A French Pirouette Page 17

  Libby sighed inwardly. Her promise to Evie not to break her confidence foremost in her mind. “Why d’you think that?”

  “Photograph of Suzette in a newspaper saying she was still missing,” Brigitte said. “I’m sure it was her. Next time I see Evie I’m going to ask her.”

  “If she is Suzette Shelby, don’t you think she called herself Evie for a reason—to have some privacy?” Libby said. “She’s not hurting anyone by having a pseudonym. Perhaps she’ll tell us herself one day. Anyway, I like her whatever her name.”

  Brigitte looked at her. “You don’t seem surprised. In fact, it’s almost as if you knew.”

  Libby bit her lip. There was no way she was going to break her promise to Evie and confirm to Brigitte that Evie was indeed Suzette.

  Before she could answer, Helen bustled into the kitchen and Libby smothered a sigh of relief. Since she and Peter had arrived yesterday, Helen had been in major bossy mode with regard to the party. Libby had been relieved to see that Peter was the most relaxed she’d seen him for years. Helen had clearly had words and persuaded him to slow down.

  Libby smiled, grateful for the interruption. Now she wouldn’t have to deny or confirm Brigitte’s theory. She hoped and prayed Brigitte wouldn’t choose the party this evening to challenge Evie.

  “Libby, Peter wants to know if you have any outdoor fairy lights? If not you’ll have to go and buy some. Oh and charcoal for the barbecue?”

  “Lucas is bringing lights over later when he drops the music system off,” Libby said. “Barbecue charcoal is in the shed at the back.”

  “Right. Hope Chloe gets here soon. I need her to do something for me.”

  “Can’t I help?” Libby said but Helen had vanished as quickly as she’d appeared.

  Libby glanced at her watch. Chloe had said she and her friend were catching the overnight ferry so in theory she, they, could be here any time now.

  The noise of a powerful motorbike driving into the auberge parking area caught her attention and she went to the front door. There weren’t any guests booked in to arrive today and she was full anyway so these tourists were going to be unlucky if they were looking to stay at the auberge.

  “Hi Mum. Happy birthday,” Chloe called out as she took off her helmet and shook her hair free before swinging her leg over and stepping off the bike.

  Chloe had come on the back of a motorbike?

  “You hate bikes,” Libby said bemused as she watched a fair-haired man carefully balance his helmet on the wide handlebars and headlamp before leaping off the bike. Behind her Libby was conscious of Brigitte starting to laugh. “You said nothing would ever get you on the back of one,” Libby said.

  “Incroyable what love will do,” Brigitte whispered. “I’ll see you tonight. À tout à l’heure.”

  “Bye,” Libby answered automatically, turning to hug Chloe.

  “Hi Chloe’s Mum. I’m Alastair.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Alastair,” Libby said shaking his hand.

  “Mum, we’re starving. Can I rustle us up something to eat?”

  “Help yourselves. Look out for Aunty Helen though—she has plans for you!”

  Libby turned as she heard more vehicles on the canal path. She watched as Lucas drove in followed closely by Pascal in the pépinière lorry. “We’re going to run out of parking spaces at this rate,” she said as Lucas leant in to kiss her.

  “Pascal, what are you doing here?”

  “Delivering your birthday present from Evie and me. I’d ask you where you’d like me to plant it but will you trust me to put it in the best place?”

  Libby nodded. “You’re the expert. Is it a magnolia tree? Wonderful. I’ve always wanted one of those.”

  “I’ve brought the lights and the music,” Lucas said. “I can set the music up later but right now I have to dash back to the clinic, so if Peter could do the lights?”

  “I’ll tell him. Maybe he can rope Alastair in to help,” Libby said. “I’m still stunned about that,” she said shaking her head as she pointed at the red-and-cream machine.

  The rest of the day was equally busy and passed in a flash for Libby. At six o’clock Helen insisted she went up to her apartment, had a long soak in the bath and got ready for her party. “Don’t come downstairs again a minute before eight o’clock. No actually, stay there until someone fetches you.”

  “There’s still a lot to do,” Libby protested.

  “Nothing that we can’t cope with,” Helen said. “Go. And no peeking out of the window! Close the shutters!”

  Libby did as she was told and enjoyed the rare opportunity of taking a long soak in a perfumed bath before changing into her sparkly party dress, and waiting to be summoned downstairs. For the last half hour there had been very little noise in the house so she assumed party preparations were finished and everyone else was now getting ready.

  Five past eight and the door opened. “Mum, are you ready? Time to party,” Chloe said.

  “Before we go downstairs, tell me something?” Libby said. “Are you serious about Alastair?”

  Chloe nodded. “Yes. I know you’ll love him too when you know him.” She looked at her mother. “My turn. Are you serious about Lucas?”

  Libby blushed. “I could be if that’s all right with you?”

  “Mum. It’s nothing to do with me. So long as you’re happy?”

  Libby nodded. “I didn’t want you thinking that I was forgetting about your dad—I’ll never do that. I was also afraid you might resent me meeting someone new.”

  “Mum, I want you to be happy. Lucas is a lovely man—different from Dad but just as nice,” Chloe said hugging her. “Come on, birthday girl. Let’s go down.”

  With fairy lights strung through the trees, tall Chinese candles dotted around, and a Nat King Cole song floating on the air, the auberge terrace and garden had been transformed. To Libby’s embarrassment, as she appeared everyone burst into song and ‘Happy Birthday’ temporarily drowned out Nat King Cole.

  Libby smiled as Evie made her way over to her at the end of the song. “You’ve taken your wig off. So,” she leant in to whisper, “does Pascal know who you are now?”

  Evie nodded. “He knew already!”

  “So,” Libby said, “are you Evie or Suzette tonight?”

  “I’m hoping people here will still treat me like Evie, rather than Suzette.”

  “I promise I will,” Libby said.

  Later, when the barbecue was dying down and the food had been eaten, Lucas appeared at her side and took her by the hand. “My present is in your shed. Come with me to fetch it?”

  Quietly pushing open the shed door, Lucas led her over to the corner where a young black-and-white dog was curled up sleeping.

  “It’s the little one we helped deliver,” Libby whispered as the dog opened her eyes and cautiously thumped her tail.

  Lucas nodded. “All the others have gone to be farm dogs but this one was kept back especially for you—for us.”

  Libby bent down and stroked the dog. “She’s beautiful. Does she have a name yet?”

  “Non. As she’s going to be your dog I thought you should be the one to name her,” Lucas said quietly.

  Libby was quiet for a moment, intent on stroking the dog, before looking up at Lucas and saying, “How do you feel about calling her Hope?”

  Lucas smiled as he pulled her to her feet and took her into his arms. “Perfect. We have Hope for our future together.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Brigitte

  Settling back into a routine after their holiday in the south of France was easier than Brigitte expected. Having Isabelle living with them was wonderful. The old mas was finally becoming her home with the promise of happy family times to come.

  Part of her routine now involved walking to the village boulangerie for croissants every morning before returning for breakfast under the loggia. It was amazing how many friends she bumped into—friends she’d seen infrequently when she’d been running the au
berge. Retiring to the village had been a good idea of Bruno’s after all. Life was good.

  Isabelle’s morning sickness was slowly disappearing and she too was settling happily into her new way of life. Because the house she was buying was empty and the formalities were proceeding quickly, Isabelle was able to have access and to make a start on getting things ready to move in.

  Bruno set to work clearing the garden overgrowth, cutting back brambles and pruning large lilac trees and rhododendron bushes. Brigitte mowed the lawn and organised some pots for the patio by the kitchen door.

  “You will be needing some outdoor chairs and a table,” she said.

  “Amongst other things,” Isabelle replied. “The list is getting longer by the day. There’s a large vide grenier this Sunday in Carhaix. Shall we go? See what we can find?”

  Brigitte nodded. “Hopefully there will be a bargain or two there.”

  Bruno declined to join them Sunday morning, which didn’t surprise Brigitte. “You know he’s never been one for this sort of thing,” she said to Isabelle as she slipped into the driving seat of their car. “Remember how he’d do anything to avoid the vide greniers your school held to raise funds?”

  Isabelle laughed. “He was ace at making those wooden reindeers out of logs for sale at the Christmas bazaars though. Everyone wanted one.”

  The streets where the vide grenier was being held were buzzing with busy stalls and people wandering around clutching recently acquired treasures. Isabelle soon spotted a stand selling new and almost new baby equipment and the two of them spent an enjoyable half hour selecting things. While they were walking back to put their purchases in the car, Isabelle’s mobile rang at the same moment Brigitte saw Lucas striding towards them.

  “Thank goodness I’ve found you,” Lucas said. “Brigitte, I’m sorry but Bruno has taken ill.” He glanced at Isabelle listening intently to a message on her phone. “That will be Libby.”

  “What’s happened?” Brigitte asked, trying to stop her voice trembling.

  “Bruno had a suspected heart attack about half an hour ago.” Lucas put an arm around Brigitte’s shoulders. “I’d rung him to talk about the motor club meeting next week when I heard him collapse. Luckily I managed to alert the pompiers and they were there in minutes. He’s in hospital now.”

  “I must go to him,” Brigitte said. “Which hospital?”

  “For the moment, the one here in town as it was the nearest. I’ll drive you,” Lucas said. He glanced across at Isabelle. “You OK?”

  Isabelle nodded.

  “Libby said she’d wait at the hospital until we get there.”

  Libby was waiting outside the main hospital entrance when Lucas drove up and she hurried over to them.

  “Not being a relative I haven’t been allowed in to see him but they’ve said he’s stable,” she told Brigitte and Isabelle. “You two can go straight up.”

  Libby watched the two of them disappear into the hospital before turning to Lucas.

  “If you hadn’t phoned Bruno when you did…” She shook her head. “Doesn’t bear thinking about.”

  “Then don’t,” Lucas said. “Just pray that we got him here in time.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Evie

  Since telling Malik she’d dance Swan Lake—and swearing him to secrecy over the fact it would be her last performance ever—Evie knew she had to begin her serious exercise routine again. She’d neglected it over the summer doing only the minimum to keep herself flexible, but now she had to ease herself back into the demanding routine that had been a part of her life for so many years.

  The main problem though was finding a space to actually dance in. The gîte chairs with a pole secured between them was adequate for barre work and although she did miss having a large mirror to check her positions were correct, it was the space to actually dance she needed. And that space was back in Paris.

  Malik phoned every day. His constant refrain: “Please return to Paris. Everything is here for you.”

  “I’ll be back for the start of the official rehearsals,” Evie said. “But I really want to stay here for as long as I can. There are a few things to sort out for when I return. Finding somewhere permanent to live for a start.”

  Libby had said she was welcome to rent the gîte for as long as she liked but while it was big enough to live in, running a haute couture business from there was not possible.

  “The thing is,” she said to Pascal one evening as they sat outside the gîte enjoying a salad supper Evie had prepared, “I’m afraid Malik’s right. I desperately need space to dance in.” She sighed. “I think I have to go back to Paris soon. I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t agreed to dance again. That I could simply stay here and get on with my new life.”

  Pascal took hold of her hand. “But then I wouldn’t have the pleasure of seeing you perform, which I am very much looking forward to. Afterwards, I promise you’ll feel free…free as a papillon to fly back to me.” He bent down to give Lola, curled up at his feet, a stroke before asking, “If you had somewhere to dance, you stay for how long?”

  “Two, maybe three more weeks. Then I’d have ten days to rehearse with the company up in Paris before opening night.”

  Pascal nodded thoughtfully. “D’accord. Perhaps tomorrow evening I take you to look at a place that might be suitable.”

  Evie looked at him hopefully. “You know somewhere? Only the floor will have to be good—wooden like a stage floor.”

  “That is why I need to look before taking you to see.”

  Evie smiled at him before gently leaning in and kissing his cheek. “Merci.” An hour later as she waved Pascal goodbye she found herself praying that wherever Pascal had in mind would be possible. The thought of having to drag herself back to Paris early, not seeing Pascal for weeks and leaving the beginnings of her new life here, wasn’t something she even wanted to think about.

  “I do so hope I can use this room Pascal thinks will be suitable,” she said to Libby the next morning. “I feel so comfortable here. Paris—” she shrugged “—it no longer feels like my home. I know going back will only be temporary but I wish it wasn’t necessary.”

  Libby smiled sympathetically. “I understand. When I’d made the decision to buy the auberge, I just wanted it to happen instantly.”

  “Have you heard how Bruno is?” Evie asked.

  “Brigitte says he should be home next week—with instructions to take it easy and a diet sheet.”

  Evie’s mobile on the table between them beeped. “Excuse me for a moment, it’s Pascal.”

  “This evening I collect you at seven o’clock and show you the floor I promised you. I think it is good. Then we walk Lola.” He hesitated before adding, “And then my mother has asked us to have supper with her.”

  “Just us? Not any of her friends this time? OK. See you later,” Evie said, pulling a face at Libby as she pressed the off switch.

  “Problem?” Libby asked.

  “Marquisa has issued a supper invitation for this evening.” She sighed. “I hope it’s nothing like her dinner party.”

  Evie climbed into Pascal’s Land Rover that evening to be greeted affectionately by both Pascal and Lola. Pascal, she was relieved to see, was casually dressed in jeans and a pale blue linen shirt. Hopefully this meant her own casual outfit of white cropped trousers and a Breton sweatshirt would pass tonight’s supper dress code.

  Pascal surprised her by driving straight to his home, but instead of parking he drove on round to the back of the house and followed another track for a short distance before stopping in front of a stone barn out of sight of the main house.

  “My father used this as his studio and as the estate office. Me, I do not need a studio and I prefer my office in the pépinière.” Turning a key in the large wooden door he pushed it open and Evie stepped inside.

  The empty interior stretched away from her for forty feet with a high, black-beamed open ceiling but it was the wooden floor that made her gasp with del
ight.

  “This is perfect,” she said smiling at Pascal. “If I can rig up a barre as well, I can practise everything I need to in here. My pointe work, bourrée and all les fouettés I’ll need for Swan Lake.” She did an experimental twirl into the middle of the barn. “The space is wonderful.”

  “And afterwards you use it for your business, yes? We can fit it out with shelves and tables—even a small boutique at one end.”

  “Really? Marquisa would let me?”

  “Of course. She suggested it.” Pascal looked at his watch. “Time to walk Lola before supper.” Locking the barn behind them, Evie followed Pascal down the path towards a small wood before a stretch of open countryside.

  “Your land?” she asked, as Pascal threw a ball for Lola to chase and fetch.

  Pascal nodded. “I rent it out to a local farmer these days.”

  “How much land do you actually have?” Evie suspected Pascal and his mother were wealthier than she’d thought.

  “Now, about three thousand hectares. We sold some off when my father died to pay tax and things. Ideally I’d like to sell about half of what’s left—the pépinière is enough for me but mother won’t hear of it.”

  Marquisa was waiting for them when they returned to the house. “Suzette, welcome,” she said, kissing Evie on both cheeks. “I was hoping you’d call in and see me after the dinner party but Pascal he tells me you have been busy.”

  “There is a lot to sort before I return to Paris,” Evie said, resisting the urge to tell Marquisa to please call her Evie. She’d only ignore the instruction anyway if what Pascal had said was correct.

  “You like the barn? It is suitable for you to practise dancing in?”

  “Thank you. It’s perfect,”

  “Bon,” Marquisa said. “It will be good to have the studio in use again.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Libby

  Libby walked down through the village towards Brigitte and Bruno’s, struggling to make Hope behave on the end of the lead and to stop pulling. Lucas had given her a couple of lessons and already the puppy was responding—especially when Lucas was holding the lead.