L'amour Actually (25 page)

  After what seemed like an age, the dessert, cheese and coffee was served and cleared away. Tracey and I wended our way through the crowd, a knot slowly forming in my stomach. Julien saw us coming over and got up, putting his arm round both of us as he introduced us to the others at the table.

  'Hello everyone, I'm sorry but I won't remember any of your names in a few minutes.' I smiled brightly at them but only got a blank look in return. Shit, I thought. They don't speak English. This should be fun.

  'Don't worry, I'll translate for you. In any case, I want you to myself tonight.' He whispered the last bit close to my ear. A little shiver ran down my spine and I felt my cheeks reddening.

  'But there is Tracey too and she doesn't speak French either.'

  'Don't you worry about me. I've got a plan,' said Tracey. 'Back in a minute.'

  Julien and I watched her go over to where the band were taking a quick break from their set. Soon she was laughing with the lead singer who looked slightly overwhelmed with the attention. She chatted for a few moments, gesticulating and laughing, then turned and came back to the table.

  'Well?'

  'Well what?'

  The band were back on stage and the lead singer was calling for a bit of quiet so he could make an announcement.

  'So, ladies and gentlemen,' he said, first in English, then in French, 'we have a real singing superstar here tonight, apart from me of course.'

  A polite burst of laughter broke out.

  'And she's agreed to join me on stage for a few numbers. I am pleased and indeed honoured, to welcome to the stage of our little village
fête
, the British singing sensation, Miss Tracey Tarrant!'

  There was enthusiastic applause and cheering from the British, who clearly recognised Tracey, while the French clapped politely, not entirely sure who she was.

  'See you later,' she smiled, making her way to the stage and into the outstretched arms of the lead singer. Taking a microphone from him, she introduced herself.

  'Hello Wembley…' she shouted, 'sorry, Rocamour.'

  The audience cheered.

  'So, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Tracey Tarrant. I've had two Number One records in the British charts and a Top Ten in the US Billboard charts.'

  The French remained quiet.

  'And I love Johnny Hallidaaaaayyy!'

  The French people around me erupted in cheers.

  I had never seen Tracey on stage and it was clear that it was where she belonged. Watching her work the audience was a delight to behold and by the second song, she even had the French audience eating out of her hand. I hadn't really followed the talent show she'd been in and had forgotten what a great singer she was. She had a rich, soulful voice that was perfect for belting out power ballads.

  'She's pretty amazing, isn't she?' I said to Julien as Tracey launched into yet another soft rock standard that had everyone on their feet.

  'She really is. Come on, let's dance.' He took my hand and led me to the dance floor, holding me close as we swayed slowly until the end of the song.

  'And now, here's something especially for my lovely friend. That's her, down there at the front.' She waved at me and I smiled and waved back.

  Wrapped in Julien's arms, with the warm breeze gently ruffling my hair and a star-filled night sky above, I felt a calm descend on me. Julien sang softly into my ear, his hands running up and down my back. I pulled him closer to me and we danced, oblivious to everyone around us. The wait for this moment made it all the more special and I smiled to myself. After so long, I had finally got my man.

I stretched languorously, like a cat in the sunshine, and turned to look at Julien as he slept beside me. Smiling to myself, I ran my finger down the side of his face then leant forward and kissed him gently on the lips. His eyelids flickered open and he returned my smile with one of his own, as dazzling as the morning sunshine.

  
'Chérie,'
he said pulling me towards him. I snuggled down into the dip in his shoulder and traced patterns on his chest.

  'So, good night last night then?' I asked.

  'Yes, I think the Fourteenth of July celebrations were another triumph for the village.'

  I nudged him. 'That's not exactly what I meant.'

  His fingers ran up and down my back, making my toes tingle, and I could feel myself starting to come alive again. My hand started to circle slowly down his chest to where I could see he was enjoying the moment just as much. He let out a long groan.

  'I have to go,
chérie
, my cows will not feed themselves.'

  'Just a few more minutes?' I said, running my fingers across the hard muscles of his stomach. 'One more for the road, as we say in England?' I suggested, nipping his neck playfully.

  'One more? Weren't the four last night enough?' he joked.

  'Picky, picky. Come on, you know you want to.'

  'Of course I want to. I've wanted to for months. I wish we didn't have to move from this bed until the end of next week… but I am a farmer with responsibilities.'

  'OK, OK, I know, in a straight fight between me and those big brown-eyed cows of yours they'll win every time.'

  'Welcome to my world,' he said, kissing the tip of my nose. 'Anyway, your eyes aren't so bad.'

  'Thank you… I think.'

  'Listen, there's a concert on tonight at the lake in Bussières. Would you like to go?'

  'What sort of concert? I'm not really an accordion and
béret
sort of girl.'

  'No, it's country rock with a Celtic flair, according to the posters.'

  'Well, that covers most bases doesn't it? OK, why not. It could be fun.'

  '
Bon
, I will pick you up at seven.'

  'I'll be here.'

  'OK,' said Julien, sitting up and gently pushing me away. 'Where are my clothes?'

  'Well, I think you'll find them in the lounge, the bathroom and the kitchen.'

  He swung his legs onto the floor then stopped, leant back and kissed me again.

  'Oh God, I don't want to go.'

  'But you must. Your ladies are waiting.'

  Getting up, he walked to the door to go and find the clothes that had been discarded with such abandon.

  Now that's a view I could never tire of, I thought, admiring his rock-hard buttocks and long, muscled legs. I lay back in bed, luxuriating in my memories of the previous night. It was true what they said about French men making good lovers.
'Merde!'

  I was startled out of my daydream by Julien swearing, followed by a loud crash and a rich, dirty laugh that could only belong to Tracey. Grabbing my dressing gown from the chair by my bed, I ran into the lounge to find Julien in a heap on the floor, his jeans round his ankles and his hands cupped over his crown jewels, or whatever the Republican version was. '
Ooh là là!
Good night then?' she laughed, her eyes blatantly running up and down Julien's naked body while he stared at her like a rabbit caught in headlights.

  'Oh, Tracey. For goodness sake, give the man a break. What are you doing creeping round here at this time of the morning anyway? You're never usually up before midday.'

  'I needed to borrow a cup of sugar,' she said archly.

  I smiled, knowing that there was as much likelihood of Tracey needing a cup of sugar as there was of her going out without her false lashes on. 'OK, where's your cup then?'

  'Ah, well…'

  'Etiquette, that's good manners to your lot, dictates that when you come to borrow a cup of sugar you bring the cup.'

  'You are so rude, girl,' Tracey answered, pretending to be annoyed.

  'Come on, I'll make you coffee. Let this poor boy get his boxers on.'

  'Oh, must we?' she said raising her eyebrows.

  I grabbed her arm and pushed her towards the kitchen, saying to Julien over my shoulder, 'Right, make a run for it while I've got her distracted.'

  He scrambled to his feet trying to pull up his jeans, grabbed his boxers and headed back to the bedroom.

  'OK you, coffee?' I said to Tracey, once we were safely in the kitchen.

  'Well, I guess it's too early for a glass of wine, even though the sun must be over the yardarm somewhere in the world.'

  'Isn't it always over the yardarm in your part of the world?'

  'Oh, ha ha. Actually, my mouth feels like the inside of a boxer's jockstrap this morning so if you've got any water that'll do fine. That wine last night wasn't half rough. A bit of rehydration is needed before I take on the day.'

  Julien, now fully dressed, walked into the kitchen.

  '
Bon
,
chérie
, I must go now. See you later.' He bent and kissed me on the lips and I kissed him back hard.

  'See you later when you've finished with all the other girls in your life.'

  'Oooh,
chérie
is it?' joked Tracey as Julien left, closing the front door behind him.

  'Come on,' I said, 'let's go and lie by the pool.'

  'Shagged to death, eh?'

  '
Moi?
I'll never tell!'

  'Oh go on, I want all the dirty bits too.'

  We flopped down on the sun loungers and lay in silence for a while. It was going to be another scorching day. I pressed the glass to my forehead, enjoying its coolness against my hot skin and felt that warm tingly feeling in my stomach that you get when you know you are on the verge of falling in love. I smiled to myself, Julien was gorgeous and kind and in bed… wow! I could feel myself blushing as I remembered our wild night.

  'Penny for them?'

  'Nothing. Just wondering if this is a turning point. I've got the man, I've even got a job of sorts. So, anything from Warren?'

  'Nah, he's all loved up with his missus in La La Land. That bloke she was seeing has been kicked to the kerb and there's talk in
Heat
of a big, blingy party to renew their wedding vows. Don't suppose they'll be inviting me.'

  'I'm sorry, Trace. I know you really liked him.'

  'Yeah well, don't mess with another woman's man. That's all I can say. To be fair I always knew I was just a pawn in his headfucks with her. I guess I just hoped that in time he might see something in me. Guess not.'

  'Well if he didn't then he's stupid, Trace. I wish I had half your talent. Don't be so hard on yourself.'

  'Yeah? Like what? My great left hook?'

  'No, you're honest, down to earth, loyal.'

  'Great. Like a Labrador.'

  'Those are great qualities so don't knock them
and
you are an amazing singer.'

  'Yeah, well…' Tracey went back to drinking her water, lost in contemplation.

  'Julien's taking me to a concert tonight. It's at the lake in Bussières. Fancy it? It's a Franco-Celtic country rock band, apparently.'

  'Sounds unmissable. I dunno if I want to be a gooseberry to love's young dream. I'll see. Anyway, about last night?'

  'Good
fête
. I quite enjoyed it.'

  'Oh stop being so thick. You know what I meant, and stop smiling like some lovesick cow,' Tracey teased.

  'Oy, enough of the cows. If it wasn't for them I'd still be in there shagging his brains out.'

  'Maybe you can apply for an EU subsidy. There must be something you can get for helping a farmer sow his seed.'

  'Oh very droll. Don't give up the day job. Oh sorry, you don't have one do you?' Tracey looked at me with a hurt expression in her eyes.

  'God, Trace, I didn't mean that quite how it came out. Anyway, you don't need a job. You've had a hit record. You'll be living the life of Riley on the residuals for years to come.'

  'Yeah, but don't forget I also had a shyster for a manager. If he'd been any good I wouldn't be here now, I'd be in some recording studio making my next album – nice though it is to be sitting here with you.'

  'You do miss it, don't you?'

  'It's all I know, all I've ever done since I was ten years old. I don't know how to do anything else. When I got to the final of that competition I thought I'd made it. You know how everyone jokes that it's the act in second place that always does well, so I didn't even mind about winning. Mind you, losing out to that horrible little stage school brat was a bit harsh. And then I got offered a contract, released a couple of records and then made the biggest mistake of my life.'

  'Warren?'

  'Spot on. His missus got the knives out and stuck them in me at every opportunity. Her agent pulled in some favours and had me dropped from playlists, got me taken off the line up at the V Festival. She may be five foot nothing with a toothy grin but trust me, you don't want to get on the wrong side of her. A decent manager might have defended me but mine just hung me out to dry. Apparently she made it known she was interested in working with him in return for him selling out on me. It was him that tipped the press off that I was here.'