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Well, that was it then. I’d been played by a player and stitched up like a kipper. I considered packing my bags and getting on the first train home. Liv and Xavier didn’t like me anymore and Luca was clearly ashamed of me. I wasn’t up to his ‘standards’. I hadn’t realised I was so low-level. Was I not rich enough or classy enough? I wasn’t sure what was wrong with me, but I’d been put in my place. It was time to paint on a smile and get back to serving the drinks.
I cleared my throat and bustled noisily into the bar as Mimi and Frank walked down the stairs.
‘Bonsoir Mimi, Frank, qu’est que vous voulez boire?’ I asked in my most professional voice. Mimi looked me up and down, clearly bemused at the switcheroo from diner to server.
‘White wine? Champagne?’ Genevieve added. ‘Anything you would like.’
‘Gin-tonic?’ Mimi said.
‘Moi aussi,’ Frank agreed.
‘And two glasses of Champagne,’ Luca said, looking straight through me.
I nodded and made the drinks, chopping lemons and zesting the glasses, adding ice and stripy straws, popping yet another Champagne cork and pouring two glasses of Bollinger. I just needed to get through this weird shift and then I could decide what to do.
‘Can you ask Xavier to bring us up someamuse-boucheplease, Holly?’ Genevieve asked. ‘And perhaps prepare a few snacks?’ Mimi and Frank nodded enthusiastically.
I bowed at them, like Liv had taught me to do, and once I’d slowly exited the dining room, I legged it down to the kitchen to Xavier’s smiley face.
‘Do you have any amusing bouches?’ I asked.
‘Mini pasties already in the oven,’ he replied. ‘I thought they’d want a little something as soon as the drinks started flowing. Next up will be the snacks and then… your chocolate mousse.’
‘Noooo!’ I was aghast; it was the only thing keeping me going. I had half a mind to quickly scoff it to stop any redistribution efforts later. ‘Genevieve did actually ask for some snacks as well.’
Xavier pulled some pre-rolled dough out of the fridge. ‘I knew it. I’ll rustle up some pizzettas,’ he said, scattering some flour on the counter and tearing the dough into small sections for kneading. I watched him as he danced from fridge to cupboard and back again, chopping, rolling and grating to gather the different ingredients for the pizzas. A bell rang upstairs as the oven timer sounded and Xavier plated up the mini pasties and handed them to me. Lucky I wasn’t hungry, or a couple might have gone missing en route to the dining room. I carried them upstairs as the bell tinkled a second time.
‘Where have you been?’ Genevieve said in irritation. ‘We need more drinks.’
‘Apologies, here are youramuse-bouche. Mini pasties – we have mushroom, these ones are chicken and these are spinach and cheese,’ I said, pointing each of them out. ‘Would you like the same drinks again?’ Four heads nodded in my direction, so I made another two gin and tonics and topped up the Champagne. Luca had barely looked at me, but I was desperate to get his attention and speak to him. I wanted him to know that I’d heard his conversation with Genevieve and was nobody’s ‘low standard’ option. I kept staring at him, but he didn’t look over at me once. In fact, not one of them looked at me for the rest of the evening. I was completely ignored and treated as staff – there to serve them and that was it.
Post-pasties, post-pizzettas and post-my-chocolate-mousse, the four of them were finally satiated and got up to go. I was stood behind the bar area, polishing glasses to gleaming, ready and waiting in case they wanted anything else.
‘Merci,Holly,’ Genevieve called behind her as she led Mimi and Frank out of the dining room and up the stairs. Luca was at the back of the group and shook my hand, using his tip-palming skills to pass me a secret note. He mouthed ‘sorry’ as he left. Sorry for what? Sorry for ignoring me? For pretending to like me? For humiliating me? I should have mouthed ‘fuck off’ back at him but I wasn’t quick enough. I unfolded the piece of paper which saidI’ll make it up to youin tiny black letters, with his phone number scrawled next to it.
*
Luca:I’m sorry about earlier, it was rude. I’m home to Paris tomorrow morning, so let’s talk when I’m back.
Me:It’s fine, don’t worry. There’s nothing going on with us anyway, it’s no big deal.
Luca:Let me make it up to you.
Twenty-Three
17th January
‘Are you out skiing on your own?’ Xavier asked, looking around in surprise as I slid my way over to him and Liv at the edge of the mountain.
‘She’s too important to ski with us now,’ Liv said snidely.
‘What? Noooo! I love skiing with you guys. I wasn’t sure if I was welcome anymore, so I thought I’d practise on my own.’ Liv had been giving me the pseudo-silent treatment all week, and although Xavier had picked me up after Luca blanked me, things didn’t feel quite the same between us. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but rather than mope around the chalet, where Genevieve seemed permanently cross with me, I’d decided to put my energy into skiing and get a few runs in.
‘Of course you can still come out with us,’ Xavier said, stiffly, kicking the heel of his left boot into the snow.
‘Come on then, let’s see ya,’ Liv said, giving me her first smile in days, scraping along the snow in front of me and gesturing down the piste. Unbeknownst to the two of them, I was almost a reasonable skier, having snow-ploughed my way through half a season. I set off in earnest, swooshing gently down the empty slope. It had just turned 12 p.m. and the early risers had already stopped for lunch, leaving plenty of room on the piste to manoeuvre. Xavier came bombing down behind me, then slowed to a gentle carve while I did awkward but acceptable turns all the way down to the bottom.
‘Those private lessons with Luca are really paying off,’ Xavier said, with a hint of sarcasm.
