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‘Is everything OK?’ I asked tentatively.
‘Yes, just sorting some stuff back home,’ Xavier smiled.
‘In Paris? The food capital of the world sounds so glamorous. Do you miss it?’
‘I miss the city buzz sometimes, but not often. I miss being on top of the latest food innovations and learning new things from the team,’ he replied.
‘I didn’t realise your restaurant was so big?’
‘Oui.One of my old chefs is now working at Le Rouge, at the top of the mountain. We should go up and see him sometime; I hear he is doing interesting work with the raclette.’ He stared hard into his beer and traced his thumb in a circle around the Amstel logo before snapping out of his reverie and taking a long drink.
‘You’ve lived so many lives already,’ I said. ‘Classically trained chef, five years at Le Cinq, five years with your own restaurant, two years here – how old are you again?’
Xavier smiled. ‘Only thirty-four, but some days I feel fifty-four.’
‘I don’t know what I’ve been doing with my time. Procurement has a lot to answer for. Your wife is very good to take care of things in Paris while you work out here.’
He nodded. ‘She loves to cook. It is her life passion. We met at Cordon Bleu, and she is an amazingpâtissier– one of the world’s best.’
‘I’d love to live in Paris,’ I sighed. ‘Maybe that should be my next step.’
‘Nothing to stop you,’ Xavier said.
‘Apart from that little thing called Brexit.’
‘Yes, the rules are incredibly hard to navigate,’ he replied.
A waiter went past, balancing a tray full of shots and I stopped him and bought six. Xavier looked at me with alarm.
‘Two each for us and two for Liv when she shows up,’ I said.
I gave the clear liquid a sniff. I’d presumed it was schnapps, but on closer inspection, it was schnapps’ hedonistic older brother – Sambuca. I gave Xavier a smile to try and get one back and clinked my glass with his before downing it. The liquid burned my throat, and the aniseed fumes consumed my mouth, breathing their way out through my nose. Yuck.
‘Oof, I’d forgotten how strong that stuff is,’ I said, slightly reeling.
Xavier wasn’t fazed at all; the shot glasses looked like thimbles in his spade-like hands as he drank them one after the other. I posted a picture of the remaining four to my Instagram then pushed them to the sidefor later. I didn’t like drinking shots.
#ShootYourShot #Chasers
George was always the first to look at my Stories and this one was no exception. He seemed to be keeping a close eye on me, so maybe he did care what I was up to.
‘Thanks, I feel better for that,’ Xavier said, putting one of his hands over mine. I put my other on top and he put his other on top of that like an NFL ‘hands in’ and then we broke it off. His big, cat-like eyes were sad, but kind and he was really kind of hot.
‘Hey, hey, hey, what’s going on here then?’ Liv said, skidding up to the table on her board, while lifting her goggles. Her plaits were like two icicles stuck to her shoulders.
‘Sambuca’s going on,’ I said, handing her two glasses, which she promptly poured down her neck.
‘Whose is that one?’ Liv asked, pointing at my second shot.
‘I ordered the wrong thing,’ I said, eyeing the Sambuca cautiously.
‘I’ll have it,’ Xavier replied, saving me from myself. He gave me a wink and drank it. Rather him than me, a six-foot man can handle three shots. At five-foot-four-and-a-half, I could just about manage one. The music shifted up a gear and a few people were already dancing on the tables. Liv unzipped her jacket to reveal a tight-fitting turtleneck to match her turquoise boarding pants, leaving me looking like her very uncool older sister. The three of us ordered another round of beers and sat in the sunshine, enjoying the music and the alcohol buzz. The feeling of freedom. No pressure, no deadlines, no worries.
*
‘Shall we board back to the chalet?’ Liv asked.
‘Definitely not!’ I said. ‘I’m getting the lift down.’
