The Confectioner's Tale by Laura Madeleine

Author:Laura Madeleine
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Random House UK, Transworld Publishers
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

February 1910

Gui’s first weeks at the pâtisserie did not go as well as he had hoped. He was just another skivvy for the most part, the lowest of the order, and the visions he had of becoming a real pâtissier, of spinning glorious confections like Monsieur Carême, seemed further away than ever.

He had seen Mademoiselle Clermont only once since his first day. He had been hurrying back to the kitchens after his break when the door of the office had burst open. She had dashed out, her head lowered, and had collided with him before he could step aside. For the space of a breath, his hands had rested upon her arms, hers upon his chest. Her face was drawn and pale, tears reddening her lower lids. He had frowned in concern, opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, but before he could speak she had shaken her head and pulled away.

He had watched her duck through the private door that led to the apartments above. The warmth that had flooded the space between their bodies stayed with him long after she had disappeared from view.

Gui wondered whether she was still at odds with her father. Sometimes, he thought he could feel Monsieur Clermont’s attention on him as he worked in the kitchen, but whenever he looked over, the chef was engrossed in ingredients, or sketches, or conversations with Josef.

The kitchen had its own language, one Gui did not yet understand. He was allowed to work with Chef Ebersole for a few hours a day, but mostly he was shoved aside and left to follow as best he could. Every time he was asked to prepare a bain-marie, or fetch a savarin mould, his stomach turned over. Sometimes, Maurice would give him a nudge in the right direction, but when the older chef was busy, he was at the mercy of the other apprentices. Some of them were friendly, but others were downright malicious.

Before he learned not to listen to them, he handed Ebersole a bottle of cochineal rather than vanilla, and was banished to the ovens for the rest of the week. ‘Minding the ovens’ was a punishment in the kitchen, the most menial task. He struggled to keep them at a constant temperature; bricks had to be soaked and replaced to create steam, shelves arranged and rearranged. He fared better than most, being used to furnaces far larger and hotter, but by the time the weekend arrived, his hands were red with blisters and scalds.

One night, dog weary, he returned to his new home on the Rue de Belleville. He met his neighbour Isabelle on the landing, and she tutted in sympathy over the burns.

‘You work too hard,’ she told him, leaning in her doorway.

Over her shoulder, Gui glimpsed walls covered with cut-out paper flowers and landscapes, lace drapes pinned above the bed. Isabelle did not entertain clients here. Madame had a strict rule that all visits took place in the private cabinet rooms downstairs, but even so, he looked away.

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