What Happens at the Beach... (9 page)

‘Does this mean you'll consider taking the job? It's not going to be full-time. Seeing as you only live a few minutes' walk away, we can make it up as we go along, literally on a day by day, or hour by hour basis. I'm guessing I'll need you for maybe two or three days a week. Maybe a few half days one week, a bit more the next. I'm counting on you to take me to all the main Cathar places of interest, so that might mean a few day trips if that's okay.'

‘Most certainly. I'd love the job. It sounds terrific. Anyway, let me tell you a bit about me and my research.' Just then a waiter appeared with a trolley, upon which there stood a huge platter containing two fine big red lobsters, their pincers cracked and each neatly sliced down the middle. He placed two halves of lobster on Natalie's plate, along with some slices of lemon. He set it down in front of her and placed a finger bowl of tepid water and lemon, along with some sachets containing finger cleaning cloths, next to the plate. On the other side he set down a little bowl of mixed salad, containing an amazing assortment of leaves and topped with little edible blue flowers. He repeated the process for Mark, bowed, and withdrew, taking the trolley with him. Natalie looked across the table.

‘I'm beginning to think I didn't need the anchovies first. This is the biggest lobster I've ever seen.'

Mark smiled at her. ‘You've never had lobster in the States, have you? Some of the beasts they serve up over there would eat these tiddlers for breakfast.'

The lobsters were as good as they looked, and the salad quite delightful. As they ate, Natalie told Mark all about her research on the Cathars and a little about herself as he had requested. ‘I'm thirty, single, half French, half English and pretty much bilingual in those two languages. I did a first degree straight from school followed by a teaching diploma and then went into secondary school teaching. Three years ago I managed to get a bursary to go to Cambridge to do a PhD and that resulted in my thesis. I've had to study the Cathars from the bottom to the top and I would hope I now know a fair bit about them. My grandmother's family have had the house down here for many years and I used to come here every summer as a little girl. As a result, I know this area really well. From what you've said, I should think I can be of material help to you in your project.'

She briefly interrupted her tale to take another mouthful of lobster. As she did so, she found herself wondering why she had started by telling him she was single. Had there been any need to give him that sort of personal detail?

‘That sounds perfect.' He was further on with his lobster, having already finished one half and he was now wrestling with the claw of the other half, extracting the succulent meat from there. ‘As for the practical stuff, when do you think you might be able to start?'

Natalie took a sip of wine to wash down her mouthful. ‘Whenever you like. As early as tomorrow if you want.' She smiled at him and he grinned back.

‘Excellent. Now, as far as the nuts and bolts of it are concerned, I was planning on paying a daily rate.' He then went on to mention a figure that almost made Natalie choke on her lobster. His idea of a daily rate was about the same as she had been earning each
week
as a teacher. She started to protest, but he would have none of it. ‘As long as you're happy, that's fine with me. I had no idea how much to offer in order to get my very own personal expert, so if you're sure... Half day, half pay; long day, more pay. Seem fair?'

‘More than fair.' She took a long drink of water from her water glass. She reminded herself that this was, after all, a sort of job interview, and she was driving home afterwards, so she had better avoid drinking any more wine, gorgeous as it was. As it was, by the time they had finished their meal, she was feeling relaxed and happy. In fact, considering Mark was, after all, her new boss, she felt quite unreasonably happy. He accompanied her to the door and told her she was very welcome to join him and the dog on their afternoon walk. He was planning to take the
grande randonnée
trail up into the hills, heading for the old Tour Madeloc. Natalie had climbed this years before with her father and she knew she didn't feel like doing it again, particularly in the boiling hot sun, after a huge meal, and wearing her smart sandals. She thanked him profusely and told him she had better get back to her grandmother. They shook hands and she headed back to her car. She could still feel the touch of his hand as she got to the car and drove off. What was it about him?

Back home, Colette was asleep in her bed, so Natalie went into her own bedroom and checked her emails, but there was nothing of interest in her inbox. She typed Mark Markeson in the search engine and the results filled several pages. His company, called simply Markeson PLC, occupied a six-storey office complex in Reading, just to the west of London, and it had subsidiaries in a dozen other countries, including the US. She searched for a profile of the man himself, but found relatively little information. Clearly, he liked to keep out of the limelight and she rather liked that. As she was reading, she heard sounds of activity from her grandmother's room and went through to find her sitting up in bed.

‘Hi, Gran. You'll never guess who I've had lunch with.'

‘The doctor lady, wasn't it?'

‘He's a doctor all right, but he certainly isn't a lady.' Natalie grinned at the puzzlement in her grandma's eyes. ‘Evelyn Markeson turns out to be Mark from the chateau up the hill.' She went on to explain about his name and saw her grandmother's face break into a broad smile.

‘Well, well, well. Who'd have thought? So, anyway, did you get the job?' Natalie nodded excitedly and sat down to tell her about what they had discussed over their lunch together. She could hardly call it an interview.

‘So, when do you start?' Her grandmother was clearly delighted for her.

‘Tomorrow, if that's okay with you. He's very accommodating and says we can decide on a day by day basis when I go up to the chateau to work.' She beamed. ‘And he's paying me shed loads of money.'

‘I should think so, too. I'm sure you're worth it. So, tell me what you had to eat.' Colette clearly approved of the meal and Natalie resolved to get a couple of lobsters one of these evenings as a treat and to say thank you to her gran for taking her in. They were terribly expensive, but her new job with Mark would provide easily enough money to pay for them. Colette moved on from the food to the host. ‘So, what's he like, our Dr Markeson? Apart from having a very silly name. How on earth could his father have burdened him with a name like Evelyn? Some people don't really think things through, do they?'

‘He's very nice. I've been looking him up on the internet and his company's huge. He's a scientist, and pretty clearly a very good one, but he certainly seems very keen on learning all about the Cathars.' As she said it, she reflected how nice it was to meet a man who shared her historical interests. He certainly didn't think her PhD was a hobby.

That afternoon, Natalie got a text from Dominique, asking if she could help out in the restaurant again. She went down gladly and, while they were getting the tables ready, told her and Laure about the job offer. She also told them this shouldn't interfere with her ability to come and work as a waitress when required. Dominique was fascinated to hear about the man in the chateau and immediately began hinting that Natalie could do worse than start an affair with him. Natalie was grateful she hadn't told her any more than Mark's name. She had avoided any mention of the fact that Mark was very wealthy as she was sure this would just fan the fires of Dominique's matchmaking obsession. Laure gave her a little smile and said she, too, had noticed the tall, handsome swimmer with the lovely dog. Laure was very pretty and she was a few years younger than Natalie. To her annoyance, Natalie felt a sensation that was suspiciously akin to jealousy as she noted Laure's interest in Mark. For somebody who had publicly declared she had no desire to find herself a man, this was a very strange reaction. She shook her head and concentrated on getting the tables ready for the evening onslaught.

As it was, that evening Philippe came to eat in the restaurant once more and Dominique was temporarily diverted from trying to get Natalie hitched up with Mark. The restaurant was packed that night and Natalie didn't have much time to spare to chat to Philippe. There was also an influx of people just before nine o'clock so she was still working flat out, well after Philippe had finished his meal. He sat there hopefully for a while and then, when she dashed across to his table with his bill, he caught her eye and made a proposal. ‘I've got the boat moored at the jetty. Would you like to come round for an aperitif tomorrow evening?'

He was looking as smart as ever and he was smiling broadly. Natalie was still on a high after her job offer, so she said yes, reflecting that if the yacht was moored up, she could always make a run for it if he tried to get too intimate, not that he had demonstrated any inclination to try anything like that. Besides, she thought to herself with a little smile, her height advantage was reassuring if he were to choose to behave badly. The other reason for saying yes, she reluctantly admitted to herself, was so as to divert her from thinking too fondly of Mark who was, after all, now her boss. They arranged that she would come down to the boat at six o'clock the next day and he went off happy. She returned to her busy evening's work.

It was almost midnight when Natalie got back home. The light was out in her grandmother's room so she retired to her own bedroom. Before going to sleep she checked her emails and found a very business-like email from Mark confirming what they had agreed. He said how pleased he was that she had accepted the job and how much he looked forward to working with her. She sent him back an equally formal email thanking him for the wonderful lunch and stating how much she, too, was looking forward to the project. She went off to prepare for bed, knowing that she really was looking forward to working with somebody so interested in her special subject. The fact that he and his dog were also drop-dead gorgeous was, she told herself firmly, of no significance at all. Even so, this summer, although initially soured by the broken engagement, was turning out to be far less of a wake than she had imagined as she sat on the plane at Stansted, three weeks earlier.

Chapter 5

Next morning Natalie went down to the beach early. She swam out past Philippe's boat, but without seeing him. Presumably he wasn't an early riser and was still fast asleep at seven o'clock in the morning. Her favourite Labrador and his equally appealing master were nowhere to be seen either. She didn't go into the restaurant for a coffee that day so she missed out on the chance of seeing Rémy the fisherman, but this didn't dampen her mood.

Back at the house, her grandmother was looking and sounding remarkably chirpy and Natalie, too, felt really good. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and it would get very hot later on but, for now, the stone slabs of the terrace beneath her feet were still cool, and the breeze blowing through the undergrowth refreshing. After a shower, she joined Colette under the trellis and they chatted freely about everything from the weather to Labradors. Natalie had a smile on her face as she left the house and walked the few hundred metres up the path to Mark's house at nine o'clock. She was greeted at the gates of the chateau by Barney the dog, who licked her hands and insisted on bouncing around her in effusive greeting. She followed him to the kitchen door where she was met by a kindly looking older lady who introduced herself as Madame Lenoir, the housekeeper. She told Natalie that she and her husband lived in the converted stables to the rear of the house and looked after Mark and the estate between them.

Natalie had only been in the chateau a few times, many years before as a child, and she didn't remember it very well. Built in the late eighteen-hundreds in the style of a small Renaissance chateau, the walls were thick, the rooms huge and the ceilings high. As a result, although there was no air conditioning, the place felt cool and refreshing. The parquet floors were made of lovely polished wood and the panelled doors were quintessentially French. The kitchen had recently been renovated and the juxtaposition of ultramodern kitchen appliances with the huge, traditional, stone-flagged room worked surprisingly well.

The dog led the way along the corridor, the walls punctuated by austere-looking portraits of worthy ancestors, to a large room that Mark was evidently using as a study. Somehow Natalie doubted they were his ancestors and wondered if the paintings had come with the house. Upon entering the study, she was immediately impressed to see a substantial collection of history books on his shelves. He was certainly taking this project seriously.

‘Hi, Natalie. Good morning. Tea, coffee?' She lifted her eyes from the bookshelves at the sound of his voice and found herself smiling to see him.

‘Hi, Mark. No, thanks, I've just had breakfast with Grandma.' Today the linen jacket had disappeared and he was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Natalie gave him a big smile, tried to ignore the tingling sensation in her hand from his touch and pointed at the bookcase. ‘That's quite some library you've got here.'

He looked a little sheepish. ‘I'm afraid I had a mad evening on Amazon a few weeks back and I bought just about every book I could find with any connection, however tenuous, to the Cathars. It was only when the boxes of books arrived down here that the penny dropped that well over half of them are in French and, as you know, while I'm just about all right at ordering a bottle of wine in French, academic tomes are way beyond me.' He grinned at her. ‘So that's where you come in.'

While he returned to his computer, Natalie made a careful survey of the books, most of them known to her, mentally discounting those she knew to be unreliable in shedding light on the Cathars. She then sorted the useful ones onto one shelf, most useful on the left and least useful on the right. She then grouped these into English and French and pointed out to him what she had done. ‘If you feel like doing a bit of reading, I suggest you start with the ones on this shelf on the left. Okay?' He nodded as she sat down opposite him and made a suggestion. ‘Now, how do you want to play this, Mark? Here's an idea if you like. Rather than me sitting down for twenty-four hours with you, giving you my version of the Cathar story, would it be quicker for you to tell me what you know and then I'll do my best to fill in the blanks?'