AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My heart nearly stopped. ‘What do you mean?’ I thought back to my birthday meal and Luca pouring the Amaretto out for the two of us. ‘…for Luca?’
‘Erm, no? For the dinner Xavier organised for you; he spent weeks looking for all your favourite things, I got him another bottle of that Sicilian Fiano you loved and he took a back-up bottle of Amaretto as he knew it was your favourite. Was I not supposed to say?’
‘No, not at all,’ I said, in shock. How could I have been such an idiot?
‘He might be planning to give it to you as a gift, so don’t say I said anything,’ he said with a wink.
‘OK,’ I said, blankly.
‘I’ll drop these bottles into you on Friday. That do you?’
‘Perfect,’ I said, the cocktail going to my head.
Thirty-Two
21st March
I was almost party-ready and it was only 9 a.m. My hair was washed and wound in heated rollers, legs shaved – entire body shaved, in fact – face plucked, all over moisturisation complete, and wonky mani-pedi done. Just my make-up left to do before I put on my sparkly jumper-dress and doused myself in the glitter puff. Andfinally,an appropriate occasion for the Louboutins. It felt surreal that there were only twenty-four hours left of our winter season. I had to keep reminding myself to enjoy every moment, right up to the end.
Liv was serving breakfast, so I had the bedroom to myself. I looked around our cosy little space, the ten square-metres we’d called home for the past six months, and couldn’t believe we’d lived so happily in this tiny patch of chaos. Liv had already pulled her suitcase out from under the bed and started dismantling her half of the room, while everything of mine stayed staunchly in position. I pulled out theCulinary Guide to BaliI’d bought as a little surprise and popped it on top of her suitcase. I had to accept we were all moving on. I threw my soft tracksuit on and skidded down to the kitchen in my socks. I wasn’t officially working until lunchtime, but Xavier was already hard at it, stirring pots and sprinkling herbs and spices, surrounded by swirls of steam.
‘Morning,’ I said, startling him from his alchemy, ‘I’m here to help.’
‘Excellent,’ he said, passing me a sack of potatoes and a peeler. ‘You can start with these. I need the whole bag for the croquettes.’
There was something so satisfying about washing the soil off a potato and stripping its skin to reveal a bright-white underbelly. I worked through the enormous sack, the repetition almost meditative as I peeled and plopped each naked potato into a pan of salted water. My stomach made a low growl as I imagined this sea of tiny bald heads as a pile of buttery mash. I was starving.
‘Merci,’ Xavier said, taking the pan from me, ‘a sous-chefpar excellence.’
I had to admit, I peeled a bloody good potato.
‘The duck is already in and slow-roasting and I’m preparing the vegetables to have everything ready for 4 p.m.,’ he said, ‘then it’s just a few pieces to serve hot when the party starts.’
I followed my nose to the oven, where four fat ducks were roasting on a timer, the skin already starting to bubble and crisp. Xavier was all over it and well ahead of schedule.
‘I’ve very much focused on gettingmyselfready so far this morning,’ I said, ‘but don’t worry, the glasses will be frosted and the Champagne will be chilled in time for the guests to arrive.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ Xavier said. ‘I think there will be around twenty in total. Everyone has accepted: Mimi and Frank, Rachael and David, Bella of course and I’ve invited Maxim. Genevieve has several groups of friends coming from Paris.’
‘Weird to think Luca won’t be at his own end-of-season party,’ I said gingerly.
‘Apparently he’s in Cannes checking out a new restaurant,’ Liv said, wafting into the kitchen, her jasmine perfume light and breezy in contrast to the meaty feast in the oven.
‘Of course he is,’ Xavier said.
‘Have the macarons arrived?’ I asked, desperate to see them.
‘Here they areeeee!’ Rachael appeared in the doorway with two bags full of boxes, followed by David and the booze.
‘Bonjour, happy end-of-season party day, Chalet Blanchet!’ Rachael said, smiling. ‘Something smells delicious.’
‘C’est moi,’ Xavier said, with a confident nod, ‘it’s called “French Man”.’
‘Of course it is,’ she laughed, double kissing him, then giving me a hug.
‘I’m wearing it too,’ David said, offering Rachael his arm pit.
‘I get plenty of that, thank you very much,’ she said, batting him away.
