The Little Paris Patisserie: A heartwarming and feel good cosy romance - perfect for fans of Bake Off!. Julie Caplin

end of today, I’ll guarantee you’ll be making profiteroles in your sleep.’

      Nina whirled round as Sebastian clinked forwards on his crutches to move to the front of the semi-circle, immediately capturing everyone’s attention. Wow, he looked better. A lot better, Nina could scarcely believe the difference. It was more than the way he looked though, even Nina couldn’t deny he carried off the handsome pirate look a bit too well, but there was that charisma, an indefinable something that made everyone look his way and seek his attention.

      ‘Good morning. I’m Sebastian Finlay and I’m going to be teaching you how to make French patisserie. You’ll have to excuse a certain immobility. I had a run in with a cabin bag and as you can see the cabin bag won.’ He hobbled his way to the stool that Nina had arranged for him, carefully stowing his crutches to one side.

      Everyone laughed politely but Nina could see they were all immediately charmed.

      ‘However, luckily for me, I have my very efficient assistant, Nina, who has kindly, forgive the pun, stepped in for the next few weeks.’

      At the unexpected warmth of the smile he sent her way, she blushed. She realised he was playing to the crowd but it was the first time he’d smiled properly at her for a very long time. Studying him through fresh eyes, she realised that yesterday’s weary, worn down and tired looking man had been replaced. Today, in a chest-hugging black T-shirt that enhanced a pair of broad shoulders she’d forgotten about, his slightly olive skin glowed and his eyes were bright, lighting up as he gave his appreciative audience a welcoming smile. He actually looked pretty tasty as long as you didn’t look down. She smirked, those baggy black joggers, at least a size or three too big, didn’t do him any favours.

      She quickly re-introduced everyone.

      ‘Today we will start with choux, which as I said is the basis for so many of the greats, the Paris-Brest, gâteaux Saint-Honoré, éclairs, religieuse and of course profiteroles.’ He shot a quick grin at Peter. ‘I shall be watching you carefully and hopefully we can sort you out.’

      ‘Hallelujah,’ cheered Peter. ‘I’ll give it my best shot.’

      Nina couldn’t help but stare at the light-hearted, charming man that had suddenly materialised. Authoritative and calm, Sebastian gave off an aura that everyone was in safe hands. This was a man who knew exactly what he was doing.

      ‘Right, well let’s get cracking. Find yourselves a space at one of the benches. You’ll find a recipe sheet next to your utensils. Ingredients are all over here with the scales.’

      There was a delicious rustle, a sense of anticipation, as they all took their places at the benches arranged in a U-shape facing the worktable in front of Sebastian. Marguerite and Bill immediately picking up the recipe sheet to read it.

      Sebastian turned out to be a far better teacher than Nina expected and she saw vestiges of the kind, patient boy he’d been as a teenager. He was good-humoured and informative with quiet, understated sympathy when anyone struggled. Marguerite took her time to combine the eggs and Nina caught Sebastian laying his crutches to one side to beat the mix to the right consistency, constantly encouraging her throughout and batting away her asides that she was rubbish. Once her piping bag was loaded up she did a more than a fair job of piping even shaped éclairs.

      Nina glanced over to the other side. Poor Maddie, still with her tongue protruding, was having a tough time. Her éclairs ranged from fat misshapen lumps to thin, strung out worms with nothing in between. Opposite her, Peter’s were all on the plump side, while Jane’s thin streaks were the polar opposite, which amused Nina. Together, their efforts would have been perfect. It seemed a rather apt analogy for their partnership.

      ‘Dear God, this one looks like a wayward sea cucumber,’ laughed Maddie. ‘Why is this so much harder than you made it look?’ She’d squeezed so hard that she had undulating waves in her next éclair. ‘I’m rubbish at this,’ she sighed, rolling her eyes.

      ‘Oh dear,’ sympathised Marguerite, who’d clearly used a piping bag a time or two before. The five éclairs she’d completed so far were arranged with uniform precision.

      ‘Why do yours look so perfect?’ Maddie laid down her own piping bag and went over to Marguerite’s station. ‘My excuse is I’ve never done anything like this before in my life. Have you? And look how many Bill’s done.’

      ‘That’s being in the army,’ said Bill, grappling with his bag, his large fingers dwarfing it. His tray was already full and while not in Sebastian’s league, they showed a workmanlike uniformity. ‘Get in, get the job done.’

      Sebastian gave Bill’s tray an approving nod. ‘If you slowed down, they’d be even better. But a very good first attempt.’ He moved on down the row and then paused, shaking his head. ‘Maddie—’ his eyes twinkled with a sudden naughtiness ‘—has anyone told you not to squeeze quite so hard? You need a gentle constant pressure.’

      Maddie let out a roar of laughter. ‘Are we talking éclairs?’

      Sebastian had already moved on with a murmured, ‘Well done Marguerite.’

      ‘Don’t worry everyone, it just takes a bit of practice and don’t forget this morning is just the start. We’ve got seven weeks to perfect your technique. I realise some of you may not have used a piping bag before and today it’s about getting the consistency of the pastry right.’

      Once everyone’s éclairs were piped and Nina had written their names on the greaseproof paper before sliding the trays into the oven, they stopped for a coffee. She couldn’t believe that it was already half past eleven. While everyone trooped out, Nina picked up Sebastian’s discarded icing bag and refilled it, taking the opportunity to have a go herself. Sebastian was absorbed in the laptop he’d switched on the minute the others turned to leave.

      A big fat blob exploded from the tip with a splat. ‘Oops,’ said Nina, stepping back but increasing her hold on the bag at the same time, which made things worse; the mixture oozed out of the tip in a big fat trail over the edge of the baking tray like an escapee worm. This was harder than it looked and now she couldn’t let go of the bag without making more mess. She stood there for a second feeling totally incompetent as she heard Sebastian clumping towards her.

      ‘Here.’ Sebastian stood behind her and rather than take the bulging bag from her hand, he put his hand over hers and slid it under the weight of the bag. ‘Use your left hand to gently cup the bag, don’t squeeze with it.’ That gentle, encouraging tone with a hint of chocolate brought back memories. She’d always loved his voice. Sometimes when he spoke quietly it held a certain timbre that ran over her skin like an electric current.

      His shoulder brushed hers as he leaned forward to take her right hand, making her conscious of his nearness. A sudden flush of heat raced over her body, aware now of his height beside her, of his strong arms as the silky hairs on his forearm tickled the skin on her wrist, and the sense of warmth emanating from his body.