Читать книгу The Little Paris Patisserie: A heartwarming and feel good cosy romance - perfect for fans of Bake Off! - Julie Caplin - Страница 15

‘Hey, Nina.’ Maddie bounced through the door first, shaking her head and dappling the floor with drops of second-hand rain, bringing in with her a tail wind of chilly spring air.

‘Morning. You’re the first one here.’ At the sight of her, Nina immediately felt brighter especially as for the last half hour she’d been subjected to Marcel’s rather apathetic help as she set up a coffee station at one of the tables in readiness for everyone’s arrival. He was definitely on a go slow – in fact, any slower and he’d go backwards. As if that wasn’t enough, there was no sign of Sebastian yet and he hadn’t responded to her last text.

‘I’m always early. Comes of having a big family. Trying to get everyone out of the house is always like herding cats.’

‘I know that feeling. My dad used to threaten to get one of the sheepdogs to round us all up. Help yourself to coffee and take a seat. We’ll wait for everyone to get here and then we’ll go through to the kitchen. I’ll be back in a minute.’ She left Maddie helping herself to coffee and nipped downstairs, ignoring Marcel’s impenetrable stare as she passed him.

The kitchen was all set, but where was Sebastian? She gave her watch an anxious look before returning to join Maddie as Marguerite arrived at that very moment with a middle-aged couple in tow. ‘Bonjour Nina, look who I found on my way here. Monsieur and Madame Ashman.’

They both gave shy smiles. ‘They’re here on a prolonged honeymoon and got married three weeks ago.’ Marguerite glided in ushering them in front of her like a serene swan.

‘Hi, I’m Peter and this is Jane.’ They were still holding hands as if they couldn’t bear to be parted, which Nina thought was rather sweet. Peter took the umbrella from Jane and helped her remove her coat before taking off his own and observing, ‘It’s really not very nice out there.’

‘No, it’s horrid but come and grab some coffee. I’m Nina. We’re waiting for one more and then we’ll go through to the kitchen to meet Sebastian who is your course tutor today and then we introduce everyone properly.’

‘Can I take your coats?’

Nina’s head shot up at the sound of Marcel’s voice. His face looked pained as if he really didn’t want to join in but couldn’t bear to see a customer not being looked after properly. She smiled at him and received a snooty nose-in-the-air look in return as he folded the coats over his arm and bore them to the old-fashioned bentwood hat stand in the corner.

‘Am I in the right place?’ boomed a loud voice with a definite northern twang.

‘You must be Bill,’ said Nina, nodding and quickly consulting yet another of the sheaf of notes from Sebastian as the tall, heavily-built man ambled forwards.

‘That’s right, Bill Sykes.’ He gave an all-encompassing salute to everyone, two fingers to his forehead. ‘And don’t say a word, I’ve heard it all before.’

Marguerite looked blank as Maddie and Nina bit back smiles.

Once everyone had had their coffee, Nina herded them through to the kitchen. Surely Sebastian was here by now. He probably wouldn’t have risked the small flight of stairs leading from the kitchen up to the hallway through to the patisserie.

Her heart slipped to her boots. Darn it, still no sign of him.

Everyone crowded in, grouped together looking uncertain, and Nina felt the weight of responsibility.

‘Right, everyone.’ She mustered a cheerful smile and prayed that her jolly hockey sticks voice sounded authoritative and confident. ‘Thank you all for coming today. As you know, I’m Nina and I’ll er…’ What exactly was her role? She and Sebastian hadn’t discussed it. ‘I’ll be looking after you. Sebastian, the chef, is on his way.’ At least she bloody hoped so. She looked at her watch for what felt the hundredth time, feeling aggrieved, as she recalled his words, ‘don’t be late’. ‘I expect he’s been caught up in traffic, coming here, but he’ll be here very soon. I’m sure.’

She gave another smile as everyone looked at her. ‘Yes, he’ll be here any minute.’

But what if he wasn’t? What else could she say to them to fill this growing silence as all of them looked to her as if she held all the answers. With a quick look at another set of Sebastian’s lists on the bench in front of her, she ran over in her mind what he’d said yesterday and came up completely blank. The prickle of sweat on her back made her wriggle uncomfortably for a second.

‘I tell you what.’ She scrabbled for the words. ‘It might be nice if … you introduce yourselves. And perhaps tell us all a little bit about your cooking experience and why you want to learn about patisserie.’

Everyone looked sheepishly at each other for a second and Nina swallowed, praying someone would break the ice. The deathly silence remained. Even Maddie shuffled and looked at her fingernails.

‘So I’m Nina. And er … I’m assisting Sebastian today. I’m…’ Maddie gave her an encouraging smile. ‘I’m not trained. But I bake a lot and I’m fascinated by patisserie. So I volunteered to help … erm perhaps I should have told you … Sebastian’s broken his leg, so I’m helping and hoping to learn at the same time.’ Her voice started to trail away as she glanced around at everyone. They all looked a bit uncertain. The last thing she wanted was for any of them to be disappointed, especially not when she’d suggested the course to two of them.

‘But,’ she said firmly, ‘weeks of preparation have gone into the course to ensure that you all learn the basic building blocks of patisserie. Sebastian is an excellent teacher and a very fine chef. He’s trained at several Michelin-starred restaurants including Le Manoir in Oxfordshire and has worked in the kitchens of some of the top chefs. He runs his own chain of restaurants and is about to open two new restaurants here in Paris.’ She decided against mentioning his plans to turn the patisserie into a bistro. ‘I can assure you, you’re in an excellent pair of hands.’

‘Just the legs that are the problem,’ quipped Maddie with a laugh. And with that the ice was broken, as they all exchanged wry smiles.

‘I’m Maddie Ashcroft, a student on my year abroad in Paris. I thought I’d give it a go…’ She paused with a self-deprecating laugh. ‘I can’t cook to save my life, so it will be quite good if I can go home and impress my family with something incredible. I’m hoping Sebastian is a miracle worker.’ Everyone laughed again and Nina was heartily glad that she’d bumped into Maddie in the street.

With a shrug, she added, ‘And to be honest it seemed as good a way as any other to spend a dull Wednesday morning.’

‘I will concur with that. When you’re as old as I am, the days can be monotonous.’ Marguerite glanced around the room. ‘My name is Marguerite and I can cook—’ she shot a sympathetic smile at Maddie ‘—but I don’t have anyone to cook for. My grandchildren are coming in the summer and I – I…’ Her voice shook and the regal matriarch suddenly looked a touch frail as she blinked hard. ‘I haven’t seen them for some years. I want this visit to be really special.’ Her voice gained strength and the confident hauteur was back. ‘They live in England, so I want to show them how patisserie is in France. Give them a taste of what it is to be French and show them some of the traditional recipes.’

‘That sounds wonderful,’ said Nina, with a warm smile, realising the grand old lady was a lot more fragile and uncertain than she appeared. ‘I’m sure your grandchildren are in for a real treat.’

‘I’m Bill Sykes … and despite the name, I’m a good bloke. Well, at least I like to think I am. No one’s ever told me I’m not.’ He dived in, speaking quickly as if to get it over with. ‘I’ve been a chef in the army for ten years, but…’ He broke off to grin at everyone in the room, having got into his stride. ‘As you can imagine, there isn’t much call for fancy stuff. I’m a frustrated pastry chef and after leaving the army last year, I really wanted to learn a new skill. I’m staying with a friend to help him renovate a house in Paris. These days I’m a builder, electrician and general handyman, so I’m not sure I’m going to have the delicacy of touch.’ He waved large sausage fingers in exaggerated jazz hands.

Nina shook her head. ‘I’m sure you’ll be fine,’ she said, trying not to compare them with Sebastian’s long elegant fingers.

She turned to the couple with a nod inviting them to speak.

‘I’m Peter Ashman and this is Jane, my lovely wife. We’ve recently married and we love cooking, so we’re spending three months in an Airbnb in Paris, so that we can shop Paris markets. And get away from our disapproving families for a while. We heard about the course and fancied having a go.’

Jane nudged him with a naughty twinkle in her eye. ‘And … tell them.’

With a self-deprecating smile he explained, ‘And on one of our first dates, I tried to make profiteroles for Jane but they were a disaster. I made three attempts and they all came out as flat as pancakes. I wrote in the recipe book in capital letters, DO NOT EVER ATTEMPT AGAIN!!!’

Everyone burst out laughing before a dry voice cut in. ‘Choux pastry requires absolute precision. It’s easy when you know how and one of the building blocks of patisserie. By the end of today, I’ll guarantee you’ll be making profiteroles in your sleep.’

Nina whirled round as Sebastian clinked forwards on his crutches to move to the front of the semi-circle, immediately capturing everyone’s attention. Wow, he looked better. A lot better, Nina could scarcely believe the difference. It was more than the way he looked though, even Nina couldn’t deny he carried off the handsome pirate look a bit too well, but there was that charisma, an indefinable something that made everyone look his way and seek his attention.

‘Good morning. I’m Sebastian Finlay and I’m going to be teaching you how to make French patisserie. You’ll have to excuse a certain immobility. I had a run in with a cabin bag and as you can see the cabin bag won.’ He hobbled his way to the stool that Nina had arranged for him, carefully stowing his crutches to one side.

Everyone laughed politely but Nina could see they were all immediately charmed.

‘However, luckily for me, I have my very efficient assistant, Nina, who has kindly, forgive the pun, stepped in for the next few weeks.’

At the unexpected warmth of the smile he sent her way, she blushed. She realised he was playing to the crowd but it was the first time he’d smiled properly at her for a very long time. Studying him through fresh eyes, she realised that yesterday’s weary, worn down and tired looking man had been replaced. Today, in a chest-hugging black T-shirt that enhanced a pair of broad shoulders she’d forgotten about, his slightly olive skin glowed and his eyes were bright, lighting up as he gave his appreciative audience a welcoming smile. He actually looked pretty tasty as long as you didn’t look down. She smirked, those baggy black joggers, at least a size or three too big, didn’t do him any favours.

She quickly re-introduced everyone.

‘Today we will start with choux, which as I said is the basis for so many of the greats, the Paris-Brest, gâteaux Saint-Honoré, éclairs, religieuse and of course profiteroles.’ He shot a quick grin at Peter. ‘I shall be watching you carefully and hopefully we can sort you out.’

‘Hallelujah,’ cheered Peter. ‘I’ll give it my best shot.’

Nina couldn’t help but stare at the light-hearted, charming man that had suddenly materialised. Authoritative and calm, Sebastian gave off an aura that everyone was in safe hands. This was a man who knew exactly what he was doing.

‘Right, well let’s get cracking. Find yourselves a space at one of the benches. You’ll find a recipe sheet next to your utensils. Ingredients are all over here with the scales.’

There was a delicious rustle, a sense of anticipation, as they all took their places at the benches arranged in a U-shape facing the worktable in front of Sebastian. Marguerite and Bill immediately picking up the recipe sheet to read it.

Sebastian turned out to be a far better teacher than Nina expected and she saw vestiges of the kind, patient boy he’d been as a teenager. He was good-humoured and informative with quiet, understated sympathy when anyone struggled. Marguerite took her time to combine the eggs and Nina caught Sebastian laying his crutches to one side to beat the mix to the right consistency, constantly encouraging her throughout and batting away her asides that she was rubbish. Once her piping bag was loaded up she did a more than a fair job of piping even shaped éclairs.

Nina glanced over to the other side. Poor Maddie, still with her tongue protruding, was having a tough time. Her éclairs ranged from fat misshapen lumps to thin, strung out worms with nothing in between. Opposite her, Peter’s were all on the plump side, while Jane’s thin streaks were the polar opposite, which amused Nina. Together, their efforts would have been perfect. It seemed a rather apt analogy for their partnership.

‘Dear God, this one looks like a wayward sea cucumber,’ laughed Maddie. ‘Why is this so much harder than you made it look?’ She’d squeezed so hard that she had undulating waves in her next éclair. ‘I’m rubbish at this,’ she sighed, rolling her eyes.

‘Oh dear,’ sympathised Marguerite, who’d clearly used a piping bag a time or two before. The five éclairs she’d completed so far were arranged with uniform precision.

‘Why do yours look so perfect?’ Maddie laid down her own piping bag and went over to Marguerite’s station. ‘My excuse is I’ve never done anything like this before in my life. Have you? And look how many Bill’s done.’

‘That’s being in the army,’ said Bill, grappling with his bag, his large fingers dwarfing it. His tray was already full and while not in Sebastian’s league, they showed a workmanlike uniformity. ‘Get in, get the job done.’

Sebastian gave Bill’s tray an approving nod. ‘If you slowed down, they’d be even better. But a very good first attempt.’ He moved on down the row and then paused, shaking his head. ‘Maddie—’ his eyes twinkled with a sudden naughtiness ‘—has anyone told you not to squeeze quite so hard? You need a gentle constant pressure.’

Maddie let out a roar of laughter. ‘Are we talking éclairs?’

Sebastian had already moved on with a murmured, ‘Well done Marguerite.’

‘Don’t worry everyone, it just takes a bit of practice and don’t forget this morning is just the start. We’ve got seven weeks to perfect your technique. I realise some of you may not have used a piping bag before and today it’s about getting the consistency of the pastry right.’

Once everyone’s éclairs were piped and Nina had written their names on the greaseproof paper before sliding the trays into the oven, they stopped for a coffee. She couldn’t believe that it was already half past eleven. While everyone trooped out, Nina picked up Sebastian’s discarded icing bag and refilled it, taking the opportunity to have a go herself. Sebastian was absorbed in the laptop he’d switched on the minute the others turned to leave.

A big fat blob exploded from the tip with a splat. ‘Oops,’ said Nina, stepping back but increasing her hold on the bag at the same time, which made things worse; the mixture oozed out of the tip in a big fat trail over the edge of the baking tray like an escapee worm. This was harder than it looked and now she couldn’t let go of the bag without making more mess. She stood there for a second feeling totally incompetent as she heard Sebastian clumping towards her.

‘Here.’ Sebastian stood behind her and rather than take the bulging bag from her hand, he put his hand over hers and slid it under the weight of the bag. ‘Use your left hand to gently cup the bag, don’t squeeze with it.’ That gentle, encouraging tone with a hint of chocolate brought back memories. She’d always loved his voice. Sometimes when he spoke quietly it held a certain timbre that ran over her skin like an electric current.

His shoulder brushed hers as he leaned forward to take her right hand, making her conscious of his nearness. A sudden flush of heat raced over her body, aware now of his height beside her, of his strong arms as the silky hairs on his forearm tickled the skin on her wrist, and the sense of warmth emanating from his body.