Page 277 - E-Magazine 2016-17
P. 277

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              “ Deux ratatouilles!”

              “Oui, chef.”

              Valerie rushed to the stove top to check on the ratatouille steaming on the pan, her long, strawberry
              blonde hair all over her sweaty  face. She quickly took out a spoon and tasted it. More salt? She add-

              ed a bit of salt and stirred it up quickly, then tasted it again. Perfect. It smelt heavenly. Valerie took
              out two warm plates and carefully put some rice on them. Then, she poured a ladle of ratatouille
              each in the center, with some basil leaves to finish it. Done! She put the plates on the counter, and
              the waiter took them out of the kitchen. She gave a sigh of relief. Dinner service was over for today.

              “Tres bien, Valerie!” the head chef, Gustave, was looking happily at the tall, fair and smiling Valerie.
              “Good work, team! Same time tomorrow!”

              Valerie was the sous chef of La Bistro Elegante, one of the best restaurants in central Paris. She

              loved cooking. It was her passion. Content with the day's efforts, she put on her coat, opened her um-
              b r e l l a    a n d    w a l k e d    o u t    i n t o    t h e    p o u r i n g    d a r k n e s s .
              As she was making her way back home, she heard the sound of footsteps that were definitely not the
              clopping of her heels. She stopped, and turned around in confusion, but no one was there. Stunned,

              she continued walking, and the next thing she felt was a black cloth over her face and the distorting
              smell of chloroform.

              The last thing she remembered was hearing a bunch of men screaming in Italian.

              When she regained consciousness, she found herself in a closed, white walled room with no windows.
              There was only a light bulb hanging from the ceiling. She looked around, dazed and confused at
              where she was.
              Her attention diverted to the big steel door to her right. She could hear some voices, so she tried to

              move towards the door to listen to what they were saying. When she tried to get up, she realised that
              her hands were tied to the chair. Her heart started pounding and she was scared. Slowly and with
              great difficulty, Valerie edged closer to the door, dragging her chair along with her. She realised that

              these were the same voices of the men who had abducted her, speaking in Italian.
              The lock clicked and when the door opened, she smelt something she was very familiar with.
              Risotto.
              Her dad's risotto.
              "Papa?" She called out curiously.

              Immediately a tall, old man came into the room with the same hazel-brown eyes and long nose as
              Valerie.
              "Valerie! How did you get here? He exclaimed.

              Valerie was shocked. Her father was alive?
              But the war….that was many years ago….

                                                                                               Continued….
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