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 rang. 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.”