that it wasn’t every day he got told that.’

  Maddie started to snigger.

  ‘It’s not funny really,’ said Nina

  ‘Yes, it is. It’s ab-so-lutely bloody hilarious.’ The two of them dissolved into helpless giggles.

  ‘Mercy me, I’ve died and gone to heaven,’ drawled a strong American accent. The young woman had one of those loud look-at-me voices and had been commenting at full volume on her Instagram feed for the last five minutes, every now and then breaking off to take photos of the patisserie.

  ‘This is banging,’ she said, taking a selfie of her with a forkful of the caramel and chocolate mousse.

  Maddie nudged Nina, who smiled despite her aching feet. Nothing beat the feeling of satisfaction when people enjoyed food you’d made. She drained her coffee cup catching Marcel’s eye. My goodness, was he almost smiling?

  ‘They’re a hit,’ whispered Maddie.

  ‘I have to admit…’ Nina bit back the grin threatening to engulf her face. ‘I’m rather pleased with them.’ The multi-millionaire shortbread as Maddie was insisting on calling it, had gone down rather well. ‘But we still need to come up with a better name. It’s a shame millionaire is the same in French.’

  ‘How about millionaire gâteaux?’ asked Maddie, sitting back and rolling her shoulders.

  ‘Chocolat caramel suprême,’ said Marcel, suddenly appearing behind Nina, his tone intimating they were both too stupid to live and the name was completely obvious. Darting between them with his usual neat efficiency, he scooped up their empty cups. ‘And we’ve nearly sold out, so you need to make some more.’

  Nina glared at him. ‘Only if you promise me you haven’t cancelled the delivery again tomorrow.’

  ‘I can’t make that promise,’ he said, a shadow of a smile threatening to lighten his sombre face. A sound drew their attention and with a subtle tut, he straightened. ‘What is that woman doing now?’

  ‘I think she’s having a Meg Ryan moment,’ said Maddie with a naughty twinkle.

  Marcel didn’t deign to reply and instead, spotting another couple leaving, swooped in to remove the plates and cups.

  ‘Honestly, he is super-efficient,’ said Nina. ‘It’s such a shame, he’s wasted here.’

  ‘And a slave-driver. Shall we crack on? I think you’d better make another batch for tomorrow.’

  ‘As it’s the grand painting day for the outside of the shop, I’d better. I’m not sure how much time there’ll be for baking.’

  Chapter 25

  The high-pitched whines of multiple sanders greeted Nina as well as a mile-long queue when she arrived at the patisserie the following morning.

  ‘Morning,’ she called to Bill who was out on the pavement next to a couple of trestle tables which had been set up with cans of paint, primer, filler, brushes and other bits of equipment she didn’t recognise. He clearly didn’t hear her as he carried on opening a can of paint. In brown work overalls with a baseball cap planted firmly on his head, he looked like he meant business and was holding a rather official-looking clipboard in one of his meaty hands on the back of which read the words Operation Éclair.

  ‘Morning Nina,’ he yelled above the noise as he spotted her.

  ‘We’re preparing to paint,’ he said, nodding down at the cables and extension leads snaking in a rat’s tail mess across trailing back into the patisserie. For a moment, Nina winced; this was a much bigger operation that she’d expected.

  And more worryingly who were all the people waiting outside the café?

  ‘I can see that,’ she replied, waving weakly and blinking as the dust filling the air caught at her eyes. At the sight of the resurrection of Patisserie C in full swing she felt slightly sick and just a touch out of her depth. Suddenly the task looked so much bigger than slapping a bit of paint on to smarten the place up. This was a big job and not her decision to make. Even though Sebastian planned to completely revamp the place in a matter of months, she’d be lying if she thought he’d welcome what they were doing. She nibbled at her lip as the horrible realisation dawned on her. This was exactly the sort of impetuous, ‘someone will rescue me later and pick up the pieces’ sort of behaviour he’d accused her of. She’d gone ahead, deliberately not consulting with him, which was rude and arrogant in the first instance but worse still, she’d made excuses for her behaviour by trying to justify it with the assumption that it would be OK in the end because of the refurbishment work that was planned. Oh God, what had she done? And now it was too late to stop it, half the paint on the shop front had been sanded away to a pale ash wood colour.

  ‘Let me introduce you to “an-the-lads”,’ said Bill, peeling back a dust mask from around his nose and mouth with a delighted grin. ‘We’ve made good progress already.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Nina slightly dazed. ‘What time did you start? I thought we said ten.’

  ‘Well, we were up and raring to go … and the lads fancy watching a footie match in a bar this afternoon. So we thought we’d get ahead of ourselves and started at eight. ‘Now, this is Tone.’ A tall lanky man who was scraping away at the old paint around the door turned and nodded. Bill yelled above the noise – ‘Jizzer!’ – and the man who was whizzing the sander over the panels on the right-hand side of the frontage, glanced over his shoulder and gave a sort of shoulder shrug and then switched off the sander. Next, Bill pointed to a scary looking bald bloke with a tattoo covering his thick neck, hard at work wiping down the panels on the other side which had already been sanded. ‘And that’s Mucker.’ Mucker grinned and put down his cloth saying, ‘Pleased to meet you,’ in the most unexpectedly posh voice.

  ‘AKA me-an-the-lads,’ finished Bill.

  ‘Hi everyone,’ said Nina with a welcoming smile at the unlikely group of friends as they all downed tools and stepped close, crowding around her. She was itching to find out what the queue was in aid of but didn’t want to be rude to Bill’s friends, especially when they were doing her such a massive favour. ‘Thank you so much for coming.’

  ‘It’s our pleasure,’ said Mucker. ‘Bill’s told us what a powerhouse you were. And that you needed some help.’

  ‘He also said you make a mean éclair,’ said Tone in a low growl which was accompanied by an unexpectedly puckish grin.

  ‘He’s got such a sweet tooth on him,’ said Jizzer, wiping his forehead by lifting his T-shirt hem. ‘The things this man will do for cake.’

  ‘And beer, don’t forget beer,’ said Tone.

  ‘I haven’t got any beer,’ said Nina, suddenly wondering if she should go and get some. Although she was pretty sure that beer and power tools didn’t mix.

  ‘Don’t you worry, love,’ piped up Mucker. ‘This’ll keep us out of mischief. As long as we’re in the bar by lunchtime, we’ll be happy. Bill’s buying the first six rounds.’

  ‘Six?’ protested Bill. ‘I’m sure we agreed on five.’ The four of them nudged and jostled each other with the easy familiarity of brothers.

  With a q
uick nod their way, she scuttled inside the café.

  ‘Bonjour Marcel,’ she said, smiling at the sight of him. Even he had dressed for the occasion, although he clearly had no intention of joining in with the painting. He’d donned a plastic apron over his usual waistcoat and black trousers instead of the usual white one tied around his waist. ‘What’s going on?’ she whispered, looking round at the full patisserie.

  ‘Good morning, Nina. Coffee for Bill’s compatriots?’

  ‘Yes please, I’ll take them out. And they’re demanding éclairs.’

  ‘They’ll have to get in line,’ said Marcel. ‘I’m rather busy.’

  ‘But? How?’ Nina spread her arms wide.

  ‘They were waiting outside the door when I arrived, demanding chocolat caramel suprême. I’ve nearly sold out. You’ll need to make some more.’

  As the others still hadn’t arrived and Marcel seemed to be managing perfectly well despite the unexpected influx of customers, she nipped into the kitchen to take stock and decide whether she should abandon the others and keep baking.

  ‘Right,’ said Bill looking around at the motley group as Nina handed the coffees out twenty minutes later. Jane, Peter and Maddie had arrived while she was in the kitchen and were wildly excited about something.

  ‘Look,’ said Maddie, pulling out her phone. There was a picture of the chocolat caramel suprême with the caption, ‘Best cake in Paris’. ‘I spotted this on Instagram.’

  ‘That’s amazing.’

  ‘Yeah and look how many likes it’s got.’

  ‘Bloody hell. Four thousand. That’s crazy.’

  ‘Crazy but good publicity. Hence the queue outside this morning.’

  ‘Eek, I’d better get cracking on making some more then. I’ve just checked and I haven’t got enough ingredients,’ said Nina. ‘Do you mind if I duck out? I need to go shopping and then I’ll be spending most of the day in the kitchen.’ Nina nodded at Bill.

  ‘Not at all. Me-an-the-lads have done most of the prep work. We’re good to go on the right-hand side. We can start painting. Got the good stuff, so no priming needed. And is this what you wanted Nina?’

  He showed her an open tin of paint.

  ‘Wow, that looks a pretty good match,’ she said, looking at the dark grey colour. The sudden vision of what the frontage would look like and the eager faces of everyone around her made her swallow her concerns. She’d have to find a good moment to tell Sebastian what she’d done. ‘This old lady is going to look so smart, she won’t know what’s hit her.’

  ‘Maybe if Sebastian sees it, he might decide to keep it open,’ said Jane, softly, standing behind Bill, her hair tied back with a rainbow striped scarf. She was wearing the most enormous pair of jeans cinched in at the waist with another scarf. You could have got one of her in each leg. She kept hauling them up one-handed like a clown worried about being caught short, unaware that Peter was mischievously giving them a quick tug every now and then.

  Nina smiled at her. She loved that Jane could only ever see the good in people. ‘Sadly, that’s not going to happen. Sebastian lets his head rule. It’s never been an option.’

  ‘Right then, let’s get cracking, then I can get the lads down the bar. And don’t you worry Nina, there are plenty of us here.’

  Paintbrushes had been dished out and work allocated by Bill whose sergeant major tendencies had come to the fore this morning, but he was the happiest Nina had ever seen him. Peter’s job was to tape up all the windows so that they wouldn’t get paint on the glass, and then to paint the large panels underneath the windows. Jane was given the fiddly twiddly bits as she called the beading around the edges of the door as Bill and his team finished stripping the last of the paint. Maddie was carrying on her work on the painting of the mermaid, which she’d been working on in every spare minute and hoped to get on painting the upper walls pale blue in readiness to sponge on the white clouds later.

  Feeling guilty that she’d left them with the dirty job, Nina headed off to the nearest supermarket to stock up on cream and butter.

  By lunchtime when Marguerite arrived with a picnic, Nina had managed to knock up a quick batch of choux pastry and bake several dozen éclairs and make up her new variant on an éclair as well as make three dozen of the chocolat caramel suprême. Thankfully, Marguerite had arrived in time to offer a hand and when everyone trooped in for lunch, the kitchen was spotless.

  ‘Come. There’s plenty for everyone. Fromage, jambon, du pain.’ Marguerite waved her hands above the mouth-watering spread as they congregated around the kitchen sink to clean their hands and recharge their batteries. Bill’s friends, having completed the sanding and made mutterings about too many cooks, had departed in search of beer and frites leaving Bill to carry on supervising the work.

  ‘Marguerite, I think you’ve bought up an entire market stall,’ said Nina.

  ‘Good that I had Doris,’ the older woman smiled, referring to the shopping trolley that was now a permanent feature of the patisserie. ‘And it’s such a pleasure to peruse. It’s been so long since I had a party. Henri and I used to throw parties all the time,’ she said with a wistful smile.

  ‘Well, you’ve done a wonderful job today,’ said Jane. ‘Doesn’t it look lovely?’

  ‘That was Marcel,’ said Marguerite.

  Nina smiled. Marcel, it seemed, couldn’t help himself. For all his grumpiness, he loved looking after people. Just by spreading a white table cloth over the practical stainless-steel tables, arranging an array of different meats on two big platters and creating a delicious looking cheese board as well as putting out thick slices baguettes in little baskets, he’d made the simple lunch look like a feast. He’d even taken the time to wrap cutlery in coloured napkins, which were dotted across the cloth along with little pots of pate and tiny pottery bowls of olives and cornichon. In the centre he’d placed a vase of flowers which finished things off nicely and added to the rather festive air.

  ‘I think I love you, Marguerite,’ said Bill, sinking his teeth into a thickly cut slice of baguette smeared with pate. ‘This is delicious.’

  ‘Thank you, Marguerite,’ said Nina wondering how much money the older woman had spent and how she could diplomatically repay her. Everyone was being so generous with their time.

  As they all buzzed around one another loading up their plates, chatting away, Nina leaned against one of the stools listening to Maddie and Bill teasing each other with Jane and Peter joining in.

  They made quick inroads into the food and Marcel disappeared to make coffee. When he returned with a big jug of coffee, Nina crossed to the fridge and pulled out a plate of her latest batch of éclairs to go with the coffee. She put them in the centre of the table as Marcel bustled out to get some tea plates and patisserie forks.

  ‘They look very good,’ said Marguerite.

  ‘I think I’ve got them mastered now,’ said Nina. ‘These are chocolate and strawberry.’

  ‘Chocolate and strawberry?’ repeated Maddie. ‘That sounds yum.’

  Next to her, Jane nodded enthusiastically. ‘How did you make them?’

  ‘Puree of strawberry mixed with the cream and then a chocolate icing on the top.’

  ‘I can’t believe what good progress we’ve made,’ said Jane.

  ‘Yes.’ Maddie waved her half-eaten éclair in the air. ‘We could finish today.’

  ‘If the weather holds,’ said Peter, who had a tendency to err on the sensible side.

  ‘It’s a glorious day, darling. I think we’re safe.’

  ‘We may need to pop an extra coat on tomorrow,’ said Bill. ‘No point leaving a job half done. But it would be better if we could finish today then we don’t have to faff about cleaning … cleaning …’ Bill’s voice suddenly went rather croaky. ‘Cleaning up the kitchen for a second time.’

  Nina frowned, she thought she’d done a pretty good job of cleaning up given the amount of baking she’d done. ‘Don’t worry about the kitchen, I’ll get on top of that later. We sh
ould focus on the p—’

  ‘Yes, we should, so that the kitchen is really clean,’ said Maddie, who was pulling the most extraordinary cross-eyed expression.

  ‘Well, I can’t thank you all enough,’ said Nina, wondering if she was missing something. Her heartbeat slowed to a crawl as she suddenly registered the frozen features on Maddie’s face and a distinct widening of Jane’s eyes. There was a furtive rustle as everyone went deadly silent.

  Nina swallowed and turned.

  ‘Sebastian, what a…’

  ‘Surprise?’

  ‘Yes, yes. A surprise.’

  ‘Having a bit of a party, are we?’ he asked, his voice as dry as dust and full of suspicion.

  ‘Well, you know, we thought…’ Nina’s voice died as her brain completely blanked.

  ‘Lunch,’ said Maddie quickly, giving Sebastian a big smile. ‘We decided to have lunch.’

  ‘Here?’ Sebastian kept his gaze on Nina.

  ‘It’s my birthday,’ said Marguerite without batting an eyelid, which Nina thought was genius. No one would dare question her.

  ‘So we decided to have lunch for Marguerite’s birthday, didn’t we?’ said Maddie brightly.

  ‘In the kitchen?’

  ‘You know what they say. All the best parties are in the kitchen,’ said Bill.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d mind,’ said Nina, desperately.

  ‘Mind? Why would I mind?’ asked Sebastian, deceptively quietly. ‘Although I do find it a bit strange, congregating here where there are any number of restaurants and bars throughout the whole of Paris.’

  ‘You’re more than welcome to join us,’ said Marguerite. ‘Now why don’t you take a seat?’

  Bill rushed forward with a stool.

  ‘You should try one of these delicious éclairs that Nina has made.’

  Nina winced.

  Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I thought I’d practise.’

  Marcel came in with the plates and forks and almost swerved to a halt at the sight of Sebastian. He put the plates down and retreated in one fluid movement.