Libby
Libby woke early the morning of her birthday and lay in bed for a few moments, planning her day. The season was almost over but there were still guests booked in, so first there would be breakfasts to organise and then other routine tasks to do before she turned her mind to tonight’s party.
Canapés to organise, salads and side dishes to be made, champagne bottles to be placed in the fridge, meat to be marinated for the barbecue. Her hair needed washing too.
Lucas had promised to pop in sometime during the day and set up his music system ready for the party. He’d also been talking about bringing some fairy lights to thread through the trees.
Libby smiled to herself as Lucas entered her thoughts. Over the summer their lives had definitely become more and more entwined almost without her realising. It was good having a man in her life again, especially someone as special as him.
Flinging back the duvet, Libby slid out of bed. One of the things she must do this weekend was to talk to Chloe while she was here. See how she felt about Lucas—whether it would be a problem for her if their friendship became something deeper.
Brigitte arrived unexpectedly mid-morning clutching a jar of delicate rose-petal confiture and some lavender Marseille soap, which she handed to Libby.
“These are just presents I thought you’d like from our holiday. They are not for your birthday,” she explained earnestly. “We’ll bring that with us this evening.”
“Thank you,” Libby said sniffing the soap. “This smells wonderful. You had a good time?”
Brigitte nodded. “Amazing. And now we’ve come back to help Isabelle get her new home ready. The notaire he say another fortnight and it will be hers.”
“Brilliant,” Libby said. “So pleased things are working out well for her.”
“Evie around?” Brigitte asked.
“Think she went out earlier. Did you want to see her?”
Brigitte shook her head. “Non.” She hesitated before continuing. “Has she told you yet what she does in Paris? Only I don’t think Evie Patem is her real name. I think she’s the missing ballerina Suzette Shelby.”
Libby sighed inwardly. Her promise to Evie not to break her confidence foremost in her mind. “Why d’you think that?”
“Photograph of Suzette in a newspaper saying she was still missing,” Brigitte said. “I’m sure it was her. Next time I see Evie I’m going to ask her.”
“If she is Suzette Shelby, don’t you think she called herself Evie for a reason—to have some privacy?” Libby said. “She’s not hurting anyone by having a pseudonym. Perhaps she’ll tell us herself one day. Anyway, I like her whatever her name.”
Brigitte looked at her. “You don’t seem surprised. In fact, it’s almost as if you knew.”
Libby bit her lip. There was no way she was going to break her promise to Evie and confirm to Brigitte that Evie was indeed Suzette.
Before she could answer, Helen bustled into the kitchen and Libby smothered a sigh of relief. Since she and Peter had arrived yesterday, Helen had been in major bossy mode with regard to the party. Libby had been relieved to see that Peter was the most relaxed she’d seen him for years. Helen had clearly had words and persuaded him to slow down.
Libby smiled, grateful for the interruption. Now she wouldn’t have to deny or confirm Brigitte’s theory. She hoped and prayed Brigitte wouldn’t choose the party this evening to challenge Evie.
“Libby, Peter wants to know if you have any outdoor fairy lights? If not you’ll have to go and buy some. Oh and charcoal for the barbecue?”
“Lucas is bringing lights over later when he drops the music system off,” Libby said. “Barbecue charcoal is in the shed at the back.”
“Right. Hope Chloe gets here soon. I need her to do something for me.”
“Can’t I help?” Libby said but Helen had vanished as quickly as she’d appeared.
Libby glanced at her watch. Chloe had said she and her friend were catching the overnight ferry so in theory she, they, could be here any time now.
The noise of a powerful motorbike driving into the auberge parking area caught her attention and she went to the front door. There weren’t any guests booked in to arrive today and she was full anyway so these tourists were going to be unlucky if they were looking to stay at the auberge.
“Hi Mum. Happy birthday,” Chloe called out as she took off her helmet and shook her hair free before swinging her leg over and stepping off the bike.
Chloe had come on the back of a motorbike?
“You hate bikes,” Libby said bemused as she watched a fair-haired man carefully balance his helmet on the wide handlebars and headlamp before leaping off the bike. Behind her Libby was conscious of Brigitte starting to laugh. “You said nothing would ever get you on the back of one,” Libby said.
“Incroyable what love will do,” Brigitte whispered. “I’ll see you tonight. À tout à l’heure.”
“Bye,” Libby answered automatically, turning to hug Chloe.
“Hi Chloe’s Mum. I’m Alastair.”
“Pleased to meet you, Alastair,” Libby said shaking his hand.
“Mum, we’re starving. Can I rustle us up something to eat?”
“Help yourselves. Look out for Aunty Helen though—she has plans for you!”
Libby turned as she heard more vehicles on the canal path. She watched as Lucas drove in followed closely by Pascal in the pépinière lorry. “We’re going to run out of parking spaces at this rate,” she said as Lucas leant in to kiss her.
“Pascal, what are you doing here?”
“Delivering your birthday present from Evie and me. I’d ask you where you’d like me to plant it but will you trust me to put it in the best place?”
Libby nodded. “You’re the expert. Is it a magnolia tree? Wonderful. I’ve always wanted one of those.”
“I’ve brought the lights and the music,” Lucas said. “I can set the music up later but right now I have to dash back to the clinic, so if Peter could do the lights?”
“I’ll tell him. Maybe he can rope Alastair in to help,” Libby said. “I’m still stunned about that,” she said shaking her head as she pointed at the red-and-cream machine.
The rest of the day was equally busy and passed in a flash for Libby. At six o’clock Helen insisted she went up to her apartment, had a long soak in the bath and got ready for her party. “Don’t come downstairs again a minute before eight o’clock. No actually, stay there until someone fetches you.”
“There’s still a lot to do,” Libby protested.
“Nothing that we can’t cope with,” Helen said. “Go. And no peeking out of the window! Close the shutters!”
Libby did as she was told and enjoyed the rare opportunity of taking a long soak in a perfumed bath before changing into her sparkly party dress, and waiting to be summoned downstairs. For the last half hour there had been very little noise in the house so she assumed party preparations were finished and everyone else was now getting ready.
Five past eight and the door opened. “Mum, are you ready? Time to party,” Chloe said.
“Before we go downstairs, tell me something?” Libby said. “Are you serious about Alastair?”
Chloe nodded. “Yes. I know you’ll love him too when you know him.” She looked at her mother. “My turn. Are you serious about Lucas?”
Libby blushed. “I could be if that’s all right with you?”
“Mum. It’s nothing to do with me. So long as you’re happy?”
Libby nodded. “I didn’t want you thinking that I was forgetting about your dad—I’ll never do that. I was also afraid you might resent me meeting someone new.”
“Mum, I want you to be happy. Lucas is a lovely man—different from Dad but just as nice,” Chloe said hugging her. “Come on, birthday girl. Let’s go down.”
With fairy lights strung through the trees, tall Chinese candles dotted around, and a Nat King Cole song floating on the air, the auberge terrace and garden had been transformed. To Libby’s embarrassment, as she appeared everyone burst into song and ‘Happy Birthday’ temporarily drowned out Nat King Cole.
Libby smiled as Evie made her way over to her at the end of the song. “You’ve taken your wig off. So,” she leant in to whisper, “does Pascal know who you are now?”
Evie nodded. “He knew already!”
“So,” Libby said, “are you Evie or Suzette tonight?”
“I’m hoping people here will still treat me like Evie, rather than Suzette.”
“I promise I will,” Libby said.
Later, when the barbecue was dying down and the food had been eaten, Lucas appeared at her side and took her by the hand. “My present is in your shed. Come with me to fetch it?”
Quietly pushing open the shed door, Lucas led her over to the corner where a young black-and-white dog was curled up sleeping.
“It’s the little one we helped deliver,” Libby whispered as the dog opened her eyes and cautiously thumped her tail.
Lucas nodded. “All the others have gone to be farm dogs but this one was kept back especially for you—for us.”
Libby bent down and stroked the dog. “She’s beautiful. Does she have a name yet?”
“Non. As she’s going to be your dog I thought you should be the one to name her,” Lucas said quietly.
Libby was quiet for a moment, intent on stroking the dog, before looking up at Lucas and saying, “How do you feel about calling her Hope?”
Lucas smiled as he pulled her to her feet and took her into his arms. “Perfect. We have Hope for our future together.”