The Dish (45 page)

It’s warm here, and all the women are in chic shorts; literally none of them has cellulite. (Though I actually never see them eat carbs – they’re very into ‘Bio’ and salads. Meh.)

To: Laura

From: Sophie

Subject: German lesson

Don’t knock the Germans for comfort eating! They even have a word for ‘flab gained due to comfort eating’:
Kummerspeck
translates as ‘grief bacon’. Wonder if they have a word for ‘flab gained due to testing brownies for B-list celebrity who is poor man’s Gwyneth Paltrow except no man is that poor – and who
still
can’t make her flipping mind up about flavours’
.

(This is the last thing I’ll say about Adam – but it is my prerogative as your friend to say it: you’re being an absolute idiot about the whole
thing – you made a mistake, admit it to yourself, email him and sort this nonsense out.)

To: Sophie

From: Laura

Subject: re: German lesson

And it is my prerogative to be an idiot. Now enough, please – or I will have Bobby Brown playing in my head all day.

To: Laura

From: Sophie

Subject: German Lesson – Part II

You know that’s called
Ohrwurm
in German – ear worm, a song that you can’t get
rid of.

To: Laura

From: Kiki

Subject: Le Fitness?

What are the men like? Have you seen any Vincent Cassel lookalikes?

To: Kiki

From: Laura

Subject: I haven’t been looking

I only have eyes for croissants.

To: Sophie

From: Laura

Subject: Double trouble

Just had to tell you what the girls did earlier. After dinner, they took themselves off to their room mysteriously. All was quiet, but
when I put my ear to the door I could hear the occasional muffled burst of giggling. Good God, when I walked in I found they were – of course – playing Minecraft and were busy turning a bunch of sheep bright pink.

So far, so girly/harmless/innocent – but then they were exploding the poor little lambs with fireballs, to turn them into meat to sell at a supermarket they were building. Maniac seven-year-old
capitalists! Have told them no more computer games – and have promised to teach them some old-fashioned card games tomorrow.

To: Laura

From: Roger

Subject: Readers’ feedback

Still at home, even more bored, as I’m too tired to concentrate on anything for more than half an hour. I am feeling my age for the first time in my life, terribly depressing. However, have been immensely cheered by the
letters in response to your May column – they’re still coming in. Thought you might enjoy this one!

So it was a woman after all! I had a bet with my husband that The Dish was female – she didn’t employ that patronising, know-it-all tone Fergus Kaye used to have – and she noticed small details. My husband thought it was a man because ‘he’ made him laugh, and my husband is one of those men who
think women can’t be funny! Gosh, I enjoy spending his money.

And this (possibly from your papa?)

I can’t believe The Dish has left – that column was the only reason I still buy your mag – everything else in it is boring as ****. I might as well read the
Economist
now! Bring her back, pay her double!

And this, Angry
Daily Mail
reader from Cheltenham . . .

Carole Middleton is the future King
of England’s mother-in-law, and to make a joke at her expense is tantamount to treason. I always knew your magazine was subversive but I didn’t know it would stoop so low. Shame on you!

One thing I forgot to mention – for June’s issue, Sandra had a last-minute panic (never seen the woman drop a ball before in fourteen years). She had to fill your space with something – so I told her to take your
Second Helpings pieces off the system. I hope you don’t mind – they’re rather charming; will of course pay you accordingly.

Now how are my croissants coming along?

To: Amber

From: Laura

Subject:Reminder

Hope all is well. Please don’t forget to water my basil plant, and give Annalex a cuddle from me.

To: Laura

From: Amber

Subject: re: Reminder

Babe – hope you’re feeling better about the
boy. Remember – it’s not actually him you just miss, just the idea of him.

To: Amber

From: Laura

Subject: re: Reminder

Amber – I do not miss
the idea of him
. I miss
him.
I miss him in the morning, like nobody’s business, and I miss him at night even more. I miss him very specifically – his smile, his sense of humour, the way he gets embarrassed when he makes a crappy joke. I miss his body,
particularly his mouth. I miss who he is – and I miss
what
he is too: a grown-up. Hard working. A man who is ready, willing and able to be in a relationship – a rare beast. And I miss what he and I might have been.

To: Laura

From: Amber

Subject: re: Reminder

Babe – you sound like you need some major therapy! Do you want me to give you my therapist’s number?

To: Amber

From: Laura

Subject:
re: Reminder

Sorry for going off on one, and thank you – but I don’t need therapy – I’ve been here before. Heartbreak is part of life – you have to take the pain, work through it, and it fades.

To: Roger

From: Laura

Subject: Croissant update

Week three, 36 croissants in, and have struck gold – stumbled across a ludicrously perfect
boulanger
in the backstreets of Canal Saint Martin, exceptional
croissants, paper-thin golden crispy flaky exteriors, soft, fluffy multi-layered insides. Think it is the frontrunner for this year’s Grand Prix at the Concours du Meilleur awards (please can I attend?!). I interviewed the owner – she’s third generation of the family to run the place, recipes handed down, etc. She told me the store’s history – all the ingredients for a great story – love, heartbreak,
a cheating husband, and vast amounts of Brittany butter.

Will obviously keep eating my way through the city to check I haven’t missed a trick – but I’m pretty sure I’ve found The One.

To: Sophie

From: Laura

Subject: The horror

Shocking day today! I was getting quite a few looks from cute French guys – that never normally happens to me. Decided I should spruce up a bit, so I went along to
this cool vintage clothing store where you buy clothes by the kilo. In the changing room, I realised why I was getting so much attention: large dark chocolate smear across my upper lip from eating warm chocolate and pistachio swirl in the street. Worse to come: I forced myself into weird, polyester 1960s dress I’d taken an irrational shine to and got stuck – cheap zip! I had to be cut out by unimpressed
owner who obviously made me pay for it, though luckily it was not Big Fat Gypsy Wedding style.

Thought for the day: all-you-can-eat pastry assignment should come with free gym membership. (Will be going to Wolfie’s daily on my return. Wonder if they do an all-you-can-sweat package?)

To: Laura

From: Kiki

Subject: Your number one fan!

You won’t believe this but The Laminator might actually
be missing you. The other day poor Maisie messed up the agenda for conference and Sandra said, ‘Laura would
never
have made such a basic mistake
.
’

To: Sophie

From: Laura

Subject: Aunty Tourettes

Have now got the girls hooked on cards – we’ve been playing every night. Their favourite seems to be Shithead – though I panicked when they asked what the game was called and told them it was called
Shiphead, and now they keep asking what it has to do with boats. I would make such a terrible mother, I didn’t realise how often I swear.

PS Thought I’d found two French female carb-eaters in Le Marais, lunch plates piled high with couscous, but when I hovered near their table I heard them speaking Dutch.

To: Laura

From: Sophie

Subject: re: Aunty Tourettes

I reckon women with children swear
just as much, if not more, than women without.

To: Sophie

From: Laura

Subject: May kill sister any minute.

Jess had a go at me this morning for not making her tea to the correct Pantone – it was like that scene in
Zoolander
where Will Ferrell throws latte in his assistant’s face because the milk is too frothy.

Then this evening, she insisted on talking about my career. I told her I’m in the
middle of writing the piece for Roger, and helping you out, but she pointed out that’s not the most convincing long-term plan . . . Then! While I was cleaning my teeth she sneaked into my room and left a huge presentation about the coffee industry on my pillow.

And I’m not going to talk about him, but Jess and I did talk about him – and she said that men aren’t worth getting worked up over, which
is easy to say from the shores of a secure marriage. She thinks you just have to flick a switch in your brain, on or off.

And I am trying, Soph, I am. I’m trying to pretend he doesn’t exist. Most of the time I can push him out of my mind, but occasionally I’m hijacked by a thought of him – doing something mundane, like laundry, or cleaning his teeth. And when I think of him as a real person,
very much alive and getting on with it – ouch – those thoughts make my heart hurt and I just have to sit and wait while the feeling passes, or at least gets dimmer.

To: Sophie

From: Laura

Subject: Change of plans

Filed copy yesterday and am waiting for Roger to come back to me.

Am feeling rather lost. Strange – even though the girls are exhausting and quite naughty, and have to be nagged
incessantly to tidy up after themselves, when I say goodbye to them every morning I miss them before they’re even through the school gates.

Was meant to be coming back to London this Friday but have decided to stay out here another fortnight to hang out with them.

To: Laura

From: Sophie

Subject: Weirdo

It’s quite peculiar you’re so fond of those two little girls – I mean, it’s not like they’re
your kids or anything, is it? When you write about them, it almost sounds like you love them . . .?

To: Sophie

From: Laura

Subject:What?

What do you mean?? Of course I love them!

To: Laura

From: Sophie

Subject: Der!

Oh, silly me. I thought you were incapable of loving a child that wasn’t your own . . .

To: Sophie

From: Laura

Subject: Yeah, yeah, very good.

Meanwhile, I took Dad for
dinner last night to his favourite bistro (amazing creamy mash, and they serve chocolate mousse in a giant soup terrine – you’re allowed to help yourself, though if they catch a whiff of an English accent, they whip it away instantly). The food was amazing, but their coffee was crap. It got me thinking, and I’ve had an idea – I reckon it might be an OK one. In the last five years there’s been a huge
boom in restaurants in London, and also in specialty coffee – both have upped their games to New York standards, but the two aren’t aligned. So customers expect better coffee at cafés – but they don’t often see it on restaurant menus. Restaurant owners don’t invest in coffee because it can seem intimidating – but if someone could advise them, they could improve their coffee, charge a bit more,
give the customer a better experience and everyone’s a winner, right?

Freelance Coffee Consultant to the restaurant trade, three days a week. Jess is helping me with the numbers and it looks like there’s a real opportunity. You can earn decent money as a consultant. What do you think?

To: Laura

From: Sophie

Subject: Love it

It’s a great idea. (Would you still do one day a week with me – and
Celina’s horror party?)

To: Sophie

From: Laura

Subject: Breaking news . . .

Of course I’ll help.

Meanwhile, I have finally found a French woman with cellulite! – in the Jardin du Luxembourg. Admittedly she is a statue, but still – she’s called La Femme aux Pommes and the sign by her feet praises her ‘sensual grace’. Every time I look at her and feel as though I’m looking in a mirror, I think
sensual grace
and it makes me feel slightly better.

To: Laura

From: Roger

Subject: Encore!

Love the piece. We should think about syndicating it to food or travel mags internationally. Now pitch me some ideas for the rest of the year!

To: Laura

From: Sophie

Subject: The one who cannot be named

Are we really not allowed to talk about Adam? That’s a shame, because he emailed me yesterday.
But presumably you wouldn’t want to hear anything about that . . .

To: Sophie

From: Laura

Subject: re: WHAT?

. . .

To: Laura

From: Sophie

Subject: re: Yup!

He said he was interested in doing a farmers’ market and could I give him some more info.

To: Sophie

From: Laura

Subject: Oh

How come he’s interested in doing a farmers’ market? Did he mention me at all?

To: Laura

From: Sophie

Subject: re: Oh

He asked if you were back yet. And he said to say hi. He used a standard font so I can’t read much more into it than that.

Re: farmers’ markets – ask him yourself! I swear, the pair of you are as bad as each other.

To: Sophie

From: Laura

Subject: Again, WHAT?

Why do you say that? Did you speak to him about me?

To: Laura

From: Sophie

Subject: Not in detail

But I’m sure
he’d appreciate you reaching out, that’s all.

To: Adam

From: Laura

Subject: Hi

I hope you’re well and that everything is calmer at work.

All is fine in Paris. I am now a world expert on croissants – have eaten many you’d love (pain au chocolat with banana?) – but none quite as good as yours.