‘No! Certainly not, but I can cook fairly well now. I did a few professional cooking jobs with my friend Meg, who’s a brilliant cook.’
‘If only she were here now!’ said Donna, obviously remembering the dinner party she’d been trying to forget.
‘Do you mind if I ask you something a bit personal?’
‘Go ahead,’ said Donna. ‘It’s so good to have someone to talk to; I don’t care about being discreet.’
‘I know the feeling. I had a lovely friend who was – is – a man, but girlfriends are a bit different, aren’t they?’
Donna nodded. ‘What did you want to ask me?’
‘Is Bob’s job well paid? I mean, if money is no object, you could find someone who’d cook for your dinner party and you wouldn’t have to worry. I’ve done jobs like that myself.’
‘I had someone! I had booked a chef and then they sent a message to say they couldn’t come. Bob said, “Oh, you can do it then, honey, it’ll be fine.” Then he closed up his newspaper and went to work. His mother always did the cooking when his father had business people over to dinner. He thinks women can do these things automatically, just because they’re women.’ Donna suddenly looked as if she might start to cry again.
‘And you didn’t say, “No, I can’t do it”?’
Donna looked down at her plate in shame. ‘No. I want to be the sort of wife who can cook for a dinner party. I didn’t want to disappoint him.’
Alexandra didn’t reply. She tried not to look reproachful but suspected she had failed.
‘Could you do it for me, Alexandra?’ said Donna, sounding very young and helpless. She was leaning forward, her long blonde hair trailing into her wine glass.
Alexandra thought about the short time she had to enjoy Paris. ‘But you need a proper French chef! There must be hundreds of them. We’re in Paris, after all.’
‘But do you know of any I could contact? The one who cancelled today couldn’t think of anyone.’
‘It doesn’t mean there aren’t any.’
‘Well, I realise that. But how would we find one in time for tonight?’
Donna had a point. ‘I agree it is very short notice – but there must be agencies we can try.’ Alexandra, who considered herself resourceful, realised that it would be nearly impossible to find a chef to cook in a private kitchen at such short notice if you had no contacts.
‘Would you do it for me?’ Donna pleaded, putting on all the charm, using skills that no doubt worked well on her father and Bob. Alexandra found she wasn’t immune, either. ‘If you’re not a trained chef, you have at least cooked meals before,’ Donna finished.
‘The thing is, I only have today to see Paris …’ Alexandra paused, thought for a moment – and decided that Switzerland and all it represented could wait. She had some money stashed away in the inner pocket of her handbag, traveller’s cheques she’d bought with the money she’d earned in London. Her relations knew nothing about it. She’d use that to spend a little more time in Paris. She was already booked into a very reasonable pension. She could send a telegram, tell her relations she had met a friend in Paris and was staying for a bit. After all, they’d done without seeing her much for years. A few more days wouldn’t make a difference. And where better to improve her French than in Paris?
She smiled at Donna. ‘OK, I’ll do it. But with you, not for you, and I don’t want to be paid. The thing to do here is to buy your way out of trouble! The French are brilliant at ready-made food. We’ll buy pâté, lots of cheeses and a gorgeous dessert, and then all we have to worry about is the bit in the middle.’
‘You make it all seem so easy,’ said Donna. ‘I am so glad I met you. You look so glamorous, but you’re so kind. I’d have thought you were French if I didn’t know otherwise. Is your scarf Hermès?’
Alexandra nodded. ‘It was a present from my uncle. When he came over to London last month, he realised I wasn’t a child any more and gave me something I really wanted to wear.’
‘With your mac, the belt, you look sort of—’
Alexandra sighed. ‘I know. I’ve always looked different from other people my age. I’ve always gone my own way a bit, fashion-wise.’
‘I was going to say you’re like Audrey Hepburn. You’re so – cool. And very stylish.’
‘Honestly? So! Let’s finish our lunch and then sort out your dinner party. We may need to buy a shopping bag or two!’
But she couldn’t throw herself into shopping and cooking until she’d dealt with sending the telegram to the people who were expecting to meet her off the train in Switzerland the following day. First, she had to compose the perfect message so her plan to stay in Paris for a few days would seem to them like a good idea. Then she had to send it, which probably meant finding a large bureau de poste.
They stayed at the restaurant table, and Alexandra took out a dog-eared notebook which she had previously used to write down details of the antique bits and pieces she used to buy and sell as a money-making hobby when she lived in London.
‘Can I help with the wording?’ asked Donna after she’d watched Alexandra cross out a few attempts.
Usually Alexandra was good at telling her relations what they wanted to hear. When she’d lived in the family house in London, she had managed to keep hidden from them for a long time the fact that she had had no paid female companion. But this telegram had to imply that what she was doing was exactly in alignment with what they wanted for her. As their primary concern was that her French wasn’t good enough (they considered it too colloquial and rustic), this was what she now focused on, while emphasising she was only delaying her arrival in Switzerland by a short time. She had considered saying ‘a few days’, but then decided not to be too specific.
