Читать книгу What Happens at the Beach... - T Williams A - Страница 13

Chapter 3

Life at Port Renard soon settled into a regular pattern. Natalie got up early every morning and went for a swim. Then she came back up to the house and kept her grandmother company throughout the day, driving down to the village to buy fresh bread, helping her prepare lunch, enjoying speaking French again and rekindling the deep affection she had always had for her. Gradually the hurt and the sense of loneliness began to diminish in the company of old friends, her grandmother, and in these familiar surroundings. In the afternoon, Colette retired to her bed while Natalie scanned the internet for possible jobs in the UK or in France, but without success. All she found in those first weeks was a university in Canada looking for a medieval specialist. The advert said fluency in English and French would be an advantage so, after a moment’s hesitation, she sent off an application along with her CV. The idea of moving halfway across the globe didn’t really appeal very much, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. As the days went by, she started doing some of the cooking and Colette expressed delight at tasting such British dishes as shepherd’s pie and toad-in-the-hole, even though the hot, sultry conditions were more suited to salads.

The day after meeting Alain and Dominique again, Natalie had gone back down to the beach in the early morning and, after her swim, stopped off in their restaurant for a drink on the terrace. From then on this became a regular event, either first thing in the morning or in the late afternoon when Jeanne, the carer, was at Colette’s house and Natalie came down to swim and sunbathe.

She enjoyed chatting to them, and to the young waitress, Laure, getting all the local news and telling them all about herself. Alain hadn’t been exaggerating when he said they were getting very busy and, as the end of July approached and the start of the traditional French exodus from the big cities to the beach for the month of August began, Natalie offered to come and work alongside Dominique and Laure serving at table on busy evenings, and they accepted her offer enthusiastically. Colette was happy to see her granddaughter getting out and about. Natalie enjoyed the work, meeting new people and bonding with Dominique, Alain and Laure.

It wasn’t long before she told them about David and how she had ended things with him. Dominique immediately pointed out a number of regular male customers who had asked about her and who, clearly, found her very attractive. For her part, Natalie wasn’t interested in flirting, especially with customers. Quite often she would meet her friend the Labrador on the beach and she found herself staring out to sea, searching for sight of his master. She spotted him a couple of times and, to her surprise, found herself feeling irrationally excited when this happened. On one occasion he waved to her and she found herself waving back like a woman possessed. For somebody who had publicly announced that she had no interest in men for now, this was disturbing and rather irritating.

In the evenings when she wasn’t working at the restaurant, Natalie would chat to her grandmother and continue her internet search, now getting more and more urgent, for a job. All she had got back from the Canadian job was a one-line email confirming receipt of her application; nothing more. Things were looking grim. The grant money she had managed to get in order to do her PhD had now dried up and the income she got each month from the rental of her parents’ house mostly disappeared in her half of the rent of the flat she shared with David and other regular monthly outgoings. Sooner or later she would have to cancel these payments but she knew she had to speak to David first and, anyway, she still had to retrieve her possessions.

Otherwise, although the few euros she got for working as a waitress and the fact that she was living rent-free in Colette’s house meant she could just about manage to exist down here for now, it was quite clear to her that before long she would have to get a job, any job. One thing upon which she was quite firmly decided was that she didn’t want to be beholden to anybody, particularly David or his bloody family.

As for David, after taking a day and a night to simmer down after his email about her moment of bad temper, she had replied in clear, formal, dispassionate terms, telling him that the engagement was off and that was that. He replied almost immediately asking her to reconsider and she replied in language he, as a lawyer, would understand. My decision is taken and it’s final. Please leave me alone. Since then there had been no further contact between them.

One day, as she and her grandmother were sitting on the terrace, enjoying their mid-morning mug of tea, with Charlie the dog lying at their feet, crunching his regular daily biscuit, they had another visitor. This time it was a man and Natalie immediately recognised him as the dog’s master, the man who had bumped into her in the sea. She felt the blood rush to her face and her heart leap. He appeared, hesitantly, round the end of the house and gave a short whistle. The dog immediately leapt to his feet and ran across to him. Natalie gave the man a wave and beckoned him over, feeling an inexplicable butterfly sensation in her stomach as she did so. He made his way over to them, still rather hesitantly. She stood up and welcomed him, addressing him in French.

‘Hello, my name’s Natalie. And this is Colette.’

‘Good morning. I’m afraid my French isn’t very good.’ He was right about that, and his accent was unmistakably English, so Natalie was quick to put him at his ease in his own language.

‘Are you English? So am I.’

‘Ah, right, excellent.’ He sounded and looked relieved. ‘My friends call me Mark. I see that you’ve met Barney. I hope he hasn’t been making a nuisance of himself.’

‘Barney? I’ve been calling him Charlie.’ Colette was smiling.

Natalie was delighted to hear her grandmother sounding animated and still speaking pretty good English, even though she rarely had the chance to practise it these days. Natalie’s father’s French had been good, but Colette had been a teacher of English in her youth and had done her best to keep it going by speaking it to him every time she saw him. Natalie grinned as Colette held out her hand to Mark and, with an almost completely straight face, introduced herself. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Mark. I’m Natalie’s big sister.’ Then she disintegrated into fits of giggles.

Natalie joined in, while Mark looked slightly puzzled. Natalie held out her hand to him and he took it in his and shook it. He had a good, firm handshake, but the funny thing was that it somehow made her whole body tingle. She hoped he would put her red face down to the sun. His smile was open and friendly and she was still smiling when she released his hand and pointed down at the dog.

‘Barney, Charlie; I suppose they both sound pretty much the same to him. He certainly seems to answer to Charlie.’

‘He’s a Labrador. If you’re offering him food, he’ll answer to anything.’ Mark looked sternly at the dog. ‘Barney, have you been bothering these good folk by begging for food?’ The dog’s big brown eyes looked back at him innocently.

Colette answered immediately. ‘Not at all. He’s been a model of good behaviour. Haven’t you, Charlie?’ The dog abandoned his master and trotted over at the sound of his name, or at least an approximation of it. Colette looked down and smiled at him before addressing Mark. ‘Would you like to join us for a cup of tea or a coffee?’

‘Thank you, that’s very kind, but I’m just off out. I’ve been looking for Barney, as he’s supposed to be coming with me.’ He smiled at her politely. ‘Some other time I’d be delighted to.’

‘Well do come back, please. We’ll both be very pleased to see you again, won’t we, Natalie?’

Natalie suddenly began to feel inexplicably embarrassed all over again. She nodded and gave Mark a little wave as he excused himself once more and went off with the dog. She waited until all sounds of their footsteps had retreated before giving her grandmother an accusing look. ‘We’ll both be very pleased, won’t we? Gran, you sounded like Mrs Bennet from Pride and Prejudice, trying to get me married off to Mr Darcy. The last thing I need right now is to get involved with some random man, even if he is rather nice.’ As she said the last words, she found herself weighing him up. He was probably a few years older than her, maybe in his mid-thirties. He was tall, a bit taller than David, with close-cropped fair hair and a friendly, handsome face. She hadn’t seen his eyes this time because of his sunglasses, but he was tanned and he looked fit, presumably as a result of all the long-distance swimming he was doing. He had a very nice smile as well, but, she told herself as firmly as she could, she didn’t feel ready to risk getting involved with another man. The final months with David, and then the break-up, had disillusioned her badly. Practical matters took precedence now. What she wanted and badly needed wasn’t a man, but a job.

‘He’s a very handsome man, you know. I do like tall men, don’t you?’ Colette was grinning at her and Natalie found she couldn’t keep a straight face for long. She gave a sigh of mock exasperation, delighted to see her grandmother so perky.

‘Just because you’re my big sister now, that doesn’t mean you need to start matchmaking. I’ve just got unengaged, you know. I’ve had it with men for the present; why on earth should I want another one? Besides, you’re only saying that because you’re in love with the Labrador.’

Colette rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t know which of the two is more handsome, Mark or Charlie.’

‘Or Barney.’

‘Whatever. Now, if Mark’s the owner of the chateau, he must be wealthy as well as handsome. That sounds like a rather fine combination. Sure you aren’t interested?’

Natalie looked back at her. ‘I’m not on the lookout for another man. I know what I want and it’s a job, a career. Men can wait.’

‘Bravo, Natalie. That’s my girl. Of course men can wait for now.’ She caught Natalie’s eye. ‘But, just in case, you keep an eye on this one. You could do worse.’

‘Gran, I’m sure I’ll run into him now and then, especially with the dog, but I’m sure he’s not interested in me and I’m not interested in him.’

‘You never were very good at telling fibs, Natalie.’ Her grandmother was grinning broadly. A ready answer didn’t come to Natalie so she hastily finished her tea and glanced at her watch. It was almost noon.

‘Almost lunchtime and I’m duty cook today, remember.’

Her grandmother was French enough to religiously observe the ritual of sitting down to lunch every day at exactly twelve-thirty. But, before heading for the kitchen, Natalie had a final stab at telling her how she was feeling. ‘Gran, I don’t need another man for now, really. I’ve loved being here. All I need is a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. My hair’s gradually getting bleached by the sun, my legs are nice and brown and there’s nobody here telling me to wear make-up or to shoehorn myself into some tight-fitting frock for a bunch of middle-aged men in suits to ogle. I love it here, Colette, I really do.’ She smiled down at her grandmother. ‘I really don’t want the hassle, however nice the man might be and however totally drop-dead gorgeous his dog might be. I’m happy as I am, Gran, really happy.’ She almost sounded convincing.

That evening there was a text from Dominique at the restaurant, asking if Natalie could come down and help. After checking with Colette, she went off to wait at table. The restaurant was packed out, with every table inside and outside on the terrace full of customers, and both Natalie and Laure were at it flat out for the best part of three hours, while Alain and his young sous-chef laboured away in the kitchen and Dominique worked from behind the bar dispensing drinks and keeping track of all the different bills. In the course of the evening, Natalie began to notice that one man, on a table with a group of half a dozen other people, was evidently very interested in her. Every time she passed, he smiled at her, and every time she leant across the table to clear plates or bring more, she could feel his eyes on her. In spite of her protestations to her grandmother a few hours earlier, she surreptitiously checked him out.

He was a very handsome Frenchman. He might have been forty, his thick black hair stylishly long and his tan perfect. His sky-blue polo shirt, boasting a little crocodile logo, was immaculate and the gold watch on his wrist looked expensive. His dark glasses were resting up on top of his head and a thin gold chain glittered at his throat. On an East End gangster, it might have looked tacky. On him, she had to admit, it looked rather good, although just a tad over the top. It occurred to her at first that he might well be gay, although his evident interest in her rather contradicted that. Once he had learnt that she was English, he became most effusively complimentary about her fluent French. He got her name from Dominique and lost no opportunity to address her as Natalie, or ma chère Natalie, whenever possible. At the end of the evening, as he and his party got up to leave, he paid the bill with a credit card and added a ten euro tip in cash, giving her a wink as he did so.

‘Looks like you’ve made a conquest there, Natalie.’ Dominique was giggling from behind the bar as the little group left. ‘It’s not very often people leave any kind of tip these days, let alone that much.’

‘I haven’t seen a ten euro tip since that boatload of drunken Dutchmen came by.’ Laure was grinning. ‘It must be love.’

‘Well, he’d better not think he can buy me for ten euros.’ Natalie tried to sound offended, but she was actually rather flattered at so much attention from a very good-looking man.

‘You’re worth more than ten euros.’ Alain’s head peered out of the kitchen door. ‘I imagine he’s got a fair bit of cash as well, from the size of his yacht. Have you seen it? It’s the dark blue and white one moored out in the bay.’ He gave her a lurid wink. ‘Play your cards right and he’ll take you for a trip.’

‘Somehow, Alain, I get the feeling he might be more interested in you than in me.’

Laure and Dominique scoffed in unison. Dominique shook her head decisively. ‘Him, gay? Not from the way he was looking at you.’ Natalie still wasn’t totally convinced.

‘Anyway, do either of you know who he is?’

‘No, but from his accent I would say he’s local.’ Dominique gave her a wink in her turn. ‘Leave it to me; I’ll find out who he is if you’re interested.’

‘Who says I’m interested?’

‘I do. I saw you flirting with him.’ Dominique was still smiling. ‘And Laure did as well, didn’t you, Laure?’

‘Definitely.’ Laure giggled.

‘I was doing no such thing.’

‘It’s all right, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with us.’ Dominique followed her husband into the kitchen with a smirk on her face while Natalie and Laure concentrated on clearing the last of the tables and setting them for lunch the following day. Natalie couldn’t help smiling at Dominique’s obsession with trying to get her fixed up with a man, but she knew this wasn’t going to be the one, although she had to admit it had felt rather nice to be on the receiving end of some Gallic charm.

As she made her way back up the path again later on, she reflected that this made two rather handsome men she had met in the space of a few hours. She glanced up and saw the lights of the chateau at the top of the hill and wondered how Mark was spending the evening.

The next day, she met a third handsome man. This time, he was a very different kettle of fish. Or, more precisely, a different basket of fish. As she sat at her usual table on the terrace after her morning swim, sipping her grand crème, he came up the steps from the beach with a basket of fish and shellfish for the kitchen. As he and Alain checked the contents of the basket and haggled over the price, Natalie let her eyes run over the fisherman.

He wasn’t as tall as Mark or as well-groomed as the man in the polo shirt, but he made up for his lack of height and refinement with his muscular build. His forearms were powerful, his leg muscles well-formed and his chest statuesque. He was wearing a battered old T-shirt that had once advertised Spanish beer. It had faded from its original red colour to a rusty brown and it was peppered with holes, some of them, Natalie noticed naughtily, affording tantalising glimpses of his suntanned body beneath. His shorts had probably started life as jeans and had been chopped off high on the leg, leaving frayed threads hanging across his powerful thigh muscles. His feet were bare and his wild mop of jet-black hair hung down to his shoulders. His face was weather-beaten and tough. As the complete antithesis of David or the man in the polo shirt, he fitted the bill to perfection.

When she had finished her coffee, she took the cup back into the kitchen and put it in the dishwasher. Alain had already started on the fish. He was standing at the sink with a sharp knife, removing the beak from a big octopus under a stream of cold water. Natalie went over to watch the process and, casually, enquired about the fisherman. She needn’t have bothered to dissimulate; Alain really didn’t miss much.

‘Well, well, well, so you’re in love with Rémy as well.’ He looked up as Natalie did her unsuccessful best not to blush. ‘You’ll have to join the queue. Every time Laure sees him she goes weak at the knees. He’s been fishing these waters since he was a little boy. He and I went to school together and just about every girl in the school had a crush on him. He was never interested in studying, but what he didn’t know about spear-fishing or teenage girls wouldn’t cover the back of a postcard. You’ll see quite a bit of him if you keep coming here at this time of the morning. He’s got a boat round at Banyuls, but every August he comes over here for the spear-fishing. Have you seen this beauty?’ He flicked off the tap with his elbow, lifted the octopus out of the sink and laid it on a chopping board, the tentacles so long they hung down over the edge. ‘Half an hour ago this fellow was swimming around. You don’t get them much fresher than that.’

Natalie admired the octopus for a few seconds and then left Alain to his preparation, collected her towel and made her way back up the path to home. She cast a hopeful look across the beach for Mark and Barney, or even Rémy the fisherman, but there was no sign of any of them. As she climbed up through the trees, she found herself reflecting on the emotions Rémy had inspired. Chief among these was, without a shadow of a doubt, lust. There was something so primal about him; something very, very arousing. She had no doubt at all that he did indeed have a queue of women lusting after him. At least, she thought to herself, in a desperate attempt to salvage some sort of self-respect, sex with him could maybe be justified as an excellent palate cleanser after her former fiancé. She allowed herself to imagine sex with him as she climbed the path and, in consequence, she was in an excellent mood when she got back to the house.

Colette was sitting out on the terrace. Natalie gave her a kiss and received a friendly smile in return. ‘Good morning, darling. You look cheerful this morning.’

Natalie reflected that she not only looked cheerful, but was feeling more cheerful than she had for a good long time. ‘It’s the sunshine.’ She decided against mentioning the spear-fisherman. ‘You can’t be unhappy on a day like today.’ This was true. There still wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but the wind had picked up a little, blowing blessed fresh air into the house. She smiled back. ‘How are you today, Gran?’

‘I feel pretty much the same as you. This is such a wonderful place to live. I’ve been so lucky.’

Natalie found herself deeply impressed that, in spite of the crushing blows of losing her husband and her only daughter in the space of a few years, her grandmother considered herself lucky. In comparison, Natalie’s break-up with David and her search for a job seemed insignificant, and she felt a sense almost of shame. She gave her gran an affectionate hug.

‘What’s that for, darling?’ Colette smiled up at her.

‘Nothing. Just giving my big sister a hug. Now, how about some tea?’

Natalie went inside and made their morning tea. As she brought the mugs out onto the terrace, their four-legged visitor arrived.

‘Hello, Charlie.’ Natalie could see that her grandmother had no intention of starting to call him by his real name. As it was, the dog went straight to her and sat down with his nose on her thigh, looking up at her. Natalie smiled at the two of them.

‘So, what’s in a name, eh, Barney? Or Charlie? Like your master said, all it needs is a biscuit to attract your attention.’ As she mentioned his master, Natalie looked up, rather hoping Mark might put in another appearance, but the dog was alone. The immediate sense of disappointment she felt was palpable, but inexplicable. Only a few minutes earlier she had been thinking erotic thoughts about an entirely different man. What was wrong with her?

She set the mugs down on the table and went back into the kitchen to get the dog a biscuit. When she returned with it, he was only too glad to take it from her and settle down to eat. She sat down beside her grandmother, the dog between the two of them making short work of the biscuit. Food didn’t last long with a Labrador around.

Colette smiled down at him. ‘Charlie here is such a nice visitor to have, isn’t he?’ Natalie scratched the dog’s ears and he grunted with satisfaction, stretching out at their feet. Colette added a mischievous comment. ‘And, of course, his master’s rather nice, too.’

Natalie returned her smile. ‘No argument there, Gran.’ Yet again, she felt a sense of almost annoyance that she should be thinking about the Labrador’s master when she had already firmly declared men off the agenda until she had settled her career.

Below the table, the dog had stretched out so that he was lying across their feet, his head actually resting on Natalie’s sandals. He, at least, was untroubled by such concerns. A vet had seen to that years ago. She reflected once more that, apart from his little encounter with the vet, he enjoyed a pretty good life, with a rich master, a comfortable home and a whole hillside to run around in. She looked around at the stone walls of her grandmother’s house and, beyond them, the spectacularly beautiful backdrop, dotted with the deep green of the umbrella pines and punctuated by the tall, slim shapes of cypress trees. Down below she could just see the entrance to the bay and, beyond that, the blue of the Mediterranean. Yes, it really was a wonderful place and she determined not to let other matters, particularly men, get in the way of her enjoyment of this well-earned holiday.

After lunch, once her grandmother had retired to her bed for a rest, Natalie went into her own room and fired up the laptop. She glanced down the handful of emails waiting in her inbox and spotted one from her professor at Cambridge. When she read it she got a pleasant surprise.

Dear Natalie

I found this email (see below) in my inbox this morning and I immediately thought of you. It’s quite remarkable. It could have been tailored specifically for you. See what you think. If you decide to reply to the lady, I feel sure you’re exactly what she’s looking for.

Good luck

Kathryn

P.S. Let me know if you apply for the job and get offered it and I’ll contact Jim Hunter. If he says she’s kosher, you should have no problems.

Intrigued, Natalie scrolled down and read the original email. It was from somebody called Evelyn Markeson and, as she read it, Natalie realised that Kathryn was right. It couldn’t have been more perfect for her.

Dear Professor Garner

It has been suggested to me by my old friend Dr James Hunter that I should contact you in the hope that you can help. I am in the process of writing a novel based around the Cathars of southern France. I am looking for a research assistant familiar with the history of thirteenth-century France to assist me for one, maybe two months. I would be happy to offer whatever remuneration the candidate requires as well as a generous living allowance, as the job would mostly involve spending time in the Languedoc and Roussillon regions of southern France.

Dr Hunter has very kindly offered to act as a referee and will vouch for my bona fides. Any help would be gratefully received.

Kind regards

Evelyn Markeson (Dr)

Natalie read the email twice and very quickly made up her mind to apply. She spent an hour composing a response to Dr Markeson, mentioning her background and the fact that she had just finished a PhD on the very subject that interested her. Natalie had been fascinated by the Cathars ever since she was a little girl, particularly as they had been based here in this very region. They were a religious sect who, to the modern eye, weren’t that dissimilar to mainstream Christians. And yet, they had been on the receiving end of no less than a holy crusade, called by the pope, to eradicate them and their beliefs. She could well imagine that they would make a fascinating subject for a book.

She told Dr Markeson that she was currently staying near Perpignan and offered to meet up. Finally, she clicked Send and then replied to Kathryn, thanking her most warmly and promising to keep her informed.

That evening, she was on duty at the restaurant once more. To her surprise, and secret satisfaction, the handsome man from the yacht came in on his own for dinner. It was less manic this evening and Natalie found she had a bit more time to stop and chat with him. Although she still couldn’t chase the idea of his being gay from her head, she could see that his main reason for coming to the restaurant had been to see her. He took his time over his meal and took every opportunity to talk to her. By the time he reached his coffee, he was one of the last of the customers in the place and Natalie and Laure were already preparing the tables for the next day. As she went back into the kitchen with a tray load of dirty dishes, she found Dominique waiting for her, a broad smile on her face.

‘That’s fine, Natalie. You can go any time you like. Laure and I can finish off. Once you’ve given your boyfriend the bill, you’re free to go.’ She winked suggestively. ‘With him or without him.’

‘Boyfriend? I don’t think so.’ Natalie set the tray down and absently started sorting the dishes from the cutlery. ‘I don’t even know the man’s name.’ She caught Dominique’s eye. ‘Besides, apart from anything else, he’s quite a bit older than I am. And I think I’m taller than him as well.’

‘Age brings experience.’ Dominique’s expression was still conspiratorial. ‘Maybe he could teach you a thing or two.’ She grinned. ‘And, like Alain says, we’re all the same height when we’re lying down.’

‘Dominique, really!’ Natalie pretended to be shocked but, even so, she had to admit that she did find him rather appealing, although not in a horizontal sense. He just looked and sounded like a nice man and she needed friends. She swilled her hands under the tap and dried them. ‘So, where’s his bill then?’

She picked up the bill and took it across to him. He paid in cash, adding a generous tip. Then he stood up and made a suggestion. ‘My boat’s out there at anchor. I’d be delighted to offer you a drink, maybe a glass of champagne, if you’d like to come and see her.’

The invitation sounded innocent enough, but Natalie had absolutely no intention of going off alone with some random man in a boat anchored out in the bay, where anything could happen. At the same time, she did rather like him, so she cast about for a satisfactory way of putting him off. It came to her in the nick of time.

‘That’s very kind, but I’ve got to go back home to take care of my grandmother.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you had relatives to look after.’ He sounded as if he was sincere and she took that as a good sign. She avoided telling him that her ninety-year-old grandmother was still well able to look after herself and made an alternative suggestion.

‘I’ve got a little bit of time. I’m sure Alain and Dominique would let us sit at a table on the terrace if you feel like a chat.’

He must have realised this was the best he was going to get, so he accepted gracefully and the two of them went out onto the now deserted terrace and sat down at the far end table, from where the view out across the bay was uninterrupted. The sun had set by this time and it was quite dark, particularly as Alain chose that moment to turn off the outside lights, no doubt, Natalie thought to herself with a secret smile, on the orders of his scheming wife. As her eyes got used to the dark, Natalie was soon able to make out the outline of the cliffs that stood out quite clearly above the dark of the water.

‘That’s my boat there. She’s called Amphitrite. She was the wife of the Greek god Poseidon, the goddess of the seas.’

‘What a lovely name. Now, you’d better tell me yours. I’m afraid I still don’t know who you are.’

‘Of course, how remiss of me. My name’s Philippe, Philippe Chevalier. And I know your name is Natalie, but I know nothing more than that, apart from the fact that you’re English, you speak French like a native, and you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.’

Of course this outrageous flattery was all an act, but it was quite some time since Natalie had been on the receiving end of this sort of charm offensive and, phoney as it no doubt was, she rather enjoyed it. She was glad the shadows on the terrace prevented him from seeing her face as she replied. ‘In fact, I am sort of a native. My father was English and my mother was French, from Port Renard. I used to come here often as a little girl. My name’s Natalie Dryden.’

He gave a little bow. ‘Could I offer you something to drink, Natalie?’

She shook her head. ‘Thanks, but no. I’m fine, but don’t let me stop you.’

He gave a little wave of the hand. ‘That’s fine, your company is intoxicating enough.’

Natalie almost giggled out loud. Where did he get his lines? But, nevertheless, she had to admit that it was a perfect evening. The view across the bay was now punctuated by the tiny flashes of fireflies, the distant hiss of the wavelets across the sand was soothing, there was resin as well as salt in the warm night air. Above them, the canopy of stars in the deep purple of the sky was captivating. She sat back and chatted to him, pleasantly surprised to find him caring, interested, but not in the least bit predatory, more like a big brother than a potential partner. Her feeling that he might be gay lessened as they spoke. Somehow, the way he looked at her and the things he said made that seem ever more unlikely. He was just a very nice man and she enjoyed chatting to him. Half an hour later, she glanced at her watch.

‘It’s been very nice to talk to you, Philippe, but I’m afraid I really must go.’

‘Of course, Natalie. Maybe we can do this again some other time.’

They both stood up and she saw that he was, indeed, an inch or so shorter than her. She smiled again and gave him a little wave of the hand as she left. He smiled back.

‘I look forward to seeing you again. I would like to have the chance to get to know you so much better.’

‘I’m sure we’ll meet again. Goodnight, Philippe.’

‘Goodnight, Natalie.’

As Natalie walked back up the path to her grandmother’s house, she found herself thinking about Philippe, but also about Mark and Rémy. Philippe was undeniably handsome, gentle and considerate and she really did hope she would see him again. It would be nice to have a kind, gentle man as a friend. As for the hunky fisherman, she was sensible enough to know that, physically attractive as he undeniably was, she had no intention of embarking on a wild fling with him. He, too, was a handsome man, but she knew that, at the ripe old age of thirty, she wanted more than just a quick physical affair, however stimulating that might appear to whichever part of the brain it is that channels basic instincts like lust.

And then there was Mark. Ever since his taut, muscular body had brushed against hers out in the bay, she had been unable to shake him out of her head. Of course, she told herself, it could just be because she was already head over heels in love with his four-legged friend. She was smiling to herself as she walked through the trees.

When she got back to the house, her grandmother was sitting up in bed reading. Natalie went in and sat with her, recounting the events of the evening, including the attentions of Philippe Chevalier. As she spoke, she reflected that this was probably the very first time she had ever spoken to her grandmother about a man taking an interest in her. Previously, revelations like this would have been anathema. Strangely, she now found herself not only able, but keen, to share this sort of subject with her. As for her grandmother, from the sparkle in her eyes, she thoroughly enjoyed hearing all about it, presumably being reminded of her own youth.

‘He sounds rather nice. But, of course, you don’t need to go looking for a man, do you?’

‘Absolutely not, not at all. It wasn’t like that. I think he just wants to be friends. And that’s the way I feel about him, too.’

Her grandmother looked across at her, a more serious expression on her face. ‘Well, just you remember, he’s a man after all, and you’re a very beautiful girl. Just you be careful.’

‘Of course.’ Natalie grinned at her. ‘You do wonders for my self-esteem, Gran.’ Natalie leant over and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Anyway, I’d better go and check my emails in case there’s already a reply from this Evelyn lady.’

Back in her room, she found that there was indeed a reply from Evelyn Markeson.

Dear Doctor Dryden

Thank you very much for your email. Your background and experience along with your qualifications would appear to make you an ideal candidate for the position. Also, the fact that we are both currently in the south of France is providential. Could we meet up?

As I am very keen to tie this up as soon as possible, I wonder if you might be free for interview as soon as tomorrow or the next day? You write that you are near Perpignan, so how about meeting for lunch together at a restaurant called les Vagues in Collioure, at 12.30, if that suits? It’s close to the beach and the food is reputed to be very good. Alternatively, if you prefer another location, day or time, just tell me and I will meet you there.

I look forward to hearing from you and, hopefully, to meeting you.

Kind regards

Evelyn Markeson

Natalie picked up the laptop and ran back into her grandmother’s room, an unexpected lump in her throat. She found she couldn’t say a word, as emotion threatened to overwhelm her, so she just passed the computer to Colette and sat down on the bed beside her, searching in her pocket for a tissue. Colette read the email and looked up, clearly concerned to see her granddaughter in tears.

‘What is it, Natalie? Why’re you crying? Isn’t this good news?’

Natalie nodded mutely, still wiping the tears from her eyes. Finally, she pulled herself together. ‘Sorry about that. Yes, of course it’s good news. In fact, it’s excellent news. I wasn’t crying about that.’ She blew her nose on her handkerchief and stuffed it back in the pocket of her shorts. ‘It’s just that this is the first time I’ve ever been addressed as Doctor Dryden. That was dad, and now it’s me. After all the years of hard work, it barely seems real.’

Her grandmother held out her arms and Natalie collapsed against her, the tears returning once more. Colette stroked her hair just as she used to do when Natalie was a little girl and this only made her cry all the more. It was quite some time before she managed to restore some sort of self-control and she sat up, wiping her eyes and doing her best to get a grip. Colette pointed to the message on the computer screen.

‘The lady has good taste. Les Vagues is far and away the best restaurant in Collioure. I believe it’s now got a Michelin star. You should eat very well there. When are you going to meet her?’

‘I think I’ll go tomorrow, if it’s all right with you? The sooner the better.’

‘Tomorrow’s fine with me. There’s still quiche left in the fridge from today and there’s all that ham that needs eating. I’ll be fine.’

Natalie smiled at her. ‘Right, then; if you’re sure, I’ll go and send her an email.’ She stood up and ran her hands through her hair. ‘I’ll wash my hair tomorrow morning after my swim. I’d better try to make a good impression.’

‘You’ll make a lovely impression, Doctor Dryden.’

This time Natalie managed to smile back at her. It really did sound rather good.