Aurélie

Chapter Twelve

Aurélie had spent the morning at the market collecting the ingredients for today's class that Lena had listed on a notepad in the upper kitchen. Wearing an old pair of jeans, a red shirt and white converse sneakers she dashed through the busy streets and hurtled around the stalls, worried that she wouldn't make it in time.

Lena had arranged for all fresh produce to be delivered the evening before each class but last night she had received a call from Tomas, the delivery boy to day his can had been involved in a 'minor collision' and couldn't be fixed until Saturday when his uncle, a mechanic, was due back from Lyon. Aurélie had often to do the shop, secretly enjoying the thrill of a challenge, she'd always loved those game shows from the nineties where you had to run up a moving conveyor belt and hit the bell before your opponent. She felt like that today, the class were her opponent and she was adamant she was going to beat the clock.

Aurélie kicked the front door shut with her right foot and headed upstairs with the neatly stacked box of groceries. She used her back to push against the classroom- kitchen door and swung around to face the class. Lena was stood at the front with her back to her goddaughter explaining the importance of hygiene in the kitchen. They really are starting with the basics, Aurélie mused. Aurélie turned around and began unpacking the six aubergines, fresh pasta, generous cuts of fresh bacon and three dozen eggs.

"Green chop veg. Red chop meat," Lena chanted and encouraged the class to repeat after her, which, surprisingly they did.

Wiping her hands on her jeans, Aurélie picked up the empty box and made to leave the room, scanning the class as she turned. There were five of them in Lena's first class. A lucky number her godmother said. Two Spanish girls who frequently jabbered away excitedly in Spanish to each other and were often in stitches at their obvious culinary incompetence. They were of a similar athletic build and looked as though they had been brought up on a range of smoothies and orange juice, their complexions glowed and when Aurélie felt a tinge of envy at their careless beauty.

Another older couple stood towards the back of the room, clearly tourists and most definitely too advanced in the kitchen for this class she guessed. They had matching beige trousers and while the husband had a very neat short back and sides haircut and wore a navy Ralph Lauren polo shirt, his wife wore a very bold fuchsia blouse, her hair crowing her head in a neat perm. Glasses suspended around her neck on bejewelled Specsavers. Aurélie guessed they had been looking for a cultural activity whilst on holiday. The more the merrier.

Then her eyes glided across to the right, by the larger sash window that overlooked the street. His head was bowed down over the instructions sheet that Lena had prepared. He was wearing faded Levi jeans, a black shirt with the Quicksilver logo emblazoned on the front. He was leaning on his toned arms, hands palm down on the table. Light brown tousled hair framed his startlingly cheekbones. He glanced up and looked directly at her. Aurélie whipped her head away and reached for the door handle. She could feel heat rising up her neck. Please don't reach my cheeks, she prayed.

"Thank you darling," she heard her godmother chirrup behind her as the door closed. Aurélie stood in the hallway trying to catch her breath. She leant against the wall, feeling the calming coldness from the old brick walls seep through her shirt and cool her down. She turned on her side and pressed her face to the wall, still feeling the burn of being caught staring.

Did Lena know an angel was taking her cookery class? He was heavenly.

After a couple of seconds and with great effort she pushed herself away from the wall and caught her reflection in the heavy, gold played mirror hanging just before the stairs. Shit. A morning of dashing around a Parisian farmers market did nothing for her. She had rushed out without make -up on, her hair was shoved up in a ridiculous bun and her shirt had a very dubious stain down the front.