Chapter Fourteen
The morning of the Pierre Bardoit catwalk show dawned with a clear blue sky and a noticeable nip in the air. After showering and towel-drying her hair, Poppy made a quick coffee, then grabbed her phone and settled down on her unmade bed-cum-sofa to scroll through her messages, hoping to have heard from Holly or Rachel about Suzie’s visit to the police station the previous day. However, she was surprised to see that the only message she’d received over the last twenty-four hours was one from Jamie asking whether she’d enjoyed her Friday night sightseeing tour with Stéphane.
Anxiety gnawed at her chest. She was worried about Suzie, but after checking her watch and seeing what time it was – and what time it would be in the UK – she decided to send Holly a text instead of calling her for an update. When her phone buzzed a few seconds later, she realised that she should have known that Holly would be up at six a.m. to take Ariel and Max out for their early morning walk along the beach, regardless of the weather.
‘Morning!’
‘Hi Holly, I was just wondering whether you’d heard from Suzie or Christos yet. Do you have any news? I know their appointment with the inspector in charge of the case was yesterday morning, and that they hoped to find out the identity of the person they’ve arrested from him. Do you know what happened?’
‘I haven’t heard anything and I’m just as anxious as you are,’ said Holly, her voice tight with emotion. ‘The last time I spoke to Suzie was on Sunday night when I called to wish her luck. She was nervous, of course, but determined to find out the truth, and she and Christos were planning to meet up with Heidi and Nathan afterwards to tell them everything, especially as Nathan’s investigation was instrumental in bringing the whole thing to a conclusion at last. She promised she would ring me as soon as she could.’
‘And you’ve heard nothing?’
‘No.’
‘Have you tried to call her?’
‘Of course I have, several times. I’ve left voicemails, and sent texts, too, but she hasn’t called me back yet. To say I’m worried is an understatement. I actually suggested to Oscar that we should hop into the car with Ariel and Max and drive up to London this morning, but he thinks we should wait for Suzie or Christos to contact us. I also tried to call Heidi – we met her and Nathan when Oscar and I went up to London to meet his agent a few weeks ago – but she’s not answering her phone, either.’
‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.’
‘What like?’
Poppy scoured her brain. She could hear the panic and confusion in Holly’s voice, and she felt exactly the same, but she wanted to do what she could to reassure her friend.
‘Well, maybe the meeting was postponed, or maybe Fran?ois’s flight from Nice got delayed and they’ve rescheduled until today, or maybe someone on the case is sick, or maybe there’s some kind of technical glitch, or maybe…’
‘But I know Suzie, and if that’s the case, she would have called me. She knows how worried I am about her, and she wouldn’t just ignore my calls and texts.’
‘Maybe there’s something wrong with her phone.’
‘And Heidi’s, too?’
Poppy realised she was clutching at straws and sighed. ‘I agree, it is worrying, but all we can do is wait until she calls us.’
‘I know, I know, but I just wish… Never mind, tell me about Paris. What have you been up to?’
Poppy spent the next ten minutes trying to cheer Holly up by telling her about the catwalk show that evening, and how excited Camille was to be showing one of her designs alongside four other fledgling designers. She told her about her unexpected flirtation with the sport of fencing, while avoiding the more awkward subject of her flirtation with Fabien. She still didn’t know how she felt about what had happened the previous night herself, so she wanted to think about it before she shared it with Holly, or anyone else for that matter.
‘Promise you’ll ring me to tell me all about the catwalk show.’
‘I promise, and you’ll call me the moment you hear from Suzie, won’t you?’
‘I promise.’
After saying goodbye to Holly, Poppy headed out of her studio in search of a second cup of coffee, and a few minutes later she found herself pausing in front of Librairie Juliette, peering surreptitiously through the window like a particularly inept private investigator to see if there was any sign of Stéphane. She smiled when she saw there were two women standing behind the counter; one of them tearing brown paper from a large parcel, the other emptying a cardboard box of what looked like fresh-from-the-press crime or thriller novels.
She pushed open the door and stepped inside, taking a moment to inhale that wonderful fragrance all bookshops seem to possess that lifts the spirits and promises an adventure into whatever world takes your fancy; real or fictional. She wished she could spend her whole day there, exploring the shelves, flicking through pages, scribbling another chapter of her novel.
Sadly, she only had twenty minutes before she was due at Patisserie Madeliene, so she made a beeline for the cookery book section and retrieved the book she had coveted the first time she visited, fighting the urge not to transport several others to the cash desk, too. However, she did find a book on French fashion in the nineteenth century, packed full of glossy photographs and illustrations, and she bought it to give to Camille after the catwalk show.
She had the utmost confidence in her friend’s ability to create something truly extraordinary, but like any artistic enterprise – including patisserie-making, artisan chocolate-making and creative writing – any opinion of the final creation was bound to be subjective. If, in the unlikely event that Camille didn’t win the coveted prize of a mentorship with one of Pierre’s fashion designer friends, then she wanted to be ready with something that would put a smile back on her face.
After paying for her books – having added a romcom, in French, to her haul – Poppy left the bookshop and meandered towards the patisserie, stopping to appreciate a bouquet of ivory roses on display outside étienne’s florist’s shop. She caught a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye, and she switched her gaze to the doorway where she saw étienne loitering, his eyes fixed on a point across the road, and when she looked over her shoulder to see what he was looking at, she was surprised to see he was staring at the window of Bistro Fabien.
She raised her hand to give him a cheery wave, her gesture breaking his reverie, and to her astonishment, instead of mirroring her greeting, a look of horror flashed across his face, and he spun on his heels and disappeared into his shop. It was a strange reaction, but she knew that étienne wasn’t the most outward going of people she’d met in Paris. She shrugged and continued her journey, pausing under the Patisserie Madeleine awning when her phone buzzed with an incoming call. She smiled when she saw the caller’s name flash onto the screen.
‘Hey, Jamie, how’s things?’
‘Splendid,’ said her brother, using one of his favourite words. ‘My friend Graeme has cleared up the mess at Mum and Dad’s, removed the old water tank from the loft, and replastered the ceiling. He’s just waiting for it to dry before he gives it a couple of coats of paint and it’ll be as good as new, better in fact. Also, his plumber friend, Gordon McKenzie, has pulled out all the stops to fit a brand new, state-of-the-art electric boiler in the garage, which will be a great deal more efficient than the old thing our parents seemed so attached to.’
‘Thanks for organising that, Jamie.’
‘I’ve spoken to Mum, by the way. They’re having an amazing time on their Caribbean cruise – they’ve just left St John’s on Antigua, bound for Castries on St. Lucia – and she says she’ll send you a few photographs when she gets into port. Apparently, Dad has treated himself to a rather jaunty Panama hat and has been asking if you’d like one to add to your collection.’
‘I’d love a Panama hat! I’ll send him a text.’
‘Great. So, how’s Paris?’
‘Wonderful. No, it’s more than wonderful, it’s totally fabulous. I’ve met lots of interesting people, been to some amazing places, and I’ve even had the chance to experiment with creating authentic French patisserie, just as I’d hoped. I’ve come up with a few new recipes – sort of a fusion of Parisian and English bakes – that I want to build on when I get back home.’
‘Oh my God, did Olivier let you loose in his kitchen?’ said Jamie, a note of incredulity in his voice.
‘No, actually, he didn’t.’ Poppy laughed. ‘He was horrified when I suggested it.’
‘So you…’
‘I met someone who owns a bistro in the same street as Patisserie Madeleine, and he very kindly offered me the use of his kitchen when the evening’s service was finished. Like you, Fabien trained at Le Cordon Bleu, so we worked together to produce something that would celebrate our respective cuisines, something not only unique, but beautiful, too.’ Poppy knew she was gabbling, but she couldn’t help it. ‘And Fabien also introduced me to the sights and sounds of the real Paris, the Paris the locals know, which included all the things I love, like fabulous food, delicious wine, fantastic shops… Oh, and lots of fabulous hats!’
‘You went on a tour of Paris with a stranger?’
‘He’s not a stranger, he’s—’
‘Did Olivier introduce you?’
‘No, I—’
‘Hélène, then?’
‘No one “introduced” us, Jamie. I met Fabien when I went for dinner at his restaurant, which was incredible, by the way. I happened to mention my lacklustre experience with Stéphane, and he very kindly offered to show me what I’d missed out on, and I had a wonderful time.’
‘Fine, but if you didn’t enjoy Stéphane’s company, you should have said something. I’ve got several other friends who live in Paris who would be only too happy to show you “the real Paris”.’
‘Jamie, I know you mean well—’
‘Remember what happened last time, Popps? When you met Drew? I really don’t want you to have to go through that again. I care about you, and so do Mum and Dad and the rest of the family. I would caution you against accepting offers to escort you around an unknown city from some random person you met at a bistro.’
Poppy inhaled a breath, gathering the courage she needed to defend her decision. She wanted to assure her brother that of course she “remembered what happened last time”. How could she forget? However, she also wanted him to know that Fabien wasn’t like Drew, and that not everyone she came into contact with was a deceitful lowlife like he was.
She accepted that she had made a mistake with Drew, but she had come to realise that making mistakes was part of life, and the lessons learned from those mistakes meant that important knowledge was gained and the potential for future errors – at least when it came to choosing who to spend time with – was, if not eliminated, then certainly reduced.
However, she knew that if she said all those things to Jamie, his concern for her would escalate and he would fret about her the whole time she was in Paris. She couldn’t do that to him, or her parents – especially while they were having such fun on their anniversary cruise – so she crushed her indignation at his overprotectiveness and decided to take the conciliatory route.
‘Thanks, Jamie, I’ll bear that in mind.’
‘Does that mean you want me to give Didier a call? I met him at Le Cordon Bleu, too, and he’s a very accomplished tennis player, maybe he’ll take you for a behind-the-scenes tour of the Roland Garros stadium? I’ve been there with Alicia a couple of times and it’s amazing.’
‘Actually, I’m really busy at the moment with my shifts at the patisserie and the classes Hélène and Odette have—’
‘Oh my God!’ Jamie gasped, his anxiety extinguished in a flash. ‘You went to one of their classes with them?’
‘I did.’
‘What was it this time? Tree-hugging? Ironmongery? Urban beekeeping?’
‘It was fencing.’
‘As in swords, masks and weird white suits?’
‘Yes, and I have to admit that I really enjoyed it. I might even sign up for a few lessons when I get back home to Sidmouth.’
‘Won’t you be busy setting up your new chocolate-making empire? I thought you said that now Andrew has engaged the services of a trail guide, he’s confident he’ll find Dexter this week. Is there any news on that score yet?’
‘Not yet, but I think it’s imminent, and… well, I’ve been thinking of perhaps using the insurance money from the beach hut to do something different, something I’ve always wanted to do.’
‘The English Garden Café?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s a fantastic idea! If you need any help from a professionally trained chef who’s a dab hand at making Bakewell blondies, banoffee cookies, salted caramel cheesecake and the lightest scones in the whole of Devon, then I’m all yours for a small consultation fee.’ Jamie laughed, a deep, rich sound that caused Poppy’s spirits to rise. ‘Exciting times are ahead for you, Popps. Keep me posted. Yes?’
‘Absolutely.’
After enquiring about her sister-in-law Alicia’s new job at the local veterinary practice, Poppy said au revoir and headed into the patisserie. As soon as she had tied on her apron, she was caught up in a whirlwind of activity, dashing between the kitchen and the shop, helping Alain and Olivier wherever she could. While she was by no means fluent, she could now understand what their customers were ordering and hold a conversation with those who enquired about what they were buying, and her confidence soared.
At the end of her shift, she toyed with the idea of calling Camille to wish her well for her forthcoming debut on a professional catwalk, but decided not to disturb her as she prepared for what could be one of the most important nights of her life. Instead, she sent her a good luck text message, telling her how excited she was, and that whatever outfit she had chosen to send down the runway later that evening it would be certain to wow the judges.
She adored Jamie, and while his tendency to wrap her up in cotton wool irritated her, she knew it came from a place of love. She also knew that she needed to proceed with caution as she showed him that, while she appreciated his solicitude, it was time for him, and the rest of her family, to watch from the sidelines as she pursued her own journey, bumps and blips, trips and tumbles, included.
With a thud of apprehension, she realised that decision probably meant moving out of her childhood home at some point in the not too distance future, but one step at a time. All her energy over the next few months had to be focused on establishing her new business – whatever and wherever that turned out to be – and then she would turn her attention to finding a studio or an apartment to rent.