Libby and Evie
“So what d’you think?” Libby asked Evie. She’d just given Evie the guided tour of her small apartment at the top of the auberge, hoping that she would be able to give her some inspiration for decorating the sitting room in a few weeks’ time.
“It doesn’t work at the moment, does it?” she asked now, looking around. “Strip it down and redecorate?”
“I don’t think it needs redecorating,” Evie said slowly. “The walls are a good neutral colour. A cream throw over the settee would make a big difference. It’s quite a dominant feature in the room. Perhaps even change it for an old-fashioned daybed you can pile with cushions. Place it against the wall and leave the centre of the room free.”
Libby clapped her hands in delight. “Evie, you’re brilliant. It’s my English furniture that’s all wrong, isn’t it? I need some French stuff up here.”
“An antique ormolu mirror on that wall would look good too,” Evie said. “Gold decoration always adds something to a room.”
Libby looked around thoughtfully. “I need to think…oh what’s the phrase? Shabby chic. That’s what I’ll aim for. Shabby chic. Pale colours, distressed wood and an ornate mirror. I’ll ask Lucas if there are any places around here that sell traditional French furniture. Old would be better than modern I think.”
“I have some cream velvet material I can make up into cushion covers for you,” Evie offered. “I saw a couple of tapestry designs at the festival that I’d like to try and copy.”
“Thank you. I meant to ask you—how did your day with Pascal go?”
“It was great fun. I like Pascal a lot,” Evie said. “And the festival was amazing. I got so many ideas and…” She hesitated before adding, “It confirmed that something I’ve been thinking about could be possible.”
Libby looked at her and waited.
“Could I bounce some ideas off you? I think discussing things would help me to decide what to do. And now you know my secret,” Evie smiled. “I can talk to you.”
“Of course,” Libby said. “Start bouncing!”
“Let’s go down to the gîte and I can show you everything I’ve worked out so far.”
“OK,” Libby said. “Give me five minutes while I check on the guests in room number two. They said they were staying in for the evening. I’d like to make sure they have everything they need.”
While she waited for Libby to join her, Evie placed the large file with her ideas, brochures and contact addresses on the small outside table and sat down ready to go through them again.
Should she stick to Plan A? Go back to Paris, dance a final ballet and then retire gracefully to her apartment. Or was the Plan B that had been forming in her mind for days now at all feasible? Hopefully talking it all over with Libby would help clear her mind. Highlight the pros and cons of both plans.
Libby when she arrived looked at all the paperwork. “You have been busy.” She picked up a glossy brochure showing lots of highly decorated haute couture dresses. Reading the accompanying price list she glanced at Evie.
“Gosh. Do people actually pay these prices?”
Evie nodded. “Yes.”
“So, what d’you want to talk about?” Libby asked.
“I know my embroidery is as good as anything I’ve seen,” Evie said. “The embroidery fete has convinced me I can make a business out of it. The big question though is—where do I set up business? Paris or somewhere down here?”
“Why d’you want to stay in Brittany anyway?” Libby asked. “I mean I love it here but you’ve lived in Paris for so long. Surely you’d miss the hustle and bustle of the place?”
Evie shrugged. “I’ve discovered I like it here. Maybe it’s in my genes with my family originating from here years ago.” She frowned as she searched through the file. “I thought I had some sample materials in here. They seem to have disappeared. Oh, maybe I dropped them in Pascal’s car. I’ll ring him tomorrow and check.”
She sighed, picked up some loose papers and replaced them in the folder. “I feel a bit guilty actually. Pascal told me I could do this from anywhere but I snapped his head off. Told him moving to Brittany wasn’t a part of the plan for my future. Only since then I’ve been thinking, why shouldn’t it be? Rather than go back and become Suzette Shelby the retired ballerina who is now a needlewoman—why don’t I stay here to do it? Continue to live as Evie Patem?”
Libby looked at her, dismay written all over her face. “Oh Evie. You can’t be serious. Move to Brittany—yes, but stay as Evie Patem? You simply can’t.” She put the brochure down on the table.
“Just think about the problems it would create for you. Not with your work—although I think the name Suzette Shelby would open doors that might remain closed to an unknown Evie Patem—but with your personal life. Things like finding somewhere to live, registering with the doctor, opening a bank account. They’d all have to be done in your real name so certain people would know who you were. Your name would be almost certain to leak out. Oh!” She stopped.
“I’ve just realised why you paid me in cash! You—Evie—don’t have a bank account.” Libby sighed. “If you do decide to live in Brittany, why not come clean and just tell everyone who you are?”
“I’m not sure about doing that,” Evie said shrugging. “The thing is—I like the anonymity of being Evie.”
“I think people would be thrilled to have someone famous living in the village and would respect your privacy, once they knew,” Libby said. “I take it you haven’t told Pascal your real name?”
“No. That’s another problem.” Evie was silent for a moment. “I like Pascal a lot but so far there’s been no reason to tell him. We’re just friends. If I do decide to stay, then yes I will tell him. But if I go back to Paris…” Evie shrugged. “That will probably be the end of our friendship anyway. Long-distance friendships rarely survive. And we all know how much Pascal hates going to the city.”
“I’m sure he’d cope with visiting you,” Libby said.
“Once the media get hold of the story they’ll be swarming all over the place for days until something else grabs their attention. Pascal would hate all that.”
They both turned to look at the canal as the sound of a boat’s engine chugging downstream reached them.
“Do you have to go and work the lock for them?” Evie asked curiously.
Libby shook her head. “No thank goodness. People have to do it for themselves these days. This barge looks like one of the charter ones from up Brest way—they usually have a skipper on board to tell everybody what to do.”
As they watched, a man leapt onto the quay and began the process of opening the lock.
“I’ve never actually seen a boat going through the lock before,” Evie said. “You don’t seem to get many on this stretch of canal?”
“It’s because they blocked the canal to build the dam at Lac de Guerlédan. I think there are probably more on the stretch down to Nantes,” Libby said turning back to Evie.
“Like I was saying, I’m sure Pascal… Evie whatever is the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Evie didn’t answer—couldn’t answer. She merely stared at the man who was now striding towards them.
“Surprise surprise, Suzette. I’ve come to visit with you for a few days,” Malik said kissing her cheeks.