‘I’m sure it won’t be your last. There’s something about Paris that draws people back time and time again. It has its own quintessential essence of Frenchness. There’s nowhere quite like it and I’m not saying that because I live here. I felt it the very first time I came.’
‘So how does an Englishwoman end up running a patisserie in Paris?’ asked Hattie, curious as the other woman seemed as French as anyone else on the street. She seemed to fit in perfectly.
‘It’s a long story,’ said Nina with a quick smile. ‘The short version is that my husband broke his leg and needed someone to help him run a patisserie course in the shop. Nick, my brother, volunteered me and despite Sebastian being a grumpy undeserving bastard at the time, I fell in love with him.’ She wrinkled her nose before adding. ‘He’s much better now. He just needed the love of a good woman.’
Hattie frowned. ‘But how do you feel about giving everything up to live here?’ The thought made her feel anxious. ‘Don’t you miss home? Don’t you get homesick?’
Nina sighed. ‘I grew up on the moors in Northumberland. Living in Paris is about as different as you could possibly get. I love it here. The lifestyle. The attitudes to food, to life. But I’ll be honest, I miss my family, although they do come and visit. A lot.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘But Sebastian is my home. We have our own lives, our own goals – I think that’s important – but we’re also a team. It works because we love each other and so we work at it.’ Nina suddenly grinned. ‘Although I am, of course, always right.’
Hattie laughed but inside she couldn’t help thinking that Nina was romanticising things. Moving for one person was never a good idea. Leaving Manchester, she’d sacrificed a good job, given up her independence and Chris had become totally reliant on her. There was no way she would tie herself to a man again.
Galeries Lafayette was like no other department store Hattie had ever visited. The building itself was a work of art with its magnificent central blue cupola of stained glass. Around the rotunda were three tiers overlooking the main floor below. Each tier held a number of ornate balconies, each decorated with floral wrought-iron motifs picked out in bronze and gold, and with curving balustrades of polished brass railings.
Like every other tourist Hattie stopped dead and gazed upwards. ‘Wow.’ It epitomised what she thought shopping in Paris should be.
‘Fab, isn’t it. I’m not sure there’s another shop like it anywhere.’
Hattie was pretty sure she was right.
‘Ladies’ fashion is on the first floor. Have you any idea what you’re looking for?’
The image of Marine flashed into her head.
‘I want something smart, glamorous, chic.’ Hattie laughed. ‘French.’
Nina giggled. ‘You’ve come to the right place for that.’
‘To be honest. I want something completely different. Not safe. Not me. Or rather the real me.’
‘Ha! I know that feeling. Before I came here, my family – oh God, they used to drive me mad, trying to pigeonhole me as something I wasn’t. I get it. I really do. So no preconceptions.’
‘None whatsoever. But I think I’d like something bright and patterned.’
‘Okay. Got that.’
Nina was fun to shop with. She took Hattie at her word and once they’d established what size clothes she needed she led her to the changing rooms.
‘Wait here. You have to try on everything I bring you.’
‘Everything?’
‘Everything,’ said Nina, the naughty glint in her eye at odds with her no-nonsense tone.
‘What, even that pink tulle tube on the model at the front?’ asked Hattie a touch nervously.
‘Even that. But credit me with some taste. Besides, did you see how much it was? Silly money. I’m guessing you’re not loaded.’
‘Not loaded, no, but I do want something nice. The rest of my family are loaded. There’ll be plenty of designer outfits there, I can guarantee.’
‘Leave it with me. Be right back.’
Hattie sat down on one of the velvet cubes in the dressing room wondering what Nina would bring her. She wasn’t disappointed when Nina came back just five minutes later with three dresses.
‘Try these on. I’m still hunting.’
Hattie examined each dress. Not one of them was what she’d have chosen. The first, a yellow chiffon zebra print with a silk slip dress beneath, was far brighter than she’d normally pick but Nina had met the brief. Hattie stripped off and pulled the dress on, curling her lip when she looked in the mirror at her brown ankle socks. Not quite the look. The dress fitted well but it wasn’t right. While she had no idea what she wanted, she knew what she didn’t want.
The second dress was a bright green and fuchsia pink print with an empire line and a frilly tier. It was a bit too busy for Hattie’s taste and far shorter than she was comfortable with. The third dress was a pale pink and grey print, off the shoulder, and did absolutely nothing for her complexion.
