Free A French Pirouette by Jennifer Bohnet

my future while my ankle heals.”
    “Why can’t you do that in your apartment in Paris?”
    “Because I can’t.” How to explain that everything crowded in on her there? Stopped her thinking coherently. Too many memories, too many might-have-beens and definitely too many regrets about her life there. Here she hoped she could truly step back and think about life dispassionately. Work out a plan.
    Malik was silent. Even down the phone line Suzette could sense his frustration.
    “How did Monaco go in the end? Donna perform well?” she asked, hoping to change the conversation.
    “Yes,” Malik said. “She’s a star in the making that’s for sure.”
    It was Suzette’s turn to be silent. So many years since that had been said about her.
    “How’s the ankle?” Malik asked.
    “Responding well to gentle exercise,” Suzette lied, standing on one leg and wincing as she tried to make a circling movement with the offending ankle. No point in telling Malik it wasn’t fit enough to exercise yet.
    “Good. I presume you’re still planning on doing
Swan Lake
with me? You’ll need to be in tip-top condition for that.”
    “Stop worrying,” Suzette answered. “My ankle will be good by then.”
    “So, exactly how long are you planning to stay wherever it is you are?” Malik demanded. “Likely to be back before I go off to Geneva next weekend? Can’t mention any names but somebody there is interested in sponsoring a modern ballet I’m keen to choreograph so I have to go for a meetup.”
    “I’m staying here for the week, so no, I won’t be back before you go to Geneva,” Suzette said. “I’ll talk to you when you get back.”
    Although clearly disgruntled with that answer, Malik didn’t press her on the subject again and the call ended.
    Thoughtfully Suzette crossed over to the bedroom window and stared out at the canal and the wood on the far side. Down below in the auberge grounds, Napoleon and the chickens were enjoying dust baths over by the fence.
    She’d not been entirely truthful with Malik when she’d told him she intended to stay for just the rest of the week. If she was brave enough to put the idea that had occurred to her in the middle of the night into practice, she would be here for the whole of the summer. Alone and anonymous with nobody from her real world having any idea where she was.
    She just hoped she could persuade Libby about the feasibility of her idea. She’d wait a couple of days before putting the suggestion to her. Crossing her fingers tightly, Evie hoped Libby wouldn’t dismiss the idea out of hand.

Chapter Seven
    Brigitte
    Brigitte hummed softly to herself as she weighed, chopped and mixed various ingredients for the recipes she was preparing for the celebratory lunch she was cooking. It was not yet nine o’clock but she’d been busy for a couple of hours and already the result of her labours were showing.
    Looking around her kitchen Brigitte sighed with satisfaction. The yeasty bread rolls were rising nicely in the small oven of her new top-of-the-range cooker, the duck was marinating in a red wine sauce on the worktop and the rouleau filled with chocolate cream and covered with white chocolate was rolled up and in the fridge.
    Her wonderful modern kitchen was living up to all her expectations—she was going to be so happy preparing meals in here. She’d forgotten how much she enjoyed feeding friends and family. When Isabelle had left home, guests at the auberge had filled the cooking gap in her life but now there was only Bruno to feed regularly. She’d have to invite friends around often, she decided.
    The sun was shining in through the kitchen window and she could see the willow tree with its newly green leafy fronds quivering in the gentle breeze as she set the coffee to brew. Bruno came in just as the coffee finished percolating.
    “Good timing,” she said reaching for two cups. “Biscuit?”
    “Thanks. Furniture cleaned and back out under the loggia ready for