From Paris With Love This Christmas

by Jules Wake

  ‘This was so much fun,’ said Lisa as they came out of the shop. ‘Now all we need are some shoes.’

  ‘Could we have got them in there?’ asked Siena looking back.

  ‘Yeah, but if you’re going to be waitressing, you’re going to need something comfortable, and I mean cushioning soles. You’re going to be on your feet all day and if Will has his way, on your back too. Just watch out for him.’

  ‘Will’s fine.’

  ‘Hmmph,’ grunted Lisa tossing her hair disdainfully.

  ‘He can’t be all bad, he’s giving me a job … and I don’t even have any experience.’

  ‘He’s a complete tart. I can’t stand him. Make sure he doesn’t try to get into your knickers. Whatever you do, don’t sleep with him, he’s a—’ She made a rude gesture with her hand.

  Siena laughed. ‘He’s harmless, a player. You’re don’t need to warn me, it’s written all over him.’

  Lisa let out a small sigh. ‘Glad you’re so smart.’

  Siena realised she’d strayed into difficult territory. ‘You and him?’

  ‘Once.’ Lisa shuddered. ‘Big mistake. Huge. Have you ever seen Pretty Woman?’ the lightning change of subject told Siena the subject was definitely closed.

  Chapter 10

  ‘Have you made coffee again?’ Jason stomped into the kitchen clutching a bloody tissue to his chin.

  ‘’Fraid so,’ she said, amused that making coffee now appeared to be a crime. ‘Want some?’

  He narrowed his eyes and nodded.

  ‘It’s not that hard to make.’

  ‘Instant’s easier.’

  ‘And doesn’t taste as good.’

  Jason shrugged. ‘Too much hassle.’

  ‘Hassle. Come on. You put the coffee in the cafetière and pour water over it. Leave to stand, plunge and hey presto.’ She picked it up and poured him a mug. ‘How hard is that?’ She wafted the mug under his nose. ‘And smell the difference.’

  ‘You’re like a drug dealer enticing me over to the caffeine side.’

  He took the coffee, sniffing deeply.

  ‘What happened to your face?’

  ‘Cut myself shaving. My razor’s not very sharp.’

  ‘No, I noticed that too.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘When I shaved my legs.’

  ‘Pardon?’ Jason’s eyes were glacial.

  ‘Yes, I had to go over them a couple of times.’

  ‘You used my razor to shave your legs?’ His words dropped one by one like pebbles down a well.

  ‘Yes.’ She pulled the toaster towards her and removed the toast. English bread wasn’t the same as at home.

  ‘You used my razor to shave your legs.’

  His eyes had narrowed even further. ‘Is that a problem?’

  ‘Funny you should mention that. I’d say it’s a problem for my chin which is bleeding copiously. Apparently the result of shaving with a blunt razor. Blunt because someone, who doesn’t own said razor, has been using it to shave acres of leg instead of a small area of chin.’

  Obviously the boyfriend, Yves whatever, was a lot more tolerant of this sort of thing. The man had to be a saint to cope with someone like Siena. And now the poor bugger had to wait for her to make up her mind about if she wanted to marry him.

  ‘Oh.’ Then she brightened. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve got some really nice L’Occitane shaving balm, I’ll go and get it for you.’ He grabbed her arm as she darted past.

  ‘Don’t bother. It’s almost stopped bleeding.’

  Siena chewed at her lip. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘So am I. Buy your own razors in future.’

  ‘I …’ She didn’t want to admit she couldn’t afford to buy her own.

  ‘There’s a pack of disposables under the sink. Help yourself.’

  ‘Thank you. To be honest, I usually use an epilator if I can’t get to the salon for a wax.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘An epilator. It pulls the hairs out.’

  ‘Pulls them out.’ Jason shuddered. ‘That brings tears to the eyes.’

  ‘It’s not so bad when you get used to it.’

  ‘And you use that on your legs.’

  ‘And everywhere else.’

  Jason paled, his eyes travelled to her crotch and then he blushed.

  ‘Right Siena, you’ll be looking after tables ten through twenty-one,’ said Marcus, leading her to the section of the restaurant in the far right corner.

  Will had handed her straight to the tall, well-built Scot as soon as she arrived. Unlike the day he’d interviewed her, today he’d been all business.

  ‘It’s all very straightforward, hen. Al, the chef, wee fella in the kitchen will talk us through the menu for today at around eleven thirty. Officially, we have a seasonal menu which changes every four to six weeks but if Chef can’t get the right produce he’ll tweak the menu for that day. He and Will are dead keen on using seasonal produce, so they can change it at the very last minute … can you type fast?’

  ‘Not particularly.’

  ‘You’ll learn, especially if Will is standing over your shoulder. There are also new specials every day and Chef likes you to memorise these and we’re talking precise details.’ Putting on a posh accent Marcus launched into a singsong falsetto. ‘Today we have,’ he mimed uncovering a platter, ‘confit of beetroot on a hazelnut blini with organic artichoke cream.’ He pretended to pluck an item from the imaginary plate. ‘The beetroot was grown locally at optimum temperature, avoiding ground frost with outdoor heaters programmed to exactly 16.4 degrees which has been scientifically proven to be the prime temperature for beetroot. The hazelnuts were hand ground by wood sylphs from Sherwood Forest and the artichokes kept in manure from my own bottom.’

  With a laugh, Siena looked at the menu. Marcus’ warm humour was irresistible and all her good intentions to be ultra-professional went out the window. ‘I think you’ve got that wrong. Beetroot should always, always be grown at 16.3 degrees, no more, no less and why do you think those sylphs from Sherwood can be trusted when everyone knows that the fairies at the bottom of the garden produce a far superior grind?’

  Marcus started to laugh, ‘Superior grind. That’s classic,’ his mirth which rapidly turned into a hysterical wheeze.

  ‘Who’s grinding?’ A camp voice piped up and the chef, complete in his whites and rather lurid trousers covered in a pattern featuring manically smiling purple cats, started twerking (at least Siena thought that was the official terminology having seen mini pop stars doing it on YouTube), grinding his hips up against Marcus. ‘You’re not taking my magnificent creations in vain are you, darling?’

  Eventually Marcus brought his breathing into line. ‘Would I, sweet cheeks? Al, meet our new waitress, Siena.’

  ‘Hi doll. Welcome. Don’t pay any attention to him. If you want to know anything about food, come to me. This man was brought up on haggis and swede, he wouldn’t know fine food if it came up and bit him on his hairy great arse.’

  Marcus playfully cuffed him round the neck. ‘And this one thinks he’s God’s gift to the kitchen, but he wouldn’t be anywhere without the service.’ He nodded his head at Siena. ‘That’s you and me, this lunchtime. We’ve got one more, Hayley, coming in between twelve and two but she looks after the bar with Will. We’re light on bookings as it’s mid-week, so as long as there’s not a sudden influx, it’s a good day to show you the ropes.’

  ‘I’d best get on and start knocking up me beetroot confit,’ said Al, blowing kisses as he retreated back to his kitchen.

  They spent the next hour setting up the tables and Siena rather enjoyed the methodical, mechanical task, it didn’t require any thought at all and Marcus kept up a stream of cheerful observations about this and that. Before she knew it, it was eleven o’clock which was the official coffee break and a briefing with Al in the kitchen.

  ‘Hello, have I missed elevenses?’

  Siena turned to see Ben entering the kitchen from an outside door on
the right, carrying a handful of dirty mugs, dangling by the handles from his big hands.

  ‘By heck it’s cold out there. Enough to freeze a gnat’s gonads off.’ He stopped short when he saw her.

  ‘Hello Ben,’ she said feeling boosted by seeing a familiar face.

  He beamed. ‘Hey up chuck. How are you?’ He acknowledged everyone else in the kitchen with a cheerful wave. ‘There’s snow in the air, mark my words.’ He lifted one foot and waggled it from side to side. ‘I can tell. My ankle always plays up when it’s going to snow.’

  ‘I can tell too,’ sniffed Al. He held up his phone. ‘It’s called a weather app.’

  Ben wiggled his foot again and screwed up his face. ‘Definitely snow in the air.’ He looked over at Siena again. ‘Jason said you were starting here. How’s your first day going?’

  Siena looked at the other three men. ‘Interesting,’ she said with a rueful smile.

  ‘She’s fitting in a treat,’ said Marcus, putting a beefy arm around her.

  ‘Got any biscuits?’ asked Ben.

  Al nodded towards the pantry at the back of the kitchen. ‘Chocolate hobnobs, help yourself. And put the mugs in the dishwasher.’

  ‘Any coffee?’ asked Ben over his shoulder as he crossed to the cupboard.

  ‘You’ve got your own kettle over there,’ answered Will. ‘Tell Jason to invest in his own bloody coffee. I’m not running a canteen here, it’s a restaurant for paying customers.’

  ‘I heard that.’

  Siena whipped her head round at Jason’s dry voice. Her nerve endings all stood to attention and it appeared she no longer knew what to do with her feet or her hands. She shifted to one foot and then the next, hoping that she could blend into the background. He’d been silent on the journey to work earlier and she’d been lost in her own nervous thoughts.

  ‘Workers need proper fuel.’

  ‘Workers can have fuel as long as it doesn’t eat into my profits. And your sudden addiction to real coffee is going to impact on my bottom line.’

  ‘Man, what the hell happened to your face?’ asked Will pushing himself upright from the bench. Siena had noticed his habitual position was to lean against things. ‘They take the learner plates off your razor?’

  Jason shrugged. Siena closed her eyes wishing she could fade into the background. He didn’t look her way at all. ‘Still half asleep. Wasn’t concentrating.’

  ‘Bummer,’ said Ben. ‘I hate shaving.’

  The other men began to rib him about his age and while they were all talking and teasing each other, Siena stole a look at Jason’s face. He looked up.

  She mouthed, ‘Thank you.’

  He rolled his eyes in pretend exasperation and shook his head and as he strolled out of the kitchen back towards the direction of the brewery, he shot her a thousand watt beam and a wink. The transformation on his face from his usual sombre expression hit her hard in the chest.

  ‘What do you think Marcus?’

  The shift was over and she felt rather grateful that Marcus had sunk onto one of the bar stools. She followed his lead and slumped for a minute.

  Will arrived with a tray of coffee and plonked himself down between them, looking rather serious. Siena felt her palms go clammy.

  Marcus sniggered and looked Siena up and down. ‘The guy on table nineteen definitely had the hots for you.’

  ‘What?’ That had Siena perplexed. ‘He kept asking for more stuff all the time. Impossible to please.’

  ‘No, no, no.’ Marcus shook his shaggy head and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. ‘He wanted your attention.’ At the back of the bar the phone began to ring. As he went to answer it he added over his shoulder, ‘But as you were playing cool, he had to keep trying.’

  ‘For a first day, not bad.’ Will nodded slowly with half an eye on Marcus. ‘Not bad at all.’

  Despite his serious face, she grinned. She felt like she’d won a medal.

  A brief frown crossed Will’s face and her happiness dimmed until she realised he was listening in on the phone conversation.

  ‘Yes. Yes. I’ll be sure to tell him. Right. No I’ll make sure he gets that message. Yes. I’ll remember. Word for word.’ Marcus had begun smirking at Will and making throat slitting gestures with his free hand. ‘No, I won’t forget that. Or that.’

  Will had folded his arms and was once again leaning against the bar, an amused twist to his mouth.

  Marcus put down the phone. ‘The tree’s arriving tomorrow. But you’re on your own with the decorations. Cordelia’s not coming to do them. She’s otherwise engaged.’

  Will raised an eyebrow. ‘What did she really say?’

  ‘Verbatim or précised?’

  ‘Give it your best shot.’

  ‘You’re a two timing rat-fink bastard with, excuse me Siena, a dick the size of a chipolata and she’d rather shove a ten foot Christmas tree up your arse than decorate it for you. That’s about the gist of it.’

  ‘Aw, fuck.’

  ‘Perhaps she’ll calm down,’ said Siena hopefully. ‘Maybe you could talk to her.’

  Will laughed. ‘Siena babe, you are priceless. I couldn’t give a toss about Cordelia. I’m pissed off that she’s talked me into spending a hundred fifty quid on said ten foot tree which I now have no one to decorate.’ He knocked back the rest of his coffee. Marcus sniggered. ‘At least I’ve saved myself three hundred pounds on paying for decorations and her to decorate the bloody thing.’ At that point Marcus burst out into uproarious laughter with Will following suit.

  Siena stared at the two of them. They were like a pair of children.

  After a minute of enduring their full blown hilarity, she tapped Will on the arm. ‘Three hundred pounds? You were going to pay her three hundred pounds?’

  He nodded and slung an arm around Marcus, the two of them still laughing like loons. She grabbed his sleeve and shook it. ‘I’ll do it for half.’

  Will sobered for a minute, held up a hand and tried to catch his breath.

  Finally he got hold of himself. ‘It’s a big tree.’

  ‘Not a problem. We usually have a twenty foot one in the hall at home. I’ve been decorating it since I was fifteen.’ Behind her back she crossed her fingers. So she’d been watching Sandrine decorate it for most of that time. But she’d watched carefully.

  ‘The job’s yours. As you heard the tree arrives tomorrow. Oh and a bit of ivy and,’ he mimicked speech marks, ‘foliage.’

  Chapter 11

  ‘Gosh it’s cold out there. But I thought I’d better walk.’ Lisa handed over a bottle of wine.

  ‘Thanks, you didn’t have to do that, especially when you’re coming round to help me. Again,’ said Siena, ushering her in quickly to keep the freezing air out. ‘In the end there was too much stuff to carry round to yours.’

  ‘It’s fine hon, you are doing me a favour,’ said Lisa emphasising the words with feeling. ‘Nanna turned up so it would have been wall-to-wall soaps for the evening.’

  A sudden vision of a mosaic of lavender, verbena and rose L’Occitane soaps decorating a wall filled Siena’s head. Luckily Lisa must have seen her blank expression.

  ‘Soap operas,’ she explained, pulling a face as she unwound a huge woolly scarf from her neck and tugged at her gloves. ‘EastEnders, Coronation Street, Emmerdale, Hollyoaks. My gran loves them. Has to watch all of them every night. Don’t you have them in France?’

  ‘We do actually. Paris 16ème and Plus Belle La Vie.’ Agnes was addicted to the former and Siena had often sneaked down to the kitchen to watch it with her during the school holidays.

  ‘They sound a lot more glamorous than EastEnders or Corrie. So what’s the crack?’

  Siena led the way into the kitchen where she’d lined everything up in readiness.

  ‘Jeepers creepers! What the …?’ Lisa stared at the mound of pine cones, rolls of red ribbon and can of white emulsion paint on the newspaper lined table and then her eyes flitted to the pile of ivy and poster tubes piled on the
kitchen chairs.

  Her mouth opened and she squealed. ‘Oooh! Christmas!’ She shimmied out of her coat and tossed it on the only spare chair, reaching for one of a series of large plastic pots on the dresser. ‘You got glitter. Red glitter.’ She whirled towards Siena, the pot held up to the light. ‘I love sparkle.’ Her eyes lit up. ‘So what are we doing?’

  Siena laughed. ‘Will’s decorator let him down at the last minute. So I’m doing the Christmas decorations at the pub.’

  Lisa’s face dimmed fractionally.

  ‘He’s paying me,’ said Siena. ‘And I can pay you.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll let you off. I’m happy to help you. And forget about the money.’ She bounced on the balls of her toes, opening her arms out wide. ‘I love Christmas. You can pay me in Prosecco when you come to mine. Providing Nanna’s gone by then.’

  Siena sucked a quick breath in.

  ‘Moved out, not died.’ Lisa giggled. ‘Your face. She’s staying with me at the moment. So,’ Lisa picked up a pine cone, ‘what’s the plan, Stan?’

  ‘We’re going Scandinavian. Lots of red and white. Simple but stylish.’

  She explained. They’d create the tree decorations by dipping the cones cone into watered down white paint, drizzle each with a pinch of red glitter, add a loop of gold wire and tie a red bow around the loop at the top. For the wall decorations, she had something else in mind.

  ‘Get you. Sounds fancy. Ours isn’t.’ Lisa rolled up her sleeves. ‘Gosh this is organised.’

  Siena had pre-cut the wire and the ribbon and lined everything up.

  ‘Nanna insists we put every ornament on the tree that she’s ever owned since the world began. We always do it together. It’s like a family tradition since I was tiny and my mum was still around.’ Lisa smiled wistfully. ‘Mum used to buy a new decoration every year.’

  Siena sat down opposite her and the two of them began dipping their cones in unison.

  ‘Is this right?’ Lisa asked holding up a completed decoration.

  Siena nodded, wrestling with tying a tiny perfect red bow. Lisa’s was a bit more haphazard but if it was near the top, no one would notice.