The Little Paris Patisserie. Julie Caplin

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       Chapter 4

      Sebastian was on the ninth floor and his room, rather practically, was right next door to the lift. She knocked loudly with several firm raps before inserting the key card into the slot. Three attempts later the little light finally turned green and she pushed open the door, her heart thumping so hard that she could almost feel her ribs rattling. Which was ridiculous.

      ‘Nina?’ His voice called from beyond another door in the short gloomy corridor.

      ‘Yes, its me.’ Her voice sounded thin and reedy. She took a deep breath. It was ten years ago. They were both older and wiser.

      ‘You’re late.’

      Sighing, Nina nibbled at her lip and pushed open the internal door.

      She didn’t see him at first and took a minute to stare around at the rather grand surroundings. It was cowardly, she knew, but her legs had gone all wobbly, not unlike one of the newborn calves on the farm. A wave of homesickness grabbed at her and a longing to turn the clock back to a time when Sebastian was her brother’s best friend.

      ‘Yes, it’s a suite,’ Sebastian’s dry voice came from the sofa in front of her, where his head poked above the back.

      This wasn’t at all how she’d imagined their first conversation would go, but then she’d had trouble imagining how it would go at all.

      ‘It certainly is,’ she said, taking refuge in the grandeur of the room rather than meeting Sebastian’s narrow-eyed gaze.

      It was palatial, double the size of her little flat at home, with two sofas opposite each other, a series of French windows opening onto three balconies and a monster TV screen. Antique-y looking furniture lined the walls on either side with two double doors opening onto what she guessed were bedrooms. ‘All this just for you.’

      ‘I have handy friends,’ said Sebastian, his voice scratchy and cross. ‘And it was the closest to the lift.’ She finally looked down at where he lay on the sofa, propped up against the arm with a pile of pillows, the offensively, bright blue cast clashing horribly with the pale lemon of the silk damask cushions.

      ‘You loo…’ She stopped herself in time. Telling him he looked terrible probably wasn’t going to go down well. Inside, some less than charitable little minx shouted, Yay! Sebastian Finlay looks horrible. Skanky. Yukky. Totally unfancyable. His skin had a grey pallor and his hair was greasy and yes, yuk, slicked to his scalp. Purple shadows underscored his eyes and his chin was dotted with several days of stubble. The white T-shirt he wore looked grimy and he was in his pants. Sebastian in his pants. Her mouth twitched. She wanted to do one of those victory dances footballers do when they run around the pitch with their shirts over their heads.

      ‘Thanks,’ he said, dryly second guessing the rest of her sentence. ‘Excuse me if I don’t get up.’

      ‘Looks … uncomfortable,’ she said suddenly realising that she wasn’t behaving normally at all and trying not to look at the top of the cast where it met his pants. What was wrong with her, for goodness’ sake.

      His mouth thinned but he didn’t acknowledge her comment. ‘I, erm … your stuff. I brought it. Where do you want me to put your case?’

      Sebastian closed his eyes as if summoning up some patience and then glanced down at his leg.

      ‘Sorry, you need me to unpack it for you,’ said Nina

      ‘It would help,’ he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. ‘Did you bring my laptop? Phone charger? Can I have those first?’

      Nina brought the case over to the second sofa and opened it up.

      ‘Jeez, Nina.’ Sebastian scowled. ‘Why did you stuff everything in there? Those shirts were freshly ironed. They look like they’ve been used to wipe the floor.’

      He had a point, and they sort of had but before she could apologise or explain, he carried on, ‘If you’re going to throw a temper tantrum every time I ask you to do something you don’t want to do, this isn’t going to work. I need someone to help me, not a spoilt prima donna who throws her toys out of the pram when things don’t go her way. I knew this was a mistake.’ He threw his arm over his face.

      Nina whirled round, feeling her nose flaring. Possibly her most unattractive trait, but it only ever happened when she was really cross. And now she was really, really cross.

      ‘I appreciate you don’t have a particularly high opinion of me, Mr She’s-the-last-person-I’d-want-to-help but I’m not that petty. I didn’t do it on purpose. The stupid case just popped open by itself.’

      ‘One, you weren’t supposed to hear that comment and I’m sorry, it wasn’t terribly СКАЧАТЬ