A French Escape

Then I met Aiden. Gorgeous, charming Aiden who was so bloody sexy I would’ve done anything for him. I can see now that he manipulated me. At the time though I was operating in a haze of powerful hormones and mesmerised by Aiden’s charisma.

I was stupid and flattered and I fell in love. It was all too easy to say yes to a date with Aiden and agree to let it be filmed. When he asked me out he was so charming. He charmed the pants off me.

Literally.

Unfortunately, he also charmed the pants off of Sally, my best friend and waitress at The Sticky Bun. I found out while being filmed watching the episode in which I told Aiden I loved him. God it makes me cringe to remember that. I actually told him I loved him, and his response had been ‘I know’. As sozzled as I was on hormones and lust, I knew that wasn’t a good sign.

While I was watching that episode, he and Sally ‘popped by’, as though anyone ever does anything spontaneous on reality TV, and simply had to tell me what they’d done because they felt so terrible about it. They didn’t want to hurt me, but they were in love. I think Sally said something about destiny but I’d kind of blanked out by then.

They didn’t feel terrible enough to tell me in private first though.

If only Aiden could’ve let me lick my wounds in private after that. I could accept that what had been love for me was only sex for him, but I couldn’t accept what he did next. As soon as the media lost interest and ratings began to drop, he made sure a video he’d secretly shot of us having sex found its way onto the internet. It was … explicit. I’ve never been one for sex under the covers with the lights off, though if I ever have sex again I might change my mind about that. Somehow, I think insisting all electronic devices be left in another room might spoil the mood or display a lack of trust or something.

To add insult to injury they had the right to keep on filming in the café because I’d signed that bloody piece of paper.

Stupid.

‘You’re really okay?’ Poppy’s voice breaks into my thoughts.

‘Yes, sorry, I’m a bit tired. I’m off to bed once I’ve finished my chocolate and finished clearing up.’

I stroke Barney’s soft ears and find it therapeutic. I have so much here in St Quentin sur Aude that I love. This is my new life. I’m not doing any ‘Joanna Grant, one year on’ special shows. I can’t believe they had the nerve to doorstep my parents about it. Good old Dad, telling them where to go.

When the press found me last year, I considered doing an interview to get them off my back but in the end one European royal’s love life became more interesting. I got a reprieve, thank God, because I couldn’t bear it if I had to leave St Quentin.

Annabel’s right, I need to think about selling the café because my life is here now. Barney’s contented sigh pulls me out of my head, and I focus on stroking his soft furry head and caressing his big floppy ear. Only one of his ears flops; the other sticks up for reasons best known to himself and his mixed-breed gene pool. I love him and all the animals here. Things could be much worse.

‘You know that it’s this weekend the chef friend of Leo’s is coming, yes?’ Poppy scoops the two Chihuahuas up onto her lap and finds room for Pickwick on her shoulder while scratching Barney’s other ear. She says having multiple dogs has made her good at multitasking.

‘No.’ I frown. ‘What chef friend of Leo’s? I didn’t even know he had a chef friend. He’s coming for the weekend or for longer?’

I am extremely fond of Poppy but sometimes her vague attitude to details can be a tad … challenging.

‘Didn’t I say? Sorry.’ She pulls a face. ‘He’s coming for a few months, having some time out in the South of France. But the big news is he’s going to help us get The Barn off the ground. He has a good reputation apparently so his influence will be really useful.’

‘I thought we’d decided it wasn’t doable to get the restaurant up and running for this season with all the delays we’ve had with the renovations and paperwork, so we were going to leave it until autumn?’

‘Maybe you weren’t there when Leo was talking about it?’ Poppy asks. ‘No, it’s no good, I can’t remember when we talked about it. The thing is this friend of Leo’s can come now so it makes sense to use him. Leo met him during his time in Paris. I guess if you weren’t there when Leo and I talked about it I was probably supposed to tell you. Sorry.’

I bite back my irritation. Poppy is rubbing her forehead and I can see how tired she is.

‘So, this chef friend, he’s staying here in Les Coquelicots then?’ I ask, as calmly as I can.

When the idea of turning the large barn behind the guesthouse into a restaurant was first suggested I was dubious but then we went on field trip visits to similar ventures, mostly on farms that had taken the initiative to diversify. Some barn restaurants were so rustic they didn’t even have electricity, all the food being brought through from the farmhouse kitchen. Others were more sophisticated with white linen tablecloths and crystal glassware but one thing they all had in common was great food made from local, fresh ingredients. It made sense to capitalise on the extra visitors to the Château’s art gallery and wine tasting tours. I’ve been excited about having a new project to manage.

I was really looking forward to working on the menu and getting the restaurant up and running but with all the delays from the builders time has been running out and I’m crazy busy now we are entering the main season for the guesthouse. I don’t have time and I need help but even so … I feel a bit like I’m being sidelined.

‘Yes, we’ve got space for the first week. I checked and blocked it out on the calendar. I thought maybe after that he could have my room for a bit? I can always stay at Leo’s if we’re strapped for space.’ Poppy grimaces. ‘I’m really sorry this is the first you’ve heard about it. We’re not trying to take anything away from you. We thought you could use some help. You already do so much.’

‘I suppose it would be too much on my own,’ I admit. ‘It’s just a bit of a mental adjustment, his coming and being in the house. You know how anti-social I am.’

‘I don’t know, you seem to be getting more sociable. You even came to the village party.’

‘I suppose.’ It’s true. I have gradually been testing the waters, dipping my toe in, paddling in the shallows. I’ve even made friends with Sophie, who works in the notaire’s office, and Angeline, who is Leo’s partner in the vet practice. Though they were Poppy’s friends first really.

‘Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s very nice.’

‘Of course.’ I roll my eyes. ‘Chefs are known for being good-natured and friendly.’

I smile to soften the sarcasm but I’m already uneasy … My world is cosy and safe and I don’t want anyone upsetting the balance. It would be great to have the opportunity to learn from a professional chef but what if he’s a misogynist who has no interest in the ideas of a female amateur chef? What, horror of horrors, if he tries to take over my kitchen as well as the Barn project?

‘You never know, you might hit it off, after you’ve both worked in the same industry.’ There’s a glint in Poppy’s eye as she smiles. Her comment is so predictable. She’s been trying to pair me off with virtually every single male we come across from the widowed farmer in the next village to the author with a holiday home in St Quentin. Anyone in close proximity of marriageable age basically, the bar isn’t set particularly high.

‘Noooo. No way. Stop right there, Poppy. I’m okay single. Maybe one day I’ll meet someone great and start dating again but there’s no rush and I’m not looking yet. I don’t need a man in my life to be happy.’

Pickwick lets out a high-pitched woof.

‘Sorry, Pickwick,’ I add. ‘Male canines excepted.’ I get up and head back to the dishwasher to finish the last bits of clearing up.

‘It could be great. He likes cooking, you like cooking …’

‘And we’re going to have to work together, at least for a while.’ I pause, biting my lip. ‘I’ve already had one relationship ruin my workplace. You know I had to leave my café behind. I love what I have here and would never do anything that might jeopardise that.’

Poppy gives me a sceptical look but doesn’t say the obvious. That I’d be scared to date again. Getting close to anyone again is going to be scary. That’s true but I really do mean what I say about not letting a relationship ruin something I care about again. Annabel’s email about the café is weighing heavy on my mind.

Starting a relationship again would be hard enough without it having the capacity to affect my work too. I’ll always remember that gut-wrenching moment when I realised Aiden and Sally had betrayed me. It was like being in a lift that suddenly plunged downwards: there was a physical, inward lurch and then emotional free-fall …

Climbing back up again has taken so long. If, and it’s a big if, I meet someone I think is worth the risk I’ll be a lot more careful with my heart.

I sigh and shove the cutlery down into the tray with a loud clunk. I feel the need to make amends with Poppy. My desire to protect the status quo is a selfish one. She just wants to make sure The Barn is a success. I do too.

‘It’s an exciting project. I loved that trendy barn restaurant you took me to up in the Black Mountains. It would be great if we can create something similar.’ I try to inject enthusiasm into my voice and to swallow my emotions back under control. ‘Anyway what do you know about him, this chef? He’s French, yes?’

‘He was working in Paris when he and Leo met but he’s not French. I think Leo said he’d been in London for the past few years. He’s called Callum something. Callum O’Connor, that’s it.’

I stop, dropping a plate into place in the dishwasher rack with a loud thunk.

‘Not the Callum O’Connor. The celebrity chef? Haven’t you heard of Callum O’Connor’s Cook Off? Or his Kitchen Cook Off show?’ I stare at her blank expression incredulously.

‘Hmm, dunno, I’ve never heard of the show or of him. Leo might have said he was on television, I can’t remember,’ Poppy replies distractedly while texting on her phone. I’ve lost her.

‘Honestly, Poppy.’ I sigh, trying to rein in my growing agitation.

‘What?’ Poppy looks up from her phone, expression blank.

I take a deep breath. I’m tempted to ask how on earth she hasn’t heard of one of the most famous TV shows in the UK but then we are talking about Poppy. I was living with her for months before she found out who I was and even then it was only because somebody told her.

‘Never mind. Why on earth would he want to come here? I don’t understand.’

‘Why, what’s wrong with here?’ Poppy raises an eyebrow. ‘I seem to remember he wanted some peace and quiet. Leo said he was taking some time out. You can ask him when he gets here.’

She doesn’t say what we’re both thinking, that I came here for some peace and quiet, to get away from scandal. I’m sure Callum isn’t coming here for the same reasons as me though; I haven’t seen any scandalous news about him online. Not that I really keep up with the news now I’m here. I’ve been too busy.

‘Hmm.’ I finish stacking the dishwasher and set it going, trying to hide my agitation.

‘What’s wrong?’ Poppy asks gently. It seems after all this time of living together I can’t hide my feelings from her.

‘He’ll know who I am.’ I wrap my arms around my body and lean back against the kitchen counter. A French male chef was going to be bad enough but an Irish celebrity chef from London is much, much worse. Even worse, he’s a celebrity chef I’ve always liked and respected. I care about his opinion.

Poppy’s forehead crinkles. ‘I thought you were feeling much better nowadays, about meeting new people I mean?’

I don’t know how to explain that although I’m feeling better and happier about socialising, having my home disrupted by someone from the very world I ran away from feels way out of my comfort zone. I doubt I’m even on his radar … Regardless, I can’t say what I’m feeling because Poppy will worry.

‘It’s a bit different, Poppy, but don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll work out fine.’ I shrug. ‘It’s just whenever I meet someone new, well … I can’t help wondering if they’ve seen the sex tape.’

I wonder if Callum O’ Connor has seen it. Uncomfortable emotions prickle at my skin. Embarrassment tinged with shame.

I know Poppy hasn’t watched it. If she had she might understand why ditching the bland, oversized T-shirts and leggings I hid in last year is such a big deal. Wearing clothes that are pretty, colourful or revealing, anything that might draw somebody’s eye to me, is taking a lot of courage. I might be ready to engage fully with my new life here, to start being JoJo again, but that doesn’t mean I assume it’s going to be easy.

Considering that when the sex tape video hit the internet I took to my room and hid under my duvet, I know I’ve come a long way. I remember Mum saying quite tartly that it was a bit too late to be covering myself up now, wasn’t it? Like locking the stable door after the horse has bolted.

There’s nothing like a bit of support from family.

‘You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.’ Poppy places a hand on my elbow. For her distractedness she can be very perceptive sometimes. ‘You know if anyone ever gives you any grief we’ll set the dogs on them, celebrity chef or not.’

I look down at the two tiny Chihuahuas, one miniature Yorkie and the blind ex-hunting dog who happens to be a total softy. My mouth quirks involuntarily into a smile at the idea of them defending me, though I’m sure they’d all give it a good go. The Chihuahuas in particular are utterly fearless. Barney is the only one who might be capable of actually defending me but all anyone has to do is give him a biscuit, scratch him behind his ears and he’ll roll over to have his tummy tickled.

‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Poppy.’ I smile. ‘Actually I’ve always wanted to learn from a professional chef so you’re right, this could be a good thing.’

I turn my back to her to put our mugs into the sink and decide I’ll make sure it’s a good thing. It’s supposed to be healthy to step out of your comfort zone and I’ve got to get used to facing the outside world again. Les Coquelicots has been my refuge and while I’m worried about Callum O’Connor rocking my lifeboat I have to admit I’m the teensiest bit excited about meeting him. Okay, maybe more than a teeny, tiny bit excited.

I’ve always liked cookery shows from the how-to variety to competition and reality shows. I used to watch them with Gran, cup of tea and piece of freshly baked cake in hand. Of all the celebrity chefs Callum O’Connor is undoubtedly the hottest.

But that has nothing to do with why I’m starting to feel a little bit excited about meeting him. That’ll be because I’m interested to learn from a professional chef. It has nothing to do with his piercing blue eyes and alpha male personality.

Honest.

Last time I worked alongside a fanciable celeb it ended in emotional carnage. I’ve been there, done that and got the sex tape to show for it. I won’t make the same mistake again.

Chapter 2

‘I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start over all over again’

F. Scott Fitzgerald

From sallyvickers89@gmail.com

To joannagrant@thestickybun.co.uk

Subject: Time to Move On

Come on JoJo, you can’t ignore me for ever. Can’t we be grown up about what happened and put it all behind us? I understand you’re jealous that I was the one who got to be with Aiden in the end, but we all need to move on.

I would like the three of us to meet up, to sit down and have a civilised chat, like adults. Talking of which you need to tell your sister Annabel to grow up and stop yelling insults at us. It’s very undignified and her language is atrocious.

All the best,

Sally

From annabelgrant@thestickybun.co.uk

To joannagrant@thestickybun.co.uk

Subject: Miss you

I miss you lovely. Are you ever coming home? Dad said to let you know there’s been an offer on the café and will you get in touch with him? I hope you will. He misses you too, you know, and I think you’re going to have to get some documents witnessed, to do with the sale?

Maybe I’ll have to come over to France to see you if you haven’t got time to come to me. I could bring the papers with me. Your very own personal courier!

Lots of love and xxxx

Annabel

I’ve read Sally’s email five times and I’m still boiling inside. She wants me to be grown up about it? Why can’t they just leave me alone? I’m so angry I want to throw something or yell, but I can’t without Poppy hearing, and she’d be upset for me. It’s like she actually feels what I’m feeling and then I end up having to comfort her and it’s all messed up frankly.

I wish I could go for a run – that usually helps me cope with overwhelming emotions – but I haven’t time. Callum O’Connor is arriving any minute now and this really isn’t the emotional state I want to be in when he does. Why do Aiden and Sally want to see me? It can’t really be because they want to have an ‘adult’ conversation. As if. With anyone else I’d think they want my forgiveness to make themselves feel better. Maybe Sally does, a bit. I’d like to think there’s a little bit of guilt or regret in there given we were friends, we saw each other every day, danced together, drank together and cried together. I can imagine how Aiden manipulated her. He’s good at that.

He certainly doesn’t care about my forgiveness. He’s completely amoral. When the empathy gene was being handed out he didn’t get in the queue. I really think he believes life is one big Aiden show, and everyone around him is just a bit-part actor in the drama of his life.

I think it’s much more likely they want to create more drama out of this somehow. I always used to joke that Sally was a drama queen. Hearing her exaggerated tales used to be funny. Until I became a victim of her rewriting of events. Well, she can send as many emails as she likes, I’m not going back to talk to them or do some stupid spin-off show. Joanna Grant, One Year On.

I look in the mirror and stare at the beautiful turquoise sundress Poppy bought me from the market at Mirepoix. I smooth the fabric down over my hips. I love it. It’s knee-length so not too revealing but it’s pretty figure-hugging. Having larger than average breasts can make some dresses look almost indecent. I don’t think I’ve got a vest top that would go underneath it though. Most of my wardrobe is still in England at my parents’ house. I stare critically at the cleavage-hugging bodice and try to tug it up a bit. Sod it, I’m wearing it. I can’t meet Callum O’Connor in ripped denim shorts and a T-shirt. He practically oozes Gaelic charm from every pore and he’s pretty damned sexy.

But that’s not the reason I’m determined to look nice. It’s for my own benefit. I shouldn’t have to hide under baggy clothes. I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.

So there. I address my reflection in the mirror.

At least I think I know my motives. It’s so confusing being me nowadays. I overthink stuff, I know I do. It comes from spending too much time alone and not really sharing things with anyone, except Poppy. I’m not sure I recognise the woman looking back at me in the mirror. My face is thinner and tanned and my long, light blonde hair has turned a shade of white blonde in the sunshine. I’ve regained the weight I lost in the early months. That’s the effect of French patisserie combined with weak will power for you. I look healthy though, just different from the old me.

Maybe if I don’t recognise myself then Callum O’Connor won’t either. I’m ‘Just Joanna’ who helps in the guesthouse. No one special. Move along, nothing to see here and all that.

I run a hand over the beautiful turquoise cotton fabric that skims the curve of my hips and an unwanted image of the sex tape video comes to my mind. It’s forever burned into the hard disk of my memory banks, the image replay of me putting on a show for Aiden. He used to like watching me strip and touching myself. It’s why it looks like I’m staring right into the video camera. It’s why most people think I was complicit. That I did it to extend my fifteen minutes of fame.

It’s why most people seem to think I got exactly what I deserved.

I was, in fact, staring directly at Aiden who was leaning back against his desk, just to the right of his open laptop. The laptop that was recording footage of me. I didn’t think anything of the laptop at the time. I mean, who would? It was always on his desk and usually open.

I know, because I’ve been told, that it goes on to show me enthusiastically giving my narcissistic boyfriend a blow job and then getting fucked by him, doggy style. He always did have a high opinion of his bottom.

I say I’ve been told because I couldn’t bring myself to watch the rest of it. Annabel watched it for me and told me what was in it. I had to know. Quite why I’m a slut for having sex with my boyfriend in the privacy of a bedroom I don’t know. Maybe my ‘sin’ was to enjoy it. I like sex and I miss it but the humiliation was far too high a price to pay for a sex life.

It’s why, despite wanting to look attractive today, I don’t have any designs on Callum. Dating someone you’re working with is never a good idea but dating someone whose celebrity would put me straight back into the firing line would just be suicidal.

I won’t ever let myself be humiliated like that again.

I try again to hike up the neckline of the dress but to no avail. It’s like the dress is saying, ‘You have boobs. Live with it!’

Fine, the dress wins the argument. I have boobs and I refuse to be ashamed of them. I head downstairs, Pickwick, Peanut and Treacle following at my heels like my own personal entourage. I feel slightly sick. I’m excited to meet Callum but I’m also nervous. I’ve built myself a safe life here. I don’t want anyone upsetting the balance just as I’m finding my feet again.

By the time I get outside Leo’s jeep is pulling up, back from the airport, and both Leo and Callum are getting out of the car. The dogs desert me instantly and converge on Callum, mutt-mobbing him. Even Barney trots out of the kitchen and heads towards the group, picking up on the excited woofs of the others. Callum picks up Pickwick and is cuddling him. He certainly gets full marks so far. Poppy really ought to get a sign made for the guesthouse: ‘Must love dogs’. It’s a bit of a house rule around here.

‘I’m glad you changed your mind and decided to come after all.’ Poppy greets Callum by kissing both his cheeks, French style, while Leo grabs Callum’s bags from the boot. ‘I think you’ll like it here.’

I hadn’t realised that Callum coming was ever under any doubt. I wish I didn’t have mixed feelings about him being here, but I suppose it’s natural. I just need to rise above them and be brave, new life and all that.

‘Cal, this is Joanna,’ Leo introduces me. I fold my arms across my chest, suddenly self-conscious about the amount of cleavage my extrovert dress is showing.

‘Yes, I know, I recognise you from Sex in the Suburbs. My twin sister is a fan of the show. I thought you normally preferred to be called JoJo, or was that just on TV?’ Callum is smiling politely and he looks friendly but there’s something cool in the way he’s appraising me that unnerves me.

I know he can be tough, I’ve been watching downloads of Callum O’Connor’s Kitchen Cook Off on my iPad ever since Poppy said he was coming. In that series he goes into restaurants and tells the head chef everything they’re getting wrong. To be fair he does then help them to make improvements before they go on to compete with other restaurants, but he can be pretty … intense. It didn’t help any anxiety I felt about cooking this evening. I thought maybe it was hyped up for the camera, to create conflict, but there’s something in his expression now that unnerves me.