chapter 1

As she wiped down yet another greasy table, Polly thought about how her whole life had led up to this rather mundane end. Seven years of private boarding school education in southern England, and then later on she had attended a prestigious university in London to study foreign languages. She had walked away with a first class degree and a whole armful of other achievements, extra-curriculars and even competitive rowing medals.

And now she was here, stuck sweeping up pastry crumbs outside a dingy creperie. True, the dingy creperie was actually located just outside Paris, so technically one of her lifelong dreams to live in France had been fulfilled. It just seemed so bland compared to the colourful, wine-drinking existence in a chateaux in the countryside she had imagined for herself.

Just at that moment while she was still daydreaming, the ugly face of Remi, the cafe owner, popped out through the shabby red-painted door.

"Ey, you english girl, you get back to your work eh, or Remi might find une petit erreur with your payslip this week!". The balding head cackled and withdrew back into the gloomy shop, presumably to resume ogling her through the grimy windows.

She sighed and started stacking the metal chairs upside down onto the tables. Not that she didn't have anything to ogle- she was tall and dark haired, with a pronounced hourglass figure which seemed to secretly be the envy of many skinny Parisian ladies. Lately her defined muscles from all her college rowing seemed to be softening a little - though Remi was a downright nasty piece of work, he made wonderful cakes. She should have really quit her job as waitress months ago, but she needed the income to hold down her tiny 1 bedroom apartment in Argenteuil.

'Oh well', she thought to herself as she hung up her apron and collected her belongings, 'Nothing's permanent, after all. And at least I get a few pastries occasionally.'.

It was a long walk back to the flat, and it was an unusually chilly July evening. Polly pulled the sides of her long coat together and hurried on, vaguely aware of a person just emerging from a side street behind her. From the slightly heavier footsteps, she believed it to be a man, and subtly increased her stride length, her long legs easily increasing the distance from the figure.

"Salut! Hi!" came a young sounding voice; rather different from the lecherous old man she'd been feverishly imagining.
Polly, despite her best instincts, turned and waited for the stranger to catch up. As he came closer, the golden yellow light from a nearby streetlamp shone upon his -strikingly handsome- face.

"Parlez-vous francais? Or English?" he asked, with a strong London accent.
"English, thank god. I was starting to forget my native tongue... the only person around here that talks to me is the owner of the creperie I work at..." she shivered, aware both of the man's intense eyes and the fact that she was talking too much.

He laughed, and extended his hand; "James. Lovely to meet a fellow southerner. That bakery owner however... sheesh!"
They both laughed, and Polly felt herself warming to him.

"I'm Polly. Don't suppose you know any other cafes that are hiring, preferably with non-psychopathic owners?"
James raised one eyebrow. "You know actually, it's a huge coincidence, that's what I was going to talk to you about. See, I stopped for a croissant earlier - by the way, to DIE for! - and I saw you slaving away under that tyrant. I can't believe someone so evil makes such good viennoiserie pastry! Anyway, two things immediately zapped into my head, number 1) you're far too gorgeous to be working in a dive like that and 2) why shouldn't you come and work for me? You're obviously no stranger to a bit of hard work." He added, grinning.

Polly considered his offer. "Is the pay good?"
"Yup."
"Working conditions any better?"
"Absolutely... well, better than that dump at least!"
She chuckled, "It's not exactly hard though... Okay, I'm in. When do I start?"
"Tomorrow, if you'd like!"

"That's wonderful!" she beamed. "Um, so, what will I be doing?"
James looked around sheepishly for a moment and smiled nervously. "Er, I'm a farmer. Specifically, a goose farmer. And, well, there's no easy way to put it, but our farm produces some of the best foie gras the world has ever seen." He held up a hand as Polly started to protest."I know, I know, it's not for everyone, but hear me out. You wouldn't EVER have to go near a goose while working for me, understand? I promise you that now. You work would purely be stuff I can't do myself, small errands and such. Okay?"

She weighed up the pros and cons, and then her stomach answered for her by growling extremely loudly. She blushed, thankful it was still quite dark.
"I'll take that as a yes. I'll take you to where our worker's stay in a few days, but tonight you can sleep over at my place. I'll drive you over to pick up any things you need to bring, and then we can be off! How does that sound Polly?"

"Sounds wonderful James. But I hope you have food, I'm absolutely ravenous".
She patted her small pot belly playfully and then joined James in his car.