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‘That’s fantastic news, Xavier, congratulations.’ My stomach gave a little flutter as I hugged him, wrapping my arms around his back. ‘I’ve been to Tuscany lots of times to nose their wine, but it would be amazing to live there.’
‘I know, I can’t wait. I head out next Sunday, once the end-of-season party is done.’
‘So soon?’ I said in surprise. ‘So this is our last week together?’ It suddenly hit me how close the end of season really was. I thought there’d be a few wind-down days after the party. Some sad packing days, some saying goodbye days and then we’d maybe all travel back to the train station and have a group cry for a day. But no, Xavier was heading off as soon as he possibly could. I wondered when Liv was leaving. And what I was doing. Oh God, I needed some jealousy-inducing plans too. Something to look forward to.
‘Yup,’ he said, tinkling into Rachael’s.
‘I’ve been thinking about going to Chile for the summer to check out their Malbec region. Or maybe Australia?’ Two massive lies.
‘You could do both?’ Xavier said, smiling.
‘I could!’ I said. My bank balance had been around £127 the last time I’d checked, but the money from the house sale would be coming through soon.
‘Do both what?’ Rachael asked, beaming at us from behind the counter.
‘Holly’s planning world wine domination once the season ends next week.’
‘Sounds good. David and I are off to Bermuda,’ she said without batting an eyelid. What the actual fuck? Is this how other people lived?
Xavier nodded casually. ‘It’s supposed to be awesome this time of year,’ he said. I nodded along with him. I was so jealous I could cry. I wanted to go to Bermuda or Italy or anywhere but boring old London where no doubt, I’d bump into Gippa every five minutes. Apart from seeing Margot, Abi and my family, there was nothing there for me anymore.
‘And Liv and Bella are off to Bali,’ I added.
‘Yeah, and then they’ve got tickets for Burning Man,’ Rachael said.
‘Have they?’ I said, incredulous. How had everyone organised all these things? What was I doing with my time?
‘She’s been going on about it all week. I thought you guys shared a room?’ Rachael said.
‘We do, but I haven’t been the best of room-mates recently; I’ve been a bit preoccupied,’ I said, feeling slightly ashamed. I was suddenly fearful of it all coming to an end. I felt left out, but also really sad. I’d only just got into the swing of things, and it was about to all be over. We were all going to move on with our lives and that would be that. The occasional WhatsApp message, but otherwise living in different countries, maybe even different continents, in completely new jobs.
‘Shall we talk about the cakes?’ Rachael asked, changing the subject.
‘I’m thinking macarons in every colour you can do,’ Xavier said, grabbing some from the counter.
‘Uh-hmmm,’ Rachael said, scribbling on her order pad.
‘But I want them stacked in fives, multicoloured and layered with different flavours of buttercream,’ Xavier crammed the macarons together to demonstrate.
‘Okaaaayyy,’ Rachael said, nodding.
‘And maybe some glitter?’ Xavier added. ‘Unicorn macarons. Can you do them?’
‘Ah, a sparkly little Holly touch… but of course! Think of me as your personal Willy Wonka.’ I could just imagine the colourful cakes on platters throughout the chalet, adding a magical feeling to the party. I’d have to do something to match it with the drinks, which meant cocktails and Champagne over wine. Or maybe I’d get both. We couldn’t have guests eating duck and unicorns and drinking Sex on the Beach. Very uncivilised. We put the order in for 150 macarons and Xavier went back to the chalet as I went on the hunt for David. I found him holding court on his wine stand, surrounded by a crowd of ‘temporary friends’ all enjoying a free snifter of his latest batch of Chianti.
‘The driest of dry, I think you’ll agree, but a delicious Chianti nonetheless and I only have two cases. Give it a try and let me know if you want to buy,’ David said, winking at me.
I pulled 20 Swiss francs out of my wallet. ‘I’ll take one please.’ David took the note from me, wrapping up a bottle in brown paper and handing it back as the feeding frenzy ensued. Both cases were sold in minutes, with all the happy holidaymakers on their way.
‘Bonjour, bonjour,’ David said, pouring me a small brandy and adding a slug of amaretto. ‘This is a cocktail called The French Connection,’ he said, which seemed appropriate. We clinked our glasses and took a swig.
‘Delicious,’ I said, and took another drink. A double hit of alcohol, but the combination of brandy and amaretto was both warming and hearty. ‘I think this is the one,’ I said, delighted that I wouldn’t end up on a wild goose chase. ‘I was going to ask your advice for a cocktail option for next Saturday, but I think this is it.’
‘I like to be of service, as you know,’ David said, bowing low, handing me my money back and relieving me of the Chianti.
‘Five bottles of brandy and one Amaretto should be plenty.’
‘Of course. Always a pleasure doing business with you,’ David said, scribbling the order down. ‘So did you have fun at your birthday dinner? I told Xavier two bottles of Amaretto would be too much for just the two of you, but I guess I was wrong if you’ve already gone through it!’
