Chapter 9
9
The next morning, my phone is full of messages from Daniel wanting to know where I am and what on earth is going on. Thankfully, Davide hasn’t told him anything.
I’m standing outside the small but clean hotel, near the railway station, holding my face up and feeling the snowflakes on my cheeks. I take a deep breath and ring Daniel’s number. When it goes straight to voicemail, I breathe a sigh of relief. I really don’t want to have to argue with him about why this isn’t going to work. I leave a short message, saying I’m fine and that I wish him well, but I’m not coming back.
I look up again at the snow, letting the flakes mingle and melt into the salty tears on my face. Then I turn towards at the station. Where to? The airport? Back home? I gaze at the city and up towards the mountains, the snow reminding me of how I feel at the chocolate school, at the viewpoint.
Did I come here to be with Daniel, I ask myself, or was he just the excuse? Maybe I wanted this fresh start to try to find myself. To test myself. See if I could do something more in life. Perhaps Daniel was just part of the journey, as I seem to be for him. A soft landing while he started his new job. I stick out my tongue and let a snowflake melt on it, a silly thing that makes me smile.
I think about my scrapheap of figurine parts as Jacques described them and giggle. They were a disaster. He wasn’t wrong. Maybe just one more week, see if I can get the figurines to stay intact. After all, if I dip out now, I’ll have to pay back the course fees to Duncan and Daughters. And I’ll need that money to decide what to do next. I head for the station, the platform and my familiar morning route, which I have come to love. I feel the distance growing between me and Daniel with every passing pine tree. The snow thickens and the world quietens on my way back to the chocolate school.
Fleur is in the cloakroom. She gives me a small smile. ‘You came back.’
‘Yes,’ I say, peeling off my scarf.
‘I wasn’t sure you would after the figurines. It wasn’t a great day for you.’
‘I wasn’t sure either. I thought I might go home.’
‘But you’re back!’ Fleur says, in a rare moment of conversation.
‘I am! I’m here and staying. Now I just have to think of another way to present my spice filling with my figurines smashed.’
‘Good. It takes real guts to keep going.’ She gives a beautiful smile that lights up her face.
Sébastien arrives as the church bells are chiming, bringing in a blast of cold air with him.
‘Brave or stupid,’ Sébastien butts in, as he passes me, pulling off his neck warmer, his words making me flinch. I hold the zip of my coat, wondering if I’ve got this wrong. I could just leave. I have my case. Fleur looks at it in the corner of the cloakroom. I can’t let Sébastien get into my head today. I have enough to deal with, thinking about how stupid I was to move here with Daniel, his idiotic butt-dial playing on repeat in my head. We’re not really a couple … it’s just casual …
I close my eyes. Not for me it wasn’t. I don’t need Sébastien to tell me I don’t belong here. When I open them I’m looking at Fleur’s softer face. ‘Ignore him. Sharpen your elbows and get out there,’ she says, surprising me. It’s the most conversation we’ve had, and it couldn’t be more welcome. ‘We all have to start somewhere. There was no one to show me when I wanted to make chocolate. I had to find my way. But if you want it, and you love doing it, you will.’
I’m still holding the zip on my coat, wondering what to do. ‘Thank you. I suppose you have to work out what’s worth going on with. I left my …’ I’m searching for the right word ‘… boyfriend.’ It seems such a young expression.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Fleur says, gathering her notebook, ready for the day ahead.
‘It was a moment of madness, coming here with him. But while I may have realized I’m not in love with him, I’ve also realized I’m falling in love with chocolate. I’ve come to try again.’
She smiles. ‘Once it gets hold of you, chocolate can be a powerful passion. I should know!’
‘I suppose I just discovered this is the adventure I was looking for.’
She smiles that beautiful smile again. ‘Good for you.’
And I smile back. She’s right. It is good for me. This is where I intend to reinvent myself. I can’t be the boring Clara Mackenzie on the Lovematch dating app. I can’t hang around in the hope of finding love that will make me happy. I have to find something else to do and, right now, it’s chocolate figurines. I’m determined to make them without cracks.
Fleur tilts her head as she buttons her chef’s whites.
‘Here.’ I reach into my bag and hand her back her spare set.
She frowns. ‘You didn’t come back just to give me my whites? I thought you said you were staying.’
I give a little laugh. I pull out of my case the chef’s whites that arrived at the apartment yesterday and put them on. ‘I bought my own. No more washing the same set each night. I got two.’
‘Well done! Go bold or go home. That’s what I say. Go for it. Give it all you’ve got. What have you got to lose?’
She’s right. I can’t just stand at the back of the group. I need to go big or go home!
We walk side by side into the class from the anteroom.
The group hushes as the door opens and in walks Madame Pichon in a smart grey suit, with her uniform white blouse, fitted over her neat bosom. ‘ Bonjour, tout le monde ,’ she says, looking around, as if she’s inspecting troops on parade.
‘ Bonjour, Madame .’
A ridiculous, nervous giggle is bubbling inside me. What am I doing back here? I must have a big red placard above my head, saying, ‘Fraud Alert’!
‘Today our mentor Gabriel is going to show you how things should be done when making chocolate bars, why chocolate means so much to this school and this town. Please welcome to the classroom again, our very own master chocolatier Gabriel Hartmann.’
Gabriel walks into the classroom wearing chef’s whites, a black bandanna around his forehead, clearly trying to tame his unruly hair. I think about him shaking his head at my truffles, and the truffles I went on to make at the apartment. I mastered them. I can do this! I’m going to dig in and do it.
‘Welcome. Today I am going to show you how to make chocolate bars. One of my signature boxes contains five, one for each day of the working week.’ He beams.
There’s a murmur of approval.
‘A bar is one of our first experiences of chocolate as a child. It is a treat. It makes us happy. What is there not to love about someone giving you a bar of chocolate? It sums up the real heart of chocolate-making. It is there to be shared and bring happiness. If we can’t do that, what are we doing here?’ He seems to falter as if his mind has gone somewhere else. Then he’s smiling again. ‘But, first, I need an assistant.’
I look around the group, all staring at Gabriel. There’s Fleur, next to me, who seems to have taken a breath and is holding it. Sébastien appears less interested. Frédéric looks as if he’s positively salivating and Michel is trying to get sneaky photos on his phone with no one seeing. Patrice beams. Jacques has his arms folded and isn’t smiling.
‘Who volunteers?’ asks Gabriel, and everyone, except Sébastien, raises their hands around me. I shove my arm high into the air, too, keen to be seen. I’m going to throw myself into this, whatever it takes.
He looks around the room, then straight at me and points. ‘You, join me up here,’ he says.
‘Remember, sharp elbows! Get stuck in,’ mutters Fleur.
‘I’m hoping this way I can become a fast learner!’ I whisper back. ‘I need to be.’
All eyes are on me as I leave my bench and walk up to the top table where Madame Pichon is assessing me again.
‘You will be here to wipe down, wash up and hand me any equipment,’ says Gabriel.
There is a snigger in the classroom, from Sébastien and Frédéric. Even Fleur is having a gentle laugh.
Well, at least I can’t get any of that wrong.
After Gabriel’s demonstration, it’s lunchtime, and then we return to the classroom to make our own chocolate bars. Flavours vary, as do designs, but I’m determined to go with simple and shiny.
By the end of the day, I’ve done what I set out to do. I made five chocolate bars, not extravagant, fabulously flavoured ones, like Fleur’s, or elaborately decorated like Michel’s and Sébastien’s, but they were five simple shiny chocolate bars, designed to bring a smile and some happiness, and they did!
‘Good work today. You proved yourself.’ I hear the rich, deep voice of Gabriel, filled with the promise of a box of chocolate bars, and find myself smiling as I wonder who he’s talking to.
I look up and see that, in fact, he’s talking to me as I take my coat from its peg.
The other students look at me, especially Frédéric, and glare. I double-check, but Gabriel is definitely looking straight at me, as he takes off his chef’s jacket.
‘ Merci ,’ I manage.
Something inside me feels good. I might only have been washing up and clearing away. And it was just five simple chocolate bars. But I feel good not to leave the classroom in despair.
Little steps , I think. One chocolate at a time. And, as Fleur said, I’m still here.
Gabriel nods to us, and heads out into the corridor. I hear his heels on the marble-tiled floor.
‘Praise from the master chocolatier!’ Fleur raises her eyebrows.
‘Praise indeed!’ I beam.
She gestures at my case. ‘Where are you staying?’
‘Actually, I’m not sure. Like I said, I left my boyfriend. I need to find somewhere … cheap. Do you know anywhere?’
‘There’s room with us – it’s the student accommodation for the course. Just a chalet, but if it’s not too—’
‘It would be perfect,’ I say quickly.
‘Come on, follow me.’ We leave the building together and I see Gabriel with Madame Pichon, talking as they go. Once again, I notice how attractive he is. Watching him work today made him seem even more so.
I’m pulling my case behind me along the road, snow catching in the wheels and clogging them, bringing me to a grinding halt every few steps. I kick off the snow, and carry on. It’s all I can do, just keep going.
‘Ah, I see the kitchen girl has come to join us,’ says Sébastien, opening a beer from the fridge and tossing the lid into the sink. ‘Good. We need someone to tidy up!’
I look at the mess in the kitchen, the sink full of takeaway cartons, pizza boxes mostly. It’s worse than I’d thought. But although it’s dark, I’m hoping it has lovely views outside the big windows and the wooden veranda.
‘I’ll show you your room,’ says Fleur, ignoring Sébastien.
She indicates an open wooden staircase and leads the way. I follow with my case.
The room is small, really small. It has wooden tongue-and-groove walls and bunk beds. It feels a lot like a sauna, without the heat.
‘It’s okay, you’re not sharing with anyone. And the bathroom is here.’ She points across the landing to the doorway and shrugs apologetically. ‘Sorry, it’s the last room.’
‘It’s fine. Thank you. Really,’ I say. ‘It’s a life-saver.’
She smiles as she backs out of the tiny room, negotiating my large case, and attempts to shut the door. She can’t so she leaves it ajar. I move the case into the room and lift it onto the bottom bunk to make space. I pull my notebook and iPad from my bag and glance around for somewhere to sit. There isn’t anywhere, so I put my foot on the first rung of the ladder, take a deep breath and, with a little spring, remember Alain: one chocolate at a time . ‘One stepladder at a time!’ I say aloud.
On the bed, my head is tilted against the ceiling. I shimmy down on the hard mattress and open my iPad to search for key words in my notes from today’s exercise. But in no time at all, exhausted, my notebook and iPad slither out of my hands as I fall into a deep sleep.
In the middle of the night, I wake up freezing and needing the loo. It takes me a while to work out where I am and why. And then I remember: I’m on the top bunk in my room in the student chalet, a long way from the apartment and Daniel. I untangle myself from my notepad and iPad and try to work out how best to get down the stepladder. Climbing up was one thing, but going down might hurt. I swing my leg over the side and search for the rung, but in the end I slide off the side of the bunk and land on the floor with a thud. I stand and let my legs recover, hoping I haven’t woken anyone, then head out of my room to the loo. I’m starving. I’ll never get back to sleep at this rate.
I grab my carrier bag, which contains the tartiflette – I took it from the apartment, determined not to leave the makings of dinner for Daniel – and try to make my way quietly down to the kitchen. At the bottom of the stairs, with the embers in the wood-burner still glowing, I stand and stare. It’s a mess. I sigh. If I want to eat, I’m going to have to clean it.
I push up my sleeves and start. This will probably only confirm what Sébastien thinks of me. But while I may not be here to win the residency, I do want to finish the course. And I’m going to have to stay here.
I finish washing-up, then open the fridge, cut myself a piece of tartiflette , put the rest into the fridge, and pour a glass of wine. Then I stand by the window and look out onto the dark night. He’ll probably miss his dinner more than he misses me. I flinch at my own stupidity, thinking it could work after such a short time together. There’s a reason we’re both single: too stuck in our ways now to share our lives with someone else. I need to find a way to fill the hole in my heart and my life and, right now, it’s chocolate. It certainly won’t be another relationship. I took a leap of faith and fell though the gap. And it hurts. The last thing I want is to put myself through that again.