The shade in the courtyard was a luxury after the day’s heat, despite humid air which hung oppressively as fading light cast shadows in the pink and purple sky. Guests had gathered around the table, and as they took their seats, their conversation merged with the chirping of crickets and the sounds of the oncoming night. In the distance, an owl hooted, and candles flickered in tall glass holders as the lanterns and fairy lights cast dancing shadows on sun-tinged skin.
‘How lovely it all looks,’ Jeanette and Pearl cooed as they drew back chairs to sit beside Bridgette and Ahmed. Dressed in matching sheath dresses, they had pretty combs in their hair.
‘I wonder what we are going to eat?’ Ahmed asked.
‘Your aioli with the appetisers was delicious.’ The sisters nodded.
‘I thought it was rather good, myself.’ Ahmed removed his spectacles to polish them, and his eyes sparkled with pride.
‘Divine with the prawn blinis,’ Bridgette agreed. ‘They whetted my appetite.’ She smoothed her poppy-printed skirt and spread a napkin across her knees.
‘Be heck, it’s hot!’ Fran sat beside Sally. ‘I almost kept my cozzie on to keep cool,’ she said as she fanned her face. ‘My skin perspires too much to apply makeup, and there’s no chance of slapping on any pan stick; the best I can manage is lippie.’
Caroline, on the other side of Sally, gazed at Fran. True to form, Fran’s teeth were covered in pink gloss. At least the guests hadn’t been subjected to animal print and deep cleavage, and she noted that Fran’s outfit was relatively modest. A plain knee-length shift that she’d over-embellished with layers of chunky jewellery.
On the other hand, Sally had scrubbed up well from her crumpled shorts and T-shirt. Caroline leaned back to read the label poking out of the back of Sally’s gorgeous cut-out jumpsuit by Halpern. In shades of aquamarine, shoestring straps supported two triangles of fabric attached by ties to the trousers, exposing expanses of Sally’s back and tummy. Her pale pink hair had been tamed into a sleek style, the fringe sweeping low on one side.
‘I do admire your adventurous haircut,’ Caroline said as she studied Sally’s partially shaved style. ‘Your outfit is courageous too.’
As soon as she’d spoken, Caroline realised that her words might be wrongly interpreted. She watched Sally reach into a basket of freshly baked bread, then look up to study Caroline’s blonde hair.
‘My hairdresser says I should stay away from a bob-cut. It can be so ageing,’ Sally replied to Caroline’s veiled insult and broke a piece of bread. ‘This jumpsuit was a Harrods designer room sale bargain.’ Sally paused and stared at Caroline’s dress. ‘That’s an excellent Donna Karan. I saw something similar on eBay. Did you find it there?’
Caroline flushed. She unconsciously touched her hair and let her fingers drift over her dress, aware that Sally was studying her.
‘I… I… haven’t ever shopped on eBay,’ Caroline stuttered, as Sally picked up the breadbasket again and turned to Ahmed.
‘Do try this bread,’ Sally said, ‘it’s delicious.’
Aware that she’d been snubbed, Caroline could have kicked herself. She hadn’t meant to insult Sally. Why was it so difficult to engage in a simple conversation? Was Leo right – had she failed to seize the opportunity to leave Stanley when she could have propelled herself back into society and gained confidence? Perhaps her business would have fared better had she not been so aloof with customers, too?
‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Waltho asked and pulled out a chair beside Caroline.
Caroline felt relieved. Surely, she couldn’t upset this caring man who generously opened his home to guests.
‘Oh, I was thinking about the day,’ Caroline muttered.
‘Did you enjoy it?’ he asked.
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘I hope you managed a siesta after class?’
‘Well, I sat quietly in my room,’ Caroline replied.
‘You must rest when you can. This heat is draining.’
‘No sign of it abating?’
‘The forecasters say it will break with a storm, but there are no predictions when that might happen.’
‘Global warming.’
‘Without a doubt. We’re simply not used to it being so hot in summer.’
‘The view from my balcony is wonderful. All those sunflowers in the surrounding fields and the acres of lavender next door are breathtaking.’
‘One of the reasons I came to live here,’ Waltho smiled. ‘I never tire of the landscape.’
‘I can understand that. I notice that you’ve planted lavender all over the garden,’ Caroline said, ‘and there are displays throughout the house. Is there a reason? Does it encourage bees or something else?’
Waltho looked down, and Caroline noticed his hand gripping his wine glass. When he looked up, he seemed distracted by the sight of Tomas and Daniel’s arrival with the first course.
‘Ah, dinner has begun,’ he said as Angelique placed their appetiser before them. ‘Bon appetit.’
Caroline turned from Waltho and wondered if she’d put her foot in it, again. She let her question go unanswered as she stared at her beautifully arranged plate. Trout pâté, wrapped in a light, flaky pastry and served with hollandaise sauce.
At the end of the table, Daniel announced, ‘Tomas has prepared pâté de truite as your appetiser, but before we begin, let me explain that cooking should not be a chore.’
Eyes looked up. Hungry guests held knives and forks poised.
‘When you entertain, consider making at least one course of the meal a day ahead.’ Daniel pointed to the pâté. ‘Tomas made this yesterday, and today, it is perfect; the flavours have improved by infusing overnight.’
Heads bowed to study layers of pink and green wrapped in a golden frame. Ravenous tummies rumbled, and mouths salivated.
‘Try to enjoy yourself if you are planning a dinner party. If one course is complicated, ensure the next is easy, and don’t forget to balance your menu.’
‘May we know the ingredients of this appetiser?’ Bridgette called out.
‘Yes, of course,’ Daniel replied, ‘the trout has been filleted and lightly blended, marinated in Moselle with garlic, fresh herbs, morels, and shallots, then strained.’ Daniel paused and turned to Fran. ‘Using a smooth and creamy velouté sauce,’ he said, ‘which some of you still need to master, remove the salmon from the marinade and mix with eggs, morels and seasoning.’
‘Oh heck, I’ve got Chef’s scowl. I’ll have to brush up on my velouté,’ Fran whispered to Sally, ‘it needs to be as good as your béchamel.’
‘Bollocks to my béchamel.’ Sally giggled.
‘Line a terrine with flaky pastry, layer the ingredients and cover with more pastry.’ Daniel studied the faces to find Caroline. ‘Bake in a hot oven and then serve with a rich, smooth, perfectly blended hollandaise sauce. Tonight, we can thank Caroline for her wonderful effort.’
Placing their cutlery down, everyone politely applauded Caroline for her delicious hollandaise.
‘Now, please begin.’ Daniel took his seat and toasted the guests, raising a glass of wine as everyone attacked the starter.
‘He made that sound very simple,’ Brigette said to Ahmed. ‘I think there’s a lot more to the recipe.’
‘The secrets of a Michelin-starred chef are never fully uncovered.’ Ahmed forked terrine into his mouth. ‘But this is wonderful!’
‘I hope enough secrets will be shared to justify the cost of the course,’ Bridgette chuntered as she licked her lips and nodded approval, agreeing that the terrine was sublime.
Fran ran a finger over the last residue of sauce on her empty plate. ‘Caro, that sauce is blinding!’ she called out. Not waiting for a reply, she turned to Bridgette. ‘Now, tell us why a talented landscape gardening expert would come on a course like this?’
Bridgette finished her appetiser and pushed her plate away. ‘Quite simple, really,’ she sighed. ‘Boredom.’
Bridgette had indulged in several pre-dinner drinks, which loosened her tongue.
‘Boredom?’
‘Yes, since my Hugo popped his clogs, I’ve felt bored and have lost interest in life.’
‘But your gardens are open to the public. Surely that keeps you busy?’ Fran asked.
‘Not so much these days. I have a team of gardeners who know what they are doing.’ Bridgette slumped in her chair. ‘They can manage perfectly well without me.’
Ahmed said, ‘I heard someone say you are a cruise ship speaker?’
‘Yes, I was, once or twice a year,’ Bridgette said. ‘I lectured on board. It was fun.’ She tapped her fingers on the table and frowned. ‘Hugo often used to accompany me, but he’s ruined that by dying.’ She pushed her plate away and tugged at her hair, tucking it behind her ears. ‘I have been on a cruise since his death, but a dear friend died while we were in the Caribbean and with so much death in the air, I simply can’t bring myself to do any more at the moment.’
‘But you have a busy life with your gardening awards?’ Fran remembered Bridgette telling everyone she was a multiple gold award winner at the Chelsea Flower Show.
‘I’ve stopped all that, such hard work.’ Bridgette’s voice began to break. ‘I no longer have any friends. People have died or gone gaga and ended up in old folk’s homes.’ She stared at the wrinkles and fine lines on the skin of her hands and poked at a dark-pigmented area. With a sniff, she sighed. ‘Once you hit a certain age, like me, you become invisible. One tends to be ignored. I know that every generation has its day, but our day seems to have faded and the grim reaper is fast approaching.’
‘You are very young at heart.’ Fran reached for a tissue and held it out. Her voice was gentle, and she touched Bridgette’s arm. ‘You’re so confident.’
‘Oh, my dear,’ Bridgette patted Fran’s hand, then dabbed at her eyes with the tissue, ‘that’s all for show. You have no idea how I had to steel myself to make this trip. My confidence has suddenly gone, buried with Hugo and all my friends.’ Bridgette shuddered, and her eyes misted over again.
Fran studied Bridgette and thought that the woman was still going through the stages of grief following the death of her husband. Fran had seen it before with her own pals. It affected everyone at different times. Bridgette was feeling depressed and convinced that she had no friends. She was in denial about her talents and even felt angry with Hugo for leaving her.
‘Well, I want to be your friend,’ Fran announced, ‘and I think you are lovely.’
‘And me,’ Ahmed said, ‘I would like the honour of being your friend too.’
‘Can I be included on the friendship list?’ Sally asked.
‘Bridgette dear, we will be your friends. Come and stay with us in Bath,’ the twins joined in.
‘There’s always room for you at our homes.’ The expats held up their glasses.
‘Dear, wonderful people, I think I might cry.’ Brigette reached out and wrapped her arms around Ahmed and Fran.
Fran returned the hug and gave Ahmed a wink. ‘Well, that’s sorted then. Now, before you soak our second course with your tears,’ she dabbed a tissue under Brigette’s eyes, ‘let’s find out what Chef has in store for us.’
Their next course arrived.
Confit of duck served with bean stew. Daniel, at great length, explained that the dish was originally a speciality of Gascony, and this recipe was centuries old. He was patient with guests who wished to know the secrets of curing and slowly cooking the duck, and politely answered their questions.
* * *
Caroline picked at her meat and spooned a tiny amount into her mouth with two beans and a slither of tomato. As she slowly chewed, she watched Fran chat with Bridgette and Ahmed. She wondered what it was about Fran that enabled her to easily socialise. Caroline couldn’t stomach Fran’s coarseness, but it didn’t seem to stop others from enjoying her company.
As Caroline reluctantly began to eat, she heard Daniel explain that the fat from the duck was perfect for roasting potatoes and if combined with the shredded leftovers, created delicious rillettes that would go well with Ahmed’s quince jelly.
Determined to make amends with Sally, Caroline turned and started a conversation. ‘Are you enjoying your meal?’ she asked.
‘Yes, it’s delicious,’ Sally replied.
‘I notice that you chat with everyone. Will you include the guests in your articles?’
‘Well, I would need everyone’s permission if I use their images or mention them by name,’ Sally said, holding her fork aloft and staring at Caroline. ‘Would you be willing?’
‘I, er, I’m not sure.’ Flustered, Caroline knew she would refuse the request, not wanting publicity, which might ultimately highlight her problems. She felt Sally staring at her plate, and knowing she’d barely touched her meal, Caroline rumpled her napkin to cover her food before pushing it to one side. The journalist might have a nose for weight-related articles and would suss out a binge eater who lived perpetually with a war against food.
Caroline intended to keep details of her life strictly off-limits.
Their main course was followed by a summer tarte with crème patisserie and topped with fresh berries from the garden. Daniel explained that the pastry was made with the finest butter from Poitou-Charentes, and the creamy unsalted product was perfect for cooking because it contained a high percentage of fat.
‘I thought too much fat was bad for you?’ Bridgette asked.
‘Did you?’ Daniel shrugged. ‘It is the fat that gives such a wonderful flavour.’
‘Everything in moderation,’ Bridgette conceded.
Everyone agreed that dinner was delicious, and more wine flowed. Cognac was offered with coffee, and Waltho announced that guests were to set their alarms early for the following day. He explained that Daniel and Tomas were escorting the group to the market in Chauvigny. They would be given ten euros each to shop for something they would later prepare in class.
Caroline saw Jeanette and Pearl clap their hands.
‘Oh, how exciting!’ the twins said. ‘We mustn’t have a late night. We don’t want to miss anything.’ Linking arms, the twins left for bed.
The expats, glancing at their watches, said it was getting late, and they must go too. Waltho stood to see them on their way while Angelique poured more drinks.
Caroline, who declined anything further, also decided to retire. ‘Goodnight, everyone,’ she said, ‘I hope you all sleep well.’
‘Like a baby,’ Bridgette slurred, ‘beddy-byes for me.’ She rose unsteadily. Too much wine, followed by Waltho’s fine cognac, had left her wobbly. Rushing to assist, Fran and Ahmed stood on either side and took hold of Bridgette’s arms. Angelique, concerned for the guest, went to help.
‘We’ll make sure she’s all tucked up,’ Fran said, ‘won’t we, Ahmed?’
‘Most definitely,’ the retired dentist replied, ‘and I’ll make sure that I knock her up in the morning.’
* * *
The guests retired and Sally giggled at Ahmed’s slip of the tongue, as she watched Bridgette being assisted from the courtyard. Alone at the table, she saw Daniel approach with a decanter in his hand.
‘A little more cognac?’ he asked and poured a generous measure.
‘I shouldn’t really, it’s getting late.’
‘Sit for a while and share a drink with me; the moonlight is lovely.’
Sally felt his eyes travel from her face to the smooth skin of her shoulders before coming to rest on her breasts, which were barely concealed by her jumpsuit.
‘I often skinny-dip when everyone is in bed,’ he added as he pulled out a chair and sat down.
‘A bit silly when you’ve been drinking all evening.’
‘You’re on holiday. Relax,’ Daniel soothed.
‘No, I’m not. This is work.’
‘Nice work if you can get it.’
‘But this is a working week for you too.’ Sally watched the chef lean back and puff out his chest.
‘I’m here because I love to share my knowledge.’ Daniel held his glass to the light to swirl the rich amber liquid. ‘It is my mission in life to help people.’
‘Especially wealthy middle-agers and the boomer generation who seem to be the majority of folk on this course.’
‘That’s a cynical opinion. Everyone has a right to fill in the culinary gaps they missed when they were younger.’
‘Like Fran?’ Sally asked.
‘Fran has much to learn. Her dream of opening a restaurant is ambitious.’
‘You must have had the same dream, too?’
‘Indeed, but no one helped me. I had a tough road to travel.’
‘Tell me about it.’ Sally’s curiosity was piqued, and she smelt an exciting story.
‘Perhaps, another time.’ Daniel was vague. Sitting forward, he turned to stare at Sally. ‘Has anyone ever told you that your eyes shine like emeralds?’
Sally took a sip of her drink and laughed.
‘You look even prettier when you smile. Your green eyes sparkle.’
As he moved closer, Sally felt Daniel’s warm breath on her neck. Suddenly, she was back in the wine bar in Le Mans, and Ross was presenting her with a cheap emerald ring as he, too, compared her eyes to the precious jewel. Sally felt her body tense as she fought back feelings of anger.
Are all men the same? Pushing her chair back, Sally stood.
‘Did I say something wrong?’
Sally watched Daniel’s mouth fall open. ‘Nothing more than you probably parrot out to any female with a pulse.’
‘But…’
‘Goodnight, Daniel,’ Sally called out as she sauntered away. ‘Don’t forget to set your alarm. You don’t want to be late for culinary gap-filling in the morning.’
* * *
As Sally left, Daniel tried to determine what he’d done to upset her. Emptying his glass, he reached out to drain her unfinished drink. The brandy was soothing, and soon, he began to plan his advance. Some women like to be chased. Given that they had less than a week, he had his work cut out but was confident that Sally would submit to his advances both in and out of the bedroom. Her notebook would be filled with a glowing account of Daniel’s unlimited talent, and he visualised the Sunday supplement feature.
Tomas and Angelique appeared, and Tomas sighed as he cleared the table. ‘So much mess…’ he muttered while Angelique collected glasses and placed them on a tray.
‘We have an early start.’ Angelique’s eyes rested on Daniel, encouraging him to help. ‘Let’s get cleaned up here as fast as we can.’
But Daniel’s mind was elsewhere, and, placing his empty glass on Angelique’s tray, he stood, tucked his hands in his pockets and strolled away to fantasise about Sally.