The Little Paris Patisserie

by Julie Caplin

  ‘Did you?’

  Sebastian closed his eyes and her guilt ratcheted up a notch when she saw the defeated look on his face, the droop of his shoulders and the resigned line of his mouth.

  ‘You realise Nick is absolutely furious with me. If duelling were still in vogue I’d be dead before I’d even taken a pace.’

  Nina winced. Nick was slow to anger but boy, when he was angry he was explosive.

  ‘He called me in Lyon before he left. Made it clear that I’m no longer welcome at the farm.’

  ‘Well, that’s ridiculous because Mum wouldn’t have that.’

  Sebastian smiled sadly. ‘No, she wouldn’t but then she wouldn’t want her children at odds, would she? Nick says if I ever visit he’ll make sure he’s not around.’

  ‘Are you saying Nick’s fallen out with you just because of us.’

  Sebastian nodded. ‘He pretty much told me not to contact him again.’

  ‘Oh Sebastian, I’m sorry.’ He and Nick had been friends forever. ‘He’ll come round.’

  ‘I don’t think so. But I was prepared to … to put up with it because I thought, it’s OK I’ll be with Nina, we can be together, I can rely on her – but I’m not so sure now.’ He looked around at the patisserie. ‘This is all wonderful but part of me feels you’ve been … less than honest, playing patisseries, despite the fact you knew damn well I had plans for this place. So now—’ he indicated the others at the front of the room, keeping his voice simmering with emotion ‘—in front of all your new chums, I look like the bad guy. Shutting down the lovely patisserie.’

  ‘It … it wasn’t like that at all.’ But Nina realised, with sudden shaming honesty, it had been a lot like that. She’d assumed Nick would be fine. She’d indulged in a daydream that Sebastian would be begrudgingly thrilled at what had been achieved in the patisserie and blown away by her innovative pastries. ‘I thought … well, I didn’t think it would do any harm. You were planning a renovation, so I didn’t think it would matter at first … and then well, things just…’

  ‘So why didn’t you ever mention it?’

  She opened her mouth but what could she say. There’d been a thousand opportunities to tell him about what she’d been doing.

  ‘Do you know what I think? I think you got carried away, without thinking of the consequences, because … you’ve never really had to face any consequences. You’ve got a big loving family, they’re there to rescue you when things go wrong. Nick will still speak to you, you’re his sister. Your family will always be there to help sort things out. I don’t think you realise it, but you’ve never really had to fight for anything. When it didn’t work out being a chef, it didn’t matter. You went back to your family. You went to work in the bank, that didn’t work out. You worked in a nursery. You gave that up. Umpteen jobs. Your family’s always there to ease the way for you. And whenever you struggle or can’t hack it, there’s always a “don’t worry Nina” or a “Come work in the farm shop.” “You want to go to France, don’t worry. We’ll do the job for you.”’

  ‘It’s not like that,’ said Nina hotly, stung by his comments and the touch of truth in them. ‘I just didn’t know what I wanted to do.’

  ‘And you do now?’

  Nina’s shoulders drooped as she pinched her lips, regret and shame washing over her. So much of what he said was true. And what was worse was that most of the time, she’d been trying to find a career, something she was good at, something that would impress him. What a waste of time. He had the career, the success and it didn’t make him happy or appreciate the important things in life.

  ‘No answer, Nina? He shook his head, sadness filing his eyes as if the words hurt him as much as her. ‘You’ve never fought for anything you wanted. Never stuck it out. You’re not even prepared to train to be a patisserie chef. Too much like hard work, I’m guessing.’

  ‘Actually…’ Nina suddenly found her voice. She was in the wrong here, she knew that, but she’d worked hard to turn the patisserie around. Rising to her feet, she squared up to him. ‘I do want to cook … but not like you. I want to feed people, nurture them. I don’t want to do fancy rose-flavoured macarons with flavour so subtle that you need to be a trained wine taster to enjoy them. Those macarons were so clinical.’

  ‘I beg your pardon.’ His sudden surprise was almost comical.

  ‘You heard me. I didn’t like them.’ She bit out the words carefully. Too many people tiptoed around him. He needed to hear some constructive criticism for a change. ‘They were cheating, playing it safe with sophisticated flavours designed to impress rather than feed. You’re cheating. What happen to the passion you once had? What happened to the Sebastian I used to know who wanted to feed people? Who wanted to give people big, full-flavoured platefuls of food?’ She glared at him. ‘You’ve lost your creativity and appetite for cooking. It’s all about business. Making money and being successful. You weren’t even prepared to consider running this as a patisserie. All you were interested in was the bottom line. When was the last time you did some proper cooking? When was the last time you felt passionate about it?’

  Sebastian took a step back as if she’d physically assaulted him and instead of feeling bad about it, she was pleased. He deserved a taste of his own medicine for a change. She wasn’t perfect, had never claimed to be, but neither was he.

  She enjoyed his shocked expression for a moment until she saw the quick anger building. The firming of his mouth, the slash of his eyebrows drawing together and the quick indrawn breath.

  ‘And what? Since Miss Amateur’s taken over, it’s a thriving concern? I think you need to grow up, Nina. You’re like a little girl playing at patisserie.’ He raised a dismissive hand towards the glass counters. ‘But what about the rent, the rates, the bills which I happen to be paying?’

  ‘They’re—’

  ‘Er, excusez-moi?’ Nina and Sebastian both whirled round in horror to find the female judge standing there watching them uncertainly. ‘Je … I…’ She lapsed into French and Sebastian answered, almost snatching the proffered clipboard from her.

  With an angry scrawl he wrote on the page and handed it back to her, his body language radiating with dismissal. Looking startled, she took it, nodded at them both and strode away with dignified but confused speed.

  ‘What was that about?’ asked Nina wishing she’d spent a bit more time practising her French while she’d been here. No doubt Sebastian would think it another wasted opportunity.

  ‘She needed the details of the registered owner of the premises,’ he said with a heavy sigh. ‘I think we’re done here. I’d like the keys back. My team can move in next week.’ He held out his hand.

  ‘Fine,’ said Nina, snatching up her handbag. ‘Here you go.’ She slapped the keys into his hand, wincing as they dug into her palm.

  ‘Thanks. I’ll probably close the patisserie with immediate effect. I’m guessing you’ll want to go home sooner rather than later.’

  ‘But you can’t. What about …?’ Nina’s eyes darted towards Marcel, whose face held its usual stoic expression as he polished yet another glass. She lowered her voice, almost whispering. ‘Don’t get rid of him. He has nowhere else to go.’

  ‘Is your opinion of me really that low?’ Was it possible for Sebastian’s scowl to deepen? With that he moved past her and went to speak to Marcel. A brief even conversation was conducted in rapid French, with Marcel nodding frequently and not saying much, before Sebastian gave him the keys.

  ‘Right, that’s sorted. There’s no point the patisserie staying open for the rest of the week. It will close tonight.’

  The finality of it hit Nina like a full-blown punch. No! It was impossible to imagine not coming back here again after today. Not going into the kitchen. Not singing along to her music as she whipped and whisked. Not carrying through all her baked goods for Marcel to lay carefully in the glass cabinets. Not seeing Marcel’s ghost of a smile when he opened up to a queue outside.

  ‘I’ve agreed w
ith Marcel that as soon as everyone has gone today, he will lock up.’

  Nina looked up at him, her vision slightly blurry.

  ‘I’d like to move back into my flat this weekend. You can get the Eurostar home tomorrow and can leave the keys with Valerie.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Nina, determined to hold it together. She. Was. Not. Going. To. Cry. Not in front of him. ‘I will,’ she ground out between gritted teeth. Hauling her bag onto her shoulder with every intention of flouncing out, she and Sebastian moved towards the door at the same time in a comedy moment of excruciating ridiculousness.

  ‘After you,’ he said.

  ‘No, after you,’ she said with exaggerated politeness.

  Sebastian turned and limped towards the door, passing the table where Bill, Maddie, Marguerite, Jane and Peter sat in stunned silence.

  ‘Show’s over, folks.’

  Bill jumped to his feet but Nina rushed over, shaking her head with determined fierceness and holding up a hand. The last thing she wanted was for any of them to get involved and try and take the blame. Sebastian was right, this was wholly her responsibility. She’d been left in charge of the building, in loco parentis as it were, and had had no right to make fabric changes without his express permission. There was absolutely no denying he had every right to be furious. But she knew it wasn’t the patisserie at all that had upset him. Nick and Sebastian had been friends since their first day at school, joined at the hip throughout their school years. Their friendship was a bond forged in memories, shared experience and brotherly love. And she’d ruined it. Well, she and her stupid pig-headed brother who she was going to have some serious words with.

  ‘Maybe he’ll calm down,’ said Jane as they watched him stalk down the street, favouring one leg slightly.

  ‘And maybe he won’t,’ responded Peter putting an arm around her as if to shield her from any further unpleasantness. ‘I feel quite bad now … I didn’t think…’

  ‘Please, please don’t worry,’ said Nina. ‘This is entirely my fault.’ Her smile was sad as she looked around at them all. ‘I think I fell a little bit in love with the patisserie and all of you and … it just felt right. But it wasn’t. Sebastian is right. This is his building. He should have been consulted.’

  ‘But I don’t understand why he’s so mad.’ Maddie’s words tumbled out in indignant haste as she angrily brushed her hair from her face. ‘You should have told him that people queue for your famous chocolate crème suprêmes.’

  ‘It wouldn’t have made a difference.’ Nina felt hollow now that the adrenaline of the fight was starting fade. ‘He was right. I went behind his back.’ And she’d messed up his friendship with Nick, which was the worst thing and she couldn’t bring herself to tell them because she felt ashamed of herself. Sebastian had known her brother better than she had. He’d known exactly how Nick would react.

  ‘But…’

  ‘Maddie!’ Nina couldn’t bear it any longer. ‘I know you mean well and you’re on my side, but I was in the wrong. There’s no escaping that.’ She spoke with quiet sincerity.

  Nina gave the kitchen one final visual sweep, she remembered the first day of the course, everyone introducing themselves. Bill waving his big hands. Maddie in her crocs. Marguerite, more competent and skilful than any of them. Peter and Jane gently teasing each other. Who’d have thought they’d become such good friends? As she mounted the steps for one last time, she remembered Sebastian wobbling on the penultimate step, the almost kiss. A sob threated to break and she blinked hard as she turned on the top step and gave the room one last look. With everything stored away and nothing left out waiting for the next day, it looked as bare and barren as the first day she’d walked in. All the laughter, colour and warmth had been erased.

  Her mouth crumpling, she turned and walked back into the main patisserie. Marcel was waiting by the coat rack, his coat over his arm and the trilby hat in his hand. Everyone else was waiting by the door and in Peter’s arms were a stack of the confectionary boxes containing the rest of the day’s stock. The cabinets were now dark and empty, the power switched off. It felt symbolic. The ever-present hum silenced once and for all. The last thing to be turned off.

  ‘Thanks Marcel. For everything. I hope that … things work out.’

  He lifted his shoulders with a defeated shrug and put on his hat, walking slowly to the door. Nina began to follow but she veered left to trail her hand along the underwater scene painting on the wall, pausing at the painted mermaid.

  ‘Goodbye Melody,’ she whispered, taking one last look up at the chandelier, its glittering refractions were blurred by welling tears. She sniffed hard, and crossed quickly to the door, where Marcel waited.

  Everyone filed out in front of him with Nina the last to step out onto the pavement. It had just begun to rain and the air was filled with that damp, early evening smell, tainted by the fumes of the day and waiting-to-be-collected rubbish.

  They watched in silence as Marcel took the bulky bunch of keys and one by one locked the locks at the top, bottom and middle of the door. He turned and faced everyone, his face blank and his body stiff and upright. Peter handed him one of the boxes of patisserie. ‘Bon soir,’ he said, pocketing the keys, taking the box and tipping his hat over his face. Before anyone could say anything, he wheeled to the left and walked away with quick, brisk, no-nonsense steps without a backward glance. In silence, they watched him stride away down the street, a shabby solitary figure on the wide rain-spattered boulevard.

  Chapter 34

  Why had she ever thought she could manage with her case, handbag and a holdall, on the Metro, by herself? The change at Republic had left her stressed and anxiously watching the clock. She was cutting it very fine. She was supposed to check in at least half an hour before departure and it was already twenty to three as she emerged onto the concourse at Gare du Nord.

  It looked completely different from when she’d arrived and it took her a minute to find her bearings and realise that she was in a different part of the station, before she began to follow the signs for the Eurostar.

  Feeling hot and flustered, she headed towards the escalator, relieved that she was almost there. She could relax on the train and think about what next. Last night had been hideous. She’d barely slept after spending all night cleaning and straightening, doing her absolute best to eradicate all sign of herself from Sebastian’s flat, while seeing signs of him at every turn.

  It had been hard to fight the temptation to take his clip-frame apart and remove the picture of her winning the cross-country medal. He’d kept it all these years, the sight of it had originally given her so much hope. She’d lost track of how long she’d stood there looking at all the pictures of him. Those dark eyes staring out at her. Her heart feeling as if it really might be breaking, which was ridiculous because hearts didn’t break. But they did get bruised.

  With a sigh and blinking back tears, she stepped onto the escalator and threw up her head and stared up at the glass ceiling high above before giving in and pulling the photo of her out of the side pocket of her handbag. This morning she’d broken. Taken it out of the frame. Tucked it in her bag. And still her heart felt bruised.

  It felt as if she’d touched the sun and nothing would ever feel the same again. Nothing would ever beat the fluttering heartbeat euphoria, when he’d said, ‘I’ve wanted to kiss you again for a long time.’ Or ‘I don’t want you to go.’

  Suddenly she knew exactly what Jane had meant.

  He was her final jigsaw piece.

  As soon as she reached the top of the escalator and the three lanes towards security, she made a sharp turn right and started straight back down the stairs. What was it Sebastian had said? You never fight for anything? You never stick? Well, she was going to fight this time.

  She was going to make him see that she’d made a mistake. A ton of them and she’d apologise for every last one of them. She wasn’t going home without putting up the fight of her life, even if it meant punching him right
on the nose.

  ‘Nina! Nina! Nina!’

  She was halfway down the staircase when she looked down to see Bill and Maddie shouting and waving up at her, both of them looking rather red-faced and breathless.

  She paused on the steps incurring the tuts of people trying to come up past her, as she balanced the case and holdall precariously in front of her. Thankfully Bill raced up the stairs to take her case from her to carry it down.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ asked Nina once safely at the bottom, giving them both a welcoming hug. ‘If you were coming to wave me off, you’ve had a wasted journey because…’ She beamed at them with a bit more confidence than she felt. ‘I’ve decided to stay.’

  ‘No, we were coming to collect you. You have come to the patisserie now.’

  ‘Did we win best newcomer?’ asked Nina.

  ‘No.’ Maddie shook her head. ‘Some fancy place that does organic only did, but—’

  Bill shushed her. ‘Come on.’ They ushered her towards the cab rank and the three of them hopped in.

  Maddie could barely keep still in the back of the cab and Bill keep shooting her warning glances.

  Nina figured that as soon as she’d been to the patisserie, she could go to Sebastian’s hotel and if he wasn’t there she’d go to his apartment. She was going to track him down and wasn’t leaving until he’d heard her out. Yesterday she’d been too wrapped up in guilt to fight. Today she knew exactly what she needed to say to him, although she hadn’t quite worked out the words yet

  Maddie kept checking her texts. Suddenly she tapped the taxi driver on the shoulder and gave him instructions in French. The driver pulled a surprised face but muttered something back.

  ‘Bon,’ said Maddie sitting back.

  They drove for another ten minutes. Nina turned her head. That was odd.

  ‘Maddie,’ whispered Nina. ‘I think this driver’s taking the piss, I’m sure we’ve been down this street once before.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  They drove for another few minutes and then Nina saw the same café again.