What Happens at the Beach... (25 page)

‘I'll deal with all the paperwork and I'll inform the authorities, don't you worry. Would you like me to speak to the local funeral directors for you?' Natalie nodded again, still struggling to come to terms with the loss. ‘That's settled then.' The doctor leant forward and looked closely at Natalie. ‘Have you got somebody who could come and be with you? It must have been a great shock. Why don't I ask your grandmother's carer if she could come and stay with you for a few hours?'

Natalie took a deep breath and shook her head. ‘It's all right, doctor, I'll be fine. It's just the shock, like you say.' She sat upright and drank her coffee. ‘I just need a bit of time to myself. Thank you.'

After the doctor had gone, Natalie went back upstairs into her grandmother's bedroom. The doctor had closed her eyes and settled her head on the pillow. Her pale old body looked tiny in the middle of the big bed. Natalie went and sat down on the bed beside her, just as she had done almost every morning for the past month, and looked down at her, the tears still running down her cheeks, remembering her smile, her laugh, her rich sense of humour. She would miss her terribly. She already did.

She got up after a while and went into the bathroom. Barely aware of what she was doing, she took a shower and washed her hair. She put on her usual clothes. She hadn't brought anything black with her from Britain and, anyway, she knew her grandmother wouldn't have wanted her to make a fuss. Finally, she went back downstairs again and out onto the terrace. She was still sitting there, fighting to prevent the tears from starting to flow once more, when she heard footsteps and Barney appeared, closely followed by Mark. Natalie had completely forgotten about the invitation to coffee. She stood up hastily and went over to stroke the dog. As Mark approached, she straightened up and their eyes met. She saw an expression of concern flood his face.

‘What is it, Natalie? What's the matter?'

She cleared her throat. When she spoke, her voice was weak and didn't sound like her at all. ‘It's Gran. She's dead.'

‘Oh, Natalie, I'm so, so sorry.' He held out his hands towards her and enveloped her in a big hug. She let her head collapse against his shoulder and felt the tears once more begin to pour as she lost what little control she had been able to regain. She clung on to him as if her whole life depended upon it and sobbed her heart out. At her feet, she heard the Labrador whine and then felt his paws on her thigh as he stood up on his hind legs to add his own consolation. It was this more than anything that brought her back to the here and now. Reluctantly, she released her grip on Mark's waist and stepped back. He kept his hands on her shoulders, steadying her until he was sure she could stand on her own unaided.

‘I'm sorry, Mark.' Natalie scrabbled in her pockets for a tissue and began to dry her eyes and face. She looked across at him. He was wearing a light-blue T-shirt today and the whole left side of it was now dark blue, soaking wet. She sniffed and offered an apology. ‘I'm so sorry; I've soaked your T-shirt.'

‘Only one side of it, Natalie. If you want to start on the other side, just say the word.' He gave her a little smile. ‘Now, why don't you sit back down again and I'll go and make us some coffee.'

Natalie blew her nose and returned the tissue to her pocket. ‘That's all right, Mark. I'll make it. What would you like, tea or coffee? I had coffee with the doctor so I think I'll have tea.'

‘Tea's fine for me too, thanks. I'll come with you.' Together they went into the kitchen and Natalie filled the kettle. She discarded her damp tissue and took two others from the box. Then she went over to the sink and splashed cold water on her face, drying herself off with a hand towel. By the time the kettle boiled, she was feeling a bit better. She poured the hot water into the pot and took the milk out of the fridge.

‘I'm so glad you've come, Mark. I've been in a sort of dream for the last couple of hours and I needed you to shake me out of it. Milk, no sugar, right?'

‘Yup. Has the doctor been?'

Natalie nodded. ‘He's a good man. He's going to sort out the paperwork and he said he'll go to the town hall for me.' Just then, her grandmother's phone started ringing. It was a man called Monsieur Jacquard, the funeral director. They agreed that he would come round that afternoon. Natalie thanked him and rang off, turning to explain to Mark. He nodded.

‘Now, what can I do? Do you want to come up to the chateau for lunch, maybe?'

Natalie shook her head. ‘Thanks, Mark, but I don't want to leave Gran. This afternoon they'll take her away but until then I'd like to stay with her.'

‘Of course. Do you want me to stay with you?'

‘No, no, of course not. You're in the middle of writing your book, after all. I'll be fine on my own.'

Mark shook his head with an embarrassed look on his face. ‘I was up at half past six and I've been staring at the computer for most of the morning since then. Do you want to know how many words I've written?' He didn't wait for her answer. ‘Not one. Not a single one, not even a title. I'm suffering from the worst case of writer's block since Snoopy decided it was a dark and stormy night.'

In spite of everything, this brought a smile to Natalie's face and she was grateful to him for trying to raise her spirits. ‘It'll come. Now, you go home and carry on with it. I'll be at the chateau tomorrow morning at nine as usual and I want to hear that you've written at least the first thousand words. All right?'

After Mark and Barney had left, Natalie busied herself with a few jobs around the house. Everywhere she looked there were memories of her grandmother; her shawl, a newspaper with the Sudoku completed in her neat handwriting, and her favourite mug with
World's Best Grandmother
written on it in English, a present from teenage Natalie many years ago now. She picked things up and put them away into cupboards until the place was spotless, glad of something to occupy her. After she had finished downstairs, Natalie went back upstairs and began to tidy her grandmother's room. From time to time she glanced over at the little figure on the bed. Her grandmother had gone now and that was that. And, along with her, all traces of Natalie's close family.

The funeral director was a familiar face. She had often seen him here at the house, doing odd carpentry jobs for her grandmother. Today he was wearing a dark suit and a black tie and he looked oddly out of place in the bright sunshine. He shook her hand gravely and told her how sorry he was to hear the news. Natalie was very touched that even this professional funeral director shed a tear when he went upstairs and saw Colette's body. He turned to Natalie, wiped his eyes with a large white handkerchief and shook his head. ‘I'm sorry, Natalie. She was a lovely lady. We'll all miss her.'

After Monsieur Jacquard and his men had taken Colette's body away, Natalie didn't know what to do. She removed the bedclothes from her grandmother's bed and put the sheets in the washing machine. Then she cleaned the house from top to bottom before sitting down in the kitchen with another mug of tea. By this time it was gone six and she realised she had hardly eaten anything all day, so she broke a piece of yesterday's bread off the half baguette in the bread basket and spread it with a little honey. She was chewing her way through it when her phone rang. It was Mark.

‘Hi, Natalie. Did the funeral director come?'

‘Hi, Mark. Yes, they've taken Gran to their chapel of rest. He said the funeral will probably be the middle or end of next week.'

‘Have you got loads of people to contact; friends, family? What about your mum and dad?'

Natalie shook her head. ‘They're both dead.' She had to stop and breathe deeply for a few minutes, the emotion of the moment descending upon her like a wave. Gradually she collected herself. In fact, there were next to no relatives left. Her grandmother had been an only child and Natalie's mother had been her only child as well. The doctor had informed the authorities and her carer, and the funeral director would ensure that notices were posted around the area so the locals would soon know the sad news. Apart from telling Dominique and Alain, Amy and David, and a few other close friends in England, that was it. An era was over. She shook her head sadly once more. ‘She didn't have any close family; except me.'

‘I'm so sorry, Natalie.' He hesitated, and then changed the subject. ‘Have you heard back about the jobs yet?'

Natalie had completely forgotten about her job applications. She made a mental note to call Monsieur Jacquard to tell him the funeral couldn't be on Tuesday because of her interviews in Carcassonne and Toulouse. ‘To be honest, Mark, I haven't given it a thought. I've got the Carcassonne interview here in France on Tuesday morning and another in Toulouse that afternoon. I sent off the application to Cambridge last night, but I haven't checked to see if there's a reply yet. I'll check just as soon as I put the phone down.'

‘That all sounds great. Anyway, I wondered if you might like to come over for dinner tonight. I told Madame Lenoir I was staying in today and she's made an absolutely massive paella. I haven't touched it yet and I thought you could maybe come up and help me eat it. She'll be very upset if I don't eat it all and if I give it to Barney, he'll explode.'

Natalie looked round the empty kitchen. Yes, it would be nice to get out and nice to see him again. ‘That sounds lovely, Mark; I mean the paella thing, not the dog exploding. How about if I come up around seven-thirty?'

‘Why not come earlier? I won a case of champagne a few months back and it's just been sitting here. Champagne's not a wine you can drink by yourself, without feeling a bit pathetic.' He hesitated. ‘And I bet your grandma would approve.'

‘You know something, Mark, I think she would.' Natalie glanced at the clock. It was half past six. ‘Just give me half an hour to check my emails and then I'll come right up.'

‘Excellent. I'll send Barney to fetch you.'

When Natalie checked the computer, she was delighted to see a reply from St Margaret's inviting her for interview in Cambridge at three o'clock next Wednesday afternoon. She gave a sigh of relief. As long as the funeral could be on Thursday or Friday, she would be able to get to all three interviews. She rang Monsieur Jacquard, but only got an answering machine. She put the phone down and checked for flights, finding to her relief that there was a flight early on Wednesday morning from Toulouse to Stansted, with a return flight on Thursday morning. She banged off a one-line reply to St Margaret's, saying she would be there, and that she looked forward to it. It occurred to her that she would have to book a hotel room in Toulouse on Tuesday night. After the Canada interview there was no point in returning to Port Renard, just to have to leave again in the small hours to get back to Toulouse.

As for Wednesday night in Cambridge, she was still paying rent on the flat she had been sharing with David, but there was only one bedroom and staying there would mean sleeping on the couch. Besides, she really didn't feel ready to cohabit with him again, in whatever fashion. She sent Amy an email, telling her about her grandma's death and asking if she could put her up. Then she tried Monsieur Jacquard again. There was still the answering machine, so she left a message saying that Friday would be the best day for her and that she would phone him next morning.

Mark was true to his word. Halfway up the path through the pines, Natalie heard crashing and panting and she was met by a very welcoming black Labrador hurtling towards her. In spite of everything that had happened today, she gave the dog a big smile and knelt down to greet him in her turn. Then, together, they went up to the chateau and she found Mark waiting at the kitchen door. He was still wearing shorts, but she noticed that the blue T-shirt had been replaced by a dark-red one.

He gave her a smile and, for a moment, Natalie found herself wondering whether she should kiss him on the cheeks. In the end she didn't and he just stood aside as she came in.

‘You've never been up on the roof terrace, have you?'

‘I didn't even know you had a roof terrace here.'

‘Come on up. I'll show you. Do you think you could carry a few bits, please?' Mark handed her two champagne flutes and an empty plate, then led the way up the wide, curving marble staircase to the first floor and then via a smaller wooden stair to the roof. Barney pushed impatiently at Natalie's legs from behind her as they climbed. They came out of a low doorway onto a lead-covered terrace that ran from front to back between the twin turrets. Mark and the dog led her over to the front of the building where a table and four chairs were set up on a wooden plinth. Mark put the ice bucket and a tub of olives on the table and stretched out his arm towards the sea. ‘
Et voilà
. This is the view that made me buy this place.'

It was truly stunning. From up here Natalie could see all the way down to the beach. She could even catch glimpses of the umbrellas outside the restaurant and she spotted a lone figure swimming out by the mooring buoys. But even better was the fact that the view extended outside the bay itself. From this high vantage point, she could see over the protective headlands and up and down the coast, well into Spain to the south, and to well beyond Collioure to the north. Out at sea, a few sails showed that there was enough wind for sailing, although up here she could barely feel a light and very welcome breeze. She turned towards Mark and saw him watching her, keen to see her reaction.

She found herself smiling once again. ‘Mark, this is delightful. If I lived here, I think I'd probably spend all my time up here.'

‘I do spend an awful lot of time up here, I must confess.' He delved into his pockets and brought out a bag of potato crisps and a smaller bag of pistachios. ‘What I really need is a dumb waiter or a bucket on a rope to bring stuff up from the kitchen, but you can't have everything.' He busied himself with the champagne cork while Natalie leant on the ornate metal railings and admired the view. The roof of her grandmother's house was right below them, clearly visible among the pine trees. She breathed in deeply and her eyes rose to the sky. A single tiny white cloud floated above the horizon and an image of her grandmother came to her mind. She felt her eyes sting and turned round, surreptitiously wiping the tears away. If he noticed, he was tactful enough not to comment. He poured the wine and she rallied.