A French Pirouette

by Jennifer Bohnet

  She’d quickly developed an early morning routine: shower, dress, cup of tea and then out to feed the chickens and ducks, before heading back into the kitchen to make breakfast for her and Chloe.

  Libby loved spending early morning time alongside what she already thought of as her stretch of canal. Some mornings there was a mist hovering over everything; other mornings the sun had already broken through with the promise of a beautiful day.

  This morning there was a heron high up in one of the trees on the opposite bank. She’d stood watching as he took off, unhurriedly making his way along the canal.

  Back indoors she put the three eggs she’d found in the henhouse on the table and called out to Chloe. “Fancy scrambled eggs for breakfast?”

  “Mmm sounds great. Down in five.”

  Two days ago she and Chloe had done a big supermarket shop, stocking up on basic kitchen ingredients as well as the food for the rally. This morning she planned on making quiches, soup, a couple of sponges and some biscuits for the rally tea this afternoon. Brigitte was joining them later to help with the cooking and also bringing the bread for the sandwiches from the boulangerie and some ham for the baguettes from the village butcher.

  Over breakfast she and Chloe made lists and planned the morning’s baking. By the time Brigitte arrived mid-morning the kitchen was a hub of activity. Sponges cooling on the rack, soup bubbling on the stove, quiches cooking and full biscuit tins.

  Libby looked at Brigitte anxiously. “Is all this OK? What the men—I presume it’s mainly men—will be expecting?”

  Brigitte nodded. “It’s fine. They are always hungry when they return.” She put the crash-hat she was carrying down on the table by the door. “I have told Bruno I will go with him this afternoon if we get everything ready before they leave and you can manage without me.”

  “You ride pillion?” Chloe said. “Aren’t you…”

  “Oui. It’s how we meet a long time ago.” She looked at Chloe. “I’m sure you weren’t going to say I’m too old, were you Chloe?” Brigitte said looking at her.

  “No of course not. I was going to ask aren’t you frightened on the back?” Chloe said. “It’s just that motorbikes terrify me. I can’t imagine ever wanting to ride one.”

  “Oh but Chloe they are such fun. Maybe one day you go with Bruno and…”

  “No,” Chloe interrupted vehemently, causing both Libby and Brigitte to look at her in surprise. “Sorry. But no thank you. I’ll make a start on the sandwiches.”

  Brigitte shrugged before turning to Libby. “Bruno has always had motorcycles but it is a long time since I’ve been able to go on the opening club outing with him. But only if we have everything organised. I’ll be back to help you serve anyway.”

  “We’ll make sure we are organised,” Libby said.

  It was two o’clock when the club members began to arrive. Vintage cars and motorcycles jostled for space in the parking area and on the canal path.

  One of the first to arrival was Pascal and Brigitte quickly introduced him to Libby.

  “Unfortunately I can’t ride this afternoon. I have to get back to the garden centre but as president of the club I like to send them on their way,” he said smiling at Libby as he shook her hand. “I return for tea. Please keep me a slice of that delicious-looking gateau. The chocolate one.”

  Lucas was one of the last to arrive and Libby gazed in admiration at his car as he parked. As Brigitte had said it was a beautiful vintage Delage, which with its gleaming cream and dark blue bodywork and classic sports-car shape looked as though it was starring centre stage on a l930s film set.

  “Bonjour,” he said, striding over to Libby where Brigitte made the official introductions.

  “I know you’ve met in passing but Libby this is Lucas, our local vet and owner of the most lusted-after car in the area,” Brigitte said. “Lucas—Libby.”

  “Nice to meet you, Libby. Thank you for not cancelling this afternoon.” Her hand, taken in a firm grasp was left tingling when he let go and turned to Pascal. “How are things? You joining us today for once?”

  Pascal shook his head. “Non. Duty calls until six o’clock when I’ll be back. Enjoy the drive. Don’t get lost today.”

  “Do people often get lost on these rallies?” Libby asked.

  Lucas shook his head. “Only when Pascal here does the map directions. Today Bruno has done them so it will all be good, eh Brigitte?”

  Brigitte nodded. “Je pense it’s time to get going,” she said.

  Libby and Chloe joined Pascal as he stood watching the cavalcade depart. Lucas, the last to leave, gave them a wave and a toot on his horn as he followed Bruno and Brigitte out onto the path. As he too disappeared, Pascal jumped on his motorbike. “Must get back to the pépinière. I return for the gateau later!”

  “Lots of sexy Frenchmen around here,” Chloe said glancing at Libby. “You’ll be spoilt for choice!”

  “Chloe, stop it!” Libby laughed. “The last thing I need right now is a man in my life. Come on, let’s get organised for their return.” There was definitely no room in it for a sexy Frenchman. She had far too much to do for the foreseeable future, sorting out the auberge.

  For the next couple of hours Libby and Chloe were busy setting out crockery, cutlery and glasses as well as the food on the long trestle table they’d set up on the lawn at the side of the auberge. At least the sun was shining; they could eat outdoors.

  Noticing the mobile phone sticking out of the back pocket of Chloe’s jeans, she said, “Not heard yet then?”

  Chloe shook her head. “Doesn’t look as if I got it. Today was the date of notification.”

  “Doesn’t necessarily mean they’ve kept to it,” Libby said, placing the first of three large quiches on the table. “Sometimes things get delayed.” Looking at the despondent droop to Chloe’s shoulders though, she knew her daughter didn’t believe her. “And don’t forget the time difference.”

  With ten minutes to go before they could expect the first drivers to arrive back for the celebration tea, they’d finished setting everything out. Libby, looking at the table with its bright yellow-and-blue tablecloth laden with all the food she’d prepared, breathed a sigh of relief. It looked good but the real test would come when people started to eat.

  Bruno and Brigitte were among the first riders to return and Brigitte immediately joined Libby to help serve the food, which seemed to be disappearing at an alarming rate.

  “Don’t worry, they’ll slow down in a moment,” Brigitte whispered.

  “Is everybody here?” Libby asked, frantically trying to count heads. Had more than the thirty people she’d been told to expect turned up? “Have I made enough food?”

  “Lucas isn’t back yet, a couple of bikers have probably gone straight home and Pascal, we know, will be late,” Brigitte said. “So, yes I think we have enough. It’s delicious too—so stop worrying.”

  Libby cut a generous slice of chocolate cake and put it to one side. “Pascal,” she said. “Asked me to save him a piece.” She glanced across at Chloe down at the other end of the table talking animatedly into her mobile phone. Her heart sank.

  Chloe flashed her a quick smile and gave her a thumbs-up sign. Did that mean she’d got the job?

  “Ah here’s Lucas,” Brigitte said as the mud-splattered vintage car drew to a stop.

  As Lucas stepped out of the car and made his way over to Libby and the food, Chloe switched off her phone, looked at Libby and mouthed, “I’ve got it!”

  “Your daughter looks happy,” Lucas said.

  “Mmm,” Libby said absently. “I think she’s just got a job—back in England.” She sighed.

  “Is that a problem for you?” Lucas asked, taking the plate of food she handed him.

  “I’m pleased for her but I shall miss her terribly. I’d hoped she’d be here for summer. The main problem though is I shall now have to find another car quickly.” She’d promised Chloe her car when she returned to the UK, knowing she needed to
buy a left-hand drive one once she was settled in. “I thought I’d have more time to find one.”

  “You know about cars?” Lucas asked.

  “No. Dan—my husband—always used to deal with things like that. I’m a total dunce when it comes to all things mechanical.”

  Lots of things had been a steep learning curve when Dan died—finances, insurances, surviving—but Libby knew she’d never master the art of telling a good car from a bad car. She’d have to trust the garage on that.

  “Me, I know a lot about cars,” Lucas said. “If you like, I help you find one?”

  Libby looked at him, surprised. “Thank you, if you’re not too busy. I have to warn you though, I can’t afford vintage!”

  “I will ask around. I also have a friend with a garage in Quimper. He will help as well if necessary.”

  As Libby went to say thank you again, a taxi pulled up on the canal path and she watched as the driver got out and looked around before making his way over to Brigitte.

  “You have guests arriving today?” Lucas asked.

  Libby shook her head. “No. My first guests aren’t due for a couple of weeks.” She waited as Brigitte and the taxi driver made their way over to her.

  “André has a passenger who would like to stay. He forget when he bring her here that I’m not the owner now. But I tell him that’s not a problem,” Brigitte said. “His passenger is welcome.”

  “But, I’m not open,” Libby protested. “Isn’t there anywhere else locally the taxi driver can take her? I’m really not ready.”

  Brigitte wagged a finger at her. “Libby, you ’ave a business now. You have to take the guests when they come. André here always recommends me with the tourists. You turn him away today perhaps he no come with others. You have a room ready, oui?”

  Libby nodded slowly. She had this feeling that once again she was being bulldozed by Brigitte, this time into agreeing to accept her first guest.

  “The lady has been ill and she wants simply to rest and recover in the countryside for a week.”

  Libby took a deep breath. “OK. I’ll just go and check the room while André gets her things out of the taxi.”

  No time now to put a vase of fresh flowers on the dressing table, but Libby grabbed a box of Bretagne biscuits from the kitchen to put on the tea tray she’d set up on all the bedside tables.

  Libby had a quick look around the front bedroom to satisfy herself that everything was in order and there were enough towels and soaps in the en-suite bathroom before going back downstairs ready to greet her first guest.

  Her first thought, when she saw the woman standing in the hallway, was how frail she appeared. “She’s so thin,” Libby whispered to Chloe. “She must have been very ill.”

  Moving across to the woman Libby said, “Welcome to The Auberge du Canal Madame…?”

  “Patem. Madame Evie Patem.”

  Libby smiled. “If you will follow me, Madame Patem, I will show you your room.”

  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 orga
nise 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.”