What Happens at the Beach...

‘I think he’s from the chateau. You know it was sold last autumn?’ Natalie vaguely recalled her grandmother telling her something to that effect, but she had been here so rarely over the past few years. ‘It’s been bought by some rich people, most probably for a holiday home. At least, that’s what I hear from Marie who got the news from Maître Delatour. They’re foreign, maybe even English.’ A note of regret entered Colette’s voice. ‘No surprise there. All the most beautiful places are being bought up by foreigners and turned into holiday homes. The local people can’t afford to buy houses down here any longer. It’s a real problem.’

By this time the dog had collapsed onto his back on the flagstones and was grunting happily to himself as Natalie scratched his tummy. ‘So does he have a name?’ She spotted a medallion hanging from the dog’s bright red collar. Squinting down at it, she saw that it only bore a telephone number, no name.

‘I call him Charlie and he doesn’t seem to mind.’ No surprise there. All the dogs her grandparents had ever had had been called Charlie. Up till now they had all been cocker spaniels, but the name seemed to suit the big black dog just as well. Natalie looked down at him again.

‘So, Charlie, would you like a biscuit?’ The dog clearly understood what was on offer. He rolled to one side and leapt to his feet, tail wagging. Natalie glanced across at her grandmother. ‘Have you been giving him bad habits?’

‘He always gets a biscuit when he comes to see me. I got Jeanne to buy some proper dog biscuits when she did my shopping. I’m just being hospitable, after all. You’ll find them inside on the window ledge.’

Natalie went into the kitchen, located the packet of bone-shaped dog biscuits and removed one. Back outside, she gave it to the dog who took it delicately from her fingers and settled down at her feet, the biscuit held vertically between his front paws, to crunch it up. Natalie glanced at Colette again. ‘And here I was thinking you might be lonely.’

‘I could never be lonely down here.’ A distant expression crossed her old face. ‘Everywhere I look, I see friends and I remember them. I see the bench your grandfather made, where he used to sit in the evenings, smoking those disgusting yellow papier maïs cigarettes of his. I see the flower bed he planted and obstinately watered all the way through every long dry summer. I see the path up which the fishermen would come every morning to sell us fresh fish from the bay. I see the towers of the chateau where Madame de Gruchy lived. She used to give us kids sweeties and serve us lemonade made from the lemons in her garden. I’m not lonely, Natalie, and now that you’re here, that’s just perfect.’ She looked across and caught Natalie’s eye. ‘And you mustn’t feel lonely either. It’ll all work out for you, just like it worked out for me.’

She closed her eyes and Natalie saw the weariness in her face. Ninety was, after all, a grand old age. Meanwhile the dog, having finished the biscuit and then having licked the stones all round him for any remaining crumbs, stood up and took his leave. Natalie watched as he trotted off back the way he had come, his tail still wagging lazily, until he disappeared from sight into the scrubby bushes alongside the path. Just visible above the roof of her grandmother’s house were the twin turrets of the chateau. Natalie reflected that this was a very lucky Labrador to live in such a place, with a whole hillside where he could roam free. Like Colette, she looked forward to seeing him again. As it happened, this was to be sooner than she expected.

She spent the day helping her grandma and chatting, catching up on all the news. Just before lunch, she took the little Renault and a long shopping list and drove down to the shops in Banyuls-sur-Mer. As well as food, wine and water, she also found a rather nice new bikini; fairly minimal, but not obscene. It was comfortable, a good fit, and not too expensive. That was all that mattered.

After lunch, they both had a little siesta. Colette retired to her room, while Natalie chose to snooze on the old wooden sun bed under the vines. It had been built by her grandfather and had been there for as long as she could remember. It was made of cypress wood and the aroma was still intoxicating even after the passage of the years. Miraculously it was still solid enough to take her weight. She dozed for an hour, aided by the two glasses of ice cold rosé she had drunk with her lunch, before getting up and digging out her laptop. She scanned her emails and spotted one from David. The content was far from inspiring.

Nat, sorry you felt you had to leave. Everybody was asking where you had gone off to on Saturday. I said you weren’t feeling very well. I haven’t told my parents about your moment of bad temper. I’ve put the ring on the bedside table. When are you coming back? There’s the office summer party at the end of the month and I really need you with me for that.

David

Moment of bad temper? Only the presence of her grandmother in the next room prevented Natalie from squealing at his crass choice of words. If she had been harbouring any lingering doubts as to the wisdom of breaking off the engagement, this email confirmed she had made the right decision. He really had changed from the man she had first met. And, she told herself firmly, she had changed as well. She was no longer the helpless, lonely girl who had latched on to him in her moment of crisis. She had grown up and she, like David, had changed. She no longer needed a man to look after her and hold her hand. She was fully capable of standing on her own two feet.

She turned her attention to the other emails, hoping that one of them might at least bring good news on the employment front. She had been scouring the internet for lecturing positions anywhere in the UK or France, but the sad fact was that good jobs in medieval history were few and far between. There was nothing of interest, except for one from Amy in Cambridge, and a very kind and heartening email from her professor, telling her she was casting about, looking for jobs for Natalie. She said she would be in touch if anything suitable presented itself.

Finally, she read Amy’s email. The night she had spent with her before taking the plane to France had been a pretty downbeat affair. She had recounted to Amy the events of the garden party, in particular the conversation she had overheard in the kitchen. As ever, Amy was supportive. They had known each other since their schooldays and there wasn’t much about Natalie that Amy didn’t know. She had been a tower of strength when Natalie’s parents had died and they had stayed close ever since. And, since the break-up with David, she was her closest friend in the UK. Today’s email from her, predictably, was to see if Natalie was feeling better. Before answering, Natalie sat back and reflected. Seeing her grandmother again had been wonderful and this place, with the sun shining outside and the hum of the bees in the flowers in the garden, had cheered her immensely. Being with her grandmother was beginning to remove, or at least reduce, the sense of loneliness that had haunted her for so long and make her aware that she was a stronger person than before. Here, in Colette, she had somebody with whom she knew she could talk about anything. She found she was able to reply to Amy in all sincerity that she was indeed beginning to feel better now.

Natalie closed the laptop and sat quietly for a few minutes, doing her best to banish her anger at David, before going out onto the landing. She decided she had better check on her grandmother, so she tiptoed to her door and peered into the shadowy interior. The shutters were firmly closed as this room faced south and, without them, it would have become intolerably hot in there. As it was, it felt pleasantly cool. There was a movement from the bed and she saw her grandmother turn her head towards the door. ‘Hello, dear. It’s all right, I’m awake. Did you have a little sleep?’

‘I dozed a bit, and it was lovely out there under the vines. There are already little grapes forming in bunches. Looks like it’ll be a bumper harvest.’

Colette nodded. ‘Shall we have a cup of tea? I’ve been lying down for long enough. I need to get up and tidy up the house. Jeanne comes in at five, so I’ve got an hour before that.’

Natalie smiled to herself. It was the carer’s job to do any tidying up for her grandmother, not the other way round. While Colette went out to the table under the trellis, Natalie went into the kitchen and made two mugs of tea. She brought them out and they sat and chatted until the carer arrived. Once Jeanne had taken over, Natalie decided to go down to the beach for another swim and maybe a drink at the beachside bar. This time, as she walked down through the pine trees, the air was scalding hot and it felt almost suffocating beneath the shelter of the branches. It was a relief to come out onto the beach. Here, at least, a light breeze cooled the air and she began to breathe easily once more. Two sailing boats were now moored to the jetty and a couple of towels on the beach showed that she would no longer be alone. However, considering it was the middle of July, it was remarkable how few people had discovered this little bay. As she stepped onto the sand, she spotted a familiar figure.

‘Hello, Charlie.’ Hearing her voice, the Labrador turned round and sprang to his feet. He had been sitting right by the water’s edge, his eyes glued on the sea. Seeing Natalie, he came trotting over, tail wagging, to greet her. She dropped down onto one knee to pet him, the heat of the sand almost unbearable under her bare skin. ‘What’re you doing down here?’ Natalie looked out to sea, following the direction of the dog’s eyes, but couldn’t spot anybody or anything in particular. She straightened up and went across to the rocks, stripping off her shorts and setting them on a warm rock along with her towel and her dark glasses. She then hopped hurriedly across the burning beach until she got to the blessed relief of the damp sand at the water’s edge and waded into the sea.

The dog followed her as far as his elbows but no further. She even picked up a few stones and threw them into the deeper water for him, but without success. It would appear that this particular Labrador was not a fan of the water, unlike most of his breed. Unable to persuade him to accompany her, Natalie left him on the beach and waded out until she could sink gratefully into the deeper water, feeling revitalised as it cooled her down. She swam slowly out, parallel with the rocky shore, diving down from time to time to check out the sea bed. She spotted shells, some patches of weed and one little crab, but nothing else of interest. However, the sea was crystal clear and she loved the sensation of the cool water on her skin and in her hair as she twisted and turned under water like a mermaid.

She was hanging on to her same mooring buoy, floating on her back with her head in the water, when she suddenly became aware of a noise and then a moment later felt something bump into her shoulder. She swung round to find it was another swimmer. Clearly he had been swimming in from the open sea with his face down and hadn’t seen her before ploughing into her. Realising his mistake, he stopped and straightened up, his expression apologetic. He shook the water out of his eyes and ran his hand across his short-cropped hair. He caught her eye and summoned a smile. ‘Excusez moi, madame.’ Then he turned and resumed his apparently effortless front crawl back towards the shore.

Natalie’s eyes followed him as he made short work of the last hundred metres or so to the shore. As he approached the beach, she saw the dog jump to his feet, tail wagging furiously. As the man stood up and waded through the shallows, the dog came jumping and bouncing into the water to greet him. Then both turned and set off back up the same path Natalie had used on her way down through the trees. So, she thought to herself, this had to be the dog’s master and, presumably, they were returning to the old chateau. She watched as they headed up the hill into the trees, reappearing from time to time as they climbed, finally disappearing from sight somewhere up above her grandmother’s house.

All the time she was watching his retreating shoulders, she had the strangest sensation. Her shoulder, where he had bumped into her, could still feel his touch. It wasn’t pain. He hadn’t done her any harm, but her skin could still feel exactly where he had come into contact with her. Even stranger, her brain still held a crystal-clear image of his suntanned face, fair hair and blue eyes. His voice, with an accent that could maybe have been English, repeated ‘Excusez moi, madame’ over and over again in her head. She dipped her face into the cool water and then shook her head to clear it. What on earth was going on?

She swam slowly back to the shore, loving the cool embrace of the water, still trying to work out what had happened back there. Bemused, she walked across to her towel and patted herself down, before laying it on a clean patch of sand and stretching out on it. Gradually she managed to banish the image of the man from her head and did her best to relax. She lay there on her front for little more than ten minutes, while the sun dried her back, then she turned over and let it dry the other half of her. She was still pale after a chilly English spring, but she knew it wouldn’t take long for the sun to tan her a golden brown. Finally, almost completely dry, she got up, slipped her shorts and T-shirt back on and headed across the hot sand of the beach to the café, glad that her feet were once more protected by her sandals.

She climbed the flight of stone steps to the terrace and took a seat at one of the tables there, sheltering from the direct sunlight under the umbrella. One other table was occupied by a couple, and a pretty, dark-haired girl was in the process of serving them what looked like a bottle of Blanquette de Limoux, the local fizz. Natalie knew she wanted something non-alcoholic, so when another, slightly older, waitress came out, she ordered an ice tea. When it arrived, she sat back, took a big mouthful and let it trickle down her throat as she surveyed the view. Colette was right. It hadn’t changed, even if they had.

From where she was sitting, she could see right across the beach to the other side. The sun was now shining almost directly into the little bay and there was very little shade to be found apart from the shadows between some of the bigger rocks on the far side. Here, under the umbrella, it felt comfortably cool as the gentle breeze off the water kept the warm air moving. She studied the two sailing boats moored to the quay. It was only a tiny landing stage and two boats were about as many as could fit alongside. She saw the heads of a couple of people in one boat, sitting under an awning, while the other looked empty. Maybe the occupants were down below. Then, as she was sipping her drink, taking in the old familiar view and remembering so many happy times she had spent down here on the beach, she heard footsteps behind her and a voice.

‘Natalie? Is that you?’ It was a man’s voice and he sounded hesitant. She turned and looked up. From the apron he was wearing around his waist, it was clear that he worked there. She pulled off her sunglasses and took a good look at his face. It didn’t take long for it to dawn on her that she did indeed know him.

‘Alain? Little Alain? Is that you?’ There was nothing little about him now. He was taller than she was and his stomach was already bulging over the top of his white apron. His shoulders were broad and his arms, covered in a mat of dark hair, looked strong. His dark eyes were smiling at her from his swarthy face.

‘I thought it was you.’ He sounded really pleased to see her and she realised that she felt the same way. She stood up and gave him a hug, kissing him on the cheeks, trying to remember the last time she had seen him. He turned and called back through the door into the bar. ‘Dominique, you were right. It is her. It’s Natalie.’

‘Dominique?’ It was all coming back to Natalie now. She had known Alain since they were little kids playing together in the sand. He was a couple of years younger than her, hence the epithet little. The last time she had seen him had been in her late teens and she vaguely remembered him proudly introducing her to his girlfriend. And her name had been Dominique. As the waitress who had served her emerged through the multi-coloured fly screen, wiping her hands on a cloth, Natalie took a better look at her and realised this was the same girl. She gave her a big smile. Behind her, the head of the younger waitress peered out of the door at them with interest.

‘Last time I saw you, Alain, you told me you were going to marry your girlfriend.’ Natalie glanced down at the gold rings on both their hands. ‘So you did it. Congratulations to you both.’ She kissed Dominique on both cheeks and looked across at the two of them, indicating the empty chairs at her table. ‘Time to join me?’

‘Not now, I’m afraid. I’m up to my eyes getting ready for tonight’s dinner.’ Alain was smiling broadly. ‘I’ve got a whole heap of things cooking at the moment and a lot more to prepare. Are you any good at opening oysters by any chance?’

Natalie shook her head. ‘I only tried once and this was the result.’ She held up her left hand and showed them the faint pale scar where the pointed knife had slipped off the oyster’s shell and dug into her. She could still remember how much it had hurt and how much it had bled. ‘I’d be happy to help you with something else, though, if you like.’

‘I might take you up on that some time. It gets pretty busy here at this time of year.’ Alain glanced at Dominique. ‘Dominique, you could stay and chat for a moment, though. Laure can come and help me for now, so if you keep an eye on the terrace, I won’t need you in the kitchen for another few minutes. Find out how long Natalie’s staying so we can meet at a quieter time and catch up.’

He waved and returned inside while Dominique pulled up a chair and sat down opposite Natalie. ‘I remember you very well, you know. You’re so beautiful and I was convinced Alain was your old boyfriend and he was going to dump me for you.’ She was a cheerful-looking girl, her build the opposite of Alain’s. She was short, and so slim she looked like a little bird.

Natalie smiled back at her. ‘I always liked Alain, but you didn’t need to worry on my account. We used to play on the beach when he was ever so little. He was like a little brown eel, always in the water. I still think of him like that and I always will; sort of like the little brother I never had. You maybe didn’t hear, but when he came out and said hello a few minutes ago, my first reaction was to call him Little Alain.’ They both laughed and Natalie realised she rather liked Dominique.

‘So, how long are you staying?’

‘I don’t really know. It depends how long my grandmother will have me.’ Natalie went on to tell Dominique that she had just finished her doctorate and was taking a well-deserved time out, while looking for a job. ‘So it all depends, but I would think I’ll be here for a good while.’

‘Colette must be delighted to have you here. I bet she’s glad of the company. She and your grandfather often used to come down for a drink when we first opened the bar. But, since his death we haven’t seen much of her.’ She looked across the table and caught Natalie’s eye. ‘We were all so terribly sorry to hear about your parents. It was a car crash, wasn’t it?’

Natalie nodded. ‘Almost five years ago now.’ She did her best to summon a more positive tone. ‘So, how’s business?’

‘At this time of year, it’s amazing. We’re full most nights and lunchtimes are getting busier and busier. Alain will tell you all about it. Laure’s been working with us full-time since Easter and we still need more hands at times. Why don’t you come down for a chat tomorrow either early in the morning or around mid-afternoon? Those are the quietest times of day for us. He’d love to talk to you.’

Natalie arranged to call in for a coffee the following day after her early morning swim, delighted to have found them again. Their company reminded her of happier times.

Chapter 3 (#ulink_8d109217-5c43-5b17-9d9c-5b129cc542c0)

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.