Mrs. Brightfield

In this cloudy Sunday morning, Céléne was walking down Rue des Martyrs in Paris with a blank and unblinking stare taking the straighter direction, hypnotized by her spinning thoughts. Was the street very crowded? Did people

hang out alone, with friends or with family? She wouldn’t know and wouldn’t

care that much. Like every Sunday during the fall season, she was captured by some

memories sprinkled with some kind of regrets. This Sunday

morning, she was thinking of Terence – her childhood lover with whom she

had maintained a non-relationship for years when she was a child. She was feeling so good when she was playing these memories taken out of a box of her brain. Ah Terrence … how much she missed him! But now it was too late to catch up time… from what she had read on social networks, he was about to get married with a kind and gentle blue-eyed girl from their high-school.

As she was still walking, she begun to feel hungry and had a kind of flash in her mind of a pastry, a long thin cake surrounded by a smell of chocolate and tea. Was it a “chocolate éclair”? Probably not since the angles of the bun were too well

right-angled. She was trying to figure out which pastry could it be – the only

hints she had were a rectangular shape, a smell of chocolate and tea and a cold

topping. She really wanted to find out what was it, maybe it was her Proust

Madeleine that could remind her good other old memories. She finally arrived near the "Comédie Française" on Colette square where she used to seat with a book, hoping that this cloudy day it wouldn’t rain even if she was now equipped with very brand-new waterproof handmade cloak so as to wander as much as she could in her favorite Parisian places. There, she noticed two guys sitting on a bench backrest looking very lively and full of positive energy. She saw another bench next to them where she could seat as well. Actually, she was getting closer to them like magnetized by their positive vibes. When she sat next to them with her book in hands, one of the two stood up and shouted to her “oh my god! oh my god! You…here! Mrs. Brightfield!” His friend asked him: “Is she your sister or your cousin?” – “No, not at all, she is my wife, well my wife-to-be”, he paused and looked intensively at her with a little smile on his right cheek “Do you remember?” She smiled at him, very much amused by this way to approach someone. This funny guy looked a little bit younger than her, he was wearing a thin clear checkered shirt and chinos that

suited him perfectly well. He succeeded in taking her out of her thoughts. She

was finally released from her hypnotized state. She answered him very

enthusiastically and with a point of humor “Oh well of course I remember you

were still so handsome and gentleman at 82 - a wonderful husband, still very

dynamic and always cooking by your own delicious dishes for me and our

relatives”. All of three laughed for this successful ice-breaking situation. He

told her they were from London and visiting Paris for only two days and

they would be around all day long. “At 5 pm, we’ve planned to have our tea

time at Plaza Athénée to taste some French pastries…it would be so nice to have

you with us! By the way, I’m Phileas and this is John”. She shook their hands,

introducing herself as well. She suddenly felt a strong electric wave shivering in her

body like a powerful electric current that started in her hand and ran through all her body until her brain which seemed to have received a shock. She blinked three times before recovering her normal state but felt something had changed in her brain. They introduced themselves to each other quite quickly. Phileas had recently graduated from a prestigious school and had done some internships in various major law firm – he seemed determined not to be blocked to do what he liked the most in the law: defend people, and defend them with both his mind and heart. But he was well aware that he couldn’t fulfill his needs in big companies and firms. So, this week-end was a kind of tune-up for him. He was trying to know more about her, but she wasn’t ready to open herself to him not for she didn't know him -

because she had a very deep feeling to know him for years - but for she felt so

shameful to have spent two hours earlier that day lost in her memories of a boy

she liked many years ago. She said that she needed to go but that she would be

very happy to join them later for the tea.

Céléne gave up her book and preferred to walk towards the Seine to feel

the connection with nature power. The strong vitality from the river resonated the

electric shock she had received. Her headache seemed to lessen. Terence seemed so far away now, but who was Terence again? Who cared? Instead, some new memories were pushing to be shown in preview. With her blank stare, she jumped this time into a new memory without any control. She smelt again the very same chocolate perfume she perceived during the flash memory of this coated bun. Her brilliant white hairs were twisted around her fingers stained with brown old age spots. She was wearing a long dress colored with flowers that reflected her positive mood. She was standing in a rural kitchen surrounded by this sweet smell of chocolate, trying to maintain a correct posture to avoid appearing too crooked in front of the man she loved – this very elegant tall old man standing in front of her by the oak table. She looked at him smiling and singing to him “Hey Mister Jack-of-all-trades, cook a cake for me, I’m so hungry and there is nothing in my fridge – in the lapping-clank kitchen I’ll come following you”. He laughed for this approximative Bob Dylan remake and beckoned her over to the table asking to his connected watch “Hey Jack, two cups of Earl grey tea, please”. While the water boiler prepared the two cups of tea automatically, he went to the fridge and brought back a sumptuous cake coated with chocolate singing to her “Hillo, ho, ho, girl! come, bird, come” a Shakespearian sentence taken from his favorite book Hamlet that he adapted to talk to her with all his heart. This sumptuous cake was an Opera - her favorite pastry, more precisely a French opera made of a Joconde biscuit soaked in Macha tea. He asked her if it was as good as the one, they tasted together the first day they met in Paris. She looked at him tenderly, mesmerized by this attention and very pleased and surprised to feel again this same taste and texture from the Pastry Chef they had discovered together in Paris. She was still examining the strong current in the

Seine and those grey clouds that were coming straight away to her. Well yes, it wasn’t always a “long fleuve tranquille” as French people say, he was very dedicated to his Gastronomy passion, forgetting his own family but they respected and loved each other very deeply. She remembered when he finally decided to open his pastry

shop in London and then in Paris. Since it wasn’t his academic cursus, he had to

work and learn a lot to be at the top level, that's exactly what he did and she was there to help im as much as she could to make it a real success. Céléne had

supported him in finding the best French producers and suppliers for best

quality raw materials. Customers had become more and more demanding in terms of quality and traceability. They had also worked very closely with a London start-up specialized in the food traceability blockchain. It had been a very exciting

and successful experience. When buying a French croissant, customers could know

exactly from where was coming the 25% of butter they ingested, as well as the

production date and the name and characteristics of the cow. She had chosen

very specific local farms as main suppliers – only the one that had the best animal

welfare score and a 100% organic production. They didn't use labelled butter like Charrente or Isigny butters, they wouldn’t need this quality label thanks to the

blockchains which was able to check if all the selected quality and ethics parameters were respected. Famous Pastry chefs were coming to his pastry shop to find some new inspiration for their cuisine. She was very proud to be this Mrs

Brightfield, the wife of this talented and multi-tasking man. She also remembered when they had their first child that he would stop forever his lawyer position and that he had sold his lawyer dress to pay his subscription for a Pastry school. She was very admirative of his determination and courage and wasn’t scared at all by his decision.

Back to this cloudy Sunday, the Seine looked less tumultuous and the clouds let appear a beautiful rainbow. She found it so entertaining to suddenly discover new memories! Finally her favorite one was when she was 30, she was arriving in Saint Pancreas station, her fiancé was there on the station platform smiling and patiently waiting for her. He wasn’t in a spontaneous intensity like other men do when they welcome the woman they love. He was standing there firmly and full of care, asking her how she felt and making a tiny joke to make her smile. She had crystalized this moment because she knew at this precise moment, she will spend the rest of her life with him and she was true. Céléne suddenly connected the dots between this man and the man she had had just met – Phileas Brightfield. She could recognize the soft traits of his face, his oceanic blue eyes and his discrete cheekbones appearing when he was trying to catch her attention. That was him and that was how started their adventure. She was playing again the episode of Mr. and Mrs. Brightfield in their kitchen. But wait, but who was Phileas Brightfield and how did they meet with her husband? Had she met someone this morning? She couldn't remember anymore, her past memories seemed very blur while her future memories seemed so crystal clear. Her headache was coming back in her mind. She stared at the Seine and took a big breath before closing her eyes for a while.

In this cloudy Sunday afternoon, she was wandering along the Seine and

through the streets of the 2ème and 8ème arrondissement, her mind occupied by

her memories of her husband-to-be, parading a big smile on her face. She

arrived by chance in Avenue Montaigne and she saw Plaza Athénée hotel. She

remembered vaguely that someone once told her that tea time was delicious

there, it could be the right moment to taste it. Thus, it would be her little

pleasure of this cloudy Sunday and to pause her thoughts for a while. There she

was. She entered in this luxurious palace and saw a very handsome guy who was

seated alone. When she looked at him, he smiled at her and he told her with a

goofy voice “Hillo, ho, ho, girl! come, bird, come! “ Was it him? Her

husband-to-be? This very old man she remembered? Very much amused by this

unknown person, she smiled back at him and asked if he was waiting for someone

or if she could sit there as well. “Of course, you can sit there, I was waiting

only for you. I told John that he should have a look to the Paris Saint Germain

shop before leaving – soccer fans you know … I can now taste the best pastries

of the country with a Frenchie guide.” Céléne was a bit confused about his

speech, this John he referred to, his self-confidence with her. But she decided

to play the game and was wondering how much she could play with the future and

her memories. She had a quick look at the menu and called the waiter, “could

you, please, bring us a Macha tea opera and an orange-flavored mille-feuille?”.

What would it change to add one more pastry to try? Both

pastries arrived at the table, Phileas tasted both cakes with delicate gluttony

praising the sensations provided by every texture and tastes of these two

creations: the crispiness of the mille-feuille and the mellowness of the opera.

The taste of rich plant from the matcha flavored against the taste of citrus

fruit from the mille-feuille soften by the vanilla. “This is definitely a

perfect match, don’t you think?“ Indeed, what a perfect couple she was thinking – the sweet relaxing matcha tea opera and the punchy crunchy vanilla orange mille-feuille. And while tasting the associations of these two pastries, a smell of hot chocolate invaded her nose and again she remembered this memory when she was 82 years with her husband in front of this wooden rural table and the connected boiler tea. “Hillo, ho, ho, girl! come, bird, come and taste this opera made of Joconde biscuit soaked in Macha tea”. And then she went to the other fridge of the kitchen bringing back to the table a cake coated with vanilla icing and orange zests – “The Orange-flavored Mille-feuille! “– he uttered with a delighted face. They looked each other tenderly and she felt so much serenity at this precise moment. As if she had always been a fulfilled person, not only in love with her husband but also full of self-control and very much accomplished in her life.

In this Sunday cloudy evening, she was walking back home captivated by her new memories, a vacuous smile outlined on her face. She was feeling delighted by her happy future to come. An energy ball had invaded her, she wanted to create and to act - act to prepare for the future. For the short-term, she was thinking at what could she would cook that evening, she was very happy to welcome back her creativity after so many years spent without wearing an apron. However, she didn’t feel hungry at all as if she had eaten a very good dish and very strangely, she couldn’t remember what it was. She couldn’t remember if she had seen some people that day or if she had a good snack alone. She only knew she had walked a lot, at least her phone app said she had walked twenty-five thousand steps, quite a lot indeed. When putting back her phone in her jeans pocket, she found a sales receipt – it was a receipt from Plaza Athénée Hotel for two pastries and two teas. She looked at the banking information and found out that the bill was not in her name but in the name of a certain Phileas Brightfield. But who was this guy? Why did she

have a tea time with him? Was there a link with the records she kept on having

that day? She began to be really scared about what happened to her with this

future memories - she couldn't anymore trust in past as she did nor in the

present since she had lost the dice which could allow her to bet on the future.

How can you prepare your future when you don't know your past, your strengths

and opportunities as well as your past errors, pains and weaknesses? Future had become her new jail.

She decided to look on the internet and finally found out a Phileas Brightfield – a young lawyer in London. He wasn’t on the social networks, the only way to contact him was to call the office -only him could remind her what she did in this cloudy Sunday. She took her courage in both hands and asked the receptionist to talk to him for a private motive. When hearing the tone of his voice, she had a very strange electricity that shook her body up entirely and received a strong shock in her brain. She recognized this voice, yes she finally remembered. She remembered this hotel, these pastries, his friend John, and even Terence. She told him that she was Céléne, her Frenchie guide and that she was so sorry not to have shown up at their last rendez-vous that Sunday evening. Indeed, she had given him a rendez-vous Place des Vosges to have a gastronomic dinner and walk in one of her favorite part of the city, but she never came for she couldn’t remember any longer about this promise she made him. How could she explain him that she didn't remember she had given him this rendez-vous ? How could she tell him that the only thing she remembered was Mr. and Mrs Brightfield at the expense of the slipping and meaningless present? She couldn't find any excuses and told him that she shamely said she was sincerely sorry for that. After a long sentencial silence, he eventually said "Well, and now? " with i usual welcoming voice. "It's been a long time I’d like to have a proper tea time in London … would you like to take a tea with me at Fortnum & Mason next week-end? with me " " You won't stand me up? Will you? " She laughed and reassured him "No worry - Je viens du ciel et les étoiles entre elles ne parle que de toi" "Francis Cabrel ! I know him - Hillo, ho, ho, girl! come, bird, come!" he said with his enchanted voice. She couldn’t remember anymore of her future but she could feel positive vibes from what was coming next.