Evie
Evie settled back into her seat with a sigh of contentment as the train pulled out of the Paris station. The weekend had been good but now she was glad to be leaving. A couple more hours and the heat and bustle of the city would be behind her and she’d be back in the quiet countryside of Brittany to enjoy the summer on her own terms.
It was good that Malik had at last accepted her decision to disappear for the summer. She hoped so long as she spoke to him on the phone regularly, promised to keep exercising and be back in Paris for September, he’d stop worrying. Sitting there as the train gathered speed and hurtled past vineyards and then fields of sunflowers before finally reaching the large artichoke fields of Brittany, Evie let her thoughts drift.
She had so many plans for ‘Evie’ to enjoy a normal life for the next couple of months. She’d get involved in village life, visit the coast, wander around the exhibition at Pont-l’Abbé, make friends with Libby. And all the time she’d be incognito, enjoying just being herself.
Evie even had the germ of a tentative, exciting, idea about where her future could lie. Researching its feasibility would be easier without the pressure of people asking all the time, “But what will you do without dancing?”
It was late afternoon when her taxi from the station pulled up outside the auberge. As the driver got the two bulging suitcases out of the boot, Libby appeared.
“Evie. Welcome back. The gîte is all ready for you. Gosh however did you manage one case, let alone two?” she said struggling to pick up the larger one. “This weighs a ton.”
“With difficulty,” Evie admitted. “But there was so much I thought I might need.” If she was truthful too, she was trying to avoid the possibility of having to return to Paris again before she was ready, to collect some item that suddenly became indispensable in the coming weeks.
Setting the suitcase down in the sitting room Libby said, “I’ll leave you to unpack and settle in. I’m expecting a friend to call in for tea. Dinner’s at the usual time if you’d like some?”
Evie shook her head. “I won’t bother tonight, thanks. I’ll get on with things in here.”
“I have put a few things in the fridge for you if you get desperate,” Libby said. “Before I forget, I left your clothes and other things in your bedroom in the auberge. If you’d like a hand moving them over, just ask.”
Once on her own in the gîte, Evie opened the suitcases and set about turning her temporary home into her own space. A large cream throw over the settee, a couple of her red velvet embroidered cushions strategically placed, perfumed candles on the coffee table, her favourite pillow on the bed, musical box on the chest of drawers in the bedroom.
Books and photographs on the bookshelves, CDs alongside and her laptop on the kitchen table, plugged in and charging. She placed a round pink stone floor light in the corner at the foot of the stairs and switched it on before looking around her with satisfaction. She’d even managed to make a small space to do some barre work by tying the handle of the broom between two chairs. Not ideal, and there was no mirror, but it would be good enough for her to at least start practising movements again.
It was only then that she noticed the envelope Libby had propped against the vase of flowers in the sitting room. Curiously Evie looked at it. Madame Evie Patem.
Carefully she opened it and pulled out a glossy black-and-white postcard photograph of the old village school circa 1900. She turned it over and read the message scrawled on the back. And smiled. An invitation to dinner from an unexpected source. A telephone number to ring if she wanted to accept. If she didn’t ring it would be understood she’d declined the invitation and there would be no hard feelings.
Thoughtfully Evie placed the postcard on the table. To go or not to go? She’d think about it while she finished emptying the suitcases of her clothes and hanging them in the wardrobe.
An hour later and everything was in place. Now to get her remaining things from the auberge bedroom. The front door was open and hearing the authoritative voice of a TV news presenter coming from the direction of the sitting room, Evie went in search of Libby.
About to gently knock on the sitting room door before walking in, she froze as she heard, “Mystery surrounds the disappearance of ballerina Suzette Shelby from Monaco ten days ago after incurring another injury during rehearsals. Sources close to Suzette say they are worried as it is completely out of character.”
Evie held her breath as she waited for the news presenter to say more but as a brief clip of Suzette dancing faded away, he switched to the next story.
A voice Evie didn’t recognise said, “Surprised it’s taken this long for the media to pick up on this story. Everyone down south was talking about it before I came up. Apparently she’s hugely depressed over the amount of injuries she’s had these last couple of seasons and knows it signals the end of her career.”
“Must be hard though,” Libby answered. “Having to give up a career like that which has been your whole life.”
“Bit like footballers really—they pass their sell-by date at a young age,” the unseen other person replied.
Evie wanted to scream out, “It’s nothing like footballers. Top professional ones earn scandalous amounts of money—unlike me! I still have to earn a living.”
Instead she took a deep breath before quietly walking away and going quickly up the stairs to her old room.
Gathering together the clothes she’d left hanging in the wardrobe and a couple of books from the bedside table, Evie checked that she’d picked up everything and went back downstairs. Libby was on her own in the kitchen and smiled at Evie. “Can I give you a hand?”
Evie shook her head. “No thanks. I think I’ve emptied the room of my things.”
“No worries. I’ll be cleaning it tomorrow and if there’s anything you’ve missed I know where to find you!” Libby said. “You all right? You look a bit pale.”
“I’m fine,” Evie said. “Bit tired with the travelling and everything. Must go and finish organising the gîte. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She smiled at Libby and virtually ran out of the kitchen.
Once everything was put away she sank down onto the settee and allowed herself to think about being a news item on national TV. Who exactly were these ‘sources close to her’ who were worried? They only needed to talk to Malik and surely he would set their minds at rest without divulging where she was.
Next time she spoke to him she’d suggest he told anybody who was still interested that while he didn’t know where she was, they were in contact and everything was fine. The media would soon get bored then with nothing salacious to feed their curiosity.
Evie picked up the postcard from the table and reread the message. To accept or not? Why not? Now she was staying here for the summer it would be good to get out and about, make new friends. She tapped out the number on her mobile and listened to its ringing tone.
When it clicked into message mode she took a deep breath before saying, “Hello. This is Evie Patem. I would be delighted to have dinner with you one evening.”