Chapter 25
25
The next date, number five, is dinner in the city with Daniel. A beautiful, elegant restaurant, with a menu to die for. And for the next week, despite a growing desire between us, Daniel and I keep to our word. No physical contact, other than holding hands on the ice rink, which was mainly to stop me falling over and making an idiot of myself. Bonbon number six: there’s mulled wine, full of fruit and a hit of brandy that we had after ice skating. Then the ski-lift date, with the picnic at the top among snow-covered pines, like softly whipped meringue and the walnut whip I’d loved as a child: bonbon number seven.
Number eight is the skiing lesson: a bumpy landing, and a mouthful of snow, like desiccated coconut, with rum for warmth. And number nine is the evening meal by the roaring fire, chillies and whisky, plus the horse and carriage ride around the city, with hot chestnuts and candy floss, at number ten. We go to the Christmas market, too, bonbon number eleven, with the smells of cinnamon and spice in the air, while the golden decorations prompt me to add gold leaf.
Just one chocolate to go. And I’ve let Patrice think that I’ve been spending time in the workshop with Gabriel because we’re having a relationship. I’ve kept my cards very close to my chest.
‘You’re nearly there, with all twelve bonbons!’ says Gabriel, beaming when I return from the Christmas market and hurry to his workshop, too excited to wait until the next day to explain what I’ve tasted. I’m describing each chocolate to him, the date, how the place made me feel, how the flavours make me feel. I clap my hand over my mouth, hoping Patrice isn’t lurking to catch me out.
‘Come in. I’m trying out a toffee vodka. Want to taste it?’
I’m still excited about my idea for the Christmas-market chocolate, pulling my notebook from my bag.
‘I’m really proud of you, Clara,’ he says, with a warm, wide smile, his curly dark brown hair framing his face. ‘You have come so far!’
‘And you. You’re nearly there too. We needed each other to complete our signature boxes.’
He pours us each a tot of toffee vodka and stands in front of me. His laptop and reading glasses are close by on the work surface.
‘Cheers to both of us and our signature boxes,’ he says.
‘Cheers,’ I say, and sip the sweet, powerful liqueur, blending with the scent of dark chocolate that I always smell around Gabriel. Dark, rich, slightly spicy.
‘And what about you and Daniel? Are you nearly there? Do you think you’ll get back together?’
I look into my glass. ‘Honestly? I’m not sure. Not yet. But I’ll know when I get to our final date,’ I say.
‘Where? And what’s in this bonbon?’
I smile coyly. ‘This is the one when I’ll know whether or not Daniel and I have a future together. This is the end of the twelve dates. This one is the kiss. The one that’ll tell me what I need to know.’ I’m looking at his lips.
‘And how do you think it will taste?’
‘It will be all of my favourite flavours, a shine on the dark chocolate, a snap and a crack and a soft, sweet centre …’
And suddenly there’s a shift in me, the taste of the toffee vodka, the smell of the dark chocolate, the excitement I’m feeling. Our eyes dart to each other’s lips and back again, and more than anything, that is how I want this chocolate to taste … I’m hot, aching to feel his lips on mine as we move closer until—
‘Erm-hum.’
Our heads snap round. Madame Pichon is standing in the doorway of Gabriel’s workshop.
She raises a brow above her cat’s-eye glasses, her lips pucker – and mine burn. I promised I wouldn’t be that student. I said I wouldn’t fall for him. And I should be thinking about Daniel …
‘I hope I’m not interrupting anything.’
‘I was asking for feedback on my final chocolate,’ I say, my mouth dry.
‘Surely you can do that in class time, Clara. Unless what I’ve heard is true?’
My forehead wrinkles. ‘I don’t know what you might have heard, Madame.’
She flicks her chin towards us, with a dismissive sniff. ‘Lunch break is over, Clara. You should be in your class. And, Gabriel,’ she says, more warmly, ‘I have a guest to see you.’ She stands aside to reveal a young woman of twenty or so in a smart coat and fake-fur hat, clutching a small holdall.
‘Dad?’ She frowns, leaving me in no doubt that she is Gabriel’s daughter, a lock of dark brown curly hair escaping from under her hat, which sits just above neat dark eyebrows.
‘Lorelei?’ Gabriel says.
She looks from him to me and back to him. ‘Oh, don’t tell me, she’s your assistant!’ She glares at me, huffs, and turns away.
‘What? No, wait! It was about a chocolate! Honestly,’ says Gabriel, reaching out to his daughter, who stops where she is.
‘Clara,’ Madame Pichon says, making me nervous all of a sudden, even though I’m nearly forty, the same age as her. ‘My office, s’il vous pla?t .’
It was just about the chocolate, I tell myself. Well, it was for Gabriel maybe, but I feel an almighty shift in my insides, as if everything has repositioned itself. Like I have a new favourite chocolate … and it’s not Daniel. His isn’t the chocolate I’m yearning for. But, whatever I do, I can’t let myself think about that forbidden flavour and I follow Madame Pichon to her office.
‘Madame, whatever you may have heard—’
‘Shh.’ She holds up a finger, the nail painted bright red, to silence me as she sits behind her large desk. Outside, through the window, the snow is falling hard and fast on the roofs of the town below. I imagine that you can see everything from here, the comings and goings of life at the chocolate school. She makes me wait, addressing an email on her computer, and while she does I examine the pictures on her walls of master chocolatiers in years gone by, photographs of and newspaper cuttings about Gabriel Hartmann, and again I feel that warmth inside.
She’s finished typing, her nails like sharp little hammers breaking ice, and turns back to me. I feel like a naughty pupil in the headmistress’s office and try to work out why I’m letting her treat me in this way. Maybe it’s because I care. Like I didn’t care back at Duncan and Daughters: once my Mr Tickle mug was broken, nothing mattered there. Here, however, it matters. All of it. The chocolate, the residency, Gabriel, the whole place. I have to make sure I stay to the end.
‘I have been told you’re spending a lot of time with Monsieur Hartmann, Gabriel, in his workshop. He is not here as your personal tutor or anything else for that matter. I have been warned of a burgeoning friendship.’
‘I can assure you …’ I think of Gabriel and stop talking. She mustn’t find out the truth. She can think what she likes about me, but she mustn’t find out his secret. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. It was a simple crush. Admiration for a man at the top of his game. But it’s over. I’m sure I won’t be the first to become infatuated by their mentor. But that’s all it is – was! In fact,’ I say, warming to my theme, ‘he is a remarkable man. His knowledge about and passion for what he does are extremely intoxicating.’ Briefly I’m transported to the moment just before Madame Pichon and Lorelei arrived at the workshop. Would we have kissed? ‘But I have been foolish. I am in a relationship, and am looking forward to putting mid-life madness behind me,’ I say, with as much genuine conviction as I can. I almost believe myself.
‘Good. Clearly any involvement between a student and a tutor or mentor would throw a very bad light on the school. Very bad indeed,’ she says, giving me a death stare, which unsettles me.
I clasp my hands in front of me, wishing this embarrassing scenario could be over.
‘Yes, I understand.’ Clearly my attempts at throwing Patrice off the scent about my spending time with Gabriel have worked a little too well. All of a sudden I want to giggle. But I manage to keep a straight face. ‘And I can assure you, Madame, that’s all it was. Admiration, an infatuation built on a desire to learn about chocolate.’
‘Well, try to keep it to the classroom next time,’ she says, waspish.
‘Yes, Madame.’ I turn away to see Gabriel standing by the door. I catch my breath. He doesn’t look at me and I know that’s for the best or I’ll let the giggle bubble up and burst out of me, like a shaken bottle of lemonade.
‘You wanted to see me, Noeletta?’
His deep voice is having its usual effect on me. That longing for his lips.
‘Gabriel,’ she says, ‘come in. I have tickets for the opera this evening and thought you may like to join me …’
‘I’d have loved to,’ he says, ‘but my daughter has arrived unexpectedly.’
‘Of course. I’ll get another ticket. No problem. It will be lovely to spend time with her. It’s been years since we last met. In the meantime, Mademoiselle Mackenzie has promised to stay away from your workshop. I hope she won’t give you any more trouble. If so, let me know. You have been warned, Clara.’
Gabriel catches my eye and finally flashes a look at me. I have no idea what’s in it, but it doesn’t make me giggle. In fact, I realize that whatever I might have felt, whatever might have happened in that moment, is over. The time I spent with Gabriel is over. We are on our own now.
I hurry back to the classroom, my cheeks burning.
‘Are you okay?’ Fleur asks.
I can’t look at her. ‘Yes.’ But I don’t understand how I feel. Told off, mortified, relieved that the truth hasn’t come out, uncomfortable that Gabriel had no idea about his daughter turning up.
Jacques is standing in front of the class. ‘Glad you could make it, Clara,’ he says, with almost a hint of humour in his voice. He definitely seems a little brighter and I wonder if Gabriel being caught up with a student has done that.
‘So this is it, guys. We’re coming to the end of your time at the chocolate school. You’ve all made it to the end, just about, and today you’re going to create your final piece for the exhibition, which will take place the day after tomorrow. It will be presented with your sculptures and your signature boxes. This is your final task. You must complete this to finish the course. The single chocolate. That’s all. You all have the same simple ingredients. Cocoa beans and butter. You will present your chocolate anonymously. It will be judged by the guests at the exhibition, most of whom will be connected to the chocolate industry here in Switzerland. Who can make theirs stand out? How can it stand out? It’s not the ingredients, it’s what you do with them to make this chocolate your own. You have one day left to impress us.’
I look down at the ingredients on my workstation.
I have to make this before my final date with Daniel tonight. His works Christmas party. I have one final chocolate to make before the exhibition. What is that filling going to be?
I’ll have to think of it this evening. Our final date.
‘Clara.’ Gabriel’s voice makes me jump. ‘Could I have a word … about that cocoa … grinding … method we were discussing?’
‘Yes, of course,’ I say. He points towards the pantry. The others look up at me, then at each other, clearly sensing something is wrong. I follow him to the walk-in pantry. Alain discreetly leaves and Gabriel pulls the door to.
‘Did you know my daughter was coming?’ he asks crossly. ‘She said she spoke to someone. My assistant.’
‘Yes, it was me. Your phone rang when you were having that meeting with whatever his name is from wherever. I thought it might be important so picked it up.’
‘And what did you say to her exactly?’ he says, in hushed tones.
‘I said you were looking forward to her visiting,’ I reply, in a whisper.
‘You said what to her?’
‘I said you’d love her to come and visit.’
He turns away, holding his hair off his face.
‘But you would! You told me so!’ I say, louder than I’m expecting.
‘Not yet! I’m not ready!’ he says.
‘What do you mean, not ready?’ I forget to whisper. ‘You’re just finishing your new signature box. You’re launching it in the new year. It’s nearly Christmas. Surely it’s the perfect time.’
‘I … There’s things I need to sort out first.’
‘But your signature box is nearly done. You can carry on as you were.’
He lets out a long sigh and runs his hands through his hair. ‘It’s not that simple.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because after this signature box,’ he takes another deep breath, ‘I won’t own Gabriel Hartmann any more.’
‘What do you mean? You are Gabriel Hartmann!’
‘I mean, the name, the brand. I’m selling.’
‘Selling?’
‘I’m selling to Jacobsen Chocolates.’
And for a moment I say nothing. Then: ‘Jacobsen. As in the huge, multinational chocolate-makers?’
He nods.
‘Jacobsen’s who make Timmy the Turtle chocolate drops and lemon-drizzle dunking bars?’
He nods again, as I let the information sink in.
‘Gabriel Hartmann chocolates will be part of the Jacobsen brand?’
He lets out a long sigh and doesn’t need to nod.
I raise a finger. ‘Oh. The man who was here the other day!’
‘They’re checking I’m ready to release the new box, and then I’ll be selling to them. They’ll take over my name and brand and start distributing into areas like Japan and other big markets.’
‘And … what do you do?’
‘I take the money. Try to show my daughter I can invest some time and money in her, make up for the past few years when, frankly, I’ve had little to show for myself.’
‘But I don’t think it’s money she’s bothered about.’
‘Really? Well, her mother’s husband has been able to give Lorelei holidays and expensive cars … while I’ve been trying to find a way of getting back to where I was, let alone developing my career.’
‘But you’re one of Switzerland’s biggest chocolate-makers.’
‘Was. Soon I’ll be just a name in a huge organization.’
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. This is not the Gabriel Hartmann I have come to know and— Don’t say it, Clara, not even to yourself.
‘But, you, this place, the milk, the chocolate, it’s who you are,’ I say instead.
‘Was. I just needed to get the box over the line. And, thanks to you, I did. You made this happen.’
‘But I didn’t do it so you’d walk away from it all! I thought you cared.’
‘I do – did. But the deal is set and, hopefully, that means I can spend more time with Lorelei and try to show her I’m not quite such a useless father as I have been for the past few years. I’ve been trying to find my way back since I lost my sense of taste. I know I’ve been hiding here. But now I can try to make up for some of that time.’
I chew my bottom lip. I don’t know whether or not I should say it, but as I have nothing left to lose … My time here at the chocolate school is coming to an end, as is my time with Gabriel, working with him to bring his ideas to life. I take a deep breath and say it. ‘Have you asked her what she wants?’
He glares at me and I think he might explode. Instead, he says, ‘Well, er, no. Like I say, I haven’t spent much time with her of late. Since things got tough.’
‘Maybe she doesn’t want the money. Maybe she wants to spend more time here and at the farm. Who wouldn’t?’
‘But once I sell to Jacobsen, the farm will go. No need to carry it on.’
‘Don’t you see? This isn’t what anyone wants. Not Lorelei, your cousin, your school friends, the town. It’s like you’re turning your back on all of them.’
I can hear our voices rising.
‘But what does it matter to you? You have your life with Daniel to go back to. Back to your warm apartment in the city, a job in HR that he’ll probably arrange for you. We all make our choices. It’s the end … It’s Christmas. The new year will be very different for both of us.’
We glare at each other, suddenly aware that our lives have taken very different directions as we stand in the pantry, high emotions filling the room.
‘Maybe this is something you should be explaining to Lorelei, not me. How you’ve lost your sense of taste and have spent all this time trying to cover it up! I have a life to get back to. I have to go!’
‘Explain what to me?’
The conversation ends abruptly.
We turn to see the entire class staring at us, and Gabriel’s daughter, arms folded, glaring at him. Jacques is holding open the door, beaming, clearly having heard everything that has been said.
Gabriel looks at me, drops his head and says, ‘It’s over! Let’s go to my workshop.’
Lorelei steps forward. ‘What is? Dad? What’s happened?’
I see Gabriel look up at Jacques, who is still smiling. He knows.
‘Come on, students,’ Jacques says. ‘Let’s get back to work. We have chocolate to make,’
Alain looks apologetic. ‘I’m sorry. I couldn’t keep them away.’
‘It’s not your fault, Alain,’ I say.
‘Dad! What is going on?’
Gabriel moves into the anteroom, and sits between the coats, his head leaning back on them. He lets out a long sigh. ‘As I said, maybe we should go to my workshop and discuss this,’ he says.
‘I can’t,’ I say. ‘Remember? It’s why we ended up talking in the pantry in the first place. I’ll watch the door.’
He lets out another long sigh.
‘Follow me,’ says Gabriel, and beckons Lorelei and me outside.
‘Don’t you want to go alone?’ I ask him.
‘Come with us, please. I know I shouldn’t ask any more favours, but I seem to be the person I need to be when you’re around.’
With those words filling my brain, I grab my coat and follow him out to the viewpoint where I fell that day, looking over the pines and the mountains, where the farm is nestled.
‘The reason I’ve been hiding here,’ he says to his daughter, leaning against the railings, ‘is that I’ve been trying to find a way to get back on track. To make you proud of me again, I suppose.’
Lorelei stamps her cold feet and shivers. ‘What do you mean? Of course I’m proud of you.’
‘Well, you’re proud of Gabriel, the master chocolatier.’ He looks straight ahead. ‘But without chocolate who am I? I can’t offer you what … I’ve let you down. After your mother left, I should have been there more often when you were little but I was too busy building the brand, burying my head in my work, travelling and new relationships, trying to blot out that I’d let you down. I knew you were better off with your mother and her new partner. And now I’ve lost it all, literally. Lost all my tools. I’m trying to work out how to make it up to you.’
‘Don’t be ridic—’
‘But I have a plan!’ he says, standing up straight, his hair falling this way and that.
He looks at me. I nod. I’m willing her to tell him. ‘I have a deal,’ he goes on, ‘with Jacobsen chocolates, once I deliver this signature box. We’ll announce they’re buying me out.’ And I hear the words catch in his throat.
‘Buying you out?’
He nods.
There’s a lump in my throat to match his.
‘It’s the best way. I haven’t been able to taste anything since I had Covid. Clara’s been helping me, being my taster.’
‘Ah.’
This time I nod.
‘But now Jacques knows. And once word gets out, the price for me and my name will drop like a stone. I have to get this box finished.’
We all look at each other.
‘So, you and Dad … I thought you and he were having a thing. It really was just about the chocolate.’
I blush. ‘I’m just here for the chocolate.’ I swallow and Gabriel nods sadly. Aren’t I? a voice says, inside my head.