A French Pirouette (16 page)

“My mother came from Brittany and I liked the idea of returning to her roots,” Evie said quietly. “I needed time out from my normal life. Space around me and time alone to think where there was nobody—like Malik my ex-partner—to apply pressure with the constant: keep exercising, keep dieting, keep in the spotlight.” She drained her coffee mug. “I know my career as a ballerina will finish this autumn and I have to decide what to do next. I didn’t think I could exist away from the world of dance but living here is showing me I can.” She smiled at Libby. “I’m finally beginning to realise I still have a lot of life to live. And I can have a life outside of ballet.”

“So at the end of summer you’ll leave, go back to Paris and become known as Suzette Shelby the retired ballerina,” Libby said.

Evie fiddled with her coffee cup thinking about Libby’s words. That was of course Plan A. Though she’d never truly realised, until Libby said the words, that ‘retired ballerina’ was exactly how she would be viewed in the future. The phrase made her feel so old.

“Yes. When I leave here, Evie Patem will be relegated to the past. A fond memory and a secret between you and me.” She smiled at Libby again.

“Any time Suzette feels the need to get away, Evie will always be welcome to visit,” Libby said smiling back at her. “And now tell me, where did Pascal take you last night?”

“How did you know it was Pascal?” Evie asked surprised.

“Lucas recognised his car.” Libby hesitated before adding, “He was surprised to be honest. He said Pascal’s mother has a huge influence on his life. Controlling even.”

Evie nodded. “He explained to me last night about his father dying and his mother needing him.”

“So where did he take you last night?”

“A lakeside restaurant in Huelgoat,” Evie said. “We had a lovely meal. He’s such a…” She hesitated before adding quietly, “gentleman.” The word described Pascal perfectly.

“D’you think you’ll see him again?” Libby asked.

“He’s promised to take me to the Pont-l’Abbé Embroidery Festival,” Evie said. “So it seems he does manage to get away from his mother from time to time. I think maybe my fellow countrymen are used to handling the most domineering of mothers!”

Chapter Nineteen

Libby

Libby was busy tidying the auberge sitting room when Helen rang Friday morning.

“We need to talk about your birthday party,” she said without any preamble. “It’s not long now.”

“It’s weeks away,” Libby protested.

“And time flies when you’re not ready,” Helen continued. “Now, d’you need me to bring anything for the party you can’t get over there?”

“I’m not sure you’d call the nibbles and champagne I’m planning a party.”

“Libby, people expect more from you. Champagne of course but nibbles? You have to mark the occasion with a proper party. Have you made a list of people you want to come?”

Libby sighed. Helen was clearly in no mood to listen. “I don’t need to write a list. It will just be you and Peter, Brigitte and Bruno, Isabelle, Lucas, Evie, Chloe and her friend. That’s about it. Talking of Chloe, how is she?”

“She’s fine. Told me the other night she’s really looking forward to coming over.”

“Who’s the friend she’s bringing?” Libby asked casually. “Presumably they’ll travel over with you?”

“Think they intend making their own way. I’ve booked the ferry tickets for the day before so I can give you a hand getting ready. Now you’re sure there’s nothing you want me to bring?”

“Can’t think of a single thing,” Libby said. “No wait, there is one thing I can’t find over here and that’s large bags of peanuts for the birds. If you could bring a few with you that would be great.”

Helen gave a loud exasperated sigh. “Libby Duncan, you’re impossible. I’ll talk to you later.”

It was only after she’d put the phone down that Libby realised Helen hadn’t answered her question about who Chloe was bringing with her. Was that deliberate? Or didn’t she know either?

Libby glanced at her watch, eleven-thirty. Just about time to walk along the canal path to the village shop before they closed for lunch. She took Brigitte’s house keys from the hook. She’d check on her houseplants at the same time.

As she set out a group of cyclists were making their way leisurely along the canal path carefully avoiding the worst of the potholes and the tree roots that were pushing up through the tarmac in places. By the time Libby had reached and was climbing the steps up to the lane that linked the path to the village she’d said “
Bonjour
” to a number of walkers who were out enjoying the sunshine and the peaceful countryside.

After quickly buying the baguettes and milk she needed from the shop, she walked on down through the village to Brigitte’s
mas
. As she pushed open the wrought-iron gates that separated the house from the road Lucas pulled up alongside her.

“
Bonjour. Ça va
?” he asked winding down his car window.

“I’m fine. You?” Libby said smiling. That was the thing with Lucas—seeing him invariably made her smile.

“I was on my way to see you,” he said. “Veronique, my sister, is here and I wondered if you’d like to come to lunch tomorrow? I’d say supper but I guess you have visitors to feed then?”

“I’d love lunch tomorrow,” Libby said. “Thank you. Can I bring anything?”

Lucas shook his head. “Just yourself. About twelve o’clock. Have to go—I’m running late.
Bisou
.” He blew her a kiss and was gone.

Wandering around Brigitte’s house watering her various plants, Libby realised she’d completely forgotten that tomorrow was change-over day—generally her busiest day of the week. Thankfully Agnes was booked to work tomorrow from eight a.m. and there were only four bedrooms to change and clean. And even better, none of the new guests were due to arrive before five o’clock so plenty of time to get back from Lucas’s.

Watering the last plant on the windowsill in the sitting room, Libby briefly wondered what Lucas’s sister would be like.

The next morning, despite Lucas telling her she didn’t have to bring anything, Libby didn’t feel comfortable going empty-handed, so she filled a container with some of her home-made cheese biscuits to take with her.

Leaving Agnes to help herself to lunch and promising to be back by three o’clock she set off for her rendezvous at Lucas’s. It was the first time she’d been to the Vétérinaire Centre a kilometre or so outside the village and she looked around as she parked alongside Lucas’s muddy estate car.

A hedge of beech trees separated the modern single-storey building from the surrounding fields on three sides, while the front was open plan with plenty of parking. Flower beds either side of the entrance were filled with sunflowers and daisies. As she got out of the car, the green flashing neon light on the building indicating the surgery was open stopped, the door opened and Lucas appeared.

“Welcome,” he said kissing her on the cheeks three times. “Come and meet Veronique.” Holding Libby by the hand he led her through a maze of small rooms and into his apartment at the back of the building.

“Veronique has set everything up outside,” he said. “I have to warn you—she can be a bit bossy sometimes,” he whispered. “Comes over all big sisterish.”

Libby laughed. She couldn’t imagine anyone bossing Lucas around.

French doors led from the kitchen onto a paved terrace where Veronique was putting the finishing touches to the table for lunch. Lucas quickly made the introductions.

Libby found herself shaking hands with a tiny woman with a blonde elfin haircut streaked with purple. “
Bonjour
. Lovely to meet you,” she said. “How long are you here for?”

“Just the weekend. I come up every couple of months to help Lucas sort out his paperwork. I’m an accountant and Lucas is useless with figures,” Veronique added, shaking her head at her brother. “Let’s eat.” And she gestured at the table. “I’ll fetch the first course.”

“I brought some home-made cheese biscuits,” Libby said. “Lucas said I didn’t need to bring anything but…” And Libby shrugged apologetically as she offered the container to Veronique.

“He was right, but
merci
,” Veronique said before she bustled away to the kitchen.

“See, I told you she was bossy,” Lucas murmured.

“Bossy but nice,” Libby whispered back.

Conversation over lunch strayed from subject to subject but for Libby the best part was when Lucas and Veronique began talking about their childhood. Lucas, according to his sister, had apparently been a very mischievous little boy, forever getting into scrapes that she had to rescue him from.

“No no. That’s not how I remember it at all,” Lucas said at one point, wagging his finger at Veronique. “You were desperate to join in, not to rescue me.” He stopped as his mobile phone rang.

Veronique pulled a face at Libby and leant in to say quietly, “Forever on call. Hope you don’t have a problem with that.”

Surprised at her words Libby looked at her but before she could respond, Lucas was on his feet. “Sorry girls. Accident on the
route nationale
. A cattle truck has got caught up in it. I have to go.” He turned to Libby. “I’ll ring you later. Don’t dash off. Stay and talk to Veronique—just don’t believe everything she tells you about me!” And he was gone.

Veronique sighed. “I’ve lost count of the number of times emergency calls have interrupted Lucas’s off-duty life.”

“It’s like doctors, isn’t it?” Libby said thoughtfully. “Never really off duty. But Lucas clearly loves what he does.”

“He does,” Veronique said. “Animal mad all his life. Always bringing stray dogs and cats home when he was younger. I don’t know a kinder person. But it’s about time he settled down. We’re all so glad he’s finally met someone.”

Libby stared at her. Just what had Lucas been saying to his sister and family about her?

“More rosé?” Veronique asked, picking up the wine bottle and laughing at the look on Libby’s face.

Chapter Twenty

Evie

Evie looked around her as Pascal drove them through the green undulating countryside and on down towards the coast, Pont-l’Abbé and the embroidery festival.

“I’m looking forward so much to today,” she said. “Although I do feel guilty about taking you away from your work at the garden centre.”

“Don’t,” Pascal said as he slowed down approaching a crossroads and the left turn that would take them into Pont-l’Abbé. “We are going to have a fun day together. Forget all our work problems.”

Evie glanced across at him. He had problems with work too? “But it’s your business. You are in charge.”

Pascal nodded. “
Oui
. But always there are problems. With staff. With bureaucracy. With cash flow. With my…” He hesitated. “Oh, just decisions to be made all the time.” He smiled at her. “But today we forget all our problems and enjoy ourselves.”

The sound of Breton bagpipes, the smell of crepes, the sights of processions, Breton dancing, doll exhibitions, costume exhibitions—the day passed in a whirl for Evie. She made note after note, collected business cards, brochures, took photos of some particularly intricate embroidery and was totally amazed by everything she saw.

At one particular haute couture exhibition full of modern designer clothes Pascal turned to her. “Your embroidery is as good, no?” He stopped. “It’s better than anything on show here today, Evie. But I suspect you know that already.” He smiled at her. “Is it what you intend doing in the future? Is that why you’re making all these notes? Gathering information?”

“Perhaps,” Evie said, moving away to look at an intricate wedding dress. She wasn’t ready to talk to Pascal—to anyone—yet about her idea.

“If you’ve got the inclination you can compete with the best of them and make a living.”

Something about the way he said the word ‘inclination’ and the phrase ‘make a living’ made Evie turn to look at him.

“You could do it anywhere too—you wouldn’t have to live in Paris. You could live anywhere,” Pascal continued. “Even here in Brittany.”

Evie inclined her head. “Thank you. I know my embroidery is good. But moving out of Paris is another thing entirely. One that’s definitely not on my current agenda.”

Pascal opened his mouth as if to say something, changed his mind and shrugged. “Come on. Let’s find somewhere to have a coffee before we head for home.”

“Thank you for today,” Evie said when they’d finally found a café with a spare table and the waitress had placed a cafetière of coffee in front of them. “I’ve really enjoyed it.” She hesitated and fiddled with a sugar packet before adding, “I didn’t mean to be rude earlier but I’m still trying to sort things out in my own mind.”

“I know. You said. You’re at a crossroads.” Pascal placed his hand over Evie’s twitching fingers and looked at her, a serious expression on his face. “I’ve very much enjoyed today too. When you want to talk I’m ready to listen.”

“Thank you,” Evie said.

It wasn’t until they were in the car halfway home that Pascal dropped what amounted to a bombshell on Evie.

“I have a confession to make. My mother wants to meet you and I half promised I’d take you to see her before returning you to the gîte.” He glanced at her. “I know it’s been a long day and you’re probably tired but I’d really like the two of you to meet. You’ll be disappearing back to Paris before we know it.”

Evie was silent for a minute remembering the words Libby had used about Pascal’s mother. Controlling. Matriarch. She’d also heard her described as always being elegant and immaculately dressed. Whereas she, Evie, at this moment was tired and her clothes after the day at the festival were no longer immaculate.

But she did owe Pascal something for taking her to Pont-l’Abbé. No, owe was the wrong word—she was truly grateful to Pascal and didn’t want to hurt him by refusing to meet his mother.

“I’ll understand if you’re too tired,” Pascal said into the silence. “We can make it another time.”

“No. This evening is fine,” Evie said. “So long as your mother doesn’t mind my creased clothes.” She glanced down at her cotton frock. Freshly ironed that morning it was less than pristine now.

“Thank you. We won’t stay long I promise,” Pascal said.