A French Pirouette Read online

  “Now he’s got used to the idea. The fact that I’ve decided to come back here has helped. We didn’t plan this baby and he’s been worried about how I’m going to cope with him being away so much.”

  Brigitte hooked her arm through Isabelle’s and they continued walking.

  “Oh it’ll be such fun having a baby in the family. Can we tell Libby today?”

  Isabelle smiled. “Of course.”

  Libby was setting the table for lunch under the loggia when they arrived. “Bruno not with you?” she asked.

  “He’s joining us later,” Brigitte said. “Sends his apologies but he had an appointment in Quimper. Said to go ahead and start lunch without him.”

  “It’s quiche and salad so not a problem to keep him some back,” Libby said looking at Brigitte and Isabelle. “You’re both looking very happy with life today? Any special reason? Or just looking forward to your holiday?”

  Brigitte looked at Isabelle who smiled and nodded. “Go ahead. You can tell Libby.”

  “I’m an expectant grandmother,” Brigitte said excitedly, unable to keep the news to herself a moment longer. Both Isabelle and Libby laughed at the way she’d delivered the happy news.

  “Wow. Congratulations both of you. I’d open a bottle of bubbly but I guess you’re not drinking?” Libby said looking at Isabelle. “We’ll save it to wet the baby’s head instead.”

  Both Isabelle and Brigitte looked at her blankly. “It’s an English tradition for after the baby’s born,” Libby explained.

  “You pour champagne over the baby’s head?” Brigitte asked.

  Libby laughed. “No. It’s just what we call opening a bottle of wine, champagne or whatever, to toast the new arrival.”

  “You have it with toast?” It was Isabelle’s turn to sound incredulous.

  “No!” Libby said, shaking her head. Some things definitely got lost in translation. “When the baby is born I’ll introduce you to the tradition—it’ll be easier than trying to explain it now. Shall we eat?”

  Sitting around the table eating and listening to her daughter and Libby chatting away, Brigitte felt content for the first time in months. Since selling the auberge to Libby and moving to the village her life had seemed to lack any sort of real purpose but everything was about to change again.

  There were things to look forward to now. Isabelle moving back to Brittany. A grandchild next year. Bruno happier than he had been for years. A holiday in the south of France starting tomorrow. She reached down and picked up her bag.

  “Libby, I forget to ask you. Would it be a problem for you to look after my houseplants while we are away? One visit in the middle of each week to water should be sufficient. I give you the key.” And she put the spare house key on the table.

  “No problem,” Libby said. “Don’t forget to send me a postcard or two, will you?

  “I promise. Now Isabelle and I have to leave. We have a house to look at this afternoon.”

  “Exciting,” Libby said. “I’m looking forward to having you live near. Chloe will be pleased too.”

  Brigitte didn’t need telling that the house nestling in a nearby valley was an immediate coup de foudre for Isabelle the moment she set eyes on it. As the estate agent showed them around Brigitte could see Isabelle mentally painting and decorating rooms, especially the small one at the front of the house, which would be an ideal nursery.

  “I have to show another couple around later this afternoon,” the agent said quietly.

  Isabelle glanced at him. “I make an offer now and you tell the owner immédiatement?”

  “Don’t be pressured into anything,” Brigitte said knowing how impulsive Isabelle could be. “It’s a lovely house but there will be others I’m sure. And won’t Laurent want to see it before you decide?”

  Isabelle shook her head. “This one ticks all my—our—boxes.” She turned to the agent. “Tell me the price again?” She nodded.

  “OK. I’ll give the full asking price on one condition. I want to sign this afternoon.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Evie and Libby

  Evie methodically went through her cooling-down stretching exercises after doing an hour’s barre work. Thank goodness her ankle was back to its normal size now and she could finally move it without pain. It was getting stronger every day.

  A quick shower and then she’d tidy up the sitting room. Libby was coming over for a coffee later and she wanted to make sure the gîte was presentable.

  The chairs forming the makeshift barre in the corner needed to be put back in their proper place; the wigs on the stand in the bathroom could go in the bottom of the wardrobe where they wouldn’t be seen if Libby went into the bathroom. She also needed to get the rent ready to give to Libby.

  She was in the kitchen setting up the coffee machine when Libby arrived.

  “Hi, I made a raspberry clafoutis yesterday so I’ve bought a couple of slices,” Libby said. “And before you say anything—it’s fat free. You can have a small piece and go for a walk this afternoon if you’re worried about putting on weight. Can’t see why you would be though. You’re so slim.”

  “Thanks. I’m not too bothered about my weight now that I’m mobile again and can exercise,” Evie said taking a couple of plates out of the cupboard.

  The sun was streaming in through the sitting-room windows as Evie placed the clafoutis and the coffees on the table and the two of them sat down.

  “There’s a small wrought-iron table and two chairs in the outhouse,” Libby said. “Would you like them for the terrace outside? Seems a shame you have nowhere to sit out there to enjoy the sunshine.”

  “Thanks. Sounds good.”

  “I’ll pull them out later and give them a bit of a clean-up,” Libby promised. “Have to say, I love what you’ve done in here to personalise it. I’ll have to pick your brains when I get time to start on my apartment. Right now it’s just a place I sleep in.”

  “I would love to help,” Evie said.

  “These cushions are stunning,” Libby said, picking one up and examining the intricate beadwork. “I guess you bought them in Paris?”

  Evie shook her head. “No. Well I bought the material there but I made them myself. It’s a hobby—helps to pass the time when…”

  She stopped, realising she had been about to say, “when I’m backstage during rehearsals and performances.” Embarrassed she jumped up and went into the bedroom. As comfortable as she felt with Libby she wasn’t ready to tell her who she really was.

  “I make clothes as well. You like this jacket?” she asked, taking the white velvet jacket with its embroidered tribute to Lesage out of the wardrobe, and turning to show it to Libby who’d followed her and was standing in the doorway. Evie quickly pushed the wardrobe door closed. “This is the latest jacket I’ve made.”

  “That is so beautiful. You are very talented,” Libby said.

  “Thanks. So, how’s life settling down for you as an auberge keeper?” Evie asked as they moved back into the sitting room. The conversation was in danger of becoming too personal for her liking. Any minute now Libby would be asking what she did for a living in Paris. A question she had no desire to answer. She had to turn things back to Libby. “Is it like you dreamed it would be?”

  Libby laughed. “Not a bit. I’m far busier than I’d expected to be. I’d sort of thought, even when there were guests, the days would be my own to mooch around and enjoy the place. But keeping on top of everything: the laundry, the cleaning, the cooking—especially when all six bedrooms are occupied—is never-ending. Not to mention the chickens and the garden. I’m enjoying it though and glad I took the plunge. Brittany is a beautiful place to live.”

  “It is,” Evie agreed. “But you must make time for yourself.”

  “Sorry, did I make it sound as if it’s all work and no time to play?” Libby said. “It isn’t really. I’m beginning to have a social life as well. Next Saturday I’m going to the jazz festival with Lucas.”

  “I a
lso go out on that evening,” Evie said. “So we both have the social life.”

  “Going anywhere nice?”

  “Just dinner with a new friend,” Evie replied. Picking up an envelope from the table she handed it to Libby. “The rent for the next two months. Perhaps you check to make sure it’s correct.”

  “Oh,” Libby said looking at the envelope’s contents. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble of getting me cash; a cheque would have been fine.”

  “It wasn’t any trouble,” Evie shrugged. She couldn’t tell Libby that Evie Patem didn’t have a bank account and it was out of the question to have given her a cheque written by Suzette Shelby.

  Libby left soon after and Evie took the empty cups and plates through to the kitchen. She’d wash them later. Right now she wanted to go for a walk, take some photos and think about the future. Her mobile rang as she picked up her camera.

  “Hello Malik. How are you?”

  “Fine. How’s the ankle? Doing your exercises?”

  “Yes. I promised you I would.”

  “Good. Any chance of you coming back here in the next few weeks? I’d like to talk to you face to face.”

  “No. I’ve told you I’m staying here for the summer.”

  “No fleeting visits home again?”

  Evie could hear the panic in Malik’s voice. “No. I’ve told you several times I need some time on my own. You can talk to me now.”

  “I’ve had an idea about your next career.”

  Evie sighed. Was Malik being helpful or controlling? “Tell me.”

  “It can wait until I see you. I need to talk to a few more people to see if it’s feasible—no reason why it wouldn’t be but you know me. Like to cover all eventualities.”

  Silently Evie substituted the word control for cover. Malik did like to feel in charge—even if in this case he wasn’t. She didn’t bother to mention she was also beginning to get her own ideas for a life after dance.

  The Saturday of the jazz festival was a busy one for Libby. Four sets of guests moving out meant four bedrooms to be cleaned and aired, and beds made up for the next arrivals. Thankfully Agnes was willing to do more hours now the season was in full swing.

  Libby had taken the decision as the summer became busier not to do meals on the evenings of change-over days. A decision she was thankful for late afternoon when all the chores were finally finished and she could relax.

  Not sure what the evening ahead would hold in the form of food, if anything, Libby made herself a ham and salad baguette and a pot of her favourite Earl Grey tea.

  Chloe rang as she was finishing her food.

  “Everything all right?” Libby asked. “How was the ball?”

  “It was wonderful. Seems like a dream now though. Mum, I’ve been thinking about your birthday. Would you mind if…”

  “Please don’t say you’re not coming over,” Libby interrupted. Celebrating without Chloe was out of the question.

  “Of course I’m coming. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I just want to know if it’s OK for me to bring a friend.”

  “You know it is.” Libby waited a second or two for Chloe to name her friend but when she didn’t, Libby said, “I’m off out to the jazz festival this evening so need to shower and get ready.”

  It wasn’t like Chloe to be secretive and Libby bit her lip hoping she’d managed to keep the disappointment of not hearing the friend’s name out of her voice. It would feel too much like prying to ask outright who the friend was.

  “Sounds fun. Who you going with?”

  “Lucas.” Libby said his name wondering if Chloe was going to tease her.

  But Chloe simply said, “Enjoy. He’s a nice man. Got to go. Love you, Mum. Bye.”

  “Bye,” Libby echoed.

  Once showered, Libby flicked through the hangers in her wardrobe wondering what to wear. In the end she settled for a favourite flower-patterned tea dress that had a hint of the 1930s about it and a scarlet pashmina to throw around her shoulders if the evening grew cold.

  To Libby’s delight Lucas was driving the Delage when he arrived. “I am honoured,” she said coming out of the auberge and locking the door behind her. “I’ve been dying for a ride in your car.”

  “Bonsoir,” Lucas said kissing her on both cheeks before opening the passenger door for her.

  Evie was sitting outside the gîte as they drove out onto the canal path. “Enjoy your evening,” she called as they drove past.

  “You too,” Libby said. “I’d almost forgotten she was going out this evening as well,” she added turning back to Lucas. “I hope she has a good time. I don’t think she’s been very happy recently.”

  “Why d’you say that?” Lucas asked.

  Libby shrugged. “Just a feeling I have.”

  Libby was surprised at the amount of traffic making its way down to Châteauneuf. “I didn’t realise it was such a big festival,” she said.

  “It’s grown over the last few years,” Lucas said. “Nothing like the music festival in Carhaix of course but we do get some well-known jazz players turning up.”

  After parking the car, Lucas took a picnic hamper out of the boot.

  “You should have told me. I could have baked something,” Libby said.

  Lucas shook his head. “The picnic is part of my treat. But if you can take one side of the basket it will be easier to carry. Right, let’s join the party. Everyone should be over, ah there they are.”

  Carrying the hamper between them, they made their way over to a cluster of people laughing and joking together as they all arranged themselves on picnic rugs spread out on the bank of the river. As Lucas started making the introductions a glass of rosé was thrust into Libby’s hand.

  Knowing there was no way she’d remember all their individual names—there must have been at least ten of them—Libby simply smiled at everyone as she said, “Bonsoir.” She’d get Lucas to whisper the names to her again, slowly, when they were settled on the rug themselves.

  As food started to be passed around Libby noticed Lucas was drinking lemonade. “Not drinking?” she asked.

  “After ten o’clock this evening I’m on emergency call-out so I can’t take the risk. We only get the occasional night call-out but—” he shrugged “—have to be ready. I can eat though and these are delicious.” He picked up a small cocktail biscuit with a sliver of smoked salmon and some caviar perched on it and held it up to Libby’s mouth. “Try.”

  Obediently Libby opened her mouth and Lucas fed her. The seemingly innocent act turned into something more intimate as Lucas held her gaze for several seconds, smiling at her. In that instant Libby acknowledged to herself her feelings towards Lucas were changing. When he placed his arm around her shoulders as they settled down together on the rug she didn’t move away.

  Lucas’s friends included her in their conversations, although it was obvious they shared a lot of history and there were several in-jokes from past festival parties which, delivered in rapid French, Libby didn’t always catch. But she didn’t mind. She felt strangely content and happy just being there with Lucas.

  Sitting watching as the swallows made their last swoops of the day over the river to scoop up a final supper of insects, seeing the stars and the moon appear in the darkening sky and listening to a young French girl sing the classic Edith Piaf song ‘Non, je ne regrette rien’ Libby knew the magic of the evening would stay in her memory for ever.

  When at half past ten Lucas frowned and took his mobile phone out of his pocket, Libby sighed knowing instinctively the evening was about to end.

  “I’m sorry, Libby. An old client has an emergency with her dog. I have to go. I’ll ask Marc if he’ll take you home.”

  “Can’t I come with you?” Libby asked. Staying on without Lucas didn’t appeal. “Or you could drop me off on your way?”

  “Wrong direction. You sure about coming? Could be a long call.”

  “I’m sure,” Libby said jumping up and beginning to pack things away in the ham
per.

  As Lucas negotiated his way out of the crowded car park and drove up through the village, Libby asked, “What kind of emergency is it?”

  “A collie bitch giving birth. Its owner, Eliane, is in her eighties and does tend to panic. When we get there everything will probably be proceeding as normal.” Lucas shrugged. “But I couldn’t leave Eliane to worry.”

  There was no mistaking Eliane’s cottage when they reached the hamlet where she lived—it was the only cottage with lights on and the door open.

  “Shall I come in with you?” Libby asked. “Or would you prefer me to wait here?”

  “Come in with me. I might need your help.”

  Lucas opened the boot of the Delage and took out a large Gladstone type bag and another smaller one.

  “My emergency kits. Haven’t got a full range of stuff in here, just the basic stuff. Here’s hoping the dog doesn’t need a caesarean.”

  Lucas called out to Eliane as they walked into her cottage. She was sitting in a low chair quietly talking to Meg, her collie dog, who was lying on lots of newspapers on top of a folded blanket panting and straining hard. Three tiny black shapes lay alongside her.

  Lucas dropped to his knees and gently examined the dog. “Everything looks and feels normal,” he said looking up at Eliane and smiling. “How long has Meg been in labour?”

  “Four hours,” Eliane said. “The last pup came about half an hour ago.”

  “Bon. The final one is on its way now.”

  Libby held her breath as she saw the tiny black-and-white face of the pup push its way out into the world. A female, it was the smallest of the litter and Libby watched fascinated as Meg licked and cleaned it.

  “She’s beautiful,” she whispered.

  Once Lucas was satisfied everything was as it should be and they’d helped Eliane clear the messy residue of newspapers away, they said goodnight and left.

  “It was as I thought,” Lucas said. “Eliane panicking. I am desolé our evening was spoiled by a non-emergency.”

  “Oh Lucas it didn’t spoil the evening. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. I’ve never seen a puppy born before,” Libby said as they strapped themselves into the car. “I wanted to smuggle that little female one away with me.” She glanced at Lucas. “What d’you think Eliane will do with the puppies? She won’t keep them will she?”