The Little Paris Patisserie. Julie Caplin
Stamping her sore and tired feet on the gravelled surface to get some warmth into them, Nina looked at her phone for the ninety-fifth time in ten minutes, almost dropping it. Where the heck was Nick? Fifteen minutes late already and her fingers were about to snap off, adding to her general sense of misery. Standing here at the back entrance to the kitchens in the staff carpark, there was little protection from the biting wind whistling around the sandstone manor house and certainly none from the bleak thoughts in her head.
‘Hey Nina, are you sure you don’t want a lift?’ asked Marcela, one of the other waitresses, in her heavily accented voice, winding her car window down as she backed with some speed out of one of the spaces.
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s alright thanks. My brother’s on his way.’ At least he had better be. Nina wished she was in the little steamed up car with Marcela and the other two staff members, and almost laughed at the rather annoying irony. Mum had insisted Nick pick her up so that she’d know Nina was safe and here she was standing in a car park in the pitch black about to be completely on her own.
‘OK then. See you in eight weeks’ time.’
‘Ha!’ piped up a gloomy East European voice from the back seat – Tomas the sommelier, a perennial pessimist. ‘You think the builders finish on schedule.’
A good-natured chorus shouted him down.
‘See you soon, Nina.’ They all waved and shouted their goodbyes, Marcela winding the window back up as the ancient Polo roared away, as if she couldn’t wait to escape the end of her shift and put up her feet. Which was exactly what Nina was hoping to do, if her brother ever got here.
At last she spotted the headlights speeding down the drive towards her. This had to be Nick. Nearly everyone else had gone. With a speedy gravel-crunching turn, the car pulled to a halt in front of Nina.
She yanked the door open.
‘Hi Sis. You been waiting long? Sorry, sheep emergency.’
‘Yes,’ snapped Nina, scrambling in grateful for the heat of the car. ‘It’s bloody freezing out there. I’ll be so glad when my car’s fixed.’
‘Tell me about it. It took me all the way here to thaw out. Bloody sheep. There was a ewe stuck in the wire fencing up on the moor road. I had to stop and help the stupid creature.’
Was it really churlish to think that at least the sheep had a nice woolly coat while she was in a skirt and tights on a cold February evening?
‘So how was it? The last night,’ asked Nick, leaning down and turning the radio off, which had been blaring football commentary at full blast. ‘And did your mate get a good send off?’
‘Fine. Bit sad as we all won’t see each other for a while due to the renovations. And Sukie will be in New York.’
‘New York. That’s a bit of a change.’
‘She’s a brilliant chef. Going places.’
‘Clearly. To New York. And what’s everyone else doing?’
‘The regular staff are being redeployed and having lots of training.’
‘Seems a bit unfair. Why not you?’
‘Because I’m on a casual contract, I guess.’
‘Well, I’m sure we can find you a few extra hours at the farm shop as well as in the café. And Dan can give you a bit of work at the brewery. Gail’s sister might pay you for some babysitting and George can ask in the petrol station, they’re always needing extra staff. Although that’s late hours, so possibly not.’
Nina closed her eyes. She was absolutely certain that everyone in the family would pitch in to find something for ‘poor Nina’ to do while Bodenbroke Manor Restaurant was closed for refurbishment, whether she liked it or not. It wasn’t that she was ungrateful, they all meant well, but she was a grown up, she was quite capable of finding work without the vast tentacles of her family network spreading their reach on her behalf. She loved her family to bits, she really did but…
‘What’s with the huffing and puffing?’ asked Nick, turning his head to look her way.
‘Nothing,’ said Nina, closing her eyes. ‘Holy moly, I’m tired. My feet feel like they’ve been stomped on by a dozen elephants.’
‘Wuss,’ teased Nick.
‘I’ve been on the go since nine o’clock this morning,’ said Nina. ‘And the restaurant was rammed. I didn’t even get lunch.’
‘That’s not on. You should say something.’
‘It’s not that easy. Everyone’s busy. There wasn’t time for a proper break.’
‘Don’t tell me you haven’t eaten anything today?’
Nina shrugged. She’d rushed out without breakfast, much to her mother’s consternation. ‘A little.’ Her stomach rumbled rather inconveniently at the very moment as if to dispute her answer. Clearly it didn’t think that a bread roll and a slice of cheese constituted enough.
Nick frowned heavily. ‘Even so. Do you want me to say something to the manager, when they re-open?’
‘No, it’s fine. We’ll be having dinner when we get home.’
‘Well, it isn’t—’
‘You don’t work there, you don’t understand.’ Nina’s voice rose in heat. Typical Nick, assuming that he knew best.
‘I don’t need to understand. There are labour laws. You’re entitled to breaks. It’s—’
Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the timely horn fanfare ringtone of his phone booming out through the radio on his handsfree set up.
‘Nick Hadley,’ he said pressing the ‘accept call’ button on the dashboard.
Nina slumped back in her chair, relieved at the interruption; it gave her the perfect opportunity to close her eyes, tune out and pretend to doze for the rest of the