Alexandra and one of the estate workers were waiting for her. ‘I’m going to drive you home and Bruno here is going to drive your car.’
Meg was so relieved not to have to drive, she just got into the front seat of Alexandra’s car, although not before she’d got into the driver’s seat by mistake.
‘I am so tired,’ said Meg. ‘How am I going to do all that again tomorrow?’
‘A hot bath, a good meal, a lot of wine and then straight to bed. I’m sure you’ll get used to it.’ Then Alexandra laughed. ‘Of course I’m not speaking from experience, but it surely can’t hurt!’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alexandra was right; Meg did get used to it. As gruelling day passed gruelling day, Meg was given more interesting tasks and she no longer considered driving herself to and from the restaurant difficult. She got used to the temperature of the kitchen which meant that perspiration running down her back was normal. Her feet, which still ached at the end of the day, returned to normal by morning.
And she realised she had become the kitchen pet. Everyone loved her, teased her, flirted with her and generally made her feel she belonged. She was still the dogsbody, given all the time-consuming, fiddly tasks she was so good at, but she was appreciated.
By Bastille Day, 14 July, it was so busy for everyone in the kitchen, Meg found herself doing things that a couple of weeks previously she would not have been allowed.
Seeing how things were going, she put herself next to the pastry chef and the moment he discovered she had a swift and steady hand with a piping bag she was on to it.
Later, Pierre complained that his commis had been stolen but by this time Meg’s French was good enoughto suggest that she was only his assistant commis, so hardly worth considering. Much laughter all round.
When she finally got home, she’d done a twelve-hour shift in the kitchen. She had made choux buns, eclairs, little tart cases,crème pâtissièreand had filled and decorated hundreds of tiny, time-consuming little items. Many of the things she had previously made for Nightingale Woods but, she realised, at about a quarter of the speed she could now knock them out. She never mentioned to anyone that she’d made lots of these cakes before, she just got on and worked.
Pierre announced he was closing the restaurant for four days following this epic effort and Meg went home to sleep.
She managed to sleep until eight o’clock the next morning but by then was wide awake, and so got up and then went downstairs to find herself a cup of coffee. Alexandra was delighted to see her.
‘I know it’s breakfast time, but could you manage with just a cup of coffee for now?’
Alexandra looked a bit shifty and, as they then heard a car, Meg suddenly panicked.
‘You haven’t invited Justin or anything crazy like that, have you? You know he’s practically engaged to Laura? I told you! And I never want to see him again. I’ll go and hide—’
Alexandra put out a calming hand. ‘Meg, relax. I’d never do anything like that to you. I know how you feel about Justin. Just see who it is! I promise you’ll be pleased.’
Alexandra led them to the front door and opened it. There, coming up the steps, looking ridiculously excited, was her mother, closely followed by Andrew.
‘Meg, darling!’ said Louise, enfolding her daughter in her arms. ‘I didn’t think you’d be here! I thought you’d be at the restaurant and we’d have to wait all day to see you!’
To begin with, Meg couldn’t say anything, she was so thrilled. ‘The chef closed the restaurant after Bastille Day for four days,’ she said at last. ‘It’s so lovely to see you!’
‘We’ve brought breakfast,’ said Andrew, holding a clutch of paper bags. ‘I do miss theboulangeries, however much I appreciate Susan’s home-made bread.’
‘Oh, brilliant! Thank you so much,’ said Alexandra. ‘Now come into the kitchen and I’ll make coffee. Or maybe we could have breakfast outside?’
‘Keeping the croissant crumbs out of the house is a good idea,’ said Andrew.
Antoine and Stéphie appeared while Meg was putting out plates. Antoine had been up early, working. Stéphie explained that she had been helping him.
‘I don’t know what I’ll do when my assistant has to go back to school,’ he said after he had greeted Louise and Andrew.
Only when everyone had eaten a pastry or some bread and butter did Meg say what she had been longing to ask.
‘Are you just here for a holiday?’ asked Meg. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘We’re not just here for a holiday, although Alexandra and Antoine have kindly insisted we stay for a few days,’ said Louise.
‘Your mother has something to tell you, and she’s getting all embarrassed about it,’ said Andrew.
‘We’re engaged,’ said Louise, holding out her left hand, which had a very pretty ring on it. ‘We wanted to tell you in person. And the wedding is in September, at Nightingale Woods. Will you come home for it?’
