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As Lucas’s hand tightened around hers, she took hold of the hand of the woman on the other side of her and as the music started she joined in with enthusiasm.

A few minutes later, when Libby was happily stepping and swinging, Lucas glanced at her.

“Something tells me you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“Agnes taught me years ago,” Libby admitted. “Dan never liked dancing, but as you don’t need a partner for this I could just join in with the crowd.”

“And there was me thinking I could teach you.” Lucas sighed. “Again?” he asked at the end of the dance.

“Maybe later when I’ve got my breath back. I hadn’t realised I was so unfit.”

Looking around for Helen, Libby saw she, Agnes and Isabelle had managed to secure a picnic table.

“Shall we join Helen and the others in the shade over there?”

“Do you like jazz?” Lucas asked as he strolled alongside her.

“Some of it,” Libby said. “I’m not that keen on modern stuff. I prefer the traditional. Proper jazz.”

“There’s a group of us planning to go to the local jazz festival one evening. Would you like me to get you a ticket? It’s usually good fun down by the river – a mix of modern and traditional.”

Libby hesitated. Going with Lucas and a group of people couldn’t be construed as a date, could it? She liked Lucas a lot and she did need to expand her social life. Maybe some of his friends would, in time, become her friends, too.

“Thank you. I’ll look forward to it. Let me know how much the ticket is and I’ll –”

Lucas interrupted her and shook his head.

“No need. My treat.”

Helen overheard the words and looked at Libby questioningly, but before she could say anything, Bruno and Pascal, the owner of the local garden centre, appeared carrying trays of cold drinks.

“Left the centre in safe hands this afternoon, then?” Lucas asked, accepting a lager from Pascal.

“I think most of my customers are down here, so I was not expecting a lot of sales,” Pascal said. “Besides, with Mother opening this there was no way I was going to be allowed to miss it.”

“Where’s your mother now?” Libby asked. She’d heard so much about Pascal’s matriarch of a mother, but had never seen her in person.

“I’m afraid you’ve missed her. The heat this year is too much for her so once she’d cut the ribbon, declared the fête open and watched the first dance, she took a taxi home.”

“Talking of home,” Helen said, glancing at her watch, “I’m going to have to make tracks if I’m to catch the evening ferry.”

“And I’ve got to get tonight’s evening meal organised,” Libby said, getting regretfully to her feet.

“Are you full this week?” Pascal asked.

“All the rooms are taken, but not everyone is having dinner tonight, and of course Evie isn’t here – not that she eats a proper dinner regularly. So it’s just dinner for seven today.”

“Has Evie checked out?” Pascal asked.

Libby shook her head.

“No, just the opposite. She’s decided to rent the gîte for the rest of summer and hared off to Paris to pick up some of her things,” she said. “Thanks for the drink. Helen and I are off. Isabelle, we must catch up later.”

Margaret Scott

Margaret is a sub-editor within the Production Team on the "Friend". Her main job is to work on the stories and make sure the magazine leaves us in its best possible guise. When not doing that, however, she either has her head buried in the old “Friend” volumes or is out and about giving talks or going on Warner trips (fab!). She hates cheese.

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