A French Pirouette. Jennifer Bohnet

but you’re still in reasonable shape for an oldie.”

      “Oldie?” Libby said. “I’m not old. Besides forty is the new thirty.”

      “You will be old if you don’t start living again. I know you miss Dad,” Chloe said. “I do too. But you need to do something with your life. Besides, you might meet a sexy Frenchman. Get married again.”

      Libby shook her head. She doubted that would happen. She did need to do something with her life though; Chloe was right about that. She was definitely too young to vegetate the rest of her life away.

      Chloe picked up a photo of the auberge. “It’s such a special place. I could move over with you for a couple of months before I go to uni. Help you settle in.”

      Libby held out her hand for the photo. Chloe was right. The auberge was a special place. Just looking at the photos evoked so many wonderful holiday memories. Evening walks along the canal path with the swallows swooping around their heads. Supper on the terrace overlooking the canal. Watching the occasional boat manoeuvre its way through the lock, making its way to a mooring alongside the village quay. The wonderful meals Brigitte had made them. Their dream of living the Good Life. Libby put the photo down on the table.

      “With an offer like that—how can I hesitate? Maybe I’ll ring Brigitte at the weekend and ask how much they want for the place. For all I know the price will be more than I can afford anyway.”

      For the next few days Libby’s thoughts kept returning again and again to the idea of moving to France on her own. Because she would be on her own once Chloe was at university here in England. Holidays in a foreign country were one thing—moving there permanently on her own was totally different.

      Time and time again, Libby thoughtfully fingered the photograph she’d framed and placed on her bedside table. Remembering how idyllic it had always been. The way she and Dan had dreamt of moving to France—of changing their lives. Could she resurrect the dream? Do it on her own?

      She agonised for days over what to do. So many questions and what-ifs tumbled around in her head. As Chloe had so kindly pointed out she had a Big Birthday coming up but hopefully she still had a lot of years ahead of her. She had to do something and working at something she enjoyed would be better than doing any old thing. But could she resurrect the dream by herself, for herself? She’d always liked having relatives and friends to stay. Loved cooking special meals for them. Was it up to French standards though? Was her French up to coping?

      It was remembering Dan describing how he longed to get out of the rut they were in that decided her. The rut could only get deeper as the years went by. The least she could do was to find out the price of the auberge.

      Brigitte, when Libby rang her Sunday morning, was thrilled at the thought of Libby buying the auberge.

      “You would be perfect. I do want it to go to someone I like,” she said. “It will be hard for you alone but I will ’elp you all I can.”

      The price when Brigitte told her, took Libby’s breath away in surprise. She’d forgotten how reasonable property still was in Brittany. Affording it would not be a problem. Dan’s insurance money and the money from the sale of the house would cover it.

      Decision time. Could she be brave and do it? Use Dan’s money to fulfil his dream for both of them. Libby took a deep breath.

      “I’ll have to sell here, Brigitte, but yes, I would like to buy the Auberge du Canal.”

      It was surprising how fast things happened after the decision had been made. Libby decided against going to Brittany to view the auberge, feeling that she knew the place well enough already. It wasn’t as if she was buying something unseen or unknown.

      Brigitte and Bruno agreed to her paying a large deposit and the rest when the house sold. Various official papers passed from France to England and back again—usually in triplicate and signed and initialled in several places. Brigitte also said Libby should move in as soon as possible to keep the continuity of the business going.

      The house was put on the market and Libby started on the endless decluttering and packing. Chloe helped and between them they decided on the various bits and pieces Libby should take to France.

      Furniture was easy. The auberge was coming fully furnished—apart from the two-bedroom owner’s apartment. So the beds and other furniture from both their bedrooms would be needed, as would the sitting-room furniture.

      It was the personal items that caused the most problems. Paintings, ornaments and books. What to keep and what to take to the local charity shops? Many of the books had been Dan’s on such diverse subjects as fishing, car mechanics, physics and his well-read Wilbur Smiths.

      Chloe took what she called ‘an executive decision’ and took all of Dan’s books, except the Wilbur Smiths, down to the Oxfam Shop in the High Street.

      “You can put everything else in the sitting room of the auberge,” she said.

      In between the decluttering and the packing, they had several couples view the house before Libby accepted an offer from a newly married couple expecting their first baby, who declared it to be a ‘perfect family house’. From then on, the number of urgent things on her to do list grew.

      Eight weeks later Libby and Chloe drove onto the cross-channel ferry. Libby, with her remaining worldly goods piled around her, on her way to a new life in France and Chloe trying, and failing, to tell her mother about a possible change of plan in her life.

      The sound of rushing water woke Libby. It was several seconds before she remembered where she was. As realisation dawned, she smiled happily.

      She’d done it. She and Chloe were actually in France.

      Last night she’d deliberately opened the bedroom window slightly before closing the shutters so, as she’d collapsed exhausted into bed, the noise of the canal had lulled her to sleep. Lying in bed at either end of the day listening to the water’s rhythmic movement had always been a special part of past holidays. Now it was about to become a part of her future daily routine.

      Stretching out her hand, Libby picked up the silver-framed photograph she’d placed on the floor beside the bed last night. Gently she stroked the glass. “Wish you were here with me, Dan,” she said softly.

      Since the decision had been made and everything had snowballed into place, she’d been outwardly buoyed up with enthusiasm but at the same time she was secretly terrified at what she had set in motion. When Helen, Dan’s sister and Chloe’s godmother, had voiced her concern she’d tried to explain her feelings.

      “It’s such a big step, Libby. I know it was always a dream of yours and Dan’s to do this together but on your own?” Helen shook her head, a worried frown on her face.

      “I know,” Libby said. “But I have to do something and I’m a big girl now—I’m sure I’ll cope on my own. Chloe will be there for the summer too, don’t forget.” She’d smiled reassuringly.

      When Helen failed to look convinced Libby said, “Helen, please don’t worry. I can’t tell you how energised I feel about this move. After the last couple of years I feel like I’m waking up again. I’m ninety-nine per cent certain I’m doing the right thing. If I’m not, and it all goes wrong, I can always sell up and come home but at least I’ll have tried to do something with my life.”

      “Well, I wish you all the luck in the world,” Helen said. “Can I come and visit?”

      “Of course. Give me a week or two to settle in and you’ll be more than welcome.”

      Now, alone in the auberge bedroom, which she and Dan had occupied together so often, she could only pray that she’d done the right thing coming to France on her own. Thoughtfully Libby put Dan’s photograph back down on the floor. “I’ll make our dream come true,” she whispered.

      “Morning, Mum.” Chloe pushed open the bedroom door with her foot. “Brought you breakfast,” she said, carefully placing a tray on the bed.

      “Goodness,”