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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018

Copyright © Julie Caplin 2018

Cover images © Shutterstock.com

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018

Julie Caplin asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008259785

Ebook Edition © September 2018 ISBN: 9780008259778

Version: 2019-06-24

For Alison, office bestie, unofficial cheerleader and all round wonderful egg.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Epilogue

Bonus Material

More From Julie Caplin

Acknowledgements

About the Author

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

Stamping her sore and tired feet on the gravelled surface to get some warmth into them, Nina looked at her phone for the ninety-fifth time in ten minutes, almost dropping it. Where the heck was Nick? Fifteen minutes late already and her fingers were about to snap off, adding to her general sense of misery. Standing here at the back entrance to the kitchens in the staff carpark, there was little protection from the biting wind whistling around the sandstone manor house and certainly none from the bleak thoughts in her head.

‘Hey Nina, are you sure you don’t want a lift?’ asked Marcela, one of the other waitresses, in her heavily accented voice, winding her car window down as she backed with some speed out of one of the spaces.

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s alright thanks. My brother’s on his way.’ At least he had better be. Nina wished she was in the little steamed up car with Marcela and the other two staff members, and almost laughed at the rather annoying irony. Mum had insisted Nick pick her up so that she’d know Nina was safe and here she was standing in a car park in the pitch black about to be completely on her own.

‘OK then. See you in eight weeks’ time.’

‘Ha!’ piped up a gloomy East European voice from the back seat – Tomas the sommelier, a perennial pessimist. ‘You think the builders finish on schedule.’

A good-natured chorus shouted him down.

‘See you soon, Nina.’ They all waved and shouted their goodbyes, Marcela winding the window back up as the ancient Polo roared away, as if she couldn’t wait to escape the end of her shift and put up her feet. Which was exactly what Nina was hoping to do, if her brother ever got here.

At last she spotted the headlights speeding down the drive towards her. This had to be Nick. Nearly everyone else had gone. With a speedy gravel-crunching turn, the car pulled to a halt in front of Nina.

She yanked the door open.

‘Hi Sis. You been waiting long? Sorry, sheep emergency.’

‘Yes,’ snapped Nina, scrambling in grateful for the heat of the car. ‘It’s bloody freezing out there. I’ll be so glad when my car’s fixed.’

‘Tell me about it. It took me all the way here to thaw out. Bloody sheep. There was a ewe stuck in the wire fencing up on the moor road. I had to stop and help the stupid creature.’

Was it really churlish to think that at least the sheep had a nice woolly coat while she was in a skirt and tights on a cold February evening?

‘So how was it? The last night,’ asked Nick, leaning down and turning the radio off, which had been blaring football commentary at full blast. ‘And did your mate get a good send off?’

‘Fine. Bit sad as we all won’t see each other for a while due to the renovations. And Sukie will be in New York.’

‘New York. That’s a bit of a change.’

‘She’s a brilliant chef. Going places.’

‘Clearly. To New York. And what’s everyone else doing?’

‘The regular staff are being redeployed and having lots of training.’

‘Seems a bit unfair. Why not you?’

‘Because I’m on a casual contract, I guess.’

‘Well, I’m sure we can find you a few extra hours at the farm shop as well as in the café. And Dan can give you a bit of work at the brewery. Gail’s sister might pay you for some babysitting and George can ask in the petrol station, they’re always needing extra staff. Although that’s late hours, so possibly not.’

Nina closed her eyes. She was absolutely certain that everyone in the family would pitch in to find something for ‘poor Nina’ to do while Bodenbroke Manor Restaurant was closed for refurbishment, whether she liked it or not. It wasn’t that she was ungrateful, they all meant well, but she was a grown up, she was quite capable of finding work without the vast tentacles of her family network spreading their reach on her behalf. She loved her family to bits, she really did but…

‘What’s with the huffing and puffing?’ asked Nick, turning his head to look her way.

‘Nothing,’ said Nina, closing her eyes. ‘Holy moly, I’m tired. My feet feel like they’ve been stomped on by a dozen elephants.’

‘Wuss,’ teased Nick.

‘I’ve been on the go since nine o’clock this morning,’ said Nina. ‘And the restaurant was rammed. I didn’t even get lunch.’

‘That’s not on. You should say something.’

‘It’s not that easy. Everyone’s busy. There wasn’t time for a proper break.’

‘Don’t tell me you haven’t eaten anything today?’

Nina shrugged. She’d rushed out without breakfast, much to her mother’s consternation. ‘A little.’ Her stomach rumbled rather inconveniently at the very moment as if to dispute her answer. Clearly it didn’t think that a bread roll and a slice of cheese constituted enough.

Nick frowned heavily. ‘Even so. Do you want me to say something to the manager, when they re-open?’

‘No, it’s fine. We’ll be having dinner when we get home.’

‘Well, it isn’t—’

‘You don’t work there, you don’t understand.’ Nina’s voice rose in heat. Typical Nick, assuming that he knew best.

‘I don’t need to understand. There are labour laws. You’re entitled to breaks. It’s—’

Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the timely horn fanfare ringtone of his phone booming out through the radio on his handsfree set up.

‘Nick Hadley,’ he said pressing the ‘accept call’ button on the dashboard.

Nina slumped back in her chair, relieved at the interruption; it gave her the perfect opportunity to close her eyes, tune out and pretend to doze for the rest of the way home.

‘Hey Shep, how’re the socks?’ Nina tensed, every sinew locking into place at the sound of a familiar mocking voice. Her brother was often referred to as Shep, short for shepherd, by his friends who seemed obsessed with their childhood version of the carol, ‘While shepherds washed their socks by night’.

‘All good. How are you, Knifeman? Still supporting that shite excuse for a rugby team?’ And apparently Knifeman was the not-so clever nickname for a chef. An arrogant, supercilious, one at that.

‘No words, mate. They were bloody useless against France. And I paid good money for tickets.’

‘What, you went to Stade de France? You jammy git.’

‘Not so jammy when the buggers lost.’

‘Fancy coming over for the Calcutta Cup? You don’t want to be too long in France. You might pick up some bad habits.’

‘Slight problem there.’

‘What?’ asked Nick.

‘I’m laid up. That’s why I’m ringing you.’

Nina pressed her lips together in what some might call a snarky smile. Sebastian clearly had no idea she was there, and she didn’t want him to either. Listening to this ridiculous conversation, no one would ever know they were grown men rather than a pair of adolescents, which would be the obvious inference. She definitely did not want to remember Sebastian as a teenager or how she’d made a complete dick of herself over him. Unfortunately having a teenage crush on your brother’s best friend was possibly the worst thing you could do because ten years on, even now, someone in the family would still occasionally bring it up.

‘What’s happened?’

‘I’ve only gone and broken my leg.’

‘Shit, man, when?’

‘A couple of days ago. Taken out by one of those bloody cabin bag pull-along fuckers. Twisted as I fell.’

‘Ouch. You OK?’

‘No,’ Sebastian growled. ‘Everything’s gone tits up. Turns out one of the new places I bought in Paris has a metaphorical sitting tenant. The previous owner ran pastry courses and forgot to tell me that there’s a seven-week course coming up that’s all booked and paid for.’

‘Can’t you cancel?’ asked Nick, flicking the indicator and turning the car off the main road towards the village.

‘Unfortunately, I committed to it. I thought I might as well because I can get my French contractors to start work on the other two places first and they’ll take a couple of months, so I might as well keep this going. Which would have been fine if I hadn’t broken my sodding leg.’

In the darkness, Nina pressed her lips together. She wouldn’t normally wish misfortune on anyone but somehow Sebastian just irked her. It wasn’t his success she begrudged, Lord knew he’d worked hard enough to become a top chef with a small restaurant chain of his own. Too hard, if you asked her. No, it was his superior, dismissive attitude. Over the last ten years, whenever she’d seen him, she’d always managed to appear at a disadvantage. And the last time had been truly mortifying.

‘Can’t you get someone else to do it?’

‘I’m not sure I’m going to find anyone at such short notice. The course starts next week. Besides, all I need is a spare pair of legs for the next few weeks. Until I get this cast off.’

‘Nina could help. She’s just been laid off at the restaurant she works at.’

Nina shot up in her seat, narrowing her eyes at her impossibly stupid brother. Had he had a brain fart or something? Seeing the movement in the car, Nick turned and she saw the flash of his teeth in the dark as he gave her a great big grin.

‘With respect Nick, your sister is the last person in the world I’d want helping me.’

Nick’s grin faded. There was a lengthening silence in the car.

Then Sebastian muttered, ‘Oh shit, she’s there, isn’t she?’

With an icy smile, Nina drew herself up. ‘Oh shit, indeed. But don’t worry, with respect Sebastian, castrating the lambs on the farm with my own teeth would be preferable to helping you out.’

With that, she leaned forward and disconnected the call.

Chapter 2

The family kitchen was a hive of activity and her mother was bustling about with hands in floral oven gloves, the big kitchen table laid for eight and several pans steaming and bubbling on the big range oven.

‘Nina, Nick. Just in time.’

‘Something smells good,’ said Nick chucking his car keys on the dresser to join the assorted detritus that seemed to collect there on a daily basis, no matter how often their mother tidied up. Despite all four of her grown up sons having left home in varying degrees they continued to treat the kitchen as their own, which Nina’s mother just adored. None of her offspring had strayed very far. Nick, older than her by two years, lived in the farm cottage across the courtyard and helped Dad with the farm and the sheep. Still single, he seemed in no hurry to find a wife and was taking his time checking out potential candidates.

‘Sit down. You must be starving. Where are Dan and Gail? They’d said they’d be here five minutes ago.’

‘Mum, it’s Dan. It’s guaranteed he’ll be late for his own funeral,’ said Nick, giving her a quick peck on the cheek as he unwound his scarf.

‘Don’t talk about things like that,’ she shuddered. ‘They were very busy in the brewery and the farm shop today. Had a coachload in from North Wales. Poor Cath.’ Nina’s mother, Lynda, shot a sympathetic look at Nina’s sister-in-law sitting down at the table slumped over an empty cup of coffee. Cath, who was married to her second oldest brother Jonathon, one of twins, lifted her blonde head and gave Nina a pathetic little wave.

‘It was mental. We ran out of scones and coffee and walnut cake. Honestly those OAPs are like locusts. You’d think they hadn’t had a square meal for days. The cupboards are bare.’

Her mother gave Nina a worried half-smile.

Nina groaned as she slipped off her coat. ‘Don’t worry, as soon as I’ve had dinner I can knock up a batch of scones and make a quick cake. I can do the buttercream in the morning.’

‘Oh darling, you’ve just got in from work. You must be shattered. I’m sure Cath can manage for a day.’

Nina caught Cath’s quick eye-roll. ‘Mum, it won’t take long.’

‘If you’re sure, dear.’

Thankfully, her eldest, by five minutes, brother Dan came barrelling into the kitchen pulling his wife Gail along by her hand, the door swinging wildly on its hinges as the two of them came in giggling.

‘Hi guys, the favourite child is here,’ boomed Dan. His wife gave him a quick poke in the ribs.

Suddenly the noise in the kitchen increased tenfold as Jonathon and her father appeared from the hallway. Chairs scraped on the flagstone floor, beer bottles chinked as a handful were retrieved from the fridge, the crown caps dispatched quickly with a firm flip to rattle on the side, while Dad set to work with a corkscrew and there was the satisfying pop of a bottle of red wine being uncorked. Seamlessly, everyone took their seats, a variety of conversations erupting around the table. Nina slipped into her place, next to her mum at the head of the table.

‘Are you sure you’re alright to make the cakes? I could get up early and make a batch of scones to tide Cath over.’

‘Mum, its fine honestly.’ She’d caught the quick look exchanged by her sisters-in-law and then Gail had winked at her. ‘Once I’ve had dinner, I’ll get my second wind.’ It was only a couple of cakes for goodness’ sake – and it would give her an excellent excuse to escape the usual bedlam here and have some peace and quiet in her own little flat over the old stable block, without anyone worrying about her being on her own.

Her mum firmed her lips and turned her attention to the casserole dishes on the table.

‘Jonathon, you’re dripping that spoon everywhere.’

‘Oh Jonathon!’ chorused Dan, immediately taking the opportunity to tease his twin. The rest of the male contingent joined in.

‘Dan, don’t you want more than that?’

‘See, favourite child.’ Jonathon pointed his spoon at his brother, quickly remonstrated by his wife.

As always, it was like feeding time at the zoo but Nina was relieved that the attention had moved away from her. She managed to stay under the radar until the very last scrapings of the large casserole dish on the table while Dan and Jonathon bickered over who was going to get the last piece of lamb.

‘So what’s happening with this car of yours, lovie?’ her dad asked.

‘It’s still in the garage. They couldn’t get the part but they’re hoping it will be in tomorrow.’

‘It’s going to take more than a part to fix that thing.’ Her mum shuddered. ‘It’s a death trap.’

Nina muttered under her breath, but no one heard her because they’d already pitched in with their own views on her car. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her little Fiat.

‘Mum, you don’t need to worry about Nina in that thing, she can’t pedal fast enough to get into any trouble,’ teased Nick.

‘A sewing machine’s got more power,’ chipped in Dan.

‘I do wish you’d get something a bit more sturdy. I worry about you getting squished by a bigger car.’

‘Ma, you don’t need to worry, Nick’s truck would go straight over the top of it.’ Dan, having won the battle over the lamb, dropped his knife and fork with a clatter on the plate.

Mum shuddered again. ‘That’s even worse.’

‘I love my car, leave it alone,’ said Nina. She missed it desperately at the moment because she was so reliant on lifts from everyone else.

‘Tom in the pub’s wife is selling her car. I could take a look at it for you, if you wanted,’ said Dad. ‘It’s a Ford. They’re good reliable cars. Don’t cost much to run.’

And as boring as hell, thought Nina.

‘Oh, that’s a good idea, darling,’ her mum added.

Nina was about to say something calm and sensible like, ‘As I’m about to pay for the repairs, it’s probably not the best time to think about buying another car’, but she’d had about enough of them all thinking they knew what was best for her. Honestly, they still thought of her as the baby of the family. So instead, she jumped up, glared around the table and yelled, ‘I like my car as it is, thank you very much!’ before grabbing her coat and storming off out through the back door to her flat.

As she slammed the door behind her it was rather satisfying to hear the shocked silence reverberating around the table.

When the soft knock came at her door, as four sponges were cooling on the rack, she knew it would be Nick. Despite the fact he nagged her the least, he was the most protective of all her brothers. Part of her wanted to ignore him and pretend to be in bed but she knew that her uncharacteristic outburst would have already caused a stir, and if she didn’t answer the door, he would keep knocking.

‘Yes?’ She opened the door a couple of inches making it clear she didn’t want company.

‘Just checking you’re alright.’ His cheery grin held a touch of strain.

Feeling guilty, she opened the door wider. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Just fine?’ He took a step into the open plan studio flat, shutting the door behind him.

‘Yes, just fine.’ She sighed. ‘Do you want a cup of tea or something?’

He raised a teasing eyebrow. ‘Something? You got a hidden stash of brandy or whisky I didn’t know about?’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, would it matter if I did?’ She was way past being teased and didn’t care if she let her impatience show. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed I’m a grown woman. It was a figure of speech. You’ll be relieved to know that all that’s lurking in my sad cupboards are a couple of boxes of PG Tips.’

‘Ooh, someone put her grumpy pants on this morning – or was it a certain phone call earlier?’ Nick folded his arms and leaned against the wall.

‘It has absolutely nothing to do with flaming Sebastian Finlay. I’m fed up with the whole family treating me like a baby. I’m nearly thirty, for fu…’ She hesitated, as he frowned. If she actually swore, he really would go into a tailspin. ‘For flip’s sake. Mum and Dad fuss so and then bloody Jonathon and Dan join in. Cath and Gail both think it’s ridiculous how you all worry over absolutely flipping nothing. And you’re the absolute worst, coming over doing the big brother act. I don’t need it.’ She stood her ground, glaring up at him, her hands clenched by her side. Although it was tempting to flounce across the room and throw herself onto the sofa, it would look like a childish tantrum and she needed him to know that they were all driving her crazy. Maybe she was a bit hormonal today, perhaps a bit tired, but this had been brewing for a few months.

‘It’s only because we care,’ explained Nick.

‘I get that. I really do.’

‘But?’

‘I … I feel…’ The problem was she didn’t really know what she felt. Frustrated. Irritated. Weak. Going nowhere. Treading water. Sukie, her friend from work, the pastry chef, was off to New York. Her career was taking off. Nina didn’t even have a career let alone the opportunity to take off. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the experience, let alone the cooking credentials or qualifications, to apply for Sukie’s job. Nick wouldn’t understand and neither would the rest of the family. They were all content and happy, although she suspected sometimes Nick would have liked to leave the farm and widen his horizons a bit. Only Toby, four years Nina’s senior, had moved any distance away when he’d gone to Bristol to study to be a vet, and now he’d come back he was only fifty miles away, although that was at least out of range of daily scrutiny.

‘I know it’s hard being the youngest and the only girl and Mum and Dad do worry because you had a pretty rough start—’

‘Don’t you dare say it!’ Nina held up a hand.

‘What? That you nearly died when you were born? But it’s true.’

Nina buried her head in her hands. ‘Yes, and it’s history. You’d think I’d been at death’s door for most of my life. Apart from appendicitis and the usual coughs, colds, chicken pox, I’ve never been properly ill.’

Nick didn’t say anything.

‘Have I?’ she prompted.

‘No,’ he admitted with a grudging smile. ‘So I’m not going to get a tea or something?’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’ Nina did flounce this time, crossing to the kitchen area to flip on the kettle. It wasn’t as if she could go to bed yet, she was still waiting for the sponges to cool down before she could sandwich them together with the coffee cream and walnuts. ‘Oy.’ She rapped his knuckles with a teaspoon as he snaffled one of her freshly made scones and took a bite quickly.

‘Mmm, these are good.’

She ignored him as she made a quick pot of tea. There was something soothing about making it properly and it was a definite delaying tactic.

She brought the pot and, bowing to Nick’s bigger frame, a mug as well as one of her favourite vintage cup and saucers, over to the small round dining table to the left of the kitchen area. The open plan living area was perfect for one and she deliberately kept the number of seats around the table to a minimum. This was her bolthole and she’d made sure it was her space. She’d used pastel colours on the walls and bought pretty, delicate floral fabric to make curtains and cushions to stamp her feminine identity on the place. Being surrounded by four boys all her life had definitely influenced her décor choices. Growing up at the farmhouse, most things had been practical and robust. Colour had not been a significant feature. Jonathon and Dan’s idea of interior design had been to paint their bedroom walls in alternate black and white stripes to emulate their beloved Newcastle United.

‘Here you go.’ She pushed the mug of tea towards her brother.

‘So what’s brought all this on?’ asked Nick, his face softening in sympathy.

‘It’s been coming on for a while. I feel a bit stuck. Like I’m going nowhere and I’m never going to do anything.’

‘What do you want to do?’

Nina toyed with the edge of her saucer. It was a stupid idea. After all, she’d been there once and messed it up.

Of all her brothers, she was closest to Nick. Perhaps because they were both in the same boat.

‘Don’t you sometimes want to get away from here? Be on your own.’

Nick’s mouth twisted. ‘Very occasionally, I wonder if I’ve missed out. It’s not exactly easy to meet people round here. But I love farming and it’s not like I can up sticks and take the farm with me. And then I stand at the top of the fell and look down the valley, follow the curve of the drystone walls that have been there for centuries and I feel like I belong. It’s continuity.’

Nina looked up at him and gave him a gentle smile. He’d always been her hero, not that she’d dream of saying that to him. His head was plenty big enough already. For all his childish banter and teasing, he was a good soul who knew his place in the world.

She sighed, not wanting to sound ungrateful. ‘At least you’re useful. You have a proper purpose and a proper job.’

‘What do you want to do?’

Pulling a face, she traced the edge of the saucer again. ‘Get away for a while. Be me. Find out who me really is.’

Nick frowned looking confused.

‘Just now, I didn’t use the ‘F’ word because I knew you’d disapprove.’

Now he looked even more confused.

‘I feel like I’m treading water. I want … I want to cook properly. Not just make cakes and things.’

‘You want to be a chef? But you tried that before.’ He pointed to her. ‘You know, the raw meat thing. The, er, having a meltdown, panic attack thing. Didn’t you throw up as well?’

‘Thanks for reminding me, but what I didn’t realise then was that there are other specialisms that wouldn’t involve handling raw meat. I could be a pastry chef. Sukie, who’s off to New York is, was, absolutely amazing. She’s inspired me. You should see the things she makes. I … I…’ Nina stopped. She’d been trying a few things out at home, with varying degrees of success. It had been difficult at work to spend much time observing her former colleague, when she was supposed to be waiting tables, although Sukie had always been willing to let her hang around. She needed to be trained. Go on a patisserie course.

Ever since Sebastian’s call in the car, her mind had kept circling back to his announcement that he was running a pastry course. He needed legs. She had seven weeks free, well, almost. And surely Mum and Cath could find someone else to make cakes for a few weeks.

This was the most serendipitous thing that had ever, ever, ever happened to her. She’d be mad not to pursue it. Surely it was meant to be, even if Sebastian was involved. This was the perfect opportunity for her to show everyone how passionate she was about patisserie. Prove to everyone that she’d finally found her ‘thing’.

‘Would you talk to him for me?’

‘Talk to who?’ asked Nick, puzzled.

‘Sebastian.’

Chapter 3

As she stepped off the train at the Gare du Nord, finding it rather wonderful and amazing that she was now in another country and that she’d whizzed underneath the channel, she was tempted to pinch herself. Just two hours ago she’d been at St Pancras and now she was in Paris. Gay Paris. On her own. Away from the family. It felt as if she’d shaken off a very heavy feather duvet that was in danger of suffocating her. Even as she’d climbed into the car with Dad to go to the station, Mum had slipped a handful of Euro notes into her hand and muttered, ‘For a taxi when you get there. So you don’t have to worry about the Metro with all your bags.’

And then her dad had done exactly the same thing when he dropped her at the station. Bless them both. She wasn’t ungrateful, but really! She was perfectly capable of getting the Metro on her own.

Despite listening to a French language app throughout her Eurostar trip, Nina was slightly disappointed to realise that she still couldn’t understand a single sentence of the thousand-words-per-second, rapid delivery of the man at the information desk. Unfortunately, he was determined not to speak any English and the only word they could agree on was taxi. So much for her first independent foray! At least Mum and Dad would be pleased.

The taxi brought her into a wide boulevard, lined with trees shading small cafes and their bistro tables and chairs. On either side of the street were buildings of five or six storeys running the full length of the road, where all of the windows had those cute wrought iron balconies and there were imposing looking wooden front doors interspersed at regular intervals.

Despite the old stone walls and the heavy wooden trim, the door to the building opened with an electronic buzz and she found herself in a stark entrance hall with a narrow, tiled staircase curling upwards. Sebastian had taken up residence in a hotel as there was no lift here at his apartment block. With a sigh, Nina looked upwards at the broad staircase. How on earth was she going to lug a big suitcase as well as the heavy tote bag and her handbag up to the top floor? This is independence. Remember — what you wanted. Even so she glanced around, almost hopeful that someone might materialise to help. But unlike in the movies, no handsome knight appeared offering to carry her cases for her. With a dispirited groan, she put her messenger bag across her chest, hefted her tote bag higher on her shoulder and picked up the suitcase and got on with it.

As per Sebastian’s texted instructions, Nina rang the doorbell on flat 44b and almost before she’d taken her finger from the bell, the door opened, making her jump.

A slender woman looked out. Her dead straight blonde hair was arranged in a sleek ponytail framing her face accentuating high cheekbones and a firm chin. She might have written the book on classy chic and haughty sang-froid, as defined by her indifferent expression, glossy pointy shoes, the wide-legged cream trousers and a high-necked silk blouse in pale blue, all of which made Nina feel doubly hot and sticky.

‘Bonjour, je suis Nina. Je suis ici pour les clés de Sebastian.’ The words burbled out in desperation and from the quickly concealed smile on the face of the elegant woman, she’d not made a terribly good fist of it.

‘Bonjour, Nina. I heard you coming all the way up the stairs.’ Nina felt her disapproval. ‘I’m Valerie du…’ She didn’t quite catch her surname, as Valerie sounded as if she’d swallowed every syllable. ‘Here are the keys.’ She held them out at arm’s length with a rather regal, keep-the-peasants-at-a-distance touch. ‘When you see Sebastian, please give him my very best wishes.’ Her flawless English and very sexy accent highlighted Nina’s sense of being under-dressed and travel-soiled. ‘I shall miss him, he’s such excellent company.’ Valerie added with a knowing, naughty look.

Nina swallowed. ‘I will. Erm, thank you.’ Valerie looked at least fifteen years older than Sebastian. Without any more ado, Valerie shut the door.

‘Welcome to Paris,’ muttered Nina under her breath. ‘I hope you had a good journey. If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask, as you’re in a strange apartment, in a foreign city and you don’t know a soul around here.’

As she battled her way through the door, dragging her suitcases, her phone pinged.

I’m assuming you’ve made it. I need you to bring some of my stuff over to the hotel from my apartment. Ring me and I’ll talk you through what I need. If you come over here, we can have a meeting about what will be required from you. I suggest about 3 p.m. Sebastian.

She wilted slightly at the strictly business text. Couldn’t he give her a break? She’d been in the city for less than an hour and had no idea where the hotel was in relation to here. At the moment, her priority was locating a kettle and coffee and ransacking a cupboard to find something to eat. He could at least have given her chance to settle in?

Sebastian was just being bloody pedantic, Nina decided as she hauled down a wheelie suitcase from the top of the cupboard in the hallway. Surely it would be easier to transport everything in this instead of the leather holdall he’d asked for. The wheelie case, which looked like an oversized silver beetle with latched sides, would be much easier to pull along rather than having to carry the other bag.

After a brief conversation, in which he’d given her the address of his hotel, she’d scribbled down the list of what he wanted. First up, his laptop and papers, which she gathered up from the table in the lounge. Then she moved to the bedroom. Five shirts, as requested, folded and packed, the toiletry bag filled from the bathroom and dressing table, including the Tom Ford aftershave he’d specifically asked for – and no, she didn’t do that girly thing of sniffing it, even though she did wonder what it smelled like. Next, underwear. Hesitantly she opened his top drawer. Yup, underwear drawer. Somehow she might have guessed he’d be a jersey boxer man. And Calvin Klein rather than M&S. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen plenty of men’s underwear in her time but … this felt too personal. Thinking about Sebastian in this. No, she was not going there. He was just a bloke. Nick’s friend. A silly boy once. She’d known him forever. Telling herself to get on with it and quit being so stupid, she grabbed a handful, and as she did, she nudged a cardboard box. Shit. That was different ball game. Wincing at the double entendre, she looked at the box. Condoms. A pack of twelve. Featherlite. Open.

Don’t look inside. Don’t.

With a bump she sat down on the bed.

Four missing. Sebastian. Had sex. Has sex. Is having sex.

And it was absolutely, definitely, no way of interest to her. Nothing to do with her. She was not going to look at the use by date on them. And there was no earthly reason for her heart to have that silly, stupid, ridiculous pinching feeling.

Sebastian was a good-looking guy. No state secret. Of course he had women. The last time she’d seen him, he’d had a girlfriend. And the time before that. Different ones. He had girlfriends. She knew that. This was hardly a surprise and meant nothing to her.

Oh heck. So what was she supposed to do with them? Ignore them? Pretend she hadn’t seen them? But then he knew they were here. Would know that she’d see them. Or maybe he had forgotten. If she packed them, it would show that she was completely blasé about them being there. Show that she was grown up and worldly about such things. Although if he needed them, quite how he was going to manoeuvre with a broken leg would be interesting. And where had that thought come from? Hurriedly she stuffed them in. That was the responsible thing to do, wasn’t it?

Unfortunately, there was a hold up on the Metro which made her late and then, when she emerged onto the street, it had started to drizzle. Of course it bloody well had, so her perfect bob which was supposed to represent her new, more grown up image, had gone slightly curly, her pointy high heels, showing Parisienne sophistication, were killing her and the horribly expensive sheer tights were splashed with dirty water. It also turned out that the five-minute walk to the hotel was technically correct, providing you were a certain Mr Usain Bolt.

By the time she staggered to the top of the flight of steps of the hotel, tottering in her heels with all the élan of Tony Curtis in Some Like it Hot, it was nearer five o’clock. The concierge opened the door for her and she managed to raise a very small smile, which was quickly wiped from her face when her wet shoes slipped on one of the tiles. Saving herself before she fell, she sacrificed the wheelie case which promptly popped open exploding clothes in a rainbow of colour and fabric. And of course, the damn box of condoms had to go skittering across the floor before it came to rest beside the highly polished chestnut shoes of a tall, dark Gregory Fitoussi lookalike.

Sod’s law, he had to bend down, pick them up and hand them to her as she blushed like a sunburned tomato.

‘Merci,’ she stuttered trying to give him an insouciant smile, taking them calmly from him as if this sort of thing happened to her all the time and it really was nothing and she wasn’t the least bit fazed by it or dying slowly inside.

With a charming smile, he nodded, said something in rapid indistinguishable French and walked away, stepping around a pair of boxers.

Aware that she’d become a bit of a spectacle in the busy lobby, not that anyone was rushing forward to help, she hurriedly snatched the scattered clothes and rammed them back into the case any old how, closed it and, smoothing her hair, she crossed to the front desk. Sebastian had told her to ask for him at the front desk so that they could give her a key for his room.

Goodness only knows what everyone thought she was doing with a suitcase of condoms and men’s clothing. The receptionist gave her a decidedly glacial look. Everyone probably thought she was a call girl, which was almost correct as for the next few weeks she was going to be Sebastian’s beck-and-call girl.

Chapter 4

Sebastian was on the ninth floor and his room, rather practically, was right next door to the lift. She knocked loudly with several firm raps before inserting the key card into the slot. Three attempts later the little light finally turned green and she pushed open the door, her heart thumping so hard that she could almost feel her ribs rattling. Which was ridiculous.

‘Nina?’ His voice called from beyond another door in the short gloomy corridor.

‘Yes, its me.’ Her voice sounded thin and reedy. She took a deep breath. It was ten years ago. They were both older and wiser.

‘You’re late.’

Sighing, Nina nibbled at her lip and pushed open the internal door.

She didn’t see him at first and took a minute to stare around at the rather grand surroundings. It was cowardly, she knew, but her legs had gone all wobbly, not unlike one of the newborn calves on the farm. A wave of homesickness grabbed at her and a longing to turn the clock back to a time when Sebastian was her brother’s best friend.

‘Yes, it’s a suite,’ Sebastian’s dry voice came from the sofa in front of her, where his head poked above the back.

This wasn’t at all how she’d imagined their first conversation would go, but then she’d had trouble imagining how it would go at all.

‘It certainly is,’ she said, taking refuge in the grandeur of the room rather than meeting Sebastian’s narrow-eyed gaze.

It was palatial, double the size of her little flat at home, with two sofas opposite each other, a series of French windows opening onto three balconies and a monster TV screen. Antique-y looking furniture lined the walls on either side with two double doors opening onto what she guessed were bedrooms. ‘All this just for you.’

‘I have handy friends,’ said Sebastian, his voice scratchy and cross. ‘And it was the closest to the lift.’ She finally looked down at where he lay on the sofa, propped up against the arm with a pile of pillows, the offensively, bright blue cast clashing horribly with the pale lemon of the silk damask cushions.

‘You loo…’ She stopped herself in time. Telling him he looked terrible probably wasn’t going to go down well. Inside, some less than charitable little minx shouted, Yay! Sebastian Finlay looks horrible. Skanky. Yukky. Totally unfancyable. His skin had a grey pallor and his hair was greasy and yes, yuk, slicked to his scalp. Purple shadows underscored his eyes and his chin was dotted with several days of stubble. The white T-shirt he wore looked grimy and he was in his pants. Sebastian in his pants. Her mouth twitched. She wanted to do one of those victory dances footballers do when they run around the pitch with their shirts over their heads.

‘Thanks,’ he said, dryly second guessing the rest of her sentence. ‘Excuse me if I don’t get up.’

‘Looks … uncomfortable,’ she said suddenly realising that she wasn’t behaving normally at all and trying not to look at the top of the cast where it met his pants. What was wrong with her, for goodness’ sake.

His mouth thinned but he didn’t acknowledge her comment. ‘I, erm … your stuff. I brought it. Where do you want me to put your case?’

Sebastian closed his eyes as if summoning up some patience and then glanced down at his leg.

‘Sorry, you need me to unpack it for you,’ said Nina

‘It would help,’ he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. ‘Did you bring my laptop? Phone charger? Can I have those first?’

Nina brought the case over to the second sofa and opened it up.

‘Jeez, Nina.’ Sebastian scowled. ‘Why did you stuff everything in there? Those shirts were freshly ironed. They look like they’ve been used to wipe the floor.’

He had a point, and they sort of had but before she could apologise or explain, he carried on, ‘If you’re going to throw a temper tantrum every time I ask you to do something you don’t want to do, this isn’t going to work. I need someone to help me, not a spoilt prima donna who throws her toys out of the pram when things don’t go her way. I knew this was a mistake.’ He threw his arm over his face.

Nina whirled round, feeling her nose flaring. Possibly her most unattractive trait, but it only ever happened when she was really cross. And now she was really, really cross.

‘I appreciate you don’t have a particularly high opinion of me, Mr She’s-the-last-person-I’d-want-to-help but I’m not that petty. I didn’t do it on purpose. The stupid case just popped open by itself.’

‘One, you weren’t supposed to hear that comment and I’m sorry, it wasn’t terribly tactful. And two, yes that case does that,’ he bit out, ‘which is why I specifically told you to bring the holdall.’

‘So because I wasn’t supposed to hear that comment, it makes it alright?’ said Nina through pinched lips. ‘And two, I’m not sure you were that specific.’

‘How much more specific do you need than, make sure you bring the leather holdall on top of the wardrobe? The one with—’ His face tightened and his eyes narrowed. ‘Nina. This is never going to work. You might as well pack your bags and go back home.’

For a minute she stood, clenching her hands into fists feeling wrong-footed and foolish. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This was supposed to be her showing everyone that she could stand on her own two feet.

‘Look, I’m sorry. It’s my first day here. I was rushing. I can take your shirts back and wash them. It’s not the end of the world.’

‘No, it’s not,’ he agreed with a wince. ‘It’s inconvenient. It means I have to get housekeeping to do them for me and I’m already pushing it on the favours front with my mate Alex, who’s the general manager here.’

‘He must be a really good friend. This looks expensive.’

‘Like I said, he’s doing me a favour. He keeps an eye on me, otherwise I’d still be in hospital, so I don’t like to take advantage. He’s a busy guy, with this place to run. I told him the cavalry was on its way, which is why I was keen for you to get here.’ He looked pointedly at his watch.

‘I’m sorry. Have you been on your own all day?’ Now she felt bad. ‘When was the last time you had anything to eat or drink?’

‘Last night,’ he said curtly. ‘But it’s fine, it’s a hassle to pee.’

Ah, so that explained his surliness. That, Nina, could cope with. She knew what hangry men were like.

‘Information I could do without,’ said Nina crisply. ‘However, you probably need to eat something to keep up your strength.’

She picked up the room service menu. ‘What do you fancy?’

‘Surprise me. I don’t really care. I’m bored with hotel food.’ His listless sigh made her stop and study him more carefully. He didn’t look great at all.

She sat down on the sofa opposite with the menu in her hand and even at that distance there was a distinct whiff of unwashed male. A part of her could have revelled in seeing Sebastian at such a disadvantage for once in her life, but the good part overruled all the petty, stored-up grudge-y stuff.

‘You need to eat,’ she said, softening her voice. ‘I know you probably don’t feel like it and I’m hardly medically trained, but I do think it will help. How about an onion soup? That’s quite light.’

‘I don’t need a nursemaid,’ he snapped, the listless droop vanishing in seconds. ‘I need some practical help. I’m not that hungry but you can order some food although it would be more helpful if you could unpack my stuff for me.’

‘Wow, these look great,’ said Nina studying the mood boards propped up on two flip chart stands, relieved to find an impersonal opening topic. She’d unpacked Sebastian’s clothing as quickly as she could, hanging up the crumpled shirts and hoping the creases might drop a little.

She looked closer at the various designs for restaurant interiors.

‘The first two are coming along.’ Sebastian scowled. ‘Although, we still haven’t quite got it right for the bistro I’m putting into the patisserie site.’

‘It all looks very chic and trendy.’ Not quite her cup of tea but judging from the success of his restaurants in England, Sebastian knew what he was doing.

‘That’s the plan.’

Nina nodded and was relieved to hear the knock at the door announcing room service.

Taking the tray from the waiter, she awkwardly realised she needed to tip him when he loitered for a second. Dumping the tray on the coffee table she got out her bag and fished out a couple of euros handing them to him. When she turned around Sebastian was wriggling like a worm on a hook, trying to reach the tray but unfortunately he had slid too far down the cushions to get enough purchase to push himself up again.

‘Here, let me,’ she said unable to bear watching him struggling any longer.

‘I told you, I don’t need any help,’ he said, swiping at the sheen of sweat on his forehead.

She ignored him and went around the sofa and hooked her arms underneath his and around his chest to help him sit upright again. As soon as she touched him, her heart bounced uncomfortably in her chest as a flood of memories collided in her head, leaving her with a familiar sense of inevitability. It seemed as if Sebastian still had the physical power to affect her. She gritted her teeth. In future she’d be sure to keep her distance.

Despite his protestations that he wasn’t hungry, the soup disappeared pretty quickly. No sooner had he put the soup bowl aside, he picked up his laptop and the papers she’d brought.

‘Right. We might as well get started. Do you have pen and paper?’ he barked.

‘No, I arrived today. You said the job would be two days a week. The course doesn’t start until Wednesday. I thought you just wanted me to bring stuff over today.’

His mouth snapped shut as if he’d thought better of what he was about to say.

‘Count this as the clock starting from now. Take one of those.’ He nodded at a foolscap pad. ‘There’s a lot to do before the course starts and unfortunately, I’ve been busy with the plans for the first two restaurants, so I hadn’t done anything before…’ He indicated the cast, his face signalling disgust. ‘You’re going to have start from scratch. It’s a seven-week course, which will be a full day every Wednesday but I’m going to need you to work the day before to get everything set up. Over the seven weeks we’ll look at different pastries and the techniques – except, I’m still thinking about the final day. I might do something a bit different then.’

Nina scribbled notes frantically for the next half hour, her heart sinking. This wasn’t quite what she’d imagined. In her head she was the theatre nurse to a clever consultant, handing him his scalpel and suction at exactly the right moment, demonstrating how efficient and supportive she was while soaking up his brilliant skills. None of her daydreams involved the equivalent of prepping the patient, making beds, disinfecting the theatre or swabbing down the wards.

‘Hello, Nina. Are you listening?’

Nodding fervently, she sat up straighter. Concentrate, Nina.

‘I’ll get my usual suppliers to deliver the fresh ingredients, eggs, butter and cream but there should be plenty of the basics – flour, icing sugar, caster sugar – in the kitchen already. You’ll need to get the more specialist items from a wholesaler I know. We won’t need them on the first day as we’ll be covering the basics. I’ll give you the account details. We’ll need things like rose petals, pure vanilla extract, crystalized violets, pistachio paste, freeze dried strawberry pieces and mango powder later on.’

She perked up. This was more like it. The fun stuff. Baking for the farm shop wasn’t exactly challenging, she could rustle up a Victoria sponge or a coffee and walnut cake in her sleep. You could make some amazing things with the ingredients Sebastian had just listed.

‘Er, hello. You still with me?’ Sebastian’s irritated voice cut through her daydreams.

‘Sorry, it’s—’ she nibbled at her lip again ‘—patisserie dirty talk. I can’t wait to see what you do with all those ingredients.’ She’d watched the pastry chef at the restaurant for months, intrigued and delighted by her creations but too shy to ask too much about how they were made.

‘It’s like all these secret spells you have to master, you have to be a sorcerer with sugar, a wizard with chocolate and a magician with flavours and fillings.’

‘It’s just science,’ said Sebastian, his eyebrows drawing together in puzzlement.

‘No, it’s not,’ retorted Nina, at first thinking he was teasing for a minute, but his face was deadly serious. ‘It’s magic. Making wonderful special sweet potions of sugar and all things nice. Like baking alchemy, spinning sugar into edible loveliness.’

‘Still fanciful then, Nina,’ said Sebastian turning back to his laptop. ‘To be perfectly accurate, like with most cooking, patisserie is more about chemical reactions, where precise combinations of one or two substances react together to become another substance.’

She stopped and stared at him. ‘But…’ At eighteen she’d been inspired by his passion, his descriptions of the food he wanted to cook and his pilgrimages to visit new suppliers in the search for those special and unique ingredients.

‘So what’s with the sudden interest in patisserie?’ he asked, his gaze sharpening.

‘I … want to learn how to make proper patisserie. I’ve been watching the pastry chef at work for a while and … well, she’s amazing and I love baking, so I thought—’

‘Nina.’ He shook his head with a rueful mocking laugh. ‘You’re living in cloud cuckoo land. Seven weeks here assisting me isn’t going to train you. It takes years to become a pastry chef. You have to train properly.’

Nina felt the flush race along her cheekbones. ‘I realise that,’ she snapped back in a bid to hide the rush of mortification. ‘I’m not stupid. But I want to learn … and this is … a start.’

‘What? And you’re thinking about training? Or is that another…’

Nina wanted to ask, another what, but she had a pretty good idea what he might say. It was alright for him, he’d always known what he wanted to do. He’d been driven from day one and had had to fight against parental disapproval to pursue his goal, whereas her parents were always supportive, no matter what she did – and she had to face it, she’d done quite a lot of things. She’d worked in a garden centre when she thought she might be a landscape gardener, applied to the bank when she thought she might try a serious career, helped out at the children’s nursery when she thought about being a teacher. It wasn’t that she wasn’t a hard worker or prepared to put in the effort, it was just that none of them ever quite turned out to be what she thought they would. But she really wanted to learn how to cook the amazing confections she’d seen Sukie making over the last year.

‘Right, we’d better get started. There’s a lot to do. I’ll give you a set of keys, although Marcel, the manager, will be there. He’s a miserable sod, so ignore him.’

‘I guess that’s because he’s about to lose his job.’

‘Once the new bistro is opened, there’ll be work for him. I’ll need waiters. Right, if there’s anything missing or where there are particularly low supplies, you’ll have to go out and buy them. You can use the company credit card.’ He strained forward to reach a battered leather wallet on the table. ‘I’m still working on the set up lists and recipes, I’ll email them through to you. Check that the kitchen has all the right equipment and enough of everything for the three people on the course.’ He looked down at the notebook on his lap. ‘Anything missing, you’ll need to go out and buy it. Thank God, it’s only three of them. With any luck a couple will drop out and then I might be able to cancel the course. Here’s the basic shopping list.’

She blinked at him. ‘You want me to go shopping?’

‘Is that going to be a problem?’

‘No, but there’s a lot more involved than I thought there would be.’ She bit her lip.

‘Say now if you think you’re not up to the job.’

‘Of course I am. I just didn’t realise there’d be so much to do.’

‘I’m not paying you to twiddle your thumbs. You wanted to come, it’s not going to be a picnic. I’ll expect you to work. And work hard.’

She straightened and ignoring the flash of fury inside, she said calmly, ‘I’m not afraid of hard work.’

‘Excellent.’ ‘He wriggled again, poking a finger down the top of his cast before he checked his notes. ‘I think that’s everything, then. Although I will pay you an extra day this week as there is more to do than I’d originally anticipated to get started. It’s Thursday today. You’ve got four days to get yourself organised and set up. I’ll see you on Tuesday, we’ll go over to the patisserie and run through things ready for the course starting on Wednesday.’

He pushed the empty soup bowl over to her side of the table and put down his notes. ‘You can put the plates back on the tray and leave them outside the door when you leave.’

‘Do you want me to … well, do you want any help?’ She nodded to the top of the cast which was dangerously close to his crotch. Realising what it might look like she blushed furiously. ‘You look like you’re itching. But I meant, like, help with washing your hair or anything.’

His ferocious glare could have frozen her at sixty paces. ‘I employed an assistant, not a carer.’ There was a lengthy pause. ‘And what’s wrong with my hair?’

She widened her eyes with innocence. ‘Nothing.’

He pulled his laptop onto his knees and started tapping at the keys.

‘I take it I’m dismissed then,’ said Nina, unable to keep the snarkiness at bay any longer.

He pursed his lips. If he’d worn glasses, he would be giving her one of those over the top of his specs sort of looks.

‘I’m gone.’ She picked up her bag, gave him a jaunty wave and headed towards the door. ‘Bye.’

‘Bye Nina. See you on Tuesday.’

As she strode down the corridor, relieved to escape, she shook her head. She was so over the crush she’d once had on him.

Chapter 5

She almost walked past Patisserie C. That was it? She tamped down her disappointment, trying to find something positive to say about the outside of the double-fronted façade. It was difficult given the rather sad state of a too-virulent shade of turquoise paint which was curling and cracking, shedding its layers around the woodwork frames, making the shopfront look like an old lady that had been tarted up using too much make-up, while the door frame had an ominous stoop to it and the cataract-cloudy glass in the windows could have done with a good clean.

Peering through them, she could make out a rather functional looking café which bore no relation to the traditional, old-style, gilt-trimmed interior of her imaginings. Bentwood chairs, which had seen happier days, surrounded bistro tables arranged in stark, uniform rows, making it look like a prison holding bay rather than somewhere to go and enjoy a cake and coffee. In fact, it didn’t look as if enjoyment was on the menu at all in this place.

She hadn’t intended on actually going inside the patisserie as today was about getting her bearings, but as the weather was so miserable, she decided she’d warm up with a quick cup of coffee before heading back to the apartment.

Hesitantly she pushed her way through the doors into the gloomy interior. There was one customer, an older lady, seated at one of the tables and a man behind a run of glass counters which had a small selection of chocolate éclairs, fruit tarts and macarons, all housed in one central cabinet as if they’d congregated there for company. The cabinet hummed rather loudly as if it were struggling to keep up. The man didn’t deign to look up, he just kept polishing a glass in his hands.

‘Bonjour.’ Nina gave him a tentative smile, already feeling from the intense frown of concentration on his face that he wasn’t the sort to appreciate a friendly overture. He had a ‘repel the boarders at all costs’ sort of hunch as if he were trying to hide his face from the world.

‘Ow can I ’elp you?’ He lifted his head with the slowness of an octogenarian tortoise.

‘You speak English?’ That was a relief. ‘How did you know I was English?’

The look he gave her spoke the sort of volumes a megaphone would be hard pressed to beat and then to add further insult, he included a you-are-completely-stupid-but-I-will-bear-with-you-because-I-have-to roll of the eyes.

Seriously? All from one Bonjour?

‘I’m Nina. I’m … going to be working for Sebastian,’ she said, trying to sound confident, which wasn’t that easy in the face of his utter disinterest. If she thought Sebastian was intimidating, Marcel’s cool indifference made her question whether she should be here at all.

Yesterday’s meeting with Sebastian had rocked her more than a little, rather destroying her rosy vision of suddenly becoming a shit hot pastry chef. In the brief few days before coming out here she’d imagined observing him at work, absorbing everything like a sponge, while chopping things up, practising her skills under his tutelage as well as being his not so glamorous assistant. It certainly hadn’t occurred to her that she’d be so involved in the donkey work, doing the setting up, buying things or being left to her own devices so much.

‘Sebastian?’ Was it possible for his mouth to curl up any more?

‘Sebastian Finlay, he bought the patisserie.’

‘Ah.’ Or was it a pah? ‘The new bossman.’

‘That’s right. He sent me to check on the ingredients for next week and look at the kitchen.’

‘Feel free.’ With a sweep of his hand the man waved towards the back of the shop. ‘You won’t be bothering anyone. Perhaps a few ghosts of chefs past who will be rotating very fast in their final resting places. Bistro!’ He shook his head, a strand of hair slicked back to one side becoming dislodged, which he swiped away impatiently, his eyes flashing with indignation.

‘Your English is very good.’

‘I lived in London. I was mậitre d’ at the Savoy for some years.’ As he said it, he pulled himself up with a regal sneer. Nina imagined that behind the counter, his feet had clipped together.

‘Wow.’ Nina looked at him with renewed respect. The mậitre d’ at Bodenbroke was a cross between a mother hen, a sergeant-major and a sheepdog, soothing, cajoling and ordering everything into place while juggling the needs of guests and staff in the restaurant with calm unflappable authority.

‘I’m Marcel. For the time being…’ He paused. ‘The general manager here at Patisserie C.’

Making a quick decision, Nina held out her hand. ‘Nina – and I’m very pleased to meet you, Marcel.’ What was that phrase? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Making friends with Marcel seemed like a smart move.

Marcel ignored her outstretched hand and carried on polishing the glass in his hand.

Undeterred, Nina glued a pleasant smile onto her face. ‘Perhaps you could show me around, when you have a moment, but in the meantime, I’d love a coffee and one of those delicious looking éclairs. Is it OK if I sit over there?’ She pointed to one of the tables beside the window. She lied, the éclairs looked rather sad and forlorn. Worse still, Marcel’s lip curled as if to say, if you think that, then you’re an even lower life form than I’d originally thought.

‘If you must.’

Nina winced inwardly. This was going to be so much fun. Not.

She headed to the little table and as she passed, the sole occupier of the other table reached out and tapped her on the arm, giving her a quick conspiratorial smile before saying very loudly, ‘Don’t worry, he’ll soon cheer up.’

Marcel shot them both a dirty look which suggested that soon was a relative concept.

‘I’m Marguerite. It’s very nice to have you here.’

‘Hi … erm, I mean hello.’ Marguerite did not look like a ‘hi’ sort of person, although she gave her a big smile. ‘How do you do? Are you the owner? I mean old owner. I mean not old, previous.’ Nina tripped over her words conscious of the grace of the older woman, who was immaculately groomed.

The woman let out a delightful peal of laughter, as she lifted her chin and trained periwinkle blue eyes on Nina. ‘Alors, no, my dear. I’m accustomed to being the only customer here. I suppose I do think of it as part of my little world. And what brings you here?’

‘I’m going to be working for the new owner. Just for the next few weeks. Helping him with the patisserie course that he’s running.’

‘Ah, you are a patissier. Now that is a wonderful talent.’

Nina glanced round and lowered her voice; there was something about the woman’s enquiring gaze that encouraged the truth. ‘Actually, I’m assisting but don’t tell Marcel, I’m not sure he would approve. I’m not even a proper chef. It’s an opportunity to learn a bit more. I shall only be here for seven weeks.’ Sebastian’s caustic point that it took years to become a pastry chef still rankled. She knew that, of course she did.

‘I would love to be able to make patisserie.’

‘So would I,’ said Nina with a rueful smile before adding politely, ‘You should do the course.’

The woman looked at her gravely for a moment.

‘Actually, I think that’s a very good suggestion.’

‘Oh,’ said Nina completely nonplussed, suddenly remembering that Sebastian had been rather pleased that there were only three on the course.

‘Unless you think I shouldn’t.’ Marguerite’s face settled into stern lines.

‘Absolutely not,’ replied Nina. One more person wouldn’t make that much difference to Sebastian. ‘I think that’s an excellent idea. You’re never too old to learn new skills … except of course, you’re not old.’

‘My dear, I’m not in my dotage, I have all my mental faculties and I also have a mirror in my apartment which, alas, is rather honest.’ Her face softened and she smiled.

‘Well, you look good on it,’ said Nina.

‘Oh, I think I’m going to like you a lot.’

Nina grinned at her. ‘I can book you on the course, if you’d like.’

‘Excellent. And you still haven’t told me your name.’

‘It’s Nina.’

‘And as I said earlier, I’m Marguerite. Marguerite du Fourge, I live very near to here. Would you like to join me?’ She inclined her head at the spare chair.

Nina sat down, suddenly unsure what to do with her hands. Marguerite was one of those very elegant older ladies who had that same self-contained superior air that Valerie had exhibited. Was it a Parisian thing? Her silver hair was coiffured – there was no other word for it – in perfect silver waves and her make-up was discreet with a fine dusting of powder that softened the wrinkles around her eyes. In a rich russet-brown long skirt and a vibrant teal shirt, she made Nina, in her black jeans, black sweatshirt and ballet flats, feel like a dull sparrow next to a peacock.

Marcel brought over her coffee and the éclair and refilled Marguerite’s cup without being asked.

‘Merci, Marcel.’ She gave him an approving nod and his whole demeanour changed as he said something in rapid French back to her.

‘He’s a good man,’ said Marguerite to Nina as he bustled away like an important penguin. ‘He hides it rather well.’

‘Do you come here often?’ asked Nina, intrigued once more. It didn’t look like the sort of place that someone like Marguerite would frequent – surely there were much smarter places around?

‘It is convenient,’ said the other woman, almost reading her mind. ‘And I suppose I have the memory of what it used to be like.’ She gave a wistful smile, which softened her rather haughty face and made her seem suddenly a lot less intimidating. ‘And you live in Paris?’

‘Temporarily. I only arrived the day before yesterday. It’s a long story.’

‘I have plenty of time and I enjoy a good story.’ Marguerite’s eyes twinkled with mischief again, transforming the elderly matriarch into naughty Tinkerbell, and Nina found herself telling her the whole story, omitting of course the bit where Sebastian said she was the last person in the world he’d want help from. Not because she wanted to spare him and make the other woman think well of him but because it would lead to far too many questions.

In the end, she stayed chatting with the older woman for a good hour. Every time she thought they’d finished their conversation, Marguerite would ask her another question or tell her something about a part of Paris she should visit. She almost wished she’d brought a notebook. By the time she finally stood up and said she must go and do some work, Marguerite knew all about her family and that she was staying in Sebastian’s flat. In turn, Nina now knew where the best boulangerie was in relation to the flat, the nearest good restaurant and the only supermarché she should frequent, if she must.

Marguerite rose to her feet and Marcel rushed over to help her shrug on her coat, escorting to her to the door, opening it for her and ushering her out.

Nina finished her second cup of coffee and decided to be helpful and take it over to the counter, to save Marcel a job. Despite standing in front of the counter, he carried on noisily slotting dirty coffee cups in the tiny under counter dishwasher. She waited until he finally looked up and acknowledged her.

‘You’re still here.’

‘I am,’ she agreed with a smile, which was tough to keep up under his stern glare. ‘And I’d like to see the kitchen.’

‘Be my guest,’ he said, going back to his coffee cups. The song from Beauty and the Beast took up a refrain in her head, despite the fact that Marcel was as far from welcoming as he was a singing candlestick.

For some reason she started humming the tune under her breath.

Marcel looked up, his face morphing into an expressionless mask and pointed to the back of the shop and then once again turned back to what he was doing.

So it was going to be like that, then?

For a minute she felt like an intruder stepping into the Beast’s castle as she entered the kitchen. Oh heck. It was spartan. And filthy. Nina shivered as she walked into the centre of the huge room. A layer of dust coated most of the surfaces and she was convinced that if she turned the taps on it would take a while for the water to groan and splutter its way out of the pipes. It was going to take her hours to clean this place up. Something that Sebastian had failed to mention.

The floor felt greasy beneath her feet as she walked on the slightly slippery surface to put her bag down on one of the industrial stainless-steel benches. From the size and scale of the place, it was clear that once upon a time, the kitchen would have produced all the baked goods sold in the shop. There were still all the ovens along the opposite wall as well as large scale fridges on another.

She opened one of the drawers under the benches, the stiff runners making a metallic groan, the jumble of utensils popping up and trying to burst free like an unruly Jack-in-the-box, as if they’d been crammed in hurriedly. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason as to the contents; whisks, wooden spoons, spatulas and rolling pins. Even rulers? None of which looked particularly clean. There were traces of ancient pastry and cream crusted on some items. A second drawer held more of the same, as well as a third.

Shelving under the benches held an assortment of bowls, glass, earthenware and stainless steel in a mind-boggling number of sizes, all tucked haphazardly into each other. Sauté pans, heavy-bottomed pans and frying pans were stacked in leaning Tower of Pisa piles, handles pointing every which way like a distorted spider’s legs.

How on earth was she ever going to get this lot sorted in time?

And there was no chance of appealing to Marcel’s better nature, she wasn’t sure he had one. He’d made it quite clear she was on the side of the enemy. She was on her own.

Really on her own. There was no one she could ask for help.

For a minute the panic threatened to swamp her.

No, she could do this. She needed to make lists, prioritise and get some labels to mark up all the shelves and drawers so that everything had a proper place to live.

When she returned to the café area, it was still deserted. Marcel didn’t even look up at her. Mischief prompted her to say. ‘Is Marguerite your only customer?’

‘There are few ladies like Madame du Fourge around. She is old school Paris. Genteel. Elegant. She comes here every day.’

‘She does?’ Again, Nina frowned.

‘It hasn’t always been like this,’ snapped Marcel.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean…’

‘Yes. You did.’ Marcel’s eyes shimmered with sudden emotion. ‘Once, this was one of the best patisseries in Paris.’ He waved a dismissive hand towards the pale-blue, -painted panels on the wall under a pink-painted dado rail. ‘When I was a child, I grew up four streets away. We would come here for a Saturday morning treat. They made the best mille-feuilles. It was the speciality of the house.

‘But the owner passed it onto his children. They were not pastry chefs. Things changed. We stopped making patisseries here in the kitchen. Everything is delivered now. It is not the same. And soon we will close and your Monsieur Finlay will open his bistro.’ Marcel closed his eyes, as if in pain.

‘I guess if the patisserie isn’t making money…’ Nina gave a tiny lift of her shoulders, trying to be sympathetic.

Marcel glared at her. ‘If it was run properly, it could. No one has cared for fifteen years.’ With a sudden petulant pout, he added, ‘So why should I?’ With that, he flounced away to wipe one of the tables which didn’t even look as if it had been used.

Nina frowned after him. Why was he working here then? Clearly, he’d been at the top of his game once.

With a sigh she looked at her watch and decided that she would come back tomorrow. She had a few days to get prepared and hopefully Marcel would be in a better mood, although she wasn’t counting on it.

Chapter 6

‘So what’s Sebastian’s apartment like?’ asked Nina’s mother on her fourth day in Paris.

‘Nice,’ replied Nina, lifting her eyes from the screen where she was Facetiming with her mother, to take a quick look around the flat.

‘Nice. That doesn’t tell me anything,’ complained her mother, with a good-natured frown.

‘OK, very nice. Will that do?’ Nina looked over to the tall French windows with the voile curtains billowing in the slight breeze. Beyond them was a tiny balcony which overlooked the wide boulevard below. Up on the top floor, the corner apartment offered two different panoramas, both with great views including one of the Eiffel Tower. A view she was rather too well acquainted with. Being here on her own was a lot more daunting in reality. It was just as well that she’d needed to spend so much time in the patisserie kitchen getting everything ready. Marcel had flatly refused to help. Every day she told herself she had seven whole weeks to explore the city, and that there was no hurry.

‘I like to be able to imagine where you are, darling.’ Her mother’s plaintive smile made Nina feel guilty. Of course it did. Honed by years of experience and five children, it was her not so-secret weapon. Flipping her phone around, Nina went straight out onto the balcony.

‘What views! And what a lovely sunny day. What are you doing inside?’

‘Talking to my mother,’ said Nina, facing her again.

‘You should be outdoors. It’s a gorgeous day.’

‘I was planning to go and explore a bit later.’ Nina didn’t want to admit that her exploration to date had consisted mainly of prowling around Sebastian’s flat and a char-lady visit to the patisserie, where she’d ended up scrubbing and cleaning the kitchen, and methodically reorganising the utensils and drawers.

‘Well, make sure you’re careful. I’ve heard the pickpockets in Paris are terrible. You should put your bag over your head and across you. Although I have also heard that sometimes they use knives to cut the straps.’

‘Mum, I’ll be fine.’ If this was her mum encouraging her to go out, she wasn’t doing a great job.

‘Well, make sure—’

‘Here, this is the lounge.’ She did a slow motion three-sixty turn.

‘Oh darling, that’s gorgeous. Nice! It’s delicious. You are naughty.’

Nina gave her mum a mischievous smile as she returned the screen to face her. ‘OK, it’s rather sumptuous. I think this sofa is the nicest I’ve ever seen.’ She stroked the pale grey velvet surface and patted the teal wool cushions. ‘I think Sebastian must have got some kind of interior designer in, it’s all very calming, cool colours.’

‘Very summer,’ said her mother, who was a big fan of colour analysis and having your colours done.

‘Kitchen?’

With a sigh, knowing there’d be no satisfaction now until she’d done a tour of every room, Nina walked over to the other side of the room and turned the sharp right angle into the kitchen-diner.

‘Oh my word! Nina, that is lovely.’

Nina had to admit the open plan room, with its view of the Eiffel Tower which at night was all lit up, was rather wonderful. The modern kitchen had shiny glossy cupboards with no handles and had every gadget known to man.

‘Show me that coffee machine. Oh, John, John! Come here and see this.’

Nina could hear her parents cooing over the stainless-steel built-in machine and wondering where they might put one and how much it might cost.

She walked on through, showing her mum the wide hallway with its recessed soft lighting and slate floor and the bathroom with its huge shower and lovely aqua tiles.

‘It all looks so nice, darling. You’re not going to want to come home.’

‘Don’t worry, Mum, Sebastian will want it back as soon as he’s mobile again.’

‘And how is the dear boy? You will send him my love, won’t you? We do miss him. He practically lived here.’ Nina closed her eyes knowing exactly what was about to come. ‘And then … well, I don’t know why he stopped visiting so often. It’s such a shame we don’t see him more often.’

‘Maybe because he went away to university and then onto catering college,’ suggested Nina for what felt the thousandth time over the years.

‘He could have come in the holidays.’

Her jaw tensed and Nina was grateful the phone camera was still trained on the bells-and-whistles, state-of-the-art shower.

‘Well, that’s the guided tour,’ said Nina. ‘So how’s lambing going—’

‘You haven’t shown me the bedroom. Come on.’

‘It’s just a bedroom. It’s got a bed in it—’

‘But it’s so interesting seeing what’s available in other countries, don’t you think?’

Nina paused outside the bedroom door. There was no earthly reason why she shouldn’t show her mother, but even so…

She opened the door, seeing the room for the first time again and feeling that same unsettled sense of voyeurism, of being an intruder into someone else’s life. She felt it more sharply in the bedroom than anywhere else, perhaps because there were so many more personal items in here.

‘Ooh, I like the duvet cover, that’s very nice. Masculine but tasteful. Sebastian always did have good taste. Lovely lamps. And what’s he reading?’

Nina swallowed. The masculinity of the grey, pale blue and black cover was a constant reminder that she was sleeping in Sebastian’s bed and the facedown open David Baldacci, reinforced the unsettling sensation that Sebastian had only popped out and could be back at any moment.

It was always her intention to spend as little time in this room as possible, at least while she was awake. Sebastian’s presence was too much in here.

‘Let’s have a look at his photos,’ said her mother. Wearily, Nina crossed to the wall opposite the bed to the multi-sectioned photo frame with its selection of pictures from over the years. She hadn’t paid too much attention to it before, as there were quite a few that were duplicates of others she’d seen of Sebastian with Nick and her other brothers.

‘Oh, look that’s me!’ exclaimed her mother. ‘I remember that day. He won his first cooking competition. And he came straight over to tell me and show me the trophy. Your dad took that one.’

Nina remembered the lead up to the competition. They’d been his guinea pigs for weeks. Good job the whole family liked pork.

‘Nice one of him and his parents,’ said her mother, the hint of sympathy clear in her tone. Nina, still holding the phone, peered at the picture of Sebastian on graduation day, standing between his parents looking stiff and uncomfortable. He’d stuck out his degree to please his parents despite wanting to go in a different direction. A week after he graduated, he signed up for catering college.

‘Ah, that’s a lovely one of you.’

‘Me!’ Nina’s voice squeaked and bent to take a closer look at the picture in the corner that she’d completely missed. It wasn’t lovely at all. It was a hideous picture. She was grinning like a loon, her teeth and shining eyes white amongst the splashes of mud across her face, as she held up the medal she’d won in the cross-country championship. With a jolt, she stared at the happiness glowing on her face and felt her heart do one of those flutters, almost an echo of the past. Tears shimmered in her eyes for a second. She’d been so happy. Almost bursting with it. Not because she’d come first. Not because she’d beaten her personal best. Not because she’d qualified for the Nationals. She’d been so happy because Sebastian was waiting for her at the finishing line. Because he threw his arms around her. Because he hugged her so tight. Because she thought his lips might have grazed the top of her head. Because his eyes were shining with pride and happiness when he looked at her. Studying it again, juxtaposed among all the other important events in his life, she frowned. She couldn’t believe he’d kept a photo of her, let alone this one. She couldn’t help but wonder why he had kept it.

A bold pigeon pecked around her feet as her croissant shed a flurry of crumbs with her last bite. She felt rather proud of herself that she’d ventured out and ordered a coffee and a croissant in a local bakery, which was exactly what she’d told her mum she would do when she finished their call. Tipping back her cup, she downed the rest of her coffee and stood up from one of green park benches that lined the path leading up to the Eiffel Tower. The sunshine warming her skin had tempted her out. It really was far too nice to be inside and talking to her mother had reminded her why she was here, pickpockets or no pickpockets. And today she was taking the day off. She was done with cleaning and organising, although she was rather pleased with all her neatly labelled shelves and the smooth sliding drawers where, as far as she was concerned, everything was now in the right place.

With a definite bounce in her step, tightening her hold on the strap of her messenger bag, she set off to walk towards the huge iconic tower, stopping to take and send pictures to the family Whatsapp group, Hadley Massive. Honestly, so much for escaping. She shook her head. Mum’s phone call this morning was the tip of the iceberg. The rest of the family were equally voracious for news, demanding regular updates. If it wasn’t Nick texting her to ask how she was getting on, then it was Dan emailing or Toby direct messaging her on Twitter. She was seriously considering losing her phone.

Playing it safe and wanting to get a sense of the geography of the city, she spent the morning walking at a slow amble, crossing the bridge from the Eiffel Tower to the Trocadero, mindful of the rather daunting traffic. As far as drivers were concerned, pedestrians were an annoying irritant and, if they put so much as one foot in the road, fair game. No one seemed to pay any attention to the designated crossings or red traffic lights as motorists and moped riders constantly nudged forward and nipped into free space like lions pouncing on prey.

Following the map she’d borrowed from Sebastian’s apartment, she walked along the Left Bank, or rather, Rive Gauche, which was still a perfume in her head, and followed the wide open span of the Seine before she bore left towards the Champs-Élysées to take a look at the Arc de Triomphe which was so much bigger than she’d expected and the traffic surrounding it even more terrifying. It hadn’t gained its reputation for being the craziest roundabout in Europe for nothing.

Enjoying the sense of freedom and not having to consult anyone else, she decided to stop for lunch at one of the restaurants off the Champs Elysees because she could. Her brother Nick would have balked and immediately suggested they avoid the main tourist drag as it would be too expensive, Dan and Gail would have looked up the TripAdvisor recommendations for the area and her Mum would have spent ages perusing the menu outside before allowing any of her chicks to set foot over the threshold.

Feeling spontaneous and independent, she chose a restaurant she liked the look of and went in.

The moules she’d selected were delicious and she relished every drop of the rather decadent glass of wine she’d decided to treat herself to when she’d seen that most of the French diners ordered wine with their lunch. Although she was thoroughly enjoying her meal, she did feel a little self-conscious about eating on her own in the busy restaurant. She’d been stuck on a table in the corner by the loos. To stop her feeling completely Billy no mates, she kept scrolling through her phone and almost dropped it when it suddenly began to ring.

‘Sebastian, hi.’

‘Nina, we have a problem. I needed my suppliers to do me a rush job for the other restaurant. The new chef wanted to do some recipe testing. It means they can’t deliver the fresh ingredients to the patisserie today. You’ll have to go and do the shopping.’

‘Today?’ she looked at her watch. ‘Can’t they deliver tomorrow?’

‘Today would be better. I don’t like leaving things until the last minute. Unless, of course, it’s too much trouble for you.’

Nina gritted her teeth. Oh, the man did withering sarcasm so bloody well.

‘I realise that, but …’ She had absolutely no idea where to go shopping. Paris wasn’t exactly teeming with Tescos. Was there anywhere near the patisserie? There was no way she was going to ask him.

‘Is there a problem?’

‘No,’ said Nina. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘Excellent, I shall see you tomorrow. You do remember that you’re coming to the hotel to pick me up. I’ve asked the concierge to book a cab for eight-thirty. Paris traffic is horrendous, so make sure you get there on time.’

Chapter 7

Nina asked for a key card for Sebastian’s room and the same receptionist as last time gave her a look as if to say, ‘What, you again?’

She knocked so that she didn’t give Sebastian a nasty surprise but before she could swipe the key card in and out of the slot, the door opened, making her jump.

‘You’re not Sebastian,’ she said, stepping back and looking into dark brown eyes. ‘Oh, it’s you!’ It was the rather handsome French-actor lookalike she’d seen down in the foyer when she’d been on her knees.

‘Ah, the lady with the misbehaving suitcase and the …’

‘They weren’t mine,’ she said, ‘That was Sebastian’s stuff. I was bringing it over for him.’

A rather cute dimple appeared in his cheek as he tried to suppress his amusement. ‘I’m sure they’ll come in useful in his current incapacitated state.’ His unexpected Scottish burr with rolling ‘r’s thankfully diverted her.

‘Oh, you’re Scottish,’ she said. He looked thoroughly French to her.

‘And I left the kilt at home today,’ he teased, a warm friendly smile breaking through, making him look a lot more approachable and less film-starry.

It was impossible not to smile back at him. ‘Sorry, I assumed you were French. You must be Sebastian’s friend, the manager.’ Despite his formal three-piece suit, now that he was smiling at her, Alex didn’t look particularly managerial. With that impish smile and readiness to laugh, he looked more like an overgrown naughty schoolboy.

‘That would be me. Yes. And don’t tell my mother you thought I’d be French. She’d be outraged. It’s bad enough I’m working over here, rather than in a good, fine city like Edinburgh, which is only five minutes down the road from her.’

‘Ah, she’s on the same page as my mother. I’m Nina. Sebastian’s new … right-hand-woman.’

‘Ah, the little sister,’ he said, his eyes dancing with sudden amusement. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’

‘None of it good, I’m sure,’ said Nina, her mouth twisting with a rueful smile.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Alex with a quick reassuring grin and she was warmed by the flash of concern in his eyes. ‘I take everything he says with a pinch of salt.’

‘That hasn’t made me feel any better.’

Alex’s smile slipped. ‘Hey, he’s grumpy with everyone at the moment. I’ve known him for a while, I count myself as one of his best friends and he’s being a complete pain in the arse. But it’s always stressful getting a new venture up and running. Although—’ his eyes lit up with mischief ‘—if the awkward bugger isn’t careful he’ll find himself down into the wine cellar with the rats.’ Nina bit back a laugh. She liked Alex’s cheery down to earth delivery, he reminded her of her brothers.

‘It would be stupid to ask if the awkward bugger is in.’

Alex laughed. ‘He’s in and exceptionally grumpy. You might want danger money to enter. He got it into his head that he had to wash his hair this morning and insisted that I help him at silly o’clock. Trying to keep him upright in the bathroom over the sink was like helping Bambi on ice. Then the stupid bugger decides he wants a shower. I think we must have used an entire industrial roll of clingfilm.’

Nina smiled at Alex’s comical face pulling.

‘Sounds like quite a performance.’

‘Put it this way, he’s been resting ever since. I popped in to check he was still alive.’ Alex’s face sobered and he lowered his voice, glancing over his shoulder as if Sebastian might appear at any moment. ‘Between you and me, I think—’

A walkie talkie at his hip crackled into life.

‘Alex, we have a problem.’

‘That’s going to my epitaph.’ With a quick frown, he snatched it up. ‘Be there in five. Right, well, I must be away. I have a hotel to run. Nice meeting you, Nina. I’m sure I’ll see you again.’ He turned and yelled, ‘I’m off Bas, I’ll check in on the invalid tomorrow but Florrie Nightingale’s turned up to relieve me.’

With a cheery wave, he walked past her to the door.

Sebastian was hauling himself to his feet as she walked in. ‘You’re late.’

‘Sorry, I got …’

‘Save it, we need to get a move on.’ Sebastian’s dry words made it clear he wasn’t impressed.

She plastered her pleasantest smile on her face, the one where her grin stretched into her cheeks and made them ache just a little. She was not going to let him get to her. She was going to be sweetness and light. Learn all she could from him and suck it up.

‘Would you mind bringing my laptop and paperwork?’ He gestured with the crutches, indicating he couldn’t manage both.

Before she could say anything, he was off like a racehorse at the starter gate. Once out of the lift, he made surprisingly brisk progress, swinging on his crutches, planting them quickly and ploughing through the lobby like a man on a mission before taking the ramp out of the hotel onto the pavement.

The concierge had a cab waiting for them and opened the back door for Nina and she was about to slide in when Sebastian tutted loudly.

‘You’ll have to go in the front seat.’ He hopped awkwardly in a circle so that he got in bottom first.

‘Oh, sorry. Yes, of course. Let me help.’ She hurriedly dumped his laptop bag on the front seat so that she could take his crutches from him.

Sebastian slid back onto the seat so that both his legs were propped up lengthways.

The taxi driver turned around and let loose a torrent of French with urgent gesticulations.

‘Yeah, yeah. I’ll put the seat belt on,’ said Sebastian, twisting around to try and pull the buckle around him.

After a couple of attempts, it was clear that he was at too much of an awkward angle to pull it out and round him.

The taxi driver folded his arms. They weren’t going anywhere until that belt was secured.

As Sebastian let out a loud exasperated huff, Nina dumped the crutches on the floor next to him and leaned in to try and help. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy and there was nothing for it but to plant a knee on the seat between his legs, which would have been fine if she hadn’t then overbalanced slightly, her hand grabbing his crotch to steady herself.

‘Oh, sorry,’ she squeaked. Avoiding looking at him, trying to be practical and matter of fact, she reached around his shoulders to grab the belt behind him, which was an even bigger mistake as it meant she came nose to chest. His hands closed around her forearms to steady her and, startled, she looked up into his face, which was the biggest mistake of all. There were tiny russet flecks in the dark brown eyes which were now studying her warily. Her breath felt unexpectedly tight in her chest. She could see the nearly opaque S-shaped scar on the top of his cheekbone and the impossibly thick eyelashes. Her pulse thundered in her ears and then for some bizarre reason she blurted out, ‘You smell a lot better.’

He raised one of those ridiculously elegant, for a man, eyebrows and stared at her.

She swallowed and shrugged, unable to look away. ‘I meant…’ Her voice trailed into silence. For a few seconds she met his steady gaze, her heart bumping uncomfortably.

It was impossible to read anything in his expression, the dark eyes watchful and unblinking, although she noted his jaw was tense and he still looked a little pale, with that tightness around his mouth. Mind you, that had been there for a long time. He always looked serious when she was around, probably terrified she might get the wrong idea again.

Ducking her head at the memory, which still had the power to make her blush, she gave the seatbelt another tug and managed to pull it round him but still not quite close enough to slide the buckle into place.

‘Thanks. I can take it from here.’ Sebastian’s caustic voice cut through her thoughts as he took the buckle out of her hands. Her brief quick blink was the only sign she gave of the current of awareness that went sizzling through her, setting her nerve endings dancing with sudden glee. She snatched her hands away horrified that the barely-there impersonal touch could still have such an impact.

Chapter 8

Working for Sebastian, Nina decided, was not going to be much fun. With his growls and snarling bad humour he was the original bear with a sore head. No wonder Marcel was keeping a low profile, taking advantage of the inaccessibility of the shopfront. The taxi had brought them round to the back door of the kitchen, which had no steps, and Sebastian had no desire, it seemed, to venture any further and attempt the small flight of steps up into the corridor to the shop.

‘Not there Nina,’ corrected Sebastian, as she moved one of the benches. ‘Over here, I want a “U” shape. And then you can put all the scales out.’

She pressed her lips together firmly, keeping her back turned as she lifted the corner of the heavy table and manoeuvred it with a series of horrible screeches into place.

‘Christ, do you have to do that?’

She did it again just to bug him. The table was bloody heavy. What did he expect? She hadn’t signed up for full scale furniture removal. Eventually, she’d arranged everything to his satisfaction.

‘Right, I’d like you to prepare a work station for each of the participants. We’ve got four now. One extra booking I could have done without.’

Nina looked down at her feet, thinking of Marguerite.

‘We’ll set up with all the utensils they’re going to need. First up tomorrow is choux pastry, so we’ll need…’ He reeled off a quick-fire list. He had her racing around the kitchen grabbing whisks, saucepans, measuring jugs, sieves, bowls and wooden spoons, while he perched on a stool, his blue cast propped on the rung of another stool, and peered at his phone, making regular exclamations, muttering to himself and scowling at her.

Feeling rather proud of herself that she’d managed to remember everything he’d said and laid it all out neatly, she stepped back to survey the kitchen.

Sebastian stood up and hobbled over to one of the set ups. ‘Don’t forget you need one for us, or rather you. I’ll be directing you for the basic things and then I’ll demonstrate when it comes to solid technique.’

That bit Nina didn’t mind, she was hoping to learn a lot from him.

They were almost done when he tapped one of the flat glass weighing scales and frowned. ‘You did check the batteries in all of them.

‘Uh…’ Nina’s eyes widened in panic. ‘Erm…’

‘Oh, for crying out loud, surely you checked they all worked.’

Nina flapped her hands. ‘Well … I – I…’

Sebastian had already flipped over one of the set of scales and pulled out the little lithium circular battery from the back. ‘Go see if Marcel knows where we can get these quickly.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t…’

‘Think, Nina? How were you expecting everyone to measure their ingredients out? And where are the eggs? I can’t find them anywhere. And did you check the stocks in the pantry?’

Her mouth dropped open in a horrified ‘O’. She’d completely forgotten both. She’d been so overloaded with butter and cream yesterday when she went to the shops for supplies, she didn’t dare risk carrying eggs too. Plus, she couldn’t find them in the supermarket and the French word ‘oeufs’ had completely slipped her mind. And then when she’d got back, she’d loaded everything in the fridge and completely forgotten to check the pantry.

‘I – I…’ Why was it, when he was around, she was reduced to an inarticulate wreck? ‘Where is the pantry? I’ll look now.’

He didn’t quite roll his eyes but he might as well have. ‘It’s at the top of the steps halfway along the corridor. Bloody stupid place to have it, which is why this building needs completely remodelling. And once you’ve done that, find out from Marcel if there’s anywhere nearby to get the batteries. Go buy some eggs and get back here pronto.’ Sebastian’s mouth tightened and with it came the familiar expression of dissatisfaction.

Nina came face to face with Marcel, whose mouth appeared to have permanently pursed like a prune – funnily enough, much like Sebastian’s – lurking in the corridor beyond the door at the top of the steps.

‘I need to take a look at the pantry.’

‘I wouldn’t bother,’ said Marcel. ‘It’s empty.’

‘Empty?’

‘Yes. The previous owner sold everything.’

‘Everything?’ She was starting to sound like a gormless parrot.

‘To a woman who was opening a patisserie school in Lille. She came with her campervan. Took everything.’

With a heart sinking faster than a lead balloon, she crossed to the pantry doors and flipped on the light switch. Shelves dusted with flour lay bare and forlorn, outlines of what was once there imprinted into the floury surfaces. Turning, she opened the double-doored fridge. Empty shelves mocked her.

‘Shit!’ She’d hoped that the basics would be there as Sebastian had assumed. Sebastian was going to have a cow. The shopping list was going to be huge and she didn’t have a clue how she was going to carry it all. She could hardly ask him for any help and Marcel, even if he’d been the least bit willing, needed to be at the shop. And there was no one to ask for help. Nibbling at her lip, Nina suddenly wished that her helpful family wasn’t quite so far away.

Her shoulders drooped and she closed the doors slowly.

‘Perhaps this might be of some use.’ Marcel pulled one of those old lady, brightly-coloured shopping trolleys from out of the corner of the pantry.

Nina took a minute to take a few deep even breaths, chasing away the threatening tears, before going back into the kitchen.

‘I’m popping out to get some eggs and batteries,’ she said, keeping her voice bright and cheerful.

‘Can’t Marcel go?’ asked Sebastian, looking up from his laptop.

‘He needs to be in the patisserie.’

‘Why? Don’t tell me there’s actually a customer in there? I’m surprised the place hasn’t closed down already.’

‘Erm … yes, there are a couple,’ she lied.

‘Well hurry up, I didn’t intend to be here this long.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Good job I brought my laptop, I can work on the important stuff.’ He was already pulling out his phone and tapping the screen. ‘Yeah, Mike. Have the lights been delivered yet? The sparkies booked for tomorrow?’

He’d tuned her out, which was as well as it meant she didn’t have to tell him the full extent of the bare shelves. It would be yet another black mark against her which was so unfair. He had no idea what a state the kitchen had been in and how hard she’d worked to get it ship-shape. He was a bastard. A complete and utter unfeeling git with absolutely no redeeming qualities whatsoever.

Did she really need to do this? Was it worth it? It was supposed to be a means to an end, but now she wasn’t so sure. Especially not after his scathing observation that it took years to become a pastry chef. She wasn’t completely naïve, she knew that, but she’d hoped being here would at least help her make a start. Suddenly Nina wasn’t so sure that coming to Paris had been such a good idea after all.

*

Thank goodness for Doris, as Nina had named the granny trolley Marcel had given her, officially her best friend, saviour and heroine, despite one slightly wonky wheel. Given that the pantry was Mother Hubbard bare, she’d decided to double up on Sebastian’s quantities on his list. She felt rather pleased with this efficiency, even if it did mean that poor Doris was positively creaking under the weight of what felt like several tons of flour, caster sugar, icing sugar, butter and eggs. (Thankfully, in a rare moment of solidarity, Marcel had sorted out the batteries for her.)

Bugger Sebastian. He had his laptop and his phone, he could carry on working in the kitchen, so she allowed herself to enjoy the sunshine and being away from the stress of the kitchen as she ambled down the street heading back towards the patisserie, taking her time staring in the windows of the nearby shops, a pet shop, a haberdasher with a striking display of three beautiful cable knitted jumpers, a bicycle shop and a florist.

The colourful display of flowers made her stop in her tracks and smile. Pink and yellow roses had been arranged in pretty posies, there were little silver pots of grape hyacinths decorated with lilac bows and a bucket packed with her favourite alstroemeria in pale pink, deep red and purple. A few steps past the florist and she stopped and turned back. A couple of bunches of flowers would brighten up the kitchen and the patisserie no end but there was no way she could handle them and the trolley. The little silver pots, however, she could manage and they would look cute on the tables and they would please her if no one else. Limited as he was to the kitchen, Sebastian would never know. With six bought and just about balanced in the top of the trolley, Nina set off again.

It was when the wonky wheel decided to veer one way, as she was hauling the trolley the other, that she realised she’d overloaded herself a pot of flowers too far. Wrestling with it pushed her slightly off balance and, with horrible inevitability, one of the silver pots started to take a nose-dive out of the trolley, darn it, when she was at the junction literally across the road from the patisserie. As she made a lunge forward grabbing it with cricket-fielding accuracy that would have ensured a shout of triumph from any one of her brothers, she let go of the trolley, which started to tip forward, unbalanced by the extra weight at the front.

‘Whoa!’ A girl appeared from nowhere and snatched the trolley’s handle as it was about to land and with a triumphant flourish pulled it upright, with a big grin. ‘Blimey, what have you got in here? Half a quarry?’ she asked in a very loud Brummy accent.

‘With rocks and everything, yes,’ said Nina, with a laugh, struggling to get hold of the flowers. ‘You’re English.’

‘Just a tad. Although I thought this beret made me blend in.’ She patted the bright red hat perched on her dark curls.

Nina eyed her sturdy frame and the belted trench coat before looking down at her footwear.

‘I think the Crocs might have given the game away,’ she said gravely, pinching her lips together.

The other girl burst into laughter. ‘They are so thoroughly English, aren’t they? No self-respecting French woman would wear anything this practical.’

Nina thought they might be Australian or American but from what she’d seen so far of French women, she was inclined to agree. She couldn’t imagine either Marguerite or Valerie de what’s-her-name being seen dead in the plastic rubbery shoes.

‘I stubbed my toe, think I might have broken the bugger. These are the only things I can wear. I was hoping that rocking the Audrey Hepburn look up top might stop people looking down below.’

Nina struggled to keep her face straight.

‘I’m not rocking the Audrey Hepburn look either, am I?’

Nina shook her head very slowly as if they might lessen the offence. ‘Sorry. No. But thanks for your help. You’ve no idea what a disaster that could have been. I’ve got three dozen eggs in there.’

Together, they pulled matching horrified eek faces. ‘Can you imagine?’

‘Uh! Scrambled eggs.’ The other girl shook her head with the dark curls bouncing up and down like enthusiastic puppies, as they grinned at each other.

‘Which along with the flour, sugar and icing sugar would have been a recipe for disaster.’

‘Instant cake,’ she teased, amusement dancing in her eyes. ‘Who doesn’t love cake though?’

‘Mm, and instant unemployment for me. Thank you, you’ve saved my bacon.’

‘No problem, I’m Maddie by the way.’

‘Nina.’

‘Have you got far to go?’

Nina shook her head. ‘Over there.’ She pointed to the patisserie on the other side of the street.

‘Oh, I’ve been meaning to go in there. Is it any good?’

‘To be honest, I’m not sure it is, but don’t tell anyone I said that.’

‘Let me give you a hand. I’ll carry the flowers and leave the eggs to you. So you work there?’

‘Sort of.’ Nina explained the whole story and told Maddie all about the patisserie course as they walked along in tandem.

‘How exciting. I’m a terrible cook. I’m more of a hearty stews and nursery puddings sort of girl.’

‘You should do the course,’ said Nina, hauling the trolley along, thinking about how long it was going to take her to unload this lot.

‘What a brilliant idea.’

‘Oh no, I didn’t mean it.’ She must stop saying that. It had been an off the cuff remark. She was recruiting new candidates quicker than people ate hot dinners. Sebastian was not going to be happy. ‘It starts tomorrow, so probably a bit—’

‘Perfect, I don’t have lectures tomorrow. And do you know what? It will impress the hell out of Mum. I could make her half-yearly birthday cake.’

Nina raised both eyebrows at the interesting statement.

Maddie laughed. ‘We celebrate half-yearly birthdays. We like cake in our house. Although they normally come from Tesco. I once attempted apple pie. Let’s say all of the words burnt, irrevocably moulded and knackered applied to the saucepan at the end. It had to go in the bin.’

By the time Nina was lifting the trolley up the step into the patisserie with Maddie’s assistance, the other girl was already musing out loud what sort of cake she’d make when she went home.

‘It might be a bit late to book for the course,’ said Nina.

‘Oh, no worries,’ said Maddie.

Nina heaved a tiny sigh of relief. God knows what Sebastian would have said about an extra student, especially if he heard she’d suggested it.

‘I’ll just turn up tomorrow morning, if there’s no space, no probs.’

Chapter 9

‘We’ll leave in five minutes, are you all done?’ asked Sebastian barely looking up from his hunched position over his laptop as she walked back in still trying to manage the wayward trolley, which definitely had ideas of its own. With one leg hooked over a chair and working sideways onto the bench, he looked extremely uncomfortable.

‘Actually,’ said Nina, busying herself unloading the eggs, grateful that he seemed absorbed in his work, ‘I need to … erm, perhaps set up another work station, you know … in case anyone else turns up.’ There was a loaded silence and she thought for a moment that she might have got away with it. No chance. He looked up from his laptop with a suspicious frown. ‘Run that by me again.’

‘Well, you know…’

‘No.’

Nina risked peeking up to find his eyes boring into her. Feeling self-conscious, she rubbed the back of her calf with her foot, doing her best not to look shifty.

‘Oh, for Pete’s sake, Nina!’

Nina winced. ‘I didn’t do it on purpose, I … well, I mentioned it to an English girl I met and she was really keen and…’

‘And you didn’t think to tell her the course was full or anything,’ he snarled with such feeling, Nina couldn’t think what to say. Surely it wasn’t that big a deal.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ he snapped and snatched up his crutches. ‘I’ve had enough of this. Call a cab. I’ll be outside.’

As soon as he’d gone, she blinked hard. No, not going to cry. He was not worth it, he was a pig but he was not going to make her cry. She hated him. How had she ever imagined herself in love with such an arrogant, rude, bad-tempered, surly, rude, opinionated, rude, pig?

The taxi journey back to the hotel was completed in absolute silence, with Sebastian in the back seat again. Nina spent the forty-five-minute ride with a fixed gaze out of the window, mentally packing her bags. She didn’t need this. As soon as she’d helped Sebastian up to his room, she’d be hightailing it to his apartment and getting the hell out of Dodge. He could find someone else to help him.

Her shoulder ached where the stop start of the hideous traffic threw her against the seatbelt. It was official, Parisian traffic was horrendous. The time in the car, which seemed to be going more slowly than regular time, seemed to have propagated the tense silence between her and Sebastian still further and was worsened by the driver’s kamikaze tendencies as he lurched forward to take advantage of every space that opened up before ramming on his brakes inches from the bumper in front. It was a relief when he slammed to a halt outside the hotel, having crossed three lanes of traffic in one quick, last-minute swerve.

Sebastian handed over a fifty-euro note and manoeuvred himself painfully slowly out of the back as Nina waited with his crutches. The driver let out a torrent of French as Sebastian began hopping into the hotel.

‘Don’t you want the change?’ asked Nina, realising that the taxi driver was claiming he didn’t have enough change.

‘No,’ growled Sebastian not even turning around.

She shrugged at the driver, picked up Sebastian’s laptop bag and followed him, glaring at his back and muttering under her breath. She was so out of here. Rude bastard, not even waiting for her. He was already halfway to the lift.

He dropped a crutch as he fumbled for the lift button and cursed vehemently. Nina sighed under her breath, amazed that it was possible for him to be even more bad-tempered.

When she picked it up and handed it to him, he almost snatched it from her hand. Biting her tongue, she kept her face impassive. Only ten more minutes. Ten more minutes before she walked out of here and never had to see him again. All she had to do was accompany him in the lift, open the door for him, give him his laptop – and the jury was out as to whether she might wrap the bloody thing round his head – say goodbye and leave. She’d had it with him. He was on his own from now on.

As soon as the lift doors opened, he was off, his crutches rattling as he ploughed his way straight to the room with his head ducked down as he waited for her to catch up and put the key card in the slot.

‘Thanks,’ he growled. ‘See you tomorrow.’ And he was off without a backward look.

For a moment Nina stood, clenching her hands into fists. How dare he treat her like this? Ungrateful git. Yes, she’d made a couple of mistakes today, but no one had died and everything was ready for tomorrow. She might not be perfect but she deserved better and she shouldn’t let him get away with this. Simmering fury began to bubble up. It took a lot to make her mad. She didn’t like confrontation but … this time she had nothing to lose. Sod it.

She marched three full strides down the hallway of the suite into the lounge. There was no sign of Sebastian but anger propelled her towards his bedroom where she heard one of the crutches clatter to the ground.

Pushing open the door with an angry shove, she was about to call his name when the sight of him stopped her dead in the doorway.

He’d collapsed onto the bed, laying diagonally across it, one arm flung over his face. She paused as he let out a low moan. All the bubbling anger, threatening to explode, leeched away in an instant. Stupid, stupid, stupid man. Now she could see the pallor of his face, the tight jaw where his teeth were gritted, the reluctant movement of his lower half.

‘Sebastian?’

He stilled.

‘Are you…?’

‘Go away.’ His voice was gruff and he kept his face hidden behind his arm.

Yeah right, as if she was going to leave him in this state. She crossed to the bedside table where she could see a couple of boxes of tablets.

Nina narrowed her eyes and took a more careful study of him. He was holding himself very still and he’d definitely turned even greyer. The stupid sod was trying to be brave. It hadn’t occurred to her that he’d still be in pain but then she’d never broken anything.

‘How much pain are you in?’

The answering silence told her enough.

‘Sebastian?’ her voice was gentle.

‘Yes?’ He lifted his arm and looked up at her, as wary as a small boy caught out in a lie. There was a suspicious watery glint in his eyes.

For a moment, she felt racked with guilt, he looked so beaten and vulnerable. It was horribly disquieting when he’d never seemed anything but invincible.

‘When was the last time you had any painkillers?’ Occasionally having brothers paid off. All four of them had played rugby and shunned painkillers. It was a man thing. Jonathon had broken his leg once and had moaned continuously about how itchy the cast was until her mum gave him a knitting needle.

Sebastian lifted his chin looking mutinous. ‘A while ago.’ Now she could see the chalky whiteness around his mouth and the tension in his body.

‘Are these them?’

He nodded, wincing as he did so.

‘When was the last time you took one?’ she asked again.

‘Breakfast.’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake.’ She hid her worry in the chiding tone as she snatched up the pack of tablets. ‘How many are you allowed to have?’

‘Two every four to six hours but they’re very strong. They make me feel like hell.’

‘And being in pain is preferable?’ snapped Nina, cross with him now. No wonder he’d been so bad-tempered all day.

Sebastian didn’t say anything but shook his head weakly, his eyes closed, and suddenly she realised how completely helpless he was and how much pain he must be in. Popping a couple of pills from the blister pack, she bustled into the bathroom to get him some water, giving herself a wry look in the mirror. Subdued Sebastian was a lot easier to deal with, but it wasn’t nice seeing him like this and she knew he wouldn’t want her pity either.

‘What did the hospital say about after care?’ she asked, as she put the glass of water and tablets down. She needed to get him sitting upright to give him the pills.

‘Rest. Keep it elevated.’ His flat tone suggested that he knew he’d been an idiot and he didn’t need her to reinforce it.

‘Right. Can I help you to get more comfortable? If you sit up, I can arrange the pillows and then put some under your leg to raise it a bit. Then painkillers.’

Sebastian gave her a bleak look and the grim line of his mouth wavered. When he blinked with a weak nod as if he was too exhausted to speak, she moved forward and started shifting pillows.

‘Do you think you can lift yourself up?’ she asked.

‘Give me a minute. Sorry, that car journey…’

She didn’t say the obvious – and being on your feet all afternoon and not taking any medication.

Once he was nestled into the pillows and had taken the painkillers, she spoke again. She’d been trying to keep things strictly impersonal but she wanted to make him comfortable.

‘Do you want me to take your shoe off?’

He gave her a baleful glare.

Now she rolled her eyes. ‘Look Sebastian, accept that you need help.’ Moving to the other side of the bed, she unlaced his black brogue and eased it off. ‘See, that wasn’t so hard was it? I’m here. Able and willing. I haven’t got any other plans for the rest of the evening. Why don’t you have a sleep? And then I can order room service later.’

He nodded and closed his eyes, which she took as a small triumph. At least he was listening to sense, although she suspected that was more because he’d given up trying to fight the pain. For a moment, she stood over him fighting the urge to smooth his hair from his forehead and a strangely insistent impulse to press a quick kiss there.

With a start, she felt his hand slip into hers but he didn’t open his eyes. With a gentle squeeze of her fingers, he whispered, ‘Thanks Nina.’

Pulling the door to, she went into the suite. There was no way she could leave him in the lurch now. She could have kicked herself for not realising how much discomfort he was in. No wonder he was so damned irritable. Despite saying he didn’t need a carer, he clearly did need someone around to look after him.

Pursing her lips, she pulled out the notes he’d prepared in readiness for the next day. According to the recipes they were going to be making choux pastry, crème pâtissière, chocolate profiteroles and coffee éclairs. Her mouth watered, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten for quite a while, but she decided to wait another hour before ordering anything, then when it arrived she’d wake him up.

The discreet knock at the door signalled the arrival of room service. Nina had played it safe for Sebastian and herself and ordered both of them burgers and chips. Peeping in on Sebastian as she went to open the door, she found him still sound asleep. For a moment she studied him. In sleep his face had softened, the dark hair flopped down over his forehead and his mouth relaxed. He looked much younger, more like the Sebastian she remembered and she was horrified at the unexpected ping of her heart. Quickly she turned and headed towards the door, almost wrenching it open.

‘Someone’s hungry,’ teased a laughing Scot’s brogue.

‘Alex, hi. You do room service?’

He grinned at her. ‘Normally no, but the staff are primed to let me know if Sebastian needs anything and if I’m around, I pop up. How is he?’

Nina grimaced as she backed up to let him in with the tray. ‘Not great, to be honest. Silly idiot has overdone it today.

‘Sounds like Bas. Complete workaholic.’

Nina raised an eyebrow. ‘And you’re a slacker?’

‘I’m not like him. He’s driven.’ Alex shrugged. ‘I work hard—’ his cheeks dimpled ‘—and play hard, but man, he’s super motivated. Determined to prove his dad wrong.’

Nina frowned as she followed Alex into the suite where he deposited the tray on the dining table overlooking the window and pulled back the curtain to peer out at the lights of Paris shining in the dark.

‘I don’t remember his dad, I’m not sure I ever saw him but then that’s not surprising. Sebastian seemed to spend all his time at our house. Mum gave him free reign in the kitchen when she realised he could cook better than she could. It was always a bit of trial for her, she found cooking for four palate-indifferent, human dustbins a bit monotonous. At that age my brothers weren’t terribly fussy and quantity over quality counted every time.’

‘Sebastian’s dad is…’ Alex trailed to a halt. ‘Bas! Brought your supper up for you, you lazy sod. Sleeping on the job, I hear.’

‘You try getting around on crutches. Bloody knackering.’ Nina turned. Sebastian stood in the doorway looking marginally better – but they were talking the slenderest of margins. ‘What’s on the menu?’

‘Burger and chips.’ Nina gave a self-deprecating shrug. ‘I wasn’t sure what you’d want.’

‘Perfect. Thanks.’

She noticed he moved very slowly as he moved across the room as if he’d used up all his energy earlier in the day and still wasn’t fully recharged. How would he feel if she suggested he ate and went back to bed? She caught Alex’s eye who frowned as he watched Sebastian’s laboured progress.

‘Dear God, it’s like watching the walking dead. Good job I upped your chip ration.’

Nina noticed that despite Alex’s teasing words, he was casually helping Sebastian to sit down and taking charge of his crutches. She picked up the tray of food, took off her plate and handed it to Sebastian to eat on his lap.

‘More bloody chips are the last thing I need. You’ll be able to use me as the ball when I get back to playing five-a-side again.’

‘It’s alright, we’ll stick you in goal,’ said Alex, stealing a chip and throwing his lanky frame onto the opposite sofa. He looked as if he could eat chips all day without any problems.

Nina rolled her eyes as she sat down next to him, perching her plate on her lap.

‘I saw that,’ said Alex kicking off his shoes, pinching another chip and making himself comfortable.

‘You two sound like my brothers. Mmm, these are good.’ She munched on a chip, realising that she was starving.

‘Ha! Except Nick can’t kick a ball to save his life.’ Sebastian gave her a rare grin. ‘Nina’s brothers are rugby men.’

‘I seem to recall you played a mean fly half,’ said Nina, responding without thinking, and she took a quick bite of burger hoping her slight blush wasn’t obvious as she recalled all the matches supposedly watching her brothers, hanging around like a lovesick groupie. God, she really had made a fool of herself.

Sebastian sighed and a look of regret flashed across his face. ‘That was a long time ago, but I miss it.’

‘Why did you give it up then?’ asked Nina, intrigued. Sebastian wasn’t the sort of person to back off from a challenge or not do something he wanted. It was a shame, he’d been good. She had to wait a second as he swallowed down a mouthful of chips which, despite his protests earlier, he seemed to be enjoying with relish.

‘Unfortunately, doing the Sunday lunch shift when you feel like you’ve been put through a blender got old quite quickly. And working seven days a week didn’t help.’

‘All work and no play makes Bas a dull boy,’ said Alex, his hand snaking in for one of Nina’s chips this time. ‘‘Although that blonde ba… Katrin from the interiors company looks like she’s enjoying mixing a bit of business and pleasure. What’s going on with her?’

‘Early days,’ said Sebastian, suddenly very interested in a patch on his cast which he rubbed at with his palm, making his tray wobble precariously. ‘She travels a lot. We’ll see.’ Lifting his head, he looked over at her. ‘What about you, Nina? Boyfriend on the scene? What happened to that Joe guy you were seeing?’ His clipped questions made it sound like an interrogation, a fact-finding mission without any real interest.

Nina dredged up a non-committal smile. ‘You’re well out of date. Joe and I stopped seeing each other about four years ago and he’s just got married. I was bridesmaid.’

‘Ouch,’ said Alex, pulling a face and shifting on the sofa towards her as if in reflexive support. ‘I bet that was uncomfortable.’ Despite his blunt words, sympathy shimmered in his eyes and she was able to look at him rather than Sebastian as she responded.

‘No, I introduced him and Ali, she’s a good friend.’ The words came out blasé and unconcerned. She’d been genuinely delighted for them but she wasn’t about to admit that their relationship assuaged her guilt that she could never love Joe the way he wanted her to. Someone else had first dibs on her heart. ‘I couldn’t have been happier, especially as Joe and I were always more friends than anything else.’ Nina prayed that her face gave nothing away.

‘So, no one on the scene at the moment?’ pressed Sebastian.

Nina shook her head. ‘Too busy,’ she said crisply, irritated that he had to highlight that she was steadfastly single. He was clearly being bloody minded.

‘Well, you must have some downtime while you’re in Paris,’ said Alex, with a sudden cheery stridency to his tone. ‘Sebastian can be a slave driver. Don’t let him take advantage. You need to make sure you see some of the city. In fact, I know some great places.’ He delved in his top pocket. ‘Here, take my card, I can never remember my mobile.’

Sebastian glared at him. ‘Nina is here to work! I’ll need her to be flexible as things come up.’

Alex gave her a cheerful shrug and a discreet wink. ‘Let me know if he’s being a difficult boss. I can withdraw his food rations.’

Nina grinned back at Alex who promptly helped himself to another one of her chips. ‘That sounds like a plan.’

Sebastian’s mouth tightened. Nina only felt a tiny bit guilty ganging up on him but he’d been such a grumpy git all afternoon and it was nice to have the light relief of Alex’s cheerful good humour.

When they’d finished eating, Sebastian yawned rather noisily. ‘Right Nina, I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t be late. You’ll have to do the meet and greet in the shop.’

‘Me?’

‘I’m not risking those stairs and you’re more than capable. You’ve got all their names and … you’ve clearly met one of them already,’ he added with a cross expression. ‘All you need to do is wait for everyone to arrive and then bring them to the kitchen.’

‘OK.’ She nodded and gathered up her things. ‘See you then. Night Alex.’

To her surprise Alex jumped up, and quickly rounded up the plates, relieving Sebastian of his tray with a speedy turn. ‘I’ll see you out and put these in the corridor.’

‘Alex,’ Sebastian said quickly. ‘I need a word.’

‘Be right back,’ he replied, ignoring the implicit request that he stayed put. Sebastian’s frown darkened. Nina wondered anew at how it was humanly possible for his expression to be any blacker.

Once at the door, having deposited the tray on the floor outside the room, Alex paused. ‘Sorry about his nibs in there. Never known him quite so contrary. Don’t let him get to you. Ignore him and if you want some light relief I was serious about the offer of a guide around Paris. You’ve got my card. Text me your number … well.’ He blushed. ‘If you want to, that is.’

‘Thanks, Alex. That would be really nice.’ She gave him a cheerful smile, as her heart sank a little. He was lovely… friendly, kind, absolutely the perfect antidote to Sebastian and – she felt ashamed to even think it – too reminiscent of Joe. Getting tangled up in a friendship where one party wanted more was something she wanted to avoid at all costs. And wasn’t that a huge irony? No wonder Sebastian kept her arm’s length.

‘Alex,’ came a bellow from the other room. ‘I haven’t got all day. And Nina has important things to do.’

‘Something is really bugging him,’ whispered Alex. ‘Better go. See you soon.’

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