A French Pirouette (7 page)

Slowly Madame Patem followed Libby up the stairs, leaning heavily on the bannister for support at one point. Libby glanced at her, concerned. Was her first guest going to be a liability?

“If you need anything please ask,” Libby said opening the bedroom door. “Breakfast is at eight-thirty—if that time’s all right for you?”

“I never eat breakfast, so it is not important. Just coffee please. Now I sleep—it’s been a long day. Thank you. I will see you in the morning.” And the bedroom door was firmly closed behind Madame Patem.

Feeling as though she’d been dismissed, Libby made her way back downstairs and out to the remnants of the rally tea. Brigitte glanced at her. “Everything all right with Madame Patem?”

Libby nodded. “Think so. She doesn’t look well though. Hope she doesn’t collapse on me.”

The next morning, Libby poured a mug of coffee and pushed it across the kitchen table to Chloe. “Can’t believe you’re really going today. So quickly.”

Chloe nodded. “It’ll give me a couple of days to settle in at Aunty Helen’s and psyche myself up for work.” She hesitated before continuing. “Are you sure you’re all right about me leaving you here alone?”

“Of course. Besides I’m not alone.” Libby jerked her head up towards the ceiling. “I have a guest. And more booked in for next week.”

“I still feel guilty though,” Chloe said quietly. “I know we’d planned…”

“Chloe, stop it. This internship’s a great opportunity for you. Make sure you make the most of it. Anyway, you’ll be back for a holiday before you start college, won’t you?”

“Probably even before—just for a weekend,” Chloe said. “Depending on how much work they give me.”

“Good. Now about the car. It had a full service before we came over so there shouldn’t be any problems but don’t forget to check the tyre pressures before you leave. I’m sure Uncle Pete will keep an eye on it for you over there.”

“Mum! Stop fussing. That’s another thing. How will you manage until you buy a car?” Chloe looked at her mother worriedly.

“I can walk into the village—I can find most things there. Anyway, Lucas has promised to help me find a car quickly—and more importantly he’ll check it over before I buy,” Libby said.

Chloe looked at her but before she could say anything the phone rang.

Libby got up to answer it. “Good morning, Brigitte.”

“There was silence in the kitchen as Libby listened before saying, “Thank you. Yes I’ll tell her.”

Replacing the receiver Libby said, “Brigitte thinks I’m going to be upset and lonely when you’ve gone so she’s invited me to lunch one day next week. Think she wants to show off her new kitchen. She wishes you all the best for your job by the way—she’s going to try and pop up later, to say goodbye.”

“Right. I’m going to finish packing and then load the car.” Chloe stood up.

“When you’re ready I’ll help you carry stuff down,” Libby said. “Oh,
bonjour
Madame Patem. Can I get you a coffee?”

“Please,” Evie said.

Libby, about to suggest that Evie went into the dining room, decided against it and pointed to the chair Chloe had just left. One of the things she’d always liked about staying with Brigitte was the friendly make-yourself-at-home atmosphere that things like taking coffee in the kitchen generated. She was determined to continue that particular tradition.

Libby placed a mug of coffee in front of Evie. Evie looked as if she could do with some company this morning.

“Milk? Sugar? Toast?”

Evie shook her head. “Just black. Is there a pharmacy in the village? I think perhaps I ought to have this checked—I had a fall a couple of days ago.” She pulled the sleeve of her jumper up so Libby could see the bruising and swelling around her elbow.

“Nasty. I’m sure the pharmacy will check it out for you. I’ll ring for a taxi, shall I? Unless you want to walk in with me later?”

Evie shook her head. “In my fall I also hurt my ankle. I can’t walk too far. A taxi will be fine.”

“I’d offer to take you,” Libby said. “But Chloe is taking the car today.” She quickly explained about Chloe’s job.

“You will miss her,” Evie said.

Libby nodded. “Of course. But children have to fly the nest don’t they? D’you have any?”

Evie shook her head. “No.” She took a sip of her coffee.

Libby broke the silence that followed Evie’s brief answer. “I know you said you don’t eat breakfast but what about lunch? Dinner?”

Evie shrugged. “I’ll pick something up in the village. I don’t eat a lot anyway. I’ve got some energy bars upstairs.”

Libby hesitated before saying, “Why don’t you have a kitchen supper with me tonight? On the house. It would be nice to have company this evening,” she added quietly. “Chloe will have gone by then.”

There was a slight pause before Evie said, “
D’accord
. I look forward to it. Now, perhaps you could help me organise a taxi?”

Chapter Five

Brigitte and Libby

When Pascal rang to say he’d received the olive tree earlier than expected and could he bring it and the willow tree over, Brigitte agreed immediately.

“Thanks, and Pascal, could you bring a couple of bags of compost with you, please?”

Between them she and Bruno dug a hole by the pond for the willow and a smaller one at the far end of the garden for the olive tree. Now, as she waited for Pascal to arrive, Brigitte wandered around the garden visualising how it would look in a few months’ time when all her new plants and shrubs were settled in.

She was pleased to see that the old wisteria plant over the loggia was already leafy and in bud. With the teak table and chairs placed underneath it would be a perfect spot for lunch with Libby later in the week.

When Pascal arrived Bruno left the kitchen garden, which he’d been digging over, and gave him a hand carrying the trees into the garden.

“D’you want a hand planting them?” Pascal asked.

Bruno shook his head. “No, it’s fine. We manage between us.”

“Pascal, come to lunch on Thursday?” Brigitte said impulsively as she walked back to his truck with him. “I’m planning a mini celebration now we’re more or less settled here.”

As Pascal hesitated she continued, “I know your mama goes to the Bridge club in the village for lunch then, so you don’t have to worry about her—and you close between twelve and three o’clock. Do come.” Knowing how notoriously shy Pascal was she added. “It’s only us and Libby.”

Pascal smiled his thanks. “Twelve-fifteen OK? I look forward to it.”

“Good. Now I go give Bruno a hand,” Brigitte said.

The olive tree was quickly planted in its new home in the sunniest corner of the garden. The larger willow took some time and persuasion to stand upright by the pond but finally it was firmly placed in the ground and secured to a tall stake.

“Right,” Brigitte said. “I’m going to walk up to the auberge and see Libby. She’ll be missing Chloe today I think. Are you coming?”

Bruno shook his head. “While you’re gone I want to make a start on clearing the pond.”

“I do love you,” Brigitte said, leaning forward to kiss his cheek in a rare display of emotion. “I will cook you a special meal tonight.”

“Chicken in your wine sauce? Raspberry pavlova?”

“I’ll be back in an hour to organise it,” Brigitte promised, picking up her bag and coat.

Making her way through the village, Brigitte turned left and took the long flight of narrow steps down the side of La Poste and stepped onto the canal path. Five minutes later and she was opening the auberge gate.

The door of the gîte was open and Brigitte could see Libby inside rearranging furniture.

“Hi,” Libby said, panting from the exertion of pushing the two-seater settee into its new position under the window. “Just giving the place a bit of an airing and thought I’d change things around a bit. What d’you think?”

Brigitte nodded. “Looks better. You have bookings for it?”

“No,” Libby said. “I wanted to get it ready for the summer.” She glanced across at Brigitte. “Did you use it much? I know Dan and I stayed in it one weekend when we came unexpectedly and you were full but I can’t remember anybody staying in it other times when we visited.”

“People seemed to prefer the auberge itself,” Brigitte said. “I did rent it out for winter a few years ago but there are so many gîtes around people are spoilt for choice.”

“I’ll keep it for visiting family and friends then,” Libby said. “Maybe at the end of the season see if anyone would like to rent it for winter.”

“Chloe get off all right?” Brigitte asked.

Libby smiled. “Yes and arrived safely. She sent me a text at midnight last night to tell me!”

“She woke you up?”

“No. Evie and I were still in the kitchen talking. I’d invited her to join me for supper,” Libby explained. “Seemed silly not to when we were both alone.”

Last evening had turned into an unexpected girly evening as the two of them had got to know each other. “Shame she’s only here for a week before she returns to Paris. I think she’s a very private person though,” Libby said now to Brigitte. “She didn’t really tell me a lot about herself.”

Evie, who had assumed Libby was divorced, had been mortified when Libby told her she was a widow.

“You are so brave starting a new life here, in a foreign country, alone. I do not think I could ever do that.”

Libby had shrugged. “It’s an adventure. If it doesn’t work out I can always return to England. What do you do when you’re not ill?” She remembered registering Evie’s hesitant pause before she answered.

“I work in entertainment for the moment. I too am coming to—how you say in English—a crossroads in my life. I have to decide what to do next.”

“Where do you live?”

“Paris.”

“Well there’ll be lots of opportunities up there I expect for you,” Libby had said.

Evie had shaken her head, said, “I’m not so sure,” before changing the subject and asking Libby about Chloe and her planned career.

The rest of the evening had passed pleasantly as they’d made each other giggle with stories about their different life experiences, although Libby realised later that it was her life with Dan that had been the main subject of conversation. Not once had Evie mentioned having a partner, or a boyfriend, in her life.

Chloe’s text message to reassure her mother about her safe arrival at Helen’s had been the signal for them to finally say goodnight and go to bed.

“You have made a new friend,” Brigitte said.

“You know, I think I have,” Libby said. “Brigitte, can I talk to you about the guests who arrive next weekend? They’re regulars, aren’t they? Any tips on what they like and don’t like? They want dinner every evening.”

Brigitte laughed. “That would be the Bichets. They usually come at this time of year. You will like them. For dinner they like lots of salads and
charcuterie
, but they do not like garlic. They love chocolate desserts and they like their coffee really really strong.”

“A non-garlic-liking French family? I don’t believe it.” Libby laughed and turned as there was a gentle knock on the door.

“Hi. May I come in?” Evie said.

“
Bonjour
, Madame Patem,” Brigitte said politely.

“
Bonjour
,” Evie answered.

“How’s your arm?” Libby asked.

“Still painful but better. The pharmacy gave me some ointment to help bring the bruising out. Suggested a sling but—” Evie shrugged “—I prefer not. My ankle being strapped is enough. This is nice. You have guests coming in here?”

Libby shook her head. “No. I’m going to keep it for when family and friends visit and the auberge is full. Chloe has a bedroom in my apartment so I’m not expecting this gîte to be used that much.” She looked at the expensive camera Evie had hanging around her neck. “You’re obviously a keen photographer—I wouldn’t know where to start with a camera that complicated. Has to be a simple point and click for me!”

Evie smiled. “It’s easy really. I’m going to sit on the bench alongside the canal to take some photos. I saw a beautiful heron earlier. I would love to capture a picture of him.”

“Before you go, Madame Patem, Libby is coming for lunch with Bruno and me on Thursday—perhaps you would care to join us?” Brigitte smiled at Evie.

“That is very kind of you. I’d love to. And, please, call me Evie. Thank you. Libby, I’ll see you later.” And Evie turned to make her way slowly towards the canal path.

Chapter Six

Suzette/Evie

The next morning Napoleon, crowing just yards away from her bedroom window, startled Suzette into fitful consciousness. She’d never known such a raucous alarm clock. Like yesterday morning it took her several seconds to realise what the noise was and where she actually was.

As realisation dawned, the same jumbled, panic-stricken thoughts began to stampede through her mind. What was she doing here? She’d been stupid to leave Monaco without telling someone—Malik, anyone—what she was planning to do. If anything happened to her here nobody would know.

Malik. How had he reacted when the hotel concierge had handed him her note? The press would know all about the accident by now. She could just see the headlines in the
Nice Matin
: ‘Has a jeté too many finished accident-prone Suzette Shelby’s career?’

As for telling Libby that she was Madame Evie Patem—what had she been thinking? Why was she trying to keep her whereabouts secret?

Did it really matter to the media where she recovered after this latest accident? Of course not. But she was so tired of fending off questions about injuries, about her imminent retirement. All they seemed to want to do was tell the world that she was past it.

Well she wasn’t past it yet! With a week or two of country living and no stress in her life, her ankle and arm would both mend and she’d be ready to return to Paris and prepare for the autumn show.

Idly she reached out and picked up her mobile phone from the bedside table. Time to check for messages. Below the first missed text message from Malik, “
Chérie
, I hope you had a good journey back to Paris. Look after yourself. I will see you soon. L. xxx.”, there was also a whole new bunch of voice messages. All demanding to know why the hell she wasn’t talking to him.