Chapter Twenty
Monday 9th December
Olivier – 36 Tilgate Road, Brighton
For the second time in the space of a week, Olivier found himself wrangling a Christmas tree. This was a real one though, for his maman’s living room and – very importantly –notdecorated with X-rated baubles.
‘This is so wonderful,’ Sylvia said as she shifted pieces of furniture an inch or two out of his path, so he could make it to the window. ‘I haven’t been able to have a big tree for years.’
‘Glad to help,’ he said as a pine needle worked its way through his jumper and stabbed him in the stomach.
They got it into its pot and stood back to appreciate it, while he picked the needles out of his clothes. The tree was a beautiful dark green and the fresh smell mingled with the scent of chicken chasseur they’d put on low in the oven before they went out to buy the tree.
‘I think just lights on it will be—’
His maman was interrupted by the sound of Olivier’s phone ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. Auguste. Again. She tilted her head at him when he didn’t automatically answer it and he realised that this time he was going to have to, or explain himself properly to her. A rock and a hard place.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s Papa.’
‘It’s fine – you take it. I’ll go find the decorations.’
Olivier lifted the phone to his ear as his maman went out of the room. ‘Hello, Papa.’
‘Ah, finally. I was beginning to think your ferry sank during the crossing.’
‘No. Safe and well, thank you.’ He pulled another pine needle free from his sleeve.
‘Why have you been avoiding speaking to me?’
‘I haven’t,’ Olivier lied. ‘I’ve been busy.’
‘Ah, yes, busyworkingfor your maman on your holiday. If you can call playing with chocolate working.’
‘So you know about the chocolate display? Clearly you also then knew Iwasn’tat the bottom of the Channel.’
‘Is England making you sarcastic? I was joking. But what is this display thing all about? I thought my giving you all this time off was supposed to be a holiday for you?’
‘It is. I’m enjoying myself. I’ve been doing other things too, catching up with family and friends. Going out. Sleeping in.’
‘Time well spent.’ His papa’s voice was dry. Olivier had obviously really annoyed him by ignoring his calls.
‘Ithink so.’
Auguste grunted, as though he didn’t think much of Olivier’s opinion, but then that wasn’t really a surprise. ‘So the chocolate display is just…a bit of fun?’
‘You could look at it as your pâtissier getting some extra training,’ Olivier appeased him, sensing that perhaps Auguste was feeling threatened. And then he immediately felt annoyed with himself. What right was it of his papa’s to question how he was choosing to spend his holiday?
‘I suppose so. Though I would prefer you to be putting your energy towards making a decision about the sous-chef role. Your real job. Your career. Andmyrestaurant, which I need to make plans for.’
‘I’m doing that too.’
‘And?’
Olivier hesitated. He still didn’t have an answer. But he would have – and he wasn’t going to be bullied into giving it until he was ready. ‘I’ll tell you when I come home.’
‘Olivier.’ His papa’s voice was full of low warning.
‘I have to go now. I’ll speak to you soon.’
