What Happens at the Beach... (5 page)

Natalie's eyes followed him as he made short work of the last hundred metres or so to the shore. As he approached the beach, she saw the dog jump to his feet, tail wagging furiously. As the man stood up and waded through the shallows, the dog came jumping and bouncing into the water to greet him. Then both turned and set off back up the same path Natalie had used on her way down through the trees. So, she thought to herself, this had to be the dog's master and, presumably, they were returning to the old chateau. She watched as they headed up the hill into the trees, reappearing from time to time as they climbed, finally disappearing from sight somewhere up above her grandmother's house.

All the time she was watching his retreating shoulders, she had the strangest sensation. Her shoulder, where he had bumped into her, could still feel his touch. It wasn't pain. He hadn't done her any harm, but her skin could still feel exactly where he had come into contact with her. Even stranger, her brain still held a crystal-clear image of his suntanned face, fair hair and blue eyes. His voice, with an accent that could maybe have been English, repeated ‘
Excusez moi, madame
' over and over again in her head. She dipped her face into the cool water and then shook her head to clear it. What on earth was going on?

She swam slowly back to the shore, loving the cool embrace of the water, still trying to work out what had happened back there. Bemused, she walked across to her towel and patted herself down, before laying it on a clean patch of sand and stretching out on it. Gradually she managed to banish the image of the man from her head and did her best to relax. She lay there on her front for little more than ten minutes, while the sun dried her back, then she turned over and let it dry the other half of her. She was still pale after a chilly English spring, but she knew it wouldn't take long for the sun to tan her a golden brown. Finally, almost completely dry, she got up, slipped her shorts and T-shirt back on and headed across the hot sand of the beach to the café, glad that her feet were once more protected by her sandals.

She climbed the flight of stone steps to the terrace and took a seat at one of the tables there, sheltering from the direct sunlight under the umbrella. One other table was occupied by a couple, and a pretty, dark-haired girl was in the process of serving them what looked like a bottle of Blanquette de Limoux, the local fizz. Natalie knew she wanted something non-alcoholic, so when another, slightly older, waitress came out, she ordered an ice tea. When it arrived, she sat back, took a big mouthful and let it trickle down her throat as she surveyed the view. Colette was right. It hadn't changed, even if they had.

From where she was sitting, she could see right across the beach to the other side. The sun was now shining almost directly into the little bay and there was very little shade to be found apart from the shadows between some of the bigger rocks on the far side. Here, under the umbrella, it felt comfortably cool as the gentle breeze off the water kept the warm air moving. She studied the two sailing boats moored to the quay. It was only a tiny landing stage and two boats were about as many as could fit alongside. She saw the heads of a couple of people in one boat, sitting under an awning, while the other looked empty. Maybe the occupants were down below. Then, as she was sipping her drink, taking in the old familiar view and remembering so many happy times she had spent down here on the beach, she heard footsteps behind her and a voice.

‘Natalie? Is that you?' It was a man's voice and he sounded hesitant. She turned and looked up. From the apron he was wearing around his waist, it was clear that he worked there. She pulled off her sunglasses and took a good look at his face. It didn't take long for it to dawn on her that she did indeed know him.

‘Alain? Little Alain? Is that you?' There was nothing little about him now. He was taller than she was and his stomach was already bulging over the top of his white apron. His shoulders were broad and his arms, covered in a mat of dark hair, looked strong. His dark eyes were smiling at her from his swarthy face.

‘I thought it was you.' He sounded really pleased to see her and she realised that she felt the same way. She stood up and gave him a hug, kissing him on the cheeks, trying to remember the last time she had seen him. He turned and called back through the door into the bar. ‘Dominique, you were right. It is her. It's Natalie.'

‘Dominique?' It was all coming back to Natalie now. She had known Alain since they were little kids playing together in the sand. He was a couple of years younger than her, hence the epithet
little
. The last time she had seen him had been in her late teens and she vaguely remembered him proudly introducing her to his girlfriend. And her name had been Dominique. As the waitress who had served her emerged through the multi-coloured fly screen, wiping her hands on a cloth, Natalie took a better look at her and realised this was the same girl. She gave her a big smile. Behind her, the head of the younger waitress peered out of the door at them with interest.

‘Last time I saw you, Alain, you told me you were going to marry your girlfriend.' Natalie glanced down at the gold rings on both their hands. ‘So you did it. Congratulations to you both.' She kissed Dominique on both cheeks and looked across at the two of them, indicating the empty chairs at her table. ‘Time to join me?'

‘Not now, I'm afraid. I'm up to my eyes getting ready for tonight's dinner.' Alain was smiling broadly. ‘I've got a whole heap of things cooking at the moment and a lot more to prepare. Are you any good at opening oysters by any chance?'

Natalie shook her head. ‘I only tried once and this was the result.' She held up her left hand and showed them the faint pale scar where the pointed knife had slipped off the oyster's shell and dug into her. She could still remember how much it had hurt and how much it had bled. ‘I'd be happy to help you with something else, though, if you like.'

‘I might take you up on that some time. It gets pretty busy here at this time of year.' Alain glanced at Dominique. ‘Dominique, you could stay and chat for a moment, though. Laure can come and help me for now, so if you keep an eye on the terrace, I won't need you in the kitchen for another few minutes. Find out how long Natalie's staying so we can meet at a quieter time and catch up.'

He waved and returned inside while Dominique pulled up a chair and sat down opposite Natalie. ‘I remember you very well, you know. You're so beautiful and I was convinced Alain was your old boyfriend and he was going to dump me for you.' She was a cheerful-looking girl, her build the opposite of Alain's. She was short, and so slim she looked like a little bird.

Natalie smiled back at her. ‘I always liked Alain, but you didn't need to worry on my account. We used to play on the beach when he was ever so little. He was like a little brown eel, always in the water. I still think of him like that and I always will; sort of like the little brother I never had. You maybe didn't hear, but when he came out and said hello a few minutes ago, my first reaction was to call him Little Alain.' They both laughed and Natalie realised she rather liked Dominique.

‘So, how long are you staying?'

‘I don't really know. It depends how long my grandmother will have me.' Natalie went on to tell Dominique that she had just finished her doctorate and was taking a well-deserved time out, while looking for a job. ‘So it all depends, but I would think I'll be here for a good while.'

‘Colette must be delighted to have you here. I bet she's glad of the company. She and your grandfather often used to come down for a drink when we first opened the bar. But, since his death we haven't seen much of her.' She looked across the table and caught Natalie's eye. ‘We were all so terribly sorry to hear about your parents. It was a car crash, wasn't it?'

Natalie nodded. ‘Almost five years ago now.' She did her best to summon a more positive tone. ‘So, how's business?'

‘At this time of year, it's amazing. We're full most nights and lunchtimes are getting busier and busier. Alain will tell you all about it. Laure's been working with us full-time since Easter and we still need more hands at times. Why don't you come down for a chat tomorrow either early in the morning or around mid-afternoon? Those are the quietest times of day for us. He'd love to talk to you.'

Natalie arranged to call in for a coffee the following day after her early morning swim, delighted to have found them again. Their company reminded her of happier times.

Chapter 3

Life at Port Renard soon settled into a regular pattern. Natalie got up early every morning and went for a swim. Then she came back up to the house and kept her grandmother company throughout the day, driving down to the village to buy fresh bread, helping her prepare lunch, enjoying speaking French again and rekindling the deep affection she had always had for her. Gradually the hurt and the sense of loneliness began to diminish in the company of old friends, her grandmother, and in these familiar surroundings. In the afternoon, Colette retired to her bed while Natalie scanned the internet for possible jobs in the UK or in France, but without success. All she found in those first weeks was a university in Canada looking for a medieval specialist. The advert said fluency in English and French would be an advantage so, after a moment's hesitation, she sent off an application along with her CV. The idea of moving halfway across the globe didn't really appeal very much, but beggars couldn't be choosers. As the days went by, she started doing some of the cooking and Colette expressed delight at tasting such British dishes as shepherd's pie and toad-in-the-hole, even though the hot, sultry conditions were more suited to salads.

The day after meeting Alain and Dominique again, Natalie had gone back down to the beach in the early morning and, after her swim, stopped off in their restaurant for a drink on the terrace. From then on this became a regular event, either first thing in the morning or in the late afternoon when Jeanne, the carer, was at Colette's house and Natalie came down to swim and sunbathe.

She enjoyed chatting to them, and to the young waitress, Laure, getting all the local news and telling them all about herself. Alain hadn't been exaggerating when he said they were getting very busy and, as the end of July approached and the start of the traditional French exodus from the big cities to the beach for the month of August began, Natalie offered to come and work alongside Dominique and Laure serving at table on busy evenings, and they accepted her offer enthusiastically. Colette was happy to see her granddaughter getting out and about. Natalie enjoyed the work, meeting new people and bonding with Dominique, Alain and Laure.

It wasn't long before she told them about David and how she had ended things with him. Dominique immediately pointed out a number of regular male customers who had asked about her and who, clearly, found her very attractive. For her part, Natalie wasn't interested in flirting, especially with customers. Quite often she would meet her friend the Labrador on the beach and she found herself staring out to sea, searching for sight of his master. She spotted him a couple of times and, to her surprise, found herself feeling irrationally excited when this happened. On one occasion he waved to her and she found herself waving back like a woman possessed. For somebody who had publicly announced that she had no interest in men for now, this was disturbing and rather irritating.

In the evenings when she wasn't working at the restaurant, Natalie would chat to her grandmother and continue her internet search, now getting more and more urgent, for a job. All she had got back from the Canadian job was a one-line email confirming receipt of her application; nothing more. Things were looking grim. The grant money she had managed to get in order to do her PhD had now dried up and the income she got each month from the rental of her parents' house mostly disappeared in her half of the rent of the flat she shared with David and other regular monthly outgoings. Sooner or later she would have to cancel these payments but she knew she had to speak to David first and, anyway, she still had to retrieve her possessions.

Otherwise, although the few euros she got for working as a waitress and the fact that she was living rent-free in Colette's house meant she could just about manage to exist down here for now, it was quite clear to her that before long she would have to get a job, any job. One thing upon which she was quite firmly decided was that she didn't want to be beholden to anybody, particularly David or his bloody family.

As for David, after taking a day and a night to simmer down after his email about
her
moment of bad temper
, she had replied in clear, formal, dispassionate terms, telling him that the engagement was off and that was that. He replied almost immediately asking her to reconsider and she replied in language he, as a lawyer, would understand.
My decision is taken and it's final. Please leave me alone
. Since then there had been no further contact between them.

One day, as she and her grandmother were sitting on the terrace, enjoying their mid-morning mug of tea, with Charlie the dog lying at their feet, crunching his regular daily biscuit, they had another visitor. This time it was a man and Natalie immediately recognised him as the dog's master, the man who had bumped into her in the sea. She felt the blood rush to her face and her heart leap. He appeared, hesitantly, round the end of the house and gave a short whistle. The dog immediately leapt to his feet and ran across to him. Natalie gave the man a wave and beckoned him over, feeling an inexplicable butterfly sensation in her stomach as she did so. He made his way over to them, still rather hesitantly. She stood up and welcomed him, addressing him in French.

‘Hello, my name's Natalie. And this is Colette.'

‘Good morning. I'm afraid my French isn't very good.' He was right about that, and his accent was unmistakably English, so Natalie was quick to put him at his ease in his own language.