Chapter Two
‘No, of course not. Is everything okay?’
‘Everything’s fine, but I do have some news.’
‘What kind of news?’
Kath pointed to the two upholstered armchairs next to a bookcase stuffed with the travel memoirs that Beckie devoured, and Poppy sank into the one on the left, her stomach churning at the seriousness of the expression on the bistro owner’s normally cheerful face. She took in Kath’s rosy cheeks, her neat, caramel-coloured bob, and her dry, chaffed hands clenched in her lap, and the coil of anxiety tightened.
‘Kath? What’s going on?’
‘As you can see, the bistro isn’t as busy as usual—’
‘I think it’s the weather. It hasn’t stopped raining all week!’
‘Yes, I think that’s part of it, but I also think people are busy with their Christmas preparations, too.’ Kath paused before meeting Poppy’s gaze, her eyes filled with kindness as she took a deep breath. ‘So, Beckie and I have decided that it’s the perfect opportunity for us to take a trip up to Edinburgh to visit my cousin, Angela. We’re both really looking forward to seeing her – we haven’t had a day off for months – and the break will do us good before the Christmas rush starts.’
‘Does that mean…?’
‘We’re closing the bistro for the next three weeks, until the beginning of December.’
‘Oh, okay, I…’
‘I’m sorry, Poppy.’
‘No, no, that’s fine. I completely understand. You’ve been so kind, taking me on here after the fire, and I’m very grateful that you’ve allowed me to practice my pastry skills. Now that it looks like Andrew could find Dexter in the next couple of days, it’s time I turned my attention back to creating artisan chocolates, otherwise I’ll have forgotten everything I know when the beach huts are reinstated.’
Kath reached out to take Poppy’s hands into hers.
‘That could still take a while. Why not use the opportunity to visit your brother in New York? I know he’s been asking you to go over there so he and Darcie can show you the sights, not to mention treat you to a ticket to see the New York Yankees followed by a celebratory meal at the Plaza.’
It was true. Sam had offered to pay for her flights to New York so she could see where he and his wife Darcie had settled after he’d landed his dream job at a publishing company in Manhattan. She wanted to go, she really did, but she was nervous about travelling all that way by herself, another unexpected after-effect of the way Drew had treated her that she was working on but hadn’t yet conquered, despite her best efforts.
‘Yes, that’s an idea. I’ll… I’ll think about it.’
Poppy should have known that she couldn’t fool Kath. Beneath her calm, gentle exterior was a laser-sharp ability to slice through any extraneous nonsense – or the engagement of avoidance tactics – to get to the heart of the matter. When Beckie’s mum had passed away, Kath had stepped in to bring up her two-year-old niece without hesitation, and had surrounded her with an abundance of love, kindness and cake, and, when required, a dose of straightforward advice.
‘You know, sometimes it’s good for us to do things that are outside our comfort zone. Expanding our horizons gifts us the opportunity to see things from a different perspective, and to meet people beyond our immediate circle of friends and family with whom we might enjoy a connection we never thought possible. We have to be leaders in the stories of our lives, not followers.’
Kath smiled to soften the directness of her words, but Poppy knew what she had said was justified. She was guilty of choosing the easy route, settling for the comfortable choice rather than taking a risk and having to deal with failure. As the youngest child, she had to accept that she had been overprotected by her loving family, maybe even a little spoilt; she still lived at home instead of renting a place in Blossomwood Bay, she dated her brothers’ friends instead of someone she had chosen herself, and after college she’d accepted a job at a bakery in Sidmouth owned by a friend of her father instead of exploring her options further afield. The one and only time she’d made a decision to step outside her comfort zone was when she had met Drew and look how that had turned out! It was over a year ago and her heart still gave a painful squeeze whenever his name was mentioned, not because she still cared for him, but because she was embarrassed about what he had done.
Nevertheless, there was no way she was flying off to New York, or to anywhere else for that matter; even the thought of it made her feel a little lightheaded. However, Kath’s words had reminded her of a couple of long-dreamed-of projects she had been thinking about for a while, and she decided to share one of those with her in the hope of persuading her that she wasn’t a completely lost cause when it came to forging her own future. Bearing in mind the state of her love-life – and her vow to avoid dating for a while – she went with the second aspiration on her list.
‘You know, being at the bistro with you and Beckie for the last four months has inspired me to think bigger than my beach hut chocolate shop on the boardwalk. I haven’t said anything to anyone yet, but it’s always been my dream to one day open my own café where I’d serve afternoon teas with cucumber sandwiches and real French patisserie with a Devonshire twist, using dainty china plates, cups and saucers, and teapots decorated with rosebuds. It would be located in a pretty English country garden – just like my mum’s – with white wicker chairs dotted around the pristine lawns, vases of wildflowers on every table and hand-embroidered tablecloths and napkins. Oh, and bunting, of course; I love bunting.’
‘Sounds like a great idea,’ said Kath, smiling broadly. ‘You could ask Tilly for advice. Her mum used to run a similar kind of place – The Orange Blossom Café – and doesn’t Tilly offer themed afternoon teas at her sister’s teashop in Tuscany?’
‘Yes, she does. I’ll give her a call.’
‘Well, there’s no time like the present. Why don’t you head home?’
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to stay to help you tidy up?’
‘No, Beckie and I can do that.’
‘Thanks, Kath.’
Poppy collected her coat and bag and headed out of the bistro for the last time until December, gasping when she was unceremoniously slapped in the face by a blast of freezing cold air. It was four o’clock, and the sun had almost disappeared behind the horizon sending ripples of orange light across the undulating water in the marina. As she slid into the relative warmth of her faithful scarlet Mini, her mood plummeted and she stared out of the windscreen, the next three weeks stretching out in front of her, empty and desolate.
With her parents away, the house would feel quiet and cheerless, and while she knew that Holly and Rachel would welcome her into their respective social circles, she didn’t want to be the proverbial gooseberry, especially as their relationships were so new. She had certainly chosen the wrong time to take a break from dating.
It seemed she was alone, with nothing to do and no one to do it with.
Before she had time to crumble into a hot, snivelling mess, her phone started to buzz, and her spirits edged up a notch when she saw the caller ID flash up on the screen.
‘Hey, Jamie,’ she greeted her brother.
‘Hi Poppy, are you sitting down?’
‘Why?’
‘Are you?
‘Yes, I’m in the car. What’s going on?’
‘I’m at Mum and Dad’s house. I just called round to collect one of my signed rugby balls for a charity match I’m playing in on Saturday afternoon over in Exeter, and, well… I’m sorry Poppy, but the water tank in the loft has burst. It’s brought down the ceiling upstairs and flooded the bathroom. It’s a real mess, but it was bound to happen. The tank is ancient, probably over forty years old, and I’ve been nagging Mum and Dad to get a new combi boiler installed for years but they wouldn’t listen.’
‘So, what does that mean?’
‘It means you’ll have no heating and no hot water for a couple weeks, not to mention the fact that the bathroom is a no-go area. On the plus side, I’ve called one of the guys I play tennis with, and he’s going to come over first thing tomorrow morning to assess the damage and he’s promised he’ll do everything he can to clear up the debris and repair the ceiling. Graeme’s also got a plumber friend who can install a new, state-of-the-art boiler before Mum and Dad get back from the Caribbean.’
‘But…’
‘Look, go home, pack a bag and come and stay with me and Alicia until it’s all sorted. You can’t stay there without heating and hot water. It’s November, and I saw the weather forecast this morning; this rain is going to be hanging around for the next two weeks at least, and they even mentioned the possibility of snow by the end of the month.’
‘Snow?’
‘I know it’s a longer drive from our place over to Blossomwood Bay, but that shouldn’t be a problem if you get up half an hour earlier than usual.’
‘Oh, well, actually, I…’
‘What?’
Poppy sighed. She hadn’t intended to tell her parents, or her brothers, what had happened, but now it seemed she had no choice. If she was staying with Jamie, he would find out anyway.
‘Kath’s decided to close the bistro for a couple of weeks.’
‘Really? Why?’
‘Trade is slow – in fact, it’s almost non-existent at the moment – so she’s taking a break to go and visit her cousin in Edinburgh with Beckie.’
‘Great! That’s perfect!’
‘Perfect? What are you talking about? It means I have no job, no income, and after what happened with Callum last night…’
‘Yes, I’m sorry about that Poppy.’
‘It’s not your fault, but it does seem like I’m destined never to find my soulmate.’ She heard the despondent tone in her voice and chastised herself for being so downbeat, even after the trio of disasters that had befallen her within the last twenty-four hours.
‘When I said “that’s perfect”, what I meant was that I’ve just had a call from my friend Olivier Bourdain. Do you remember him? We met when we were both training at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris more than a decade ago, and I stayed with him and his family while I did my year’s placement at the Ritz. Anyway, unfortunately he’s had an accident while skiing in the French Alps with his wife and three daughters. Can you believe he has three daughters?’
‘Jamie, I really…’
‘Sorry, yes, so he decided to try out one of the black runs and, to cut a long story short, he’s broken both his wrists.’
‘Oh my God, that’s awful. Poor Olivier.’
‘It is especially problematic because he and his twin brother Alain run a patisserie in the centre of Paris, making the most exquisite pastries you’ve ever tasted. Of course, Alain can help him with the baking side of things – under Olivier’s meticulous direction – but he’s desperate for an extra pair of hands. Actually, Olivier did ask if you were available – I’d already told him about the boardwalk fire and that you were working part-time at the bistro until the insurance is sorted – but I told him you were busy. However, now—’
‘Oh, no, Jamie, no! No way!’ A sharp spasm of fear shot through her abdomen at what Jamie was suggesting. ‘I can’t go to Paris!’
‘Why not?’
‘Because… I just can’t.’
‘What are you going to do until the bistro reopens in three weeks’ time?’
‘I’m… I’m going to be working diligently on expanding my range of artisan chocolates for when the beach hut is reinstated. I was going to call you later on tonight to tell you that Kath spoke to Andrew this morning. Apparently, there’s been a sighting of someone who fits Dexter’s description near Lake Tahoe, so it’s looking like Andrew will have found him by the end of the week, which means there’s a lot to do if I want to hit the ground running with a new batch of hand-made chocolates.’
‘But you don’t know for certain that it was Dexter?’
‘No, but—’
‘Look, Poppy, this is an amazing opportunity. You’ll love Paris. It’s a beautiful city, packed with fantastic sights. You can visit the world-class museums, climb the Eiffel Tower, take a trip down the Seine on one of the bateaux mouches. But best of all, you’ll get to experience first-hand the techniques used to create authentic French patisserie! Olivier and Alain are masters of their craft. Pastry chefs the world over would give their right arm to spend time watching them create their delicious masterpieces.’
‘I—’
‘Oh, and you don’t have to worry about accommodation, either. You can stay with Olivier’s maman, Hélène, like I did. There’s a tiny studio nestled in the eaves of her gorgeous apartment building just around the corner from the shop. She lets it out as an Airbnb in the summer months, but now that it’s November demand will have dropped off considerably, and I’m sure she’d love to have you. She’s a little… eccentric, but I know you’ll get on like a house on fire.’
‘Jamie, please, you know I can’t…’
‘Poppy, I know what happened with Drew knocked you for six, and I’m aware that since then we’ve been guilty of overprotecting you. You’re our baby sister and we love you. You’ll always be the little girl with the cute pigtails and braces, who wears quirky hats and has a passion for collecting old cookery books, but it’s time we all realised that mollycoddling you is doing you no favours. You need to put the debacle with Drew behind you and fly the proverbial nest, experience life beyond the confines of Sidmouth and Blossomwood Bay. You need to taste the freedom – and the culinary wonders – the world has to offer. This is your opportunity, and you can come to Olivier’s rescue at the same time.’
‘But…’ Poppy paused, her head spinning with a maelstrom of jumbled arguments as to why she couldn’t fly off to Paris to work in Jamie’s friend’s patisserie. To her relief, she alighted on at least one coherent argument she could present to him without sounding like a complete wimp. ‘I can’t speak French!’
‘You got an “A star” at A level!’
‘Yes, but that was years ago, and I haven’t uttered a word of French since.’
‘I’m sure it will all come flooding back to you. There’s another benefit, too.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I’m sure you know already that Paris is the city of love and romance. Maybe when you’re over there you can start to write that romcom novel you’ve been talking about since you were a teenager. It’s the perfect place to study the genre, don’t you think?’
She could hear the familiar amusement in her brother’s voice. All four of her brothers had teased her about her hope of one day writing a romantic comedy, which was why she hadn’t spoken about it to anyone beyond her family and her close friends. She did still harbour the dream of seeing her book on the shelves of the local bookstore, but with her dating history, she suspected that anything she wrote would be more comedy than romance. Maybe she should stick to non-fiction and call her book How to Choose the Wrong Guy in Five Easy Steps.
‘Please, Popps, will you think about it?’
‘Okay, okay, I’ll think about it.’
‘Great, I’ll call you in an hour.’
Before Poppy could reply, the line was cut and she sat there, staring at the rain lashing against the windscreen. There was not a single person walking along the seafront and she didn’t blame them. Any sensible person would be at home, cooking dinner or curled up on the sofa watching the TV or listening to music – in the warmth. She realised with a stab of dismay that that wouldn’t be her unless she took Jamie and Alicia up on their offer to stay with them until the plumbing disaster was sorted out.
She sighed. What was she going to do with herself for the next three weeks?
Maybe Holly would need her assistance at the kennels.
Or perhaps she could help Rachel with her mobile yoga sessions.
Or she could stick to her plan to use the time to experiment with new recipes and ingredients for her artisan chocolate-making business. But how would she do that? She couldn’t expect Jamie and Alicia to turn over their pristine, marble-and-shiny-stainless-steel kitchen to her when she had refused to answer a plea for help herself. A spasm of guilt shot through her chest. Her brothers – and particularly Jamie, who was closest to her in age – had done so much for her since she had ended things with Drew. Wasn’t it time for her to give something back?
But Paris?
How could she go to Paris?
She’d never been abroad by herself before, and she would be living and working with people she had never met. How scary was that? And while she had been practising her patisserie skills at the Boathouse Bistro, what she had produced wasn’t in the same league as what she suspected Olivier and Alain created on a daily basis.
As the rain continued to hammer down, she conjured up an image of a Parisian patisserie’s shopwindow showcasing an array of colourful and mouthwatering pastries, and a kernel of curiosity began to weave its way through her veins. She could learn so much from Olivier and his brother; new skills, new techniques, new flavours and new recipes she could amend to include a Devonshire twist for when she opened her English country garden café one day.
Jamie was right. Paris was a beautiful city, and she could see herself wandering the elegant streets, soaking up the atmosphere, mooching around the bookshops and picking up a few French cookery books to add her ever-expanding collection. And wasn’t Paris renowned for its fashion houses? Maybe she would treat herself to a new scarlet beret, or an orange felt cloche, or a canotier with a jaunty blue ribbon!
But going to France was a daunting prospect, well outside her comfort zone, and her stomach was already churning with nerves at the possibility.Then something Kath had said to her less than thirty minutes ago sprang into her head. Did she want to be a leader or a follower in the story of her life?
Maybe it was time to walk her own path instead of the one created by others.
But what if she failed?
But what if she didn’t?
The spark of curiosity ballooned into excitement, with a side order of determination, and before she could change her mind, she dialled Jamie’s number.
She was going to Paris!