What Happens at the Beach... (6 page)

‘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?'