Daniel and Tomas stood side by side in the kitchen and put the finishing touches to the evening meal. Mussels and shrimp in a cream sauce required a certain amount of preparation just before serving, and Daniel could have kicked himself for letting the expats off with so little to do that afternoon. He sautéed the shrimp and poached mussels in cider and wine with the expats’ prepared shallots, bouquet garni, parsley and garlic. Then he flamed them in Calvados to be thickened with cream.
Tomas ladled broad bean soup into dishes. ‘This soup is delicious,’ he commented, taking a spoon and dipping it in. ‘Fran has achieved the consistency à la perfection. It’s like a fine gazpacho.’
Making a ring with his thumb and forefinger, Tomas touched them to his lips.
Daniel barely looked up. Earlier, he’d survived the bean incident by heading back into the kitchen and graciously reaching out to Fran.
‘Congratulations Fran,’ he’d said. ‘I gave you a little test to see if you would complain, but no…’ Daniel smiled as though he’d seen an angel. ‘You put your head down and uncomplainingly got on with the job.’ He’d taken a handful of beans and concluded, ‘Now, as a team, we are all here to help.’
Guests, at first judgemental of Daniel, began to smile too, and Daniel realised that he shouldn’t have left Fran on her own. The task was soon completed with all hands on deck, and Fran had made her soup. Grateful for their help, she’d followed fellow guests to the pool.
Angelique came into the kitchen. She wore a kimono of rainbow colours, and her bangles jingled as she moved.
‘Are you ready?’ Angelique asked.
‘Certainement.’ Tomas looked at Daniel, who nodded. ‘Let’s go.’
In the courtyard, everyone sat at the table. Refreshed after showers and aperitifs, the guests looked forward to their dinner.
‘What a wonderful time we had in Chauvigny,’ Jeanette and Pearl said to Ahmed, who agreed that the market was memorable and the castles a sight to see.
‘I enjoyed the church of Saint-Pierre,’ Bridgette commented and tucked a napkin into the collar of her floral print dress. ‘I’ve never seen paintings and sculptures quite like it,’ she added.
The expats who’d stayed by the pool all afternoon and continued with the card game were boisterous after several bottles of wine. They applauded as Daniel and Tomas appeared with the starter.
‘I’m never buying beans again,’ Fran said as the soup was placed before everyone.
‘Three cheers for the broad bean queen!’ the expats called out.
‘This is very good.’ Bridgette dipped her spoon into the chilled soup. ‘So tasty and flavoursome.’
Sally turned to Fran. ‘You’ve excelled yourself.’ She smiled at Fran, who’d turned red like a rooster.
As Fran sipped her soup, she felt humbled. Everyone had been so kind that day, rushing to assist when they heard she was struggling with the beans.
Everyone but Caroline.
Fran peered above her spoon, looking over to where Caroline was sitting. In a cucumber-coloured slip, the woman looked as cool as the shade of her dress. Listening attentively to Waltho’s conversation, Caroline barely touched her soup. At the same time, she toyed with a small wedge of bread, and Fran wondered why Caroline was on a course celebrating the love of food when she barely ate a morsel.
Plates were cleared, and the next course presented.
Ahmed’s goat cheese soufflé was a resounding hit. Served in tiny, fluted dishes, the light and airy texture melted in the mouth.
‘A taste sensation,’ the expats agreed, leading another round of applause.
Sally’s salad course followed, and opinions on serving warm chicory were exchanged.
‘These sausages have got quite a kick,’ Fran told Sally, tucking into the salad.
‘It’s the peri peri,’ Sally replied, ‘the stall holder said it’s a Mozambique blend.’
‘Well, the peri is very … hot!’ Gasping, Fran reached for a glass of water, ‘Tasty though,’ she added and fanned her face with her napkin.
The mussel and shrimp dish came next, and everyone praised the expats. Daniel gave a special mention to Bridgette’s beautifully prepared Mediterranean roast vegetables. Doubting they could eat another mouthful, the guests sighed as Jeanette and Pearl’s pears were placed beside tiny ramekins of Caroline’s crème brûlée.
‘I didn’t think I could manage another bite,’ Fran said as she pushed her empty dessert plate away and rubbed her belly. ‘That was a feast, and those pears were perfect with the red wine sauce.’ She looked around the table. When her eyes met Caroline’s, she said, ‘Caro, you knocked it out of the park with your crème brûlée. It was heaven.’
In return, Caroline politely nodded.
Waltho rattled a spoon against a glass and stood to make an announcement. ‘I hope everyone has enjoyed their day,’ he began as the guests sat up to listen. ‘Tomorrow, Daniel will be hosting a class on one of France’s finest delicacies, and you will master the art of making macarons.’
‘Bravo!’ Bridgette spoke up. ‘My favourites.’
‘We have arranged a special treat in the afternoon in Montmorillon, known as the city of writing and book professions.’
‘I thought this was a cookery course,’ Ahmed whispered to Bridgette, ‘although I am sure it will be interesting.’
‘There will be a reason for the visit,’ Bridgette whispered back.
‘During your visit,’ Waltho said as he looked at the expectant faces, ‘we have arranged a tour of a macaron museum. The family-owned and run Maison Rannou-Métivier is a macaron bakery operating for over one hundred years.’
‘Bingo!’ Bridgette nudged Ahmed. ‘I told you there was method in Waltho’s madness.’
Ahmed plunged his spoon into Caroline’s crème brûlée; he was in taste heaven and oblivious to Bridgette.
‘Will we be sampling the macarons?’ Bridgette asked.
‘Yes, of course. A tasting tour has been arranged,’ Waltho said as he sat down.
After desserts, Angelique served coffee and placed limoncello on the table.
Sally pointed to the pretty glass bottle and poured a measure for Fran. ‘Try one of these,’ she said, ‘Daniel has his own recipe, and it’s a smashing digestive.’
‘By heck, that’s good!’ Fran licked creamy yellow liqueur from her glossy pink lips. ‘I hear that you are getting on very well with our Elvis look-a-like?’ she asked.
‘Elvis?’
‘Aye, don’t you think Daniel has a look of the rock and roller?’
‘I hadn’t given it any thought,’ Sally replied, ‘but his hair is similar, and he perfects that smouldering eye look and maybe does have a bit of a swagger…’
‘I rest my case. But you’re probably too young to remember Elvis in his heyday. He was the sexiest man alive.’
‘Do you think Daniel is sexy?’
‘Yes, I do.’ Fran had a far-off look. ‘A bit like my Sid. Before he lost most of his hair and developed a pot belly.’
Sally turned to look at Fran.
‘Sid is my Blackpool Babe.’
‘Aw, I hope I meet him one day.’
‘You’re always welcome at Dunromin; our home is yours.’
‘Maybe I’ll visit when you open your new restaurant.’
‘Now that would be something to look forward to.’ Fran touched Sally’s arm. She felt an affinity with the woman sitting alongside her. They seemed to gel whenever they were together, and Fran felt their blossoming friendship might be long-term.
‘Now tell me about you and Daniel,’ Fran said. ‘Were you doing more than interviewing him? I heard that you were flirting?’
‘Let me guess, Bridgette has been gossiping.’ Sally rolled her eyes. ‘She must have been eavesdropping by the pool this afternoon.’
‘Don’t wriggle away from the question.’
‘He’s not my type,’ Sally began, ‘and I’ve always been attracted to the wrong sort of men. Daniel would be too much trouble.’ She shrugged. ‘But guess what…’
‘What?’
‘He says he likes to go skinny-dipping in the pool at night when everyone is in bed.’
‘Oh, heck, the naked chef!’
Sally giggled again. ‘I never thought of that.’
‘Perhaps we should join him one night and see what lies beneath the celebrity chef apron?’ Fran giggled, too. ‘Nakedness aside, do you get on with him?’
‘Our conversation was easy, and he made me laugh. From a work perspective, he’s a talented chef.’
‘But do you fancy the pants off him?’
‘Oh, Fran, what a question,’ Sally sighed, ‘I don’t think I’ll ever fancy anyone again after Ross.’
‘Ah, yes, you were going to tell me about him.’
‘He was the love of my life, but he broke my heart.’
‘Do you want to talk about it?’
‘I’ve never really told anyone.’ Sally looked down at her hands and rubbed the skin of her wedding finger. ‘My friends thought he was just another passing relationship, and it turns out he was.’
‘But you thought it was more.’ Fran’s voice was soft.
Sally began, and once she started, she poured out her heart to Fran. She explained how she’d been invited to spend a weekend with friends to watch the biannual vintage sports car event in Le Mans. Ross, paid to drive classic cars and race them worldwide, was competing. It was a fun event, and the fun carried over when he was introduced to Sally at a post-event party.
‘I felt an instant attraction,’ Sally explained, ‘suddenly my whole being came alive in his presence, and we had so much in common too.’
She told Fran that Ross wrote about his obsession in various motor magazines, and, with a shared passion for journalism, they’d hit it off instantly.
‘Our relationship deepened, I adored Ross and travelled with him. I loved the excitement of the trips and the thrill of racing.’ Sally stared into the distance, deep in thought. ‘He gave me a ring,’ she said. ‘I thought it was an engagement ring until he told me it was to celebrate our friendship.’
‘Friendship?’ Fran raised her eyebrows.
Sally nodded. ‘The next day, I discovered he had another “friendship” with a much younger model. A Barbie look-alike who turned up at the track at Le Mans in ridiculous high-heels and a skirt no more than a frill. She made a terrible scene.’
‘Oh dear, what did you do?’
‘I pulled the ring off my finger, flung it at Barbie and screamed that I hoped his friendship with her lasted longer than it had with me.’
‘Barbie got off lightly. Did you see him again?’
‘No. I returned to our room at Hotel Le Prince, and after flinging all his stuff out of the second-floor window, I jumped into Romeo and drove home.’
‘It’s a shame you didn’t keep the ring.’ Fran was practical.
‘Not really. It was a cheap piece of bling and a bit of an insult.’ Sally sighed. ‘Ross cleaned me out emotionally and financially.’
‘Financially?’
‘Oh yes, he was always the big spender, full of promises, but my money paid for everything. He’d got himself into debt, and I helped him. It was a stupid thing to do.’
‘No wonder you feel so angry.’
‘No, Fran. It’s not just anger. I feel used. It was my chance at love, and I lost it through being deceived.’ Sally folded her arms and turned away, unable to look at Fran. ‘And I’d saved for a deposit and was about to buy a house, but Ross, the bastard, blew it.’ There were tears in Sally’s eyes. ‘The pain I felt has been horrible because Ross really did break me both emotionally and financially.’
‘Oh, love, I’m so sorry you feel like that.’ Fran squeezed Sally’s arm. ‘It’s probably none of my business,’ her tone was soft, ‘but I always think we don’t progress until we’ve felt pain. As hard as it sounds, the bad times make the good times great.’
‘So, what are you saying?’
‘You are a beautiful woman, and you deserve to be loved. Have fun and enjoy life; don’t let the past ruin the future.’
‘Then you think that I should give Daniel a chance?’ Sally sat up.
‘A fling with no strings might do you good, be it with Daniel or someone else.’
‘This week is supposed to be all about work.’
‘It shouldn’t be all work and no play, and there might be a kind heart beneath Daniel’s celebrity apron.’ Fran grinned.
They both looked up as Daniel appeared. His exertions for the day were over, and it was time to relax. He’d changed from his chef’s whites and was now dressed in shorts and a shirt. He’d slipped his bare feet into soft suede loafers.
‘Another limoncello?’ Daniel asked and leaned in. Almost a caress, he brushed Sally’s naked shoulder with his hand and reached across the table for the bottle.
‘Not for me, thanks,’ Fran said. ‘It’s time I hit the hay, or I’ll be knackered in the morning.’
‘I’d love one,’ Sally said, holding up her empty glass and glancing at Fran.
‘Are you sure you won’t have one before you go?’ Daniel emphasised.
Fran knew she’d been dismissed and pushed back her chair. ‘Mustn’t be late for macaron class, eh Chef?’ She nodded towards Daniel as Sally looked up, ‘Goodnight to you both.’ Fran grinned and gave her new friend a wink. ‘Sleep tight.’