Hattie looked at the glass counter and the mouth-watering selection of goodies. The names printed on the labels in swirling italics looked somewhat familiar, although the pastries themselves didn’t. Jammy dodger, bourbon, millionaire’s shortbread: they were English biscuit names but definitely French patisserie. She was intrigued but too bamboozled by the choice. She decided to leave it to her waiter to decide.
He served her a few minutes later with an éclair topped with smooth chocolate and decorated with a couple of flakes of gold leaf, along with a coffee in the most beautiful, almost translucent fine china cup and saucer. It was all so pretty she fished out her camera to take a picture, making sure she captured the mural in the background. The éclair, filled with whipped cream and dotted with tiny flecks of strawberry, tasted every bit as good as it looked.
The elderly woman at the next table smiled at her and said something in French. Hattie smiled, catching the wordbien.
‘Très bien,’ she replied, wiping cream from her lips.
‘You’re English,’ said the lady.
‘Yes,’ said Hattie.
‘The chocolate strawberry delight is one of my favourites. Nina is very clever with her flavours.’
‘You say the loveliest things, Marguerite,’ said a petite, neat girl with a dark bob who appeared carrying an amazing conical tower of what looked like profiteroles. ‘What do you think of our salted caramelcroquembouche?’
‘Magnifique,’ said Marguerite, nodding at the group of people behind her. ‘You’ve all done very well.’
There was a chorus of thanks and lots of thumbs-ups as they began to gather coats and bags.
‘See you all tomorrow,’ called Nina to their departing backs.
‘Another group of happy students,’ said Marguerite.
‘Yes, they’re a lovely group. And they’re very proud of this.’ She lifted the plate with its tower of choux pastry.
‘What is it?’ asked Hattie.
‘Hi,’ said Nina. ‘You must be Hattie. And this is acroquembouche. A traditional French wedding cake.’
‘It looks complicated.’
‘Not really, not when you know what you’re doing and you’ve had enough practice. The trick is to make sure your choux isn’t soggy.’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’ Hattie glanced at the terrifyingly impressive-looking confection. She made a note to talk to Fliss. Maybe they could add it to the menu, as Gabby was still dithering about the cake.
‘Mind you, if it tastes as good as that éclair…’ Hattie eyed Nina enviously. In her black capri pants and a shawl-collared cream top with three-quarter-length sleeves teamed with little black ballet flats, she looked very chic. If she was to be Hattie’s fashion guru, then Hattie guessed she was in good hands.
Nina beamed. ‘Thank you. Marguerite, this is a friend of Luc Brémont. She needs a dress for her cousin’s wedding. Marguerite knows all the best shops in Paris.’
‘A dress for a wedding. Then you must take her to Galeries Lafayette. They’ve just opened a vintage shop as well which I’ve heard has some lovely secondhand pieces.’
‘That’s exactly what I was thinking,’ said Nina, winking at Hattie. ‘Are you ready to go now? I haven’t been shopping in ages.’
‘I wasn’t expecting you to take me.’
‘It’s not a problem and the perfect excuse to take a day off.’
‘You work far too hard,’ said Marguerite, tapping her cane on the floor.
‘Yes, Marguerite,’ said Nina kissing her on her powdery cheek. ‘But if I didn’t, where would you go for your morning coffee?’
‘Hmph,’ said Marguerite, picking up her cup and sipping genteelly.
The two young women left the patisserie and Nina wound her way expertly through the streets to the nearest Métro station.
‘Have you been here before?’ she asked.
‘No, it’s my first time but hopefully not my last.’
