A French Pirouette Page 8

  “Can’t you get him to slow down? Remind him what happened to Dan,” Libby said.

  Helen shook her head but before she could reply a car horn being pressed in a series of joyful toots sounded outside.

  “That will be Lucas,” Libby said excitedly. “Come and meet him and see my new car.”

  When Lucas had offered to not only help with the registration paperwork but to also collect the car for her, Libby had accepted gratefully.

  “Bonjour, Lucas, ça va?” Libby said as Lucas greeted her with his now customary kiss on the cheek.

  “I am good, thank you,” Lucas replied. “And your car is good too.”

  “She’s even prettier than I remember,” Libby said walking around the car. “I’m really looking forward to driving her. Oh Lucas, meet my sister-in-law Helen.”

  “I have the papers for you to sign,” Lucas said after shaking hands with Helen. “You have the green insurance ticket for the windscreen?”

  Libby nodded. “It arrived yesterday.”

  “Bon,” Lucas said glancing at his watch. “I will post the signed papers on my way to evening surgery.”

  While Lucas spread the papers on the kitchen table, Libby fetched the envelope from the insurance company and handed it to him before making the coffee.

  “Right. You need to sign this one, and this one, initial this one and sign this one,” Lucas said handing her a pen. “While you sign I’ll just go and put the insurance ticket in the windscreen.”

  “I know the French love their paperwork,” Libby laughed. “But this is over the top!”

  Lucas shrugged. “It’s normal. Everyone now has proof you own the car and it’s a legal transaction.”

  “I have to admit I’d never have found my way through all this paperwork. Can’t thank you enough,” Libby said.

  “Sure you can. You can take me for a drive and buy me a drink,” Lucas said looking at her. “I’m free most evenings after about seven.”

  “Now there’s an offer you can’t refuse,” Helen said.

  “Oh but I can,” Libby said lightly. “Sorry, Lucas, but I’ve got evening meals to organise these days. Maybe when the summer is over? In the meantime how about I make you a cake instead? What’s your favourite?”

  “Chocolate. Not the same but so long as you share it with me, I suppose it will have to do,” Lucas said shaking his head at her, before going outside to the car.

  Helen shook her head at her too. “He’s so nice. You should have agreed. Be good for you to have a man in your life again.”

  “Right now getting this place up and running is enough. I don’t need a man in my life,” Libby said. However attractive and helpful he might be. “It would just complicate things.”

  After Lucas left, Libby and Helen carried some nibbles, a bottle of wine and two glasses down to the small teak table under the rose-covered pergola in the side garden overlooking the canal weir.

  “Thought we’d indulge ourselves for half an hour before we start preparing dinner,” Libby said, pulling the cork out of the wine bottle and pouring two glasses.

  “It’s so peaceful here,” Helen said, taking a glass and settling herself in a chair. “No traffic noise at all.”

  “The tranquility is one of the things Dan and I loved most about this place,” Libby said. “Also there does seem to be a certain magic here. Santé,” she added, picking up her own glass and clinking it with Helen’s.

  “Another thing I can’t quite believe is how busy you are already,” Helen said.

  Libby shrugged. “That’s still down to Brigitte really. She built up a good reputation over the years and most of the guests are regulars. The test will be next summer seeing if they return.”

  “I know the Bichets are long-standing customers, but the family that just turned up,” Helen said. “They seem more than happy with what you offer.”

  Libby smiled happily. So far people did seem to appreciate her style of hospitality. “This evening when the Pauls arrive, I’ll be full for the first time,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind being roped in to help? I feel I’m hijacking your holiday.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m only too happy to help,” Helen said. “But you’re clearly going to need more help for the rest of the summer.”

  Libby nodded. “I already have someone from the village organised to start next month. Brigitte has promised to come and help this evening and tomorrow night.”

  “So what are we cooking tonight?” Helen asked.

  “Starters will be les beignets de fleurs de courgettes.”

  “Oh I loved those when you did them for Peter and me that time,” Helen said. “I’d never have dreamt courgette flowers could be so delicious.”

  “Main course is cod with white wine sauce, served with asparagus and new potatoes. Followed by the obligatory cheese board and then dessert is either tarte Tatin or raspberries and fromage frais. Sound all right?” Libby asked.

  “Sounds delicious. It’s a good job I’m only here for ten days,” Helen said. “As it is, I’ll be dieting for the next month when I get home.”

  They both turned hearing a car stop in the auberge parking area. “Better go see who that is,” Libby said standing up.

  To her surprise Brigitte got out of the car with two people she’d never seen before.

  “Libby, this is Kevin and Tracey Chambers—they need your help. Been badly let down with their house purchase and need somewhere to stay while it resolves itself. Three nights at the most.”

  “What’s happened?” Libby asked as she shook hands with the couple.

  “They’ve come over to complete the purchase today and move into the cottage over Spezet way tonight. But the vendor is declining to let them have access to water and electricity. The notaire says they can’t complete until he’s sorted it—in their favour. He’s promised it will be finalised by the end of the weekend, but in the meantime they need somewhere to stay.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Libby said. “I can’t help. I have guests arriving this evening for the last available room and I’m full for the next week.” She turned to Brigitte. “Do you know anyone else who could maybe help?”

  Brigitte shook her head. “Everywhere, like you, is full.” She glanced at Libby. “What about the gîte? You’ve got that ready, haven’t you?”

  “It’s clean and tidy but I haven’t decorated yet. But yes, it’s empty. You are welcome to stay in it until you move into your cottage if that helps,” she said.

  “Thank you,” Tracey said. “You’re a lifesaver.”

  “I’ll get the key and some bedding,” Libby said.

  Helen volunteered to make up the gîte bed and see to anything else that needed doing to make the place ‘guest ready’, while Libby and Brigitte started dinner preparations in the auberge.

  Beating the batter for the courgette starter Libby looked across at Brigitte. “You OK? You look a bit tired.”

  Brigitte sighed. “I tell you Isabelle come soon?”

  “You must be looking forward to that,” Libby said.

  “Oui and non. I do not understand why she come alone? Bruno think maybe she and Laurent are having problems.” Brigitte rinsed the salad and rocket leaves that were to accompany the courgette flowers and spun them vigorously in the salad drainer. “I try to ring her the other night but there was no reply.”

  “Laurent is probably too busy with work,” Libby said, remembering how happy Isabelle and Laurent had been on their wedding day four years ago. Their wedding—the only French one she and Dan had ever been to—had been such a joyful affair. The whole village had celebrated with the happy couple and Isabelle had been so vivacious she’d positively radiated with happiness that day.

  “Perhaps. He is responsible for several people now,” Brigitte said. “He works long hours I know.” She began to scrub the new potatoes ready for cooking. “I try not to worry but I can’t stop. Perhaps I need more to do.”

  “Well, you know you’re more than welcome to help me up here
,” Libby said, glad to be given an opportunity to change the subject. Nothing she could say would stop Brigitte worrying until she could talk to Isabelle face to face. “Extra hands are always welcome.” And having Brigitte around to help her regularly would have been ideal.

  “Bruno he keeps talking about going away on vacance.”

  “A holiday somewhere warm could be just what you need. Are you still thinking about starting a monthly Supper Club?”

  Brigitte nodded. “Yes but I think I wait until after the summer. September would be good.” She paused. “I know then too what is going on with Isabelle.”

  For several moments they worked in companionable silence. Libby making the tarte Tatin and Brigitte preparing the asparagus before placing them in the steamer.

  “Libby, could I have a word please?” Evie asked standing in the kitchen doorway.

  Libby looked around in surprise. “Sure. Coffee?”

  Evie shook her head. “No thanks. It’s about my stay here.”

  “You want to check out?”

  “No no. The opposite. I want to stay for the summer. But not in the auberge. I would like to rent the gîte from you as from tomorrow.”

  “Oh! Evie, I’m sorry. There are two people moving into it right now.”

  “How long are they staying?” Evie asked disappointed.

  “Three days they think.”

  “After that I could rent it for the rest of the summer?”

  “Well yes,” Libby said. “But I thought you had to get back to Paris soon?”

  Evie shrugged. “Not necessarily, although if I can’t move into the gîte right away, I think I’ll perhaps take the opportunity to go up for a quick visit to sort a few things out and to collect some extra clothes and bits and pieces I’ll need for a longer stay.”

  “I’m so glad you want to stay here for the summer,” Libby said smiling at Evie. “I’ll make sure the gîte is ready for you to move into when you get back.”

  Chapter Ten

  Suzette

  Suzette stood on the small balcony of her apartment looking down at the Paris traffic. Normally when she returned from being away she was relieved to be back and stood here to soak up the frenzy of the City of Light contentedly knowing she was home. But today, for some reason, the magic simply wasn’t there.

  Today the rue looked unkempt with litter blowing about in the breeze and somehow the noise and bustle of people and the city traffic with its loud hooters and sirens made everything feel belligerent. As if everyone was personally fighting a war of survival. Suzette sighed. How was it possible things had changed so much?

  This was silly. It was her home. She only felt unsettled because of the changes she knew she was facing in her life. A long holiday in the countryside would surely help her in deciding which way her future lay but it was to this apartment she’d have to return at the end of summer to begin her new life.

  Resolutely Suzette went inside and closed the French windows. She had two whole days ahead of her with lots of things planned and she was determined to make the most of them but first she’d have a session in the studio. See how her ankle responded.

  As the slow melodic music filled the air, Suzette placed her hand on the barre and began her familiar five-position exercise routine, carefully placing her feet in the correct positions and trying to ignore the increasing twinges from her ankle. Ten minutes later, after attempting to keep her heels flat on the floor in the demi-plié position and almost losing her balance, she switched the music off. Pointless to force things. Her ankle would be better for a longer rest.

  She made her way to the bedroom cupboard and took out a suitcase. Might as well make a start on packing a few things. Shoes and clothes first. What next? Her gaze fell on her beloved musical jewellery box. A present from her mother when she was just three, it had always held a very special and important place in her life.

  As a tiny toddler she’d watched enchanted as the ballerina in a classic pirouette pose twirled around and around. She’d wound and rewound the tinkling music, spending hours in front of her bedroom mirror trying to twirl on her toes like the miniature ballerina on the box. And every night the gentle strains of the ‘Vienna Waltz’ by Johann Strauss Jr had soothed her to sleep.

  Taking the box to Brittany and having it in her bedroom at the gîte would instantly make the place feel more like her home for the summer. Carefully she wrapped the box in a protective cloth before placing it in the suitcase.

  Now for some material and embroidery silks. The cape with its intricate Lesage tribute she’d been working on before Monaco was finally finished and she was itching to start something else.

  Infuriatingly she couldn’t find anything in the pile of new material she kept in her sewing cupboard that inspired her. At least she now had an excuse to go to the Marché Saint-Pierre tomorrow and see what treasures she could find.

  With the suitcase already half full Suzette decided to leave the packing until she’d done the shopping she planned to do. At this rate if she wasn’t careful she’d end up having to take two suitcases back to the auberge.

  Suzette was up early the next day and after nipping out for a croissant and coffee, which she ate sitting on the balcony, she got ready for a happy few hours wandering around her two favourite markets. First up would be the textile market.

  Suzette loved choosing material at the Marché Saint-Pierre. So many shops and bazaars full of a variety of her favourite materials—velvets, linen and silks to name but three.

  Today she even loved the time-consuming business of actually buying some fabric in the large store that bore the market’s name; first find a bolt of the material you wanted, then find an assistant to cut it for you, hand you a bill, find the cash desk, pay and then return to the same assistant to claim your purchase. It would have been easier to shop in one of the many smaller outlets but she’d fallen totally in love with some stunning scarlet velvet material she planned to use as a base for some cushion covers.

  Standing waiting to pay for the several pieces of material she’d chosen she picked up a leaflet advertising the Fête des Brodeuses, Pont-l’Abbé, Bretagne. Thoughtfully Suzette placed it in the bag with her purchases. Pont-l’Abbé wasn’t far from the auberge. An exhibition of embroidery and costumes sounded interesting and might give her some design ideas for her own work.

  It was nearly lunchtime before Suzette had completed her material purchases so she hailed a cab to take her to the Marché des Enfants Rouges where she intended to indulge in one of her favourite meals, cornet végétarien, prepared by one of the market’s regular stallholders.

  Waiting and watching as her favourite galette was being cooked and filled she began to exchange her usual banter with the cook. To her surprise while he was friendly enough he didn’t really engage with her like he usually did.

  It wasn’t until she sat eating her salad-filled galette that she realised why. He hadn’t recognised her. She was wearing her Evie wig. As far as he was concerned she was just a passing customer, not one of his regulars. Suzette smiled to herself. She was beginning to enjoy going incognito. It certainly made a change from being asked for her autograph whenever she was recognised.

  Once back in the apartment Suzette placed the materials in the case, along with some candles she’d been unable to resist in the Marché des Enfants Rouge. Then, after pouring herself a glass of wine, she stepped out onto the balcony with a happy sigh. Once she’d become acclimatised again to the hustle and bustle of city life she’d enjoyed herself. She was looking forward though to getting back to Brittany and the peace and quiet that surrounded the auberge.

  Tomorrow she’d give the concierge a large stamped envelope and ask him to forward her post to Brittany for the next couple of months. She’d need to swear him to secrecy and make him promise not to give out the address to anyone. A bribe of a larger Christmas bonus than usual should do the trick.

  Later that evening as she was finishing her packing ready to leave in the morning, her mobile ra
ng. Suzette answered it without even glancing at the caller ID. She knew instinctively it was Malik.

  “You are talking to me then,” he said. “How’s country life?”

  “Actually I’ve been in Paris for the past few days,” Suzette said. “I needed to pick some things up.”

  “Haven’t changed your mind about hibernating for the summer then?”

  “No.”

  “I’m back from Geneva late on Monday. Any chance you’ll still be around?”

  “Afraid not,” Suzette said. “I’m off early tomorrow. How did it go? Sponsorship deal going ahead?”

  “One or two little details to sort but yes, will all be signed by the end of the week.”

  “I’m pleased for you,” Suzette said. “Can you say more or is it still hush-hush?”

  “Tell you all about it when we next see each other,” Malik said. “Any idea when that’s likely to be?”

  “Non. At least a couple of weeks,” Suzette said. She heard Malik sigh.

  “Rehearsals for Swan Lake will start first week in September so you’d better be back by then. You are exercising and at least doing some barre work, aren’t you?”

  Suzette heard the anxiety in his voice and crossed her fingers as she said, “Yes, I’m exercising.” No point in telling Malik how painful her ankle was after one session at the barre and a day walking around Paris.

  “I’ll phone you next week to see how you are,” Malik said. “Promise me no more ignoring my calls.”

  “I promise,” Suzette said. “Just don’t hound me. I really and truly need the time and space to decide what the future holds for me.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Libby

  Libby had to admit having Helen around to lend a hand with the routine auberge chores was a big help. With so many breakfasts to prepare, serve and clear up afterwards though, it was nearly eleven o’clock Sunday morning before Libby was able to begin to relax for the day. She’d promised to show Helen around a local beauty spot followed by lunch at a riverside restaurant.

  Libby took the sight of the sun trying to break through the clouds just as they were leaving for Châteauneuf-du-Faou as an auspicious sign and folded down the roof on Bella before they set off.