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‘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.
‘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?’
‘I feel pretty much the same as you. This is such a wonderful place to live. I’ve been so lucky.’
Natalie found herself deeply impressed that, in spite of the crushing blows of losing her husband and her only daughter in the space of a few years, her grandmother considered herself lucky. In comparison, Natalie’s break-up with David and her search for a job seemed insignificant, and she felt a sense almost of shame. She gave her gran an affectionate hug.
‘What’s that for, darling?’ Colette smiled up at her.
‘Nothing. Just giving my big sister a hug. Now, how about some tea?’
Natalie went inside and made their morning tea. As she brought the mugs out onto the terrace, their four-legged visitor arrived.
‘Hello, Charlie.’ Natalie could see that her grandmother had no intention of starting to call him by his real name. As it was, the dog went straight to her and sat down with his nose on her thigh, looking up at her. Natalie smiled at the two of them.
‘So, what’s in a name, eh, Barney? Or Charlie? Like your master said, all it needs is a biscuit to attract your attention.’ As she mentioned his master, Natalie looked up, rather hoping Mark might put in another appearance, but the dog was alone. The immediate sense of disappointment she felt was palpable, but inexplicable. Only a few minutes earlier she had been thinking erotic thoughts about an entirely different man. What was wrong with her?
She set the mugs down on the table and went back into the kitchen to get the dog a biscuit. When she returned with it, he was only too glad to take it from her and settle down to eat. She sat down beside her grandmother, the dog between the two of them making short work of the biscuit. Food didn’t last long with a Labrador around.
Colette smiled down at him. ‘Charlie here is such a nice visitor to have, isn’t he?’ Natalie scratched the dog’s ears and he grunted with satisfaction, stretching out at their feet. Colette added a mischievous comment. ‘And, of course, his master’s rather nice, too.’
Natalie returned her smile. ‘No argument there, Gran.’ Yet again, she felt a sense of almost annoyance that she should be thinking about the Labrador’s master when she had already firmly declared men off the agenda until she had settled her career.
Below the table, the dog had stretched out so that he was lying across their feet, his head actually resting on Natalie’s sandals. He, at least, was untroubled by such concerns. A vet had seen to that years ago. She reflected once more that, apart from his little encounter with the vet, he enjoyed a pretty good life, with a rich master, a comfortable home and a whole hillside to run around in. She looked around at the stone walls of her grandmother’s house and, beyond them, the spectacularly beautiful backdrop, dotted with the deep green of the umbrella pines and punctuated by the tall, slim shapes of cypress trees. Down below she could just see the entrance to the bay and, beyond that, the blue of the Mediterranean. Yes, it really was a wonderful place and she determined not to let other matters, particularly men, get in the way of her enjoyment of this well-earned holiday.
After lunch, once her grandmother had retired to her bed for a rest, Natalie went into her own room and fired up the laptop. She glanced down the handful of emails waiting in her inbox and spotted one from her professor at Cambridge. When she read it she got a pleasant surprise.
Dear Natalie
I found this email (see below) in my inbox this morning and I immediately thought of you. It’s quite remarkable. It could have been tailored specifically for you. See what you think. If you decide to reply to the lady, I feel sure you’re exactly what she’s looking for.
Good luck
Kathryn
P.S. Let me know if you apply for the job and get offered it and I’ll contact Jim Hunter. If he says she’s kosher, you should have no problems.
Intrigued, Natalie scrolled down and read the original email. It was from somebody called Evelyn Markeson and, as she read it, Natalie realised that Kathryn was right. It couldn’t have been more perfect for her.
Dear Professor Garner
It has been suggested to me by my old friend Dr James Hunter that I should contact you in the hope that you can help. I am in the process of writing a novel based around the Cathars of southern France. I am looking for a research assistant familiar with the history of thirteenth-century France to assist me for one, maybe two months. I would be happy to offer whatever remuneration the candidate requires as well as a generous living allowance, as the job would mostly involve spending time in the Languedoc and Roussillon regions of southern France.
Dr Hunter has very kindly offered to act as a referee and will vouch for my bona fides. Any help would be gratefully received.
Kind regards
Evelyn Markeson (Dr)
Natalie read the email twice and very quickly made up her mind to apply. She spent an hour composing a response to Dr Markeson, mentioning her background and the fact that she had just finished a PhD on the very subject that interested her. Natalie had been fascinated by the Cathars ever since she was a little girl, particularly as they had been based here in this very region. They were a religious sect who, to the modern eye, weren’t that dissimilar to mainstream Christians. And yet, they had been on the receiving end of no less than a holy crusade, called by the pope, to eradicate them and their beliefs. She could well imagine that they would make a fascinating subject for a book.
She told Dr Markeson that she was currently staying near Perpignan and offered to meet up. Finally, she clicked Send and then replied to Kathryn, thanking her most warmly and promising to keep her informed.
That evening, she was on duty at the restaurant once more. To her surprise, and secret satisfaction, the handsome man from the yacht came in on his own for dinner. It was less manic this evening and Natalie found she had a bit more time to stop and chat with him. Although she still couldn’t chase the idea of his being gay from her head, she could see that his main reason for coming to the restaurant had been to see her. He took his time over his meal and took every opportunity to talk to her. By the time he reached his coffee, he was one of the last of the customers in the place and Natalie and Laure were already preparing the tables for the next day. As she went back into the kitchen with a tray load of dirty dishes, she found Dominique waiting for her, a broad smile on her face.
‘That’s fine, Natalie. You can go any time you like. Laure and I can finish off. Once you’ve given your boyfriend the bill, you’re free to go.’ She winked suggestively. ‘With him or without him.’
‘Boyfriend? I don’t think so.’ Natalie set the tray down and absently started sorting the dishes from the cutlery. ‘I don’t even know the man’s name.’ She caught Dominique’s eye. ‘Besides, apart from anything else, he’s quite a bit older than I am. And I think I’m taller than him as well.’
‘Age brings experience.’ Dominique’s expression was still conspiratorial. ‘Maybe he could teach you a thing or two.’ She grinned. ‘And, like Alain says, we’re all the same height when we’re lying down.’
‘Dominique, really!’ Natalie pretended to be shocked but, even so, she had to admit that she did find him rather appealing, although not in a horizontal sense. He just looked and sounded like a nice man and she needed friends. She swilled her hands under the tap and dried them. ‘So, where’s his bill then?’
She picked up the bill and took it across to him. He paid in cash, adding a generous tip. Then he stood up and made a suggestion. ‘My boat’s out there at anchor. I’d be delighted to offer you a drink, maybe a glass of champagne, if you’d like to come and see her.’
The invitation sounded innocent enough, but Natalie had absolutely no intention of going off alone with some random man in a boat anchored out in the bay, where anything could happen. At the same time, she did rather like him, so she cast about for a satisfactory way of putting him off. It came to her in the nick of time.
‘That’s very kind, but I’ve got to go back home to take care of my grandmother.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you had relatives to look after.’ He sounded as if he was sincere and she took that as a good sign. She avoided telling him that her ninety-year-old grandmother was still well able to look after herself and made an alternative suggestion.
‘I’ve got a little bit of time. I’m sure Alain and Dominique would let us sit at a table on the terrace if you feel like a chat.’
He must have realised this was the best he was going to get, so he accepted gracefully and the two of them went out onto the now deserted terrace and sat down at the far end table, from where the view out across the bay was uninterrupted. The sun had set by this time and it was quite dark, particularly as Alain chose that moment to turn off the outside lights, no doubt, Natalie thought to herself with a secret smile, on the orders of his scheming wife. As her eyes got used to the dark, Natalie was soon able to make out the outline of the cliffs that stood out quite clearly above the dark of the water.
‘That’s my boat there. She’s called Amphitrite. She was the wife of the Greek god Poseidon, the goddess of the seas.’
‘What a lovely name. Now, you’d better tell me yours. I’m afraid I still don’t know who you are.’
‘Of course, how remiss of me. My name’s Philippe, Philippe Chevalier. And I know your name is Natalie, but I know nothing more than that, apart from the fact that you’re English, you speak French like a native, and you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.’