A French Pirouette Page 10

  “He’s a third-year medical student and I’ll tell you all about him when I come home, Mum, so stop fishing. Sorry I’ve got to go. I’m phoning from work. Thank Aunty Helen for me and tell her I’ll have the kettle on when she gets back. Ciao.”

  “Ciao,” Libby echoed. No mention of actually bringing Alastair to meet her. Just ‘she’d be told about him’. Libby sighed as she turned to Helen.

  “You have an urgently needed ball gown to take back with you if that’s OK? Alastair is taking her to his university ball. ”

  “No problem,” Helen said. “And don’t worry—if, when, I get to meet this Alastair, I’ll phone you straight away with all the details.”

  Libby bit her tongue hard to stop her saying aloud what the little voice in her head whispered, “I don’t want you to tell me about Alastair—I want to hear about him from Chloe herself.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Evie

  Evie settled back into her seat with a sigh of contentment as the train pulled out of the Paris station. The weekend had been good but now she was glad to be leaving. A couple more hours and the heat and bustle of the city would be behind her and she’d be back in the quiet countryside of Brittany to enjoy the summer on her own terms.

  It was good that Malik had at last accepted her decision to disappear for the summer. She hoped so long as she spoke to him on the phone regularly, promised to keep exercising and be back in Paris for September, he’d stop worrying. Sitting there as the train gathered speed and hurtled past vineyards and then fields of sunflowers before finally reaching the large artichoke fields of Brittany, Evie let her thoughts drift.

  She had so many plans for ‘Evie’ to enjoy a normal life for the next couple of months. She’d get involved in village life, visit the coast, wander around the exhibition at Pont-l’Abbé, make friends with Libby. And all the time she’d be incognito, enjoying just being herself.

  Evie even had the germ of a tentative, exciting, idea about where her future could lie. Researching its feasibility would be easier without the pressure of people asking all the time, “But what will you do without dancing?”

  It was late afternoon when her taxi from the station pulled up outside the auberge. As the driver got the two bulging suitcases out of the boot, Libby appeared.

  “Evie. Welcome back. The gîte is all ready for you. Gosh however did you manage one case, let alone two?” she said struggling to pick up the larger one. “This weighs a ton.”

  “With difficulty,” Evie admitted. “But there was so much I thought I might need.” If she was truthful too, she was trying to avoid the possibility of having to return to Paris again before she was ready, to collect some item that suddenly became indispensable in the coming weeks.

  Setting the suitcase down in the sitting room Libby said, “I’ll leave you to unpack and settle in. I’m expecting a friend to call in for tea. Dinner’s at the usual time if you’d like some?”

  Evie shook her head. “I won’t bother tonight, thanks. I’ll get on with things in here.”

  “I have put a few things in the fridge for you if you get desperate,” Libby said. “Before I forget, I left your clothes and other things in your bedroom in the auberge. If you’d like a hand moving them over, just ask.”

  Once on her own in the gîte, Evie opened the suitcases and set about turning her temporary home into her own space. A large cream throw over the settee, a couple of her red velvet embroidered cushions strategically placed, perfumed candles on the coffee table, her favourite pillow on the bed, musical box on the chest of drawers in the bedroom.

  Books and photographs on the bookshelves, CDs alongside and her laptop on the kitchen table, plugged in and charging. She placed a round pink stone floor light in the corner at the foot of the stairs and switched it on before looking around her with satisfaction. She’d even managed to make a small space to do some barre work by tying the handle of the broom between two chairs. Not ideal, and there was no mirror, but it would be good enough for her to at least start practising movements again.

  It was only then that she noticed the envelope Libby had propped against the vase of flowers in the sitting room. Curiously Evie looked at it. Madame Evie Patem.

  Carefully she opened it and pulled out a glossy black-and-white postcard photograph of the old village school circa 1900. She turned it over and read the message scrawled on the back. And smiled. An invitation to dinner from an unexpected source. A telephone number to ring if she wanted to accept. If she didn’t ring it would be understood she’d declined the invitation and there would be no hard feelings.

  Thoughtfully Evie placed the postcard on the table. To go or not to go? She’d think about it while she finished emptying the suitcases of her clothes and hanging them in the wardrobe.

  An hour later and everything was in place. Now to get her remaining things from the auberge bedroom. The front door was open and hearing the authoritative voice of a TV news presenter coming from the direction of the sitting room, Evie went in search of Libby.

  About to gently knock on the sitting room door before walking in, she froze as she heard, “Mystery surrounds the disappearance of ballerina Suzette Shelby from Monaco ten days ago after incurring another injury during rehearsals. Sources close to Suzette say they are worried as it is completely out of character.”

  Evie held her breath as she waited for the news presenter to say more but as a brief clip of Suzette dancing faded away, he switched to the next story.

  A voice Evie didn’t recognise said, “Surprised it’s taken this long for the media to pick up on this story. Everyone down south was talking about it before I came up. Apparently she’s hugely depressed over the amount of injuries she’s had these last couple of seasons and knows it signals the end of her career.”

  “Must be hard though,” Libby answered. “Having to give up a career like that which has been your whole life.”

  “Bit like footballers really—they pass their sell-by date at a young age,” the unseen other person replied.

  Evie wanted to scream out, “It’s nothing like footballers. Top professional ones earn scandalous amounts of money—unlike me! I still have to earn a living.”

  Instead she took a deep breath before quietly walking away and going quickly up the stairs to her old room.

  Gathering together the clothes she’d left hanging in the wardrobe and a couple of books from the bedside table, Evie checked that she’d picked up everything and went back downstairs. Libby was on her own in the kitchen and smiled at Evie. “Can I give you a hand?”

  Evie shook her head. “No thanks. I think I’ve emptied the room of my things.”

  “No worries. I’ll be cleaning it tomorrow and if there’s anything you’ve missed I know where to find you!” Libby said. “You all right? You look a bit pale.”

  “I’m fine,” Evie said. “Bit tired with the travelling and everything. Must go and finish organising the gîte. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She smiled at Libby and virtually ran out of the kitchen.

  Once everything was put away she sank down onto the settee and allowed herself to think about being a news item on national TV. Who exactly were these ‘sources close to her’ who were worried? They only needed to talk to Malik and surely he would set their minds at rest without divulging where she was.

  Next time she spoke to him she’d suggest he told anybody who was still interested that while he didn’t know where she was, they were in contact and everything was fine. The media would soon get bored then with nothing salacious to feed their curiosity.

  Evie picked up the postcard from the table and reread the message. To accept or not? Why not? Now she was staying here for the summer it would be good to get out and about, make new friends. She tapped out the number on her mobile and listened to its ringing tone.

  When it clicked into message mode she took a deep breath before saying, “Hello. This is Evie Patem. I would be delighted to have dinner with you one evening.”

  Chapter Fifteen
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br />   Libby

  Libby put the final touches to Lucas’s cake and stood back to look at it. Cake decoration had never been a skill of hers so she’d simply covered it with an easily made chocolate ganache. It certainly looked good enough to eat.

  She glanced at the kitchen clock. Evening surgery would be finishing about now. She’d give Lucas a ring and see if he wanted to collect the cake on his way home. An unusual noise sounded outside as she went to pick up the phone and she hesitated, listening. Silence.

  She dialled the surgery number and waited. Just as Lucas answered the noise sounded again.

  “Hi. The cake I promised you is ready if you’d like to collect it tonight?”

  There was that noise again. Louder this time. Definitely an animal in pain. She’d have to investigate. “Sorry, Lucas, I’ll ring you back. There’s something going on outside.”

  She hung up and after grabbing a jacket from the cupboard, ran outside.

  Which direction was the noise coming from? She checked the chickens and the ducks before walking quickly down onto the canal path. The noise sounded again and appeared to be coming from a field bordering the canal path fifty yards away.

  Libby began to run down the path wishing she’d thought to pick up her mobile phone. She had no way of calling for assistance if she needed it. If only the Bichets had been around in the auberge—François in particular. She was sure he’d have joined in on her mission. But the Bichets had elected to go to the cinema in the nearby town and didn’t expect to be back before eleven o’clock.

  It would be dusk soon, which would make seeing and finding any injured animal more difficult. As she ran she heard a car coming down the canal path behind her. She turned and sighed in relief as she recognised the car. Lucas.

  “Heard the noise down the phone and thought you might need a hand.”

  Taking a large industrial-sized torch from the front seat, he slammed the car door shut.

  “Whatever it is seems to be in that field there,” Libby said pointing to the field on their left. As they made their way into the field another pitiful cry filled the evening air and Lucas switched on the torch and shone the light around the field.

  “There it is.”

  Halfway up the field a young fawn had somehow got caught up in some orange electric fence netting the farmer had placed across the field opening. Every time the fence pulsed he cried. Standing ten yards away a doe was watching.

  “Right. Need to get some things from the car. Wait here.” And Lucas ran back down to the path. A minute later he was back with three thick rubber gloves and a large wooden-handled knife.

  “If we go this way we should be able to get to him,” Lucas said, starting up a small track alongside the hedge.

  Heart in mouth Libby followed him.

  “Can’t see why the farmer has left this fence on. There aren’t any animals in the field. Unfortunately I can’t see anywhere to switch the damn thing off. Luckily he’s this side so we can at least reach him,” Lucas said. He handed Libby the torch. “Think I can manage without light. It will only distress him more, shining in his eyes.”

  Quickly he pulled on two of the industrial black rubber gloves and wrapped the third around the knife’s wooden handle.

  Kneeling down beside the distressed animal, he murmured quietly as he stroked it gently, trying to work out the best way to do things.

  Somehow the fawn had got his head through one of the small squares of the mesh netting but couldn’t pull it back. Working between the regular pings of electricity and talking softly, Lucas quickly cut the mesh in several places.

  Libby could see that Lucas, although somewhat protected by the rubber gloves, was also receiving a short shock with each cut he made, but it took less than ten seconds to make the hole big enough and he was able to gently pull the fawn’s head back through the opened-up space.

  The poor animal was exhausted. Gently Lucas picked him up and carried him into a corner of the field before laying him down on clear ground under the shelter of a hedge.

  “Goodness only knows how long he’s been there,” he said. “If we move away the doe should go to him.”

  “I don’t think he can have been there more than half an hour,” Libby said thoughtfully. “I only heard his cries as I rang you.”

  “Are you OK?” Libby asked as Lucas peeled off the rubber gloves.

  “I’m fine. Didn’t get too many shocks. These definitely protected me.”

  Together they stood in the shadows watching as the doe made her way to the fawn and started to nuzzle him.

  “D’you think he’ll be all right?” Libby whispered.

  Lucas nodded. “Think we got here just in time. Let’s leave him to mum. We’ll come back later and check on him.”

  Back at the auberge, Libby made some coffee. Lucas, after admiring the cake, insisted she shared a slice with him.

  “You are still coming to the jazz down in Châteauneuf? I picked up the tickets today,” Lucas said.

  “Definitely. I’m looking forward to it,” Libby replied. “And to meeting your friends.”

  “How’s your daughter? Enjoying her job?” Lucas asked.

  Libby nodded. “She seems to be doing really well. She’s promised to come over soon but I’m not holding my breath.” Libby sighed. “She’s really busy at work and now she’s got a boyfriend her social life has also taken off.” No point in telling Lucas how much she was missing Chloe. It was something she had to get used to.

  She glanced at Lucas. “D’you have any children?”

  “Never been married, so no. I have a niece and a nephew though, both about to start uni. My sister is already fretting about them leaving home.”

  “Know how she feels,” Libby said.

  “Luckily she’s got our mother living nearby,” Lucas said. “She’ll make sure she doesn’t have time on her hands.”

  “Whereabouts in France do they live?”

  “Bordeaux,” Lucas said. “My parents moved there when they retired to be near Veronique and her family. I was busy being a locum here, there and everywhere and basically had no idea where I was going to end up.”

  “Where are you from originally?”

  “Paris. But for the last twenty-odd years I’ve lived all over France—Burgundy, Dordogne, Provence, the Lot, Côte d’Azur and now here I am up in Brittany. Finally managed to set up my own practice.”

  “Does that mean you’re settled up here for good?” Libby asked. “Or do you plan to build up the business and sell it on? I should imagine it’s very different to all those other French departments—especially the south of France ones.”

  Lucas cut another slice of cake and offered it to Libby. When she shook her head he put it on his own plate.

  “Sell up? No I don’t think so. After the crowds of the south—all those tourists—it’s wonderful here,” he said. “Mind you I do miss the wall-to-wall sunshine but I’d had my fill of over-pampered pets. Now I’ve got a real mixture of animals to deal with—domestic, farm and even the occasional wild one. Which reminds me. We’d better go and check up on our fawn.” Lucas looked at his watch. “He’s had long enough to recover now I think.”

  Libby glanced up at the kitchen clock. She’d lost track of time chatting to Lucas and was surprised to see it was over an hour since Lucas had pulled the fawn out of the fence.

  Dusk had given way to darkness and this time they did need the torch as they made their way along the canal path. Silently they turned into the field and Lucas shone the torch to where he’d left the young fawn.

  There was no sign of either him or the doe. “Good,” Lucas said. “Mum has obviously taken him off somewhere safer.”

  Walking back to the auberge, Libby missed her footing in a pothole and would have fallen if Lucas hadn’t grabbed her and then taken her by the hand.

  “Thanks.”

  Lucas didn’t answer—he didn’t let go of her hand either.

  As the moon appeared from behind a cloud, outlining the
auberge, Libby breathed a sigh of relief—home. She gently but resolutely removed her hand from Lucas’s clasp. Her hand had felt far too comfortable resting in Lucas’s capable one and she didn’t want to give him any ideas.

  Later after Lucas had left, she locked up the auberge and secured the shutters against the gale that appeared to be getting up, before making her way upstairs to bed. Lying in bed listening to the wind howling through the trees, Libby thought about the evening and Lucas. She really liked him but she meant what she’d told Helen—she didn’t need a man in her life. However gentle and attractive the man. For some reason though, her last thought as she drifted into a fitful sleep as the wind whipped around the house, was that Lucas and Dan would have liked each other and been friends if they’d ever met.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Brigitte

  “What time is your appointment with the immobilier?” Brigitte asked Isabelle as they walked along the canal path towards the auberge. Libby had invited them for lunch.

  “Two-thirty. So plenty of time,” Isabelle said. Debris from the gale earlier in the week still littered the path in places and she stopped to pick up a branch and threw it into the bank. “This house sounds exactly what I’m looking for. In a small hamlet, three bedrooms, a good-sized kitchen, a large garden and neighbours not too close. Plus it’s not too far away from you.”

  “Good. I’m looking forward so much to having you living back up here,” Brigitte said. “I’ve really missed having you around. Besides, I’ll be able to help you with…with things,” she added looking at Isabelle.

  Isabelle laughed and stood still to look at her mother. “You’ve guessed, haven’t you?’

  Brigitte tried to look innocent but failed. “Guessed what?”

  “That I’m pregnant and you’re going to be a grandmother.”

  Brigitte smiled and hugged her daughter. “I wasn’t sure but hoped I was right. So exciting. When is it due?”

  “Early February.”

  “And Laurent? Is he thrilled?”