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,
