What Happens at the Beach... (10 page)

And that was what they decided to do. They spent the whole of the rest of the morning talking about the history of what has come to be known as the Albigensian Crusade. Natalie was impressed with the depth of his knowledge of the subject and he went up in her estimation as a result. There was definitely a very good brain inside that very appealing body, and the appealing body was close enough to her to cause her to lose the thread of the conversation from time to time. However, as the morning progressed, she gradually managed to banish the tingling sensation up her arm from when he had shaken her hand and concentrate on the job she had to do.

By lunchtime Natalie was convinced that Mark knew enough about the Cathars to be able to write about them. With her help, she felt sure he would be able to produce something very convincing. The next stop, they both decided, was to start making a few field trips.

‘So where do we go first?' Mark had stuck a map on the wall and they went across to study it. Natalie had been thinking about this. She pointed to Béziers, to the north of where they were now. As she did so, her bare arm touched his and the tingling returned. She struggled hard and took refuge in history.

‘When the pope's army came marching into the Languedoc in 1209, they hit Béziers first. They besieged the city and then broke in and some of the soldiers went on a killing spree, ending up by setting fire to the city. Let's start there and then follow the route of the crusaders onwards to Carcassonne and then Toulouse. Okay with you?'

‘Sounds great. How about you come up here tomorrow morning and we'll go in my car? We can take Barney and make a day of it.'

After lunch with her grandmother, Natalie sent a long email to Amy in Cambridge, telling her everything that had happened so far. Her cheerful mood must have been evident from the email as she received an almost immediate reply from Amy telling her how pleased she was to hear her sounding so happy. And Natalie realised that she really was. There was no doubt in her mind, however hard she struggled to deny it, that she found Mark a very appealing proposition. He was kind, he was generous, he was intelligent and, of course, he was very good-looking. Like it or lump it, she knew there was a spark deep inside her and it wouldn't need much fanning to turn it into a roaring fire. Whether he felt anything towards her, on the other hand, was far from certain. He always behaved with impeccable courtesy and politeness and there had been no hint from him of anything but professional, historical interest in her. She did her best to stifle her growing sense of fascination with him by repeating to herself that she could now stand on her own two feet and didn't need a man for support. Over and over again.

Natalie spent the rest of the afternoon in her room, flicking through some of the books in French she had brought from Mark's collection, and taking notes. She dug out her own map of the area and set about marking the various important places for them to visit in the coming days. Around mid-afternoon, she made two mugs of tea and took them into her grandmother's room. Natalie put the tea down on the bedside table and perched on the edge of the bed.

‘Did you sleep?'

Colette smiled. ‘Like a log. There's nothing like a glass of rosé for making you want a snooze.'

Natalie handed her the mug of tea and told her about the route she had planned to take with Mark. Colette was fascinated. ‘It sounds as if you're enjoying working with him.'

Natalie nodded. ‘He's ever so keen. It's a real pleasure to work with somebody like that. I've had to give a few lectures to undergraduates back in Cambridge and most of them spent more time fiddling with their phones than paying attention.'

‘And you like him?'

Natalie smiled. ‘Yes, I like him, Granny, but this is work, not romance. All right? Besides, remember that at six o'clock tonight I'm having drinks with my friend Philippe.'

‘Of course, your friend with the yacht. But that's all he is, isn't he?' Natalie nodded. Her gran was right. Philippe was a very nice man and Natalie hoped he could develop into a good friend, but, handsome as he was, she knew there was nothing more to it than that as far as she was concerned. And, she reflected, from his attitude towards her, that was just the way he felt, too, and this was reflected in the lack of threat she felt in his presence.

When Natalie made her way down through the trees to the beach at six o'clock, the sun was starting to drop towards the horizon, but it was still very hot. When she reached the jetty, Philippe was sitting on the deck of his yacht, waiting for her. Today he was wearing a pink polo shirt and immaculately pressed grey shorts. He reached out a hand to help her aboard. Then, still holding her hand, he stepped back and scrutinised her, before passing judgement.

‘Natalie. You look wonderful.' He pulled her towards him and pointed to a comfortable-looking bench seat running across the deck, liberally spread with blue and white cushions, embroidered with the name of the boat,
Amphitrite
. He sat down beside her, his eyes still checking her out. She was wearing the same dress she had worn to meet Mark at the restaurant and Philippe obviously approved. ‘Yes, you look absolutely gorgeous.'

Natalie gave him a smile. ‘You're very kind, Philippe. And you're looking very smart yourself.'

Philippe smiled and stood up. A bottle of champagne was sticking out of an ice bucket. ‘Champagne all right?'

‘Definitely.' Natalie watched as he expertly opened the bottle. He produced two glasses from inside the ice bucket, dried them on a cloth and filled them, the wine fizzing up to the brim of each glass before settling back again.

‘
Et voilà
.' He handed her a glass and sat back down beside her. She clinked her glass against his and took a long, luxurious mouthful. It was excellent champagne and she told him so. His reply was predictably unctuous. ‘A beautiful wine for a beautiful woman.' She grinned, but managed to stifle a groan. They sat and drank champagne and chatted, the air here by the water pleasantly cooler than up on the stifling hot hillside. After a while, she stood up and looked around.

‘So,
mon capitaine
, tell me all about your lovely yacht. How many metres long is she, what sort of keel does she have; bilge keel, fin keel, retracting keel? How many knots can you get out of her on a good broad reach?' She did her best to keep the grin off her face as she fed him these questions and saw the astonishment on his face. Part of her afternoon at the computer had been spent honing her knowledge of sailing, gained from a few years in the cadet section of the local sailing club as a girl growing up, and from weekends with a former boyfriend whose parents had a boat at Great Yarmouth.

‘You're a sailor?' He looked and sounded impressed.

‘I've done a bit.'

The next half hour was spent giving her a tour of the boat, describing in considerable detail such minutiae as the roller furling jib, the echo sounder, the autopilot and so on. They visited the main cabin where he showed off the impressive display of electronic navigation equipment, but she made sure she politely declined his offer to show her his bedroom. During this time, she helped him drink most of the bottle of champagne and had a most enjoyable time. He was very enthusiastic about her interest in sailing.

‘But you must come out sailing with me, Natalie.' He emptied the remains of the bottle into their glasses. ‘We could sail along the coast, maybe down to Spain and back.'

The idea of a sail in the lovely boat definitely held considerable appeal. She was by now pretty sure she had nothing to fear from him, even if they were out in the open sea alone together, so she told him it sounded like a wonderful idea. She stopped short at naming the day, however, remembering her grandmother's warning about men.

When her watch showed seven o'clock, she told him she really had to get back to her grandmother. There was an expression of disappointment on his face as he took her hand to help her onto the shore. Before leaving, she let him kiss her on the cheeks, then looked across at him and smiled. ‘Thank you,
mon capitaine
, for a most enjoyable time. Your company and your champagne were delightful.'

‘
Au revoir, mademoiselle
.'

She set off back along the jetty and up the hill to home, her spirits high and a smile on her face. She didn't need Mark to have a good time with a man.

Chapter 6

Next day was grey and overcast. These were just about the first clouds Natalie had seen since arriving in the south of France, so she couldn't really complain. She still went for her morning swim, but the sea was no longer bright blue and now little waves lapped the beach. Even so, the water was still warm and she swam out to the buoy as usual. There was more of a swell out there today and she saw from the white-capped waves beyond the shelter of the headlands that the Tramontane wind must be blowing hard. This part of France was known for its strong winds, although this bay provided such wonderful natural shelter that they rarely felt them down on the beach. She returned to the house and saw the vines over the terrace moving under the effect of quite a strong breeze. It was still warm out there, but she found that her grandmother had opted to stay in bed for now.

Natalie made two cups of coffee and took them into Colette's bedroom. She found her looking a bit frail, although her face brightened into a smile when she saw Natalie.

‘Good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?' Natalie nodded as she sat down beside her. ‘So, did you dream of your handsome sailor?' She was smiling more broadly now. ‘Or were you dreaming of your friend from the chateau?'

In fact, Natalie hadn't slept particularly well, her mind churning over a succession of images of David, Philippe, Mark and even Rémy. This reminded her to seek out the fisherman to ask if he could get two lobsters as soon as possible. She summoned a bright smile and shook her head, deciding to take refuge in a little fib. ‘No dreams, Gran. I slept like a log.'

Her grandmother looked pleased. ‘And today, what's the plan?'

‘Today Mark and I are going up to Béziers and then, from there to Carcassonne.'

‘Oh, Carcassonne, how I love that place.' She caught Natalie's eye. ‘Although it'll be packed out with tourists, especially as it's a cloudy day.'

Carcassonne was one of the finest medieval walled towns in the world, a formidable fortress, and now a UNESCO World Heritage site and, because of this, a magnet for tourists. Natalie hadn't considered the ramifications of the change in the weather. Her grandma was right. If the hordes of tourists who flocked to the beaches in this part of France didn't feel like sunbathing, then Carcassonne was an obvious choice for a day out. It was going to be packed. She did a bit of rapid recalculation. ‘I hadn't thought of that. I think we'd better leave Carcassonne for another nice sunny day when the tourists will be back on the beaches. Today we can still do Béziers, but from there we'll head up into the Montagne Noire to get away from the crowds.'

She went up to the chateau at nine, still wearing shorts, but taking a jacket and jumper with her just in case the clouds turned into rain. She wore her sandals, but brought a pair of socks and her trainers for the hills. She found Mark in the kitchen, chatting to Madame Lenoir. Barney the dog gave her a boisterous welcome and Mark gave her a smile. She found herself smiling back at him. He caught her eye. ‘Ready for Béziers?'

Natalie nodded and then explained what her grandmother had said and how she thought it might be better to make a change of plan to avoid the crowds in Carcassonne. He immediately agreed. ‘I like the idea of getting off the beaten track. Some of the book's going to involve a chase and a shoot-out in the wilds of the countryside, so the more experience of it I get, the better.'

They bade farewell to Madame Lenoir and went round to the garage. Mark's car, it turned out, was a very posh-looking, brand new 4x4. She climbed into the luxurious car with its comfortable seats and breathed in the smell of leather, while, behind her, the Labrador leapt into the boot, tail wagging furiously. She looked around the very smart interior of the car. She knew that David would have sold his soul to the devil for a shiny new luxury car and she realised this was the first time she had thought of David for days. She smiled in satisfaction and turned towards Mark as he climbed into the driver's seat. ‘This is a lovely car. Have you had it long?'

He shook his head, looking slightly embarrassed. ‘Just a couple of months. It belongs to the company. The new CEO wanted one and they offered us a deal if we bought two, so that's why I've got it. It's very comfortable, but it seems to drink its own weight in fuel every week and it's bloody huge. Parking's a nightmare.'

In David's world, people could be burnt at the stake for daring to criticise something as expensive as this, and Natalie found herself smiling more broadly. Mark smiled back and they set off. Once they were on the motorway, he brought the conversation round to the Cathars.

‘So, Natalie, tell me more about Béziers. I was reading about it last night. There seem to be conflicting versions of what happened. Did the crusaders really massacre 20,000 people?'

Natalie turned her mind to her special subject. ‘I think the short answer to that one is a definite no. Chroniclers in the Middle Ages always tended to exaggerate. Estimates say that the whole population of Béziers in 1209 wasn't much over 10,000 people, so we can discount the 20,000 figure. All the same, a lot of people were killed, and the city was set alight.' She glanced out of the window at the low, scrub-covered hills on either side of the motorway, the grey sky rendering the scene a bit dismal, in spite of the oleander bushes covered with colourful pink and red flowers all down the central reservation. ‘It was a serious, bloody massacre all right.'

They spent the morning in Béziers, wandering round the streets, buffeted by the strong wind, trying to find the remaining medieval parts of the town amidst the more modern buildings and boulevards. She did her best to feed him bits of information that might be useful to him in his book and she found she enjoyed being a teacher once again. From time to time she shot questions at him and was very impressed at the knowledge he had already accumulated.