“This holiday is going so quickly,” Helen said as Libby negotiated one of the many bends in the road leading down to the small town.
“That’s probably because I’ve been working you so hard,” Libby said. “I’m sorry.”
“No. It’s been fun. I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. It’s a beautiful part of France. Oh look at that chateau across the valley,” Helen said. “It’s pink.”
Libby laughed. “That’s Trévarez—known locally as The Pink Chateau for obvious reasons. Don’t think we’ve got time to go there today. Next time you’re over we’ll go. You’ll love exploring the grounds. Peter would be interested in the chateau’s wartime history too I think.”
Libby parked in the centre of the small town and they had a coffee at a flower-decorated pavement café before returning to the car and heading down the long hill to the river. Before starting their walk alongside the river, Libby booked a table for lunch at one of the waterside restaurants.
“Right—let’s work up an appetite,” she said, moving to one side of the path to let a woman with two excited border collies on leads pass. “We’ll go this way.”
They stopped to watch a group of young boys launch canoes and, with lots of encouraging shouts to each other, begin to head upstream. Libby and Helen stood for a few moments longer, letting two cyclists and a jogger pass before moving on. As the path followed the river and wound away from the houses they heard a series of barks and yapping in a field bordering the path. A large notice by the entrance proclaimed it to be the local dog-training session.
A dozen or so women were standing in a long line, each with a dog at their side. One by one the dogs were paraded up and down the line in an effort to try and convince the instructor they were well behaved.
“Isn’t that your vet boyfriend?” Helen asked indicating the instructor, who was standing apart from the line watching and occasionally offering a quiet word of advice. “Think he’s got quite a fan club going there with women of a certain age. There isn’t another man in sight.”
Libby nodded. “Yes it’s Lucas. But he’s not my boyfriend.”
“Well he did ask you out,” Helen said. “Still can’t understand why you didn’t accept.”
“Like I told you and him—I’m too busy.” Libby laughed as a young border collie slipped its collar and made straight for Lucas, jumping up and down and running around him. “I’d love a dog again,” she said, watching the collie and remembering Tess, the dog who’d been a part of their family for over fourteen years. She, Chloe and Dan had all been devastated when Tess had died—just six months before Dan himself. “Maybe I’ll look out for one when summer is over and I’ve got more time.”
“Then you can join this class and Lucas can help you train it,” Helen teased her. “Look he’s seen us.”
Acknowledging Lucas’s wave with one of her own and a friendly smile Libby said, “Come on, let’s leave them to it and get back to the restaurant.” She wished Helen would stop going on about her getting together with Lucas. As far as she was concerned that was a definite no-no although she was grateful for his help with the car.
She decided not to remind Helen about the chocolate cake she’d promised to make Lucas as a thank you for helping with the car. Helen was sure to tease her. It was bad enough that for some stupid reason since he’d helped her with purchasing Bella, she was starting to feel self-conscious every time she saw Lucas these days.
If she did get a dog in a few months, she’d train it herself. No way would she join this Sunday morning fan club of Lucas’s.
Twenty minutes later they were sitting at their table, glasses of rosé in hand, studying the menu.
Helen looked at Libby.
“It’s good to see you looking happy again. You are happy, aren’t you? I mean I know you miss Chloe and Dan of course but you’re building a new life for yourself here.” Helen sighed. “I’m quite envious actually.”
“Envious? Oh Helen, please don’t be. Yes I am happy here but I still miss Dan. I’d love it to be the two of us running the auberge. Living our dream together.” She glanced at Helen. “Promise me when you get back you’ll talk to Peter. Get him to take things easier. You need to start living whatever dreams the two of you have—before it’s too late. Like it was for Dan and me.”
Chapter Twelve
Brigitte
Brigitte was at the bottom of her garden creating a small border and planting some bedding plants around the olive tree when Isabelle arrived.
Delighted to see her, she stood up to give her a hug, before stepping back and looking at her. “You look well,” she said. “Positively blooming. How is Laurent? Am so sorry he hasn’t come with you.”
“He’s fine. Just very busy at work. Sends his love.”
Brigitte smiled. “You were very mysterious on the phone with Bruno—what’s this visit all about?” She didn’t mention the phone calls that had gone unanswered. The quicker they got any bad news out of the way the better but Isabelle shook her head.
“Later. Need to talk to you both. This garden will be amazing when you’ve finished,” she said looking around.
“Thank you,” Brigitte said stifling a sigh. Needing to talk to them both didn’t bode well. “Come on, let’s go and get you settled in. I’ve put you in the big room at the back that used to be Grandma’s. I hope you like it.”
“It’s weird coming here and not to the auberge,” Isabelle said as they made their way up the stairs. “I nearly gave the taxi driver the wrong address. Are you settled and happy here now? And how’s Libby coping at the auberge?”
“Libby’s well. I couldn’t have sold to a better person. She has a full house this week and is loving it,” Brigitte said. “And yes, I think I’m settled and happy here now.” Whether she was to remain happy or not depended on what Isabelle wanted to talk about.
It wasn’t until later that evening when they were all sitting around the table under the loggia having dinner that Isabelle finally broached the subject of her visit—and that was only after Bruno had asked.
“So ma petite, why are you here? And more importantly why are you here alone?”
Brigitte held her breath waiting for Isabelle to reply.
“It’s Laurent,” Isabelle began. “He’s been promoted at work and will be doing a lot more travelling—Italy, Angleterre and even India on occasions. He’ll be away for weeks at a time.”
Brigitte watched her as she fiddled nervously with the salad on her plate. So did Laurent’s absence on business mean that Isabelle was giving up on her marriage?
“Are you and Laurent separating?” Brigitte demanded. She couldn’t bear the suspense a moment longer.
“Non! Whatever gave you that idea? It’s just that Laurent’s work HQ will be based in Paris now so even when he is not travelling he will have to spend his time there and not in Nice.
“So we’ve, or rather I’ve decided and Laurent has agreed, that I’m going to move back to Bretagne rather than stay down south alone for weeks at a time. He knows I’ve never really settled down there. That I would prefer to be near family.”
Brigitte let out a huge sigh of relief.
“Where are you going to live?” Bruno asked.
“That’s why I’ve come up to start looking for a house and to ask a favour.” She took a deep breath. “Can we—well it will be mainly me on my own at first—please live with you for a few months while I find somewhere?”
“Oh I don’t know about that,” Bruno said with a straight face. “Your mama and me have got used to being alone.”
“Bruno. Stop that nonsense this minute!” Brigitte said. “Now is not the time to tease.” She smiled as she looked at Isabelle. “I can’t think of anything we’d like better. Of course you can stay here while you house-hunt. Stay as long as you like.”
“Your mama is right,” Bruno said. “It will be like old times having you here. How long are you staying this visit?”
“Laurent is in Italy at the moment, due back
next week. I’ll need to be back home by then so about five days. I’m going to start registering with local estate agents and begin to find out what’s available.
“There is one more thing,” Isabelle said looking at Brigitte. “I’m hoping to persuade one of you to come down south for a few days and help me pack up the house ready for moving. I could do with the help.”
“We could both come and have a vacance at the same time,” Bruno said.
Brigitte looked at him. A vacance. Didn’t he remember how much work was involved in moving just from the auberge to here? A holiday it wasn’t. And Nice was a thousand kilometres away.
“What?” Bruno said seeing the expression on her face.
“Surely you remember how stressful moving is?” she said.
“Of course I do. But we could go down early and have a few days holiday before starting the packing. We could both do with some sun.”
“It’s a great idea, Dad,” Isabelle said. “Come back with me and I can show you Antibes, Cannes and Monaco—all the fun places—before we start packing the house up.”
“It would be our first summer holiday in I don’t know how many years,” Bruno said. “Never had the opportunity to go down south in the summer before. You were always busy with the auberge being so popular.”
Brigitte looked at him. This was the second time Bruno had mentioned he’d missed going away for summer holidays because she was so busy with the auberge. He’d always seemed happy with the various long weekends they’d taken—usually in winter she had to admit.
And Isabelle? Intuition told her that Isabelle wasn’t telling them the full story behind her desire to come back home. Maybe over the next few days she’d relax and share the rest of her news.
“D’accord. I give in.” Brigitte smiled. “We will have a family holiday before the hard work starts.”
“Bon. That’s settled,” Bruno said. “A vacance in the south of France. It will do us good.”
Chapter Thirteen
Libby
“Are you sure you don’t mind helping me clean the gîte? It is the last day of your holiday,” Libby asked Helen.
With their house purchase finally sorted, the Chambers had left and Libby needed to clean and prepare the gîte ready for Evie’s return. “I still feel as though I’m imposing on you.”
“Don’t be silly,” Helen said. “I’ve got the reward of an hour or two at the village fete this afternoon to look forward to.”
Between the two of them the gîte was quickly sparkling clean and the perfume from the vase of roses and lavender Libby placed in the sitting room began to waft through the small cottage.
“Are you going to transfer Evie’s belongings over from the auberge?” Helen asked.
Libby shook her head. “No. I did think about it but decided against it. She might take it as an invasion of her privacy. I’ll offer to give her a hand if she wants me to when she gets back.”
A horn tooted outside. “La Poste,” Libby said. Amongst the usual collection of promotion material there was a letter addressed to Evie.
“Strange. It’s got a local postmark. Didn’t think Evie knew anyone locally,” Libby said, propping it up against the vase of flowers after glancing at it curiously. “Right, lunch and then it’s fete time.”
Walking into the village later Helen said, “I’m so looking forward to bringing Peter here at the end of summer. You planning anything special for your birthday?”
“Don’t think so,” Libby said. “To be honest I’m not looking forward to the big four-oh. I’d far rather ignore it.” Like the last three since Dan had died. It had been impossible to celebrate without him at her side.
“Think Chloe will insist you have a party—and actually so do I! Come on, Libby, you must celebrate. It’s an important milestone in life!”
“Well with you, Peter and Chloe here I’m sure we’ll manage to crack a bottle of champagne, if not have an actual party,” Libby said. Helen sighed and shook her head at her in despair.
The fete, held in the village picnic area down by the canal, was in full swing when they arrived, with music blaring out from the loudspeakers placed either side of a temporary stage where a group of musicians were performing. A large circle of people, hands linked, were dancing a traditional Breton dance in front of it, whilst onlookers clapped their encouragement.
Libby and Helen made their way over to Brigitte and Bruno who were standing enjoying a coffee by the crepe stall while they watched the dancing.
“Isabelle not with you?” Libby asked disappointed. She’d been looking forward to catching up and hearing all her news.
“But yes,” Brigitte said pointing to the dancers. “There she is. It’s as if she’s never been away.”
“How is she?” Libby asked. “Everything all right?”
Brigitte nodded happily. “Yes.” Quickly she explained to Libby about Laurent’s promotion and Isabelle’s decision to move back. “We’re going down soon to help her pack. But before we pack we also have a short holiday in Nice.”
As the song the musicians were playing came to an end, Isabelle, accompanied by Lucas, left the circle and came across to join them.
“Libby, how nice to see you here. Come on, let me teach you Breton dancing.” And before she realised it he’d taken her by the hand and was leading her towards the circle of dancers as the music started up again.
Libby tried desperately to ignore the electric tingle that Lucas’s touch had ignited in her hand and arm as she said, “Lucas, I ca…”
“You’ll soon pick it up,” Lucas assured her. “It’s very easy. Just watch and follow my steps. It’s very repetitive.”
Libby smiled and gave in. “OK.”
As Lucas’s hand held hers even tighter, she took hold of the hand of the woman on the other side of her and as the music started she joined in with enthusiasm.
A minute later as Libby was happily stepping and swinging Lucas glanced at her. “Something tells me you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
“Brigitte taught me years ago,” Libby admitted. “Dan never liked dancing but as you don’t need a partner for this I could just join in with the crowd.”
“And there was me thinking I could teach you.” Lucas sighed.
Libby shook her head when at the end of the dance he asked, “Again?”
“Maybe later when I’ve got my breath back. I hadn’t realised I was so unfit.”
Looking around for Helen, Libby saw she, Brigitte and Isabelle had managed to secure a picnic table in the shade. “Shall we join Helen and the others in the shade over there?”
As he strolled alongside her, Lucas asked, “Libby, do you like jazz?”
“Some of it,” Libby said. “Not that keen on modern stuff—prefer the traditional. Proper jazz and swing.”
“There’s a group of us planning to go to the local Jazz Fest one evening. Would you like me to get you a ticket? It’s down by the river and is usually good fun—a mix of modern and traditional jazz.”
Libby hesitated. Going with Lucas and a group of people couldn’t be construed as a date could it? She liked Lucas a lot and she did need to expand her social life. Maybe some of his friends would, in time, become her friends too. But she didn’t want him to think it was a date.
“Thank you. I’ll look forward to it. Let me know how much the ticket is and I’ll…”
Lucas interrupted her and shook his head. “No need. My treat.”
Helen overheard the words ‘my treat’ and looked at her questioningly but before she could say anything Bruno and Pascal appeared carrying trays of cold drinks.
“Left the pépinière in safe hands this afternoon then?” Lucas asked accepting a lager from Pascal.
“I think most of my customers are down here, so not expecting a lot of sales,” Pascal said. “Besides with Mother opening this there was no way I was going to be allowed to miss it.”
“Where’s your mother now?” Libby asked, intrigued at the possibility of meet
ing the infamous Madame de Guesclin. She’d heard so much about Pascal’s matriarch of a mother from Brigitte.
“I’m afraid you’ve missed her. The heat this year is too much for her so once she’d cut the ribbon, declared the fete open and watched the first dance, she took a taxi home.”
“Talking of home,” Helen said glancing at her watch, “I’m going to have to make tracks if I’m to catch the evening ferry.”
“And I’ve got to get tonight’s evening meal organised,” Libby said regretfully getting to her feet.
“Are you full this week?” Pascal asked.
“All the rooms are taken but not everyone is having dinner tonight and of course Evie isn’t here—not that she eats a proper dinner regularly. So it’s just dinner for seven tonight.”
“Has Evie checked out?” Pascal asked.
Libby shook her head. “No—the opposite. She’s decided to rent the gîte for the rest of summer and has hared off to Paris to pick up some more of her things. Right,” she said. “Thanks for the drink. Helen and I are off. Isabelle, we must catch up later.”
Walking back to the auberge Helen said, “So you’ve got a ‘treat’ arranged with Lucas then?”
“Seems like it,” Libby said. “I’m spending the evening with him and a group of his friends at the jazz festival,” she added, knowing that Helen would keep probing until she told her.
“Sounds like a date to me,” Helen said.
“Hardly a date with so many people,” Libby said as her mobile rang. Chloe.
“Darling, how are you?”
“I’m fine. Is Aunty Helen still with you?”
“Leaving in ten minutes.”
“I need you to ask her to do me a favour,” Chloe said. “Alastair has invited me to his end-of-term undergraduate do and I need my ball dress—can’t afford to buy another one. It’s in the wardrobe in my room if she can please bring it back with her.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Libby said. “So this Alastair is a student then? Not someone you work with?”
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