Книга - What Happens at the Beach…

What Happens at the Beach...
T A Williams


A deliciously sunny, uplifting romance to curl up with on your holiday – or any day!For the perfect summer romance…It’s finally time for Natalie Dryden to decide what she really wants! After ditching her sparkling engagement ring, and her ghastly fiancé, she jets off for the sun-kissed shores of Southern France – the only place that has ever truly felt like home. For the first time ever, Natalie is determined to forget all about men and follow her dreams!…head to the French coast! Only, avoiding the male population isn’t quite so easy, especially when she meets smooth-talking Philippe and gorgeous fisherman, Remy! But then Natalie, quite literally, bumps into brooding millionaire Mark whilst swimming in the glittering azure-blue bay – and her life is turned upside-down.Love might be off the cards for Natalie, yet suddenly she finds herself in her dream job and working with her dream man! But is it all too good to be true…?Praise for T. A. Willams:‘The characters in the story really make it exceptional … Natalie is a brilliant protagonist … and I absolutely adored her journey to self-discovery to find her new identity.’ – Anna Brent (BooksandBookends)‘Wow! This is contemporary romance at its best! The writing is exquisite. … And the plot is brilliantly clever, captivating, and delightful with a little bit of drama, love, loss, and of course romance.’ – Zoe (whatsbetterthanbooks.com)‘The characters are all brilliantly written, the storyline flows extremely well throughout, and I loved every bit of it.’ – Fiona Wilson (#10 Goodreads reviewer UK)‘T. A. Williams has that gorgeous way of writing a feel good story…he’s absolutely backed up that men can write chick-lit.’ ─ Reviewed The Book (TOP 1000 Amazon Reviewer)







For the perfect summer romance...

It’s finally time for Natalie Dryden to decide what she really wants! After ditching her sparkling engagement ring, and her ghastly fiancé, she jets off for the sun-kissed shores of Southern France – the only place that has ever truly felt like home. For the first time ever, Natalie is determined to forget all about men and follow her dreams!

…head to the French coast!

Only, avoiding the male population isn’t quite so easy, especially when she meets smooth-talking Philippe and gorgeous fisherman, Remy! But then Natalie, quite literally, bumps into brooding millionaire Mark whilst swimming in the glittering azure-blue bay – and her life is turned upside-down.

Love might be off the cards for Natalie, yet suddenly she finds herself in her dream job and working with her dream man! But is it all too good to be true...?

A deliciously sunny, uplifting romance to curl up with on your holiday – or any day!


Also by T. A. Williams: (#ulink_561c7b35-abc4-5b4a-b247-5c36fd4aafc5)

When Alice Met Danny

What Happens in Tuscany…

What Happens in Cornwall…

What Happens at Christmas…

What Happens in the Alps…

Dirty Minds

The Room on the Second Floor


What Happens at the Beach…

T. A. Williams







Copyright (#ulink_8ce6f7fd-aeda-52f8-9566-c3886a573a7f)

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2016

Copyright © Trevor Williams 2016

Trevor Williams asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © June 2016 ISBN: 9780008196998

Version date: 2018-06-08


TREVOR WILLIAMS

lives in Devon with his Italian wife. He lived and worked in Switzerland, France and Italy, before returning to run one of the best-known language schools in the UK. He has taught people from all over the world, among them Arab princes, Brazilian beauty queens and Italian billionaires. He speaks a number of languages and has travelled extensively. He has eaten snake, live fish and alligator. A Spanish dog, a Russian bug and a Korean parasite have done their best to eat him in return. He has written historical novels, humorous books and thrillers. His hobby is long-distance cycling, but his passion is writing. You can follow him on Twitter, @TAWilliamsBooks, find him on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TrevorWilliamsBooks (https://www.facebook.com/TrevorWilliamsBooks) or visit his website: www.tawilliamsbooks.com (http://www.tawilliamsbooks.com).


With warmest thanks, as ever, to my wonderful editor, Charlotte Mursell


To Mariangela and Christina with love


Contents

Cover (#u43494023-6fa2-5246-b54b-fc627233f5fa)

Blurb (#u7c99265b-d126-595f-9cbc-94d4ce9b00e0)

Book List (#ulink_ca57b9b2-d568-58e0-b9fd-6596dd0419f8)

Title Page (#uf5de7c97-d904-52ab-acaf-19f5a691dd09)

Copyright (#ufcf2b2c8-ca68-5625-81e8-9a7050c2ae20)

Author Bio (#u5af1a652-68d7-59b5-98b0-d35f11e1efd3)

Acknowledgements (#u19f92c38-e4da-5c9e-899b-4d429f6b9df0)

Dedication (#ua70652e0-0b80-567c-8676-6841ece379bf)

Prologue (#ulink_748fa284-b9d8-58a2-983e-7b8449bde255)

Chapter One (#ulink_b4fcf576-dc7a-5f74-97bd-365c4e2fe2ae)

Chapter Two (#ulink_3fbe9622-f41f-50f5-bfa0-c36e85191993)

Chapter Three (#ulink_80fe988f-ef0b-5bd5-87dc-c08b755a3108)

Chapter Four (#ulink_7406784e-9fe8-5d1f-9a69-4f6e9e85cd46)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)

Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


Prologue (#ulink_7fdbb0e1-d9b5-548e-a25c-be820397b8cb)

The beach was just the same as she remembered. Protected from the Tramontane wind by the rocky headlands that dropped near vertically into the sea either side of the little bay, the narrow triangle of light golden sand, squashed between the water and the wooded hillside, was still undeveloped and unspoilt. As she made her way down the steep slope beneath the umbrella pines, the narrow path woven with protruding tree roots, her sandals slipped and crunched on the carpet of dry pine needles that covered the ground. The unmistakable scent of resin filled her nostrils, while the light wind barely stirred the branches above her head. Even at this time of the morning it was already very warm down here and, by lunchtime, she knew it would be baking hot.

As the trees thinned, she got her first good view of the water. The bright blue mirrored the cloudless sky, the surface of the sea barely disturbed by the breeze, the tiny wavelets reflecting the morning sun in myriad sparkles. The shallow water by the beach was a pale aquamarine, gradually deepening to a darker blue the further out she looked. From up here, she could see clearly all the way down to the white sand on the seabed. The waves that washed the beach were so gentle today that they produced little more than a gentle sigh, barely caressing the sand.

As she emerged from the trees and crossed the narrow, rough road that snaked along the coastline, she could see nobody on the beach. She looked around, breathing in the atmosphere that brought back so many childhood memories. The only difference she could see was that the little café over to the north side, just beside the tiny jetty, had been enlarged and now boasted a sign announcing its reincarnation as a Café Restaurant. Half a dozen tables now stood on the terrace outside the single-storey stone building, none of them yet occupied at seven o’clock in the morning. Three umbrellas advertised French beer, while the others invited people to opt for a mineral water.

Natalie set down her towel on a rocky outcrop on the sunny side of the bay and slipped out of her shoes and shorts. She walked down to the water’s edge, enjoying the feel of the sand between her toes. As ever, she found herself scanning the waterline for shells, and her eyes alighted upon a beautiful little light-blue butterfly shell. She bent down and picked it up, marvelling at its symmetry and perfection. Its colour, she knew, was virtually the same as her eyes. Somewhere up at the house was a bracelet of these shells that her grandfather had made for her when she was very small. She wondered where it was now. She dropped it back onto the sand and waded out until the water was deep enough for her to slip forward and start swimming.

Although the initial impact was cold, she soon acclimatised and began a slow breaststroke, out parallel to the rocky shore towards the mouth of the bay, luxuriating in the refreshing feel of the water on her body after a hot, sticky, disturbed night. When she was almost at the open sea, she reached the last of a line of orange mooring buoys. Stretching out her hand she grabbed hold, glad to rest for a minute, letting the gentle current slowly turn her back towards the land.

From here, she could see clear up the hillside to her grandmother’s house. Higher up, near the top of the hill, the old chateau was still as beautiful as ever with its slate roof and circular pointed turrets, sitting in its walled park, ringed by cypress trees. The terrace outside her grandmother’s house was empty, the vines that her granddad had planted and trained across the trellis casting a rare patch of shade on that sunburnt slope. In the far distance she could just see the hazy outline of the high Pyrenees; to the left of them lay Spain, and to the right France. It was a spectacular, magical view.

The sea rocked her gently from side to side, her shoulder resting against the cool plastic of the buoy, the sun already hot on her head and neck. She felt comfortable and refreshed, pleased to revisit her favourite childhood haunt. But this brief moment of happiness didn’t last long, as her thoughts turned once more to the here and now. Of course, she was no longer a child, and those carefree days were long gone. Here she was, alone in the sea and virtually alone in the world. In spite of the sunshine, in spite of the idyllic surroundings, she had to struggle hard to stop the tears from falling as she thought back over the events of the last two days.


Chapter 1 (#ulink_a131a7db-7147-5898-92f3-789bbc9b7e08)

David’s parents’ house was one of the most opulent in what was a very opulent part of south-west London. Today the gravel drive in front of the house was choked with smart, expensive cars and the Union Jack hung proudly, if limply, from the flagpole. The trees in the extensive garden to the rear were festooned with bunting, and a string quartet was playing softly from beneath the rose arbour. The French windows were wide open, and smartly dressed guests, all of whom had observed the instruction on the printed invitations to wear Smart Casual clothes, stood around on the terrace and chatted. Those without high heels had ventured onto the meticulously mown lawn and were making appreciative noises about the fine collection of flowering shrubs all round. The gardeners had been under strict orders to make it an impeccable display and, luckily for them, they had succeeded.

Natalie was at the far corner of the lawn, ostensibly studying the rock garden, but in reality just taking time out from the small talk. She really didn’t feel in the least bit like turning on the charm for these people with whom she had nothing in common, although she knew they meant so much to David and his family. She had been dreading this day for weeks now and the fact that her presence had not so much been requested as demanded had done little to improve her attitude. Now, although surrounded by so many people, she felt more alone than she had done for months. She let her eyes roam over an exceptionally prickly cactus and reflected that it looked the way she felt.

So far, David’s mother’s birthday party had proved to be as ghastly as she had feared. Officially billed as Marjorie’s sixtieth birthday, Natalie knew for a fact that this milestone had been passed several years earlier, but had refrained from commenting. As expected, the other guests were a collection of the great and, if not the good, then certainly the well-heeled of London society. David’s father, Wilberforce, had until very recently been the senior partner in a large and long-established law firm. Given his career choice, it was little surprise that his only son had followed him into that profession. And, as Natalie knew only too well, David was expected by everybody to achieve a position of pre-eminence in the London law scene in his turn. Increasingly over the past few months, Natalie had been trying to make up her mind as to whether in fact she wanted to be at his side when he did so. She and David had been arguing more and more often and she sensed that their relationship was reaching a tipping point. She drained her third glass of champagne and went back into the house in search of another.

As she went in through the French windows, she found herself confronted by a sea of suits and cocktail dresses. Over in the far corner of the room, she spotted Marjorie, deep in conversation with a man she recognised as David’s boss, Mr Lightfoot. Natalie had no hesitation in heading off in the opposite direction. She went along the corridor to the kitchen, helping herself to a fresh glass of champagne from a tray carried by one of the catering staff as she did so. The kitchen had been taken over by the caterers and, as she walked in, she spotted Winston the cat, her only friend and ally here, as he slipped through the door into the old pantry, no doubt looking for a place of refuge. Natalie decided to follow his example. She grabbed a couple of sausage rolls from a silver platter and followed the cat into the larder, pulling the door half-closed behind her. It was cool in there. The only window had been covered with wire mesh to keep the flies out and the narrow room was perpetually in twilight as a result.

‘Hello, puss.’

Recognising her voice, Winston turned and came over to her with a plaintive meow, tail standing stiffly in the air. Natalie sat down on a packet of toilet rolls, set her glass on the floor beside her and stroked the old cat while he rubbed himself against her legs. She stuffed one of the sausage rolls into her mouth and offered him the other one. He sniffed it fastidiously before taking it delicately from her fingers and settling down to eat, purring to himself as he did so. Natalie took a mouthful of champagne and sat back, glad to get out of the babble of chatter for a brief while.

She looked round the larder, her mood still gloomy, as it had been for months now. Things had started out so well with David four years earlier. She had met him when she was at her lowest ebb, shortly after the accident that had taken both her parents. At the time she had convinced herself it was love, and had embarked upon an affair with him that had led quite naturally to their moving in together and then to their engagement. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, she found herself coming to the realisation that it probably hadn’t been so much true love as a deep need for support and company at what had been a desperately lonely time. Their life together had been very good at first, but doubts, serious doubts, had started to set in as the months and years went by. She saw now that he had changed since those early days and she was analytical enough to see that she, too, had changed. He had been right behind her when she had made the decision to give up teaching and go back to university to get her doctorate. Now, her studies no longer appeared to interest him. The fact that she had been increasingly busy with her thesis had impacted on their home life together, and his encouragement had dried up as a result. It had become increasingly clear to her that he would really prefer a wife who would look after him in the kitchen and the bedroom, rather than an intellectual equal.

And now? Yes, she now had her PhD after so much hard work, but she didn’t have a job yet. Could it be that she would end up like David’s mother, running an immaculate house for her successful husband, her role reduced to that of gracious hostess and producer of children to continue the line? Certainly, the more they had spoken about it, the clearer it had become that David’s family, if not David himself, saw it that way. And how did she see it? Well, she thought to herself, as she sipped her wine and watched the old cat, the one thing she knew for sure was that she wanted more out of life.

‘Sausage rolls! What on earth were they thinking of?’

At the sound of the voice, Natalie jumped, spilling champagne on her fingers. She turned towards the door, but the conversation was taking place out in the kitchen. She couldn’t see the owner of the voice, but there was no mistaking it.

‘Sausage rolls, of all things! I told them I wanted refined canapés, not the sort of thing you can find in any local pub.’ Natalie recognised Marjorie’s acid tones, mildly surprised that her future mother-in-law was admitting to being familiar with the inside of a pub.

‘The sushi and the goat’s cheese crostini were pretty good, but I quite agree with you, Mummy; sausage rolls, indeed!’

David’s big sister, Emily, was sounding more and more like her mother as the years went by. Natalie glanced down at the cat who was thoroughly enjoying his sausage roll and reflected that she, too, had enjoyed the one she had just eaten. Then, to her surprise, the topic of conversation on the other side of the pantry door changed to a subject much closer to home.

‘I tell you who would like the sausage rolls.’ Emily’s voice was contemptuous.

‘Yes, I daresay you’re right. By the way, I haven’t seen her for a while. Have you?’

‘The last time I saw her she was out in the garden glugging Daddy’s champagne.’

‘I do think she could have made a bit more of an effort. What on earth was she thinking of when she chose that frock she’s wearing?’

‘The price, Mummy, I would think. From a charity shop, I have no doubt.’

‘Or the supermarket.’ Marjorie sounded bitter. ‘Really, she could have tried a bit harder. After all, she knew Gordon Lightfoot was going to be here.’ Natalie listened as David’s mother went on to reel off a list of names of other notables from the legal profession and did her best to stifle a growing sense of anger. Along with the anger came the realisation that what she was hearing just confirmed what she had been thinking for months.

‘I really don’t know what David sees in her.’

‘Well, she is quite pretty.’ Marjorie even managed to make a compliment sound like an insult. ‘It’s just that she’s so…’ She paused for thought. ‘So unkempt. She just doesn’t make any effort at all. A bit of make-up, some nice clothes and she would really be quite good-looking.’

‘And a change of attitude’s long overdue.’

‘Of course it’s because she’s a student, I suppose. Ever since she’s been at college she’s been getting so scruffy and bohemian. And she’s far more interested in her studies than in David. Doesn’t she realise how important it is to him to have a fiancée who can support him and make the right impression? He’s got his career to think of, after all.’

‘She’s only studying history, after all, and it’s not as if she’s likely to do anything meaningful with it.’ Emily’s tone was dismissive and Natalie found herself gripping her glass so hard she was in danger of crushing it in her hand. She made a conscious effort to relax her grip, but it wasn’t easy. After three hard years doing a PhD in medieval history, she knew full well just how much work had been involved. She had lost count of the late nights, early starts and the interminable days she had spent in university libraries all over the UK and France. She had lost a stone in weight, developed dark rings under her eyes and ceased to have any kind of social life, with or without David. The PhD was done now, but she knew it would take her months to recover from the effort. She growled to herself as she listened to the conversation in the kitchen.

‘And it’s French history of all things, and ancient at that. Surely she could have tried to do something British.’ David’s mother’s voice dropped a little. ‘Of course, she’s only half British. I suppose that explains it. How on earth she thinks she can make a living with something like that I really don’t know.’

‘Of course it’s only a hobby really, Mummy. After all, she knows she can rely on David to support her and keep her.’

‘Poor David. He deserves so much better.’

There was the sound of movement in the kitchen as the caterers returned. From the jingling, it was pretty obvious a tray full of glasses was being set down on the table. Natalie heard the clicking of high heels retreating down the corridor as Marjorie and Emily left them to it. Natalie glanced down at the cat who had finished eating the meat out of the sausage roll and was licking his paws. She resisted the temptation to gulp down her champagne, and limited herself to taking a few small sips while she did her best to regain some sort of calm, while her every instinct was crying out for her to follow Marjorie and Emily into the living room and tear their hair out. The cat looked up and caught her eye.

‘Ever contemplated a double homicide, cat?’ Natalie kept her voice down to a whisper and the cat just rewarded her with a yawn. She sat there, sipping her wine, until the glass was empty, resisting the urge to scream or weep. She had realised months ago that subconsciously she had been seeking a surrogate family when she had hooked up with David. It had been some time into the relationship before she had been introduced to his parents and it hadn’t taken long before she had begun to realise that this was not going to happen. As people, she and they were too different and these hopes had been crumbling more and more as she got to know them better. Now she knew they were totally crushed. Of course, she had been coming ever closer to this realisation, but it was only now, hearing it from the horse’s mouth, that it finally sank in. She could expect nothing from them. She was on her own, totally on her own; except for David, even if that was by no means certain any longer. She knew that she had to find him and seek reassurance from him. In spite of their arguments and in spite of her doubts, she desperately hoped she could still count on him, even if his family had shown its true colours. Angrily, she wiped the moisture from the corners of her eyes and pulled herself to her feet.

Her instincts made her pick up the remains of the cat’s sausage roll before leaving, although she was in no mood to do favours for Marjorie. The cat, taking the hint, stood up, pushed the door open and strode through back into the kitchen, most probably on the lookout for another sausage roll. Natalie took a deep breath and followed him, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the two girls rinsing champagne glasses. They could think what they liked. She knew she had to find David as soon as possible.

She dropped the bits of pastry in the bin, wiped her hands on a paper napkin and walked as calmly as she could along the corridor and into the living room. Avoiding making eye contact with any of the crowd of people in there, she scanned the room for signs of her fiancé. He wasn’t there, but she had a shrewd feeling she knew where she would find him. She went out onto the terrace and, from there, onto the lawn. At the far end, to one side of the rose arbour, was the little lawned area, surrounded by a laurel hedge and accessed through a wooden gate, that was always referred to as the secret garden. In there was a swing bed and lying stretched out on the leaf-patterned seat was David. His eyes were closed and he looked as if he was asleep. Natalie went straight over to him and grabbed him by the shoulder.

‘David, wake up.’ Her voice sounded strange to her, half-choked. His eyes opened at once and he sat up. He hadn’t been sleeping, but the dark rings under his eyes testified to how tired he was. In spite of his relaxed pose, his tie was still done up and he had been careful to avoid creasing his trousers, while the grey jacket of his suit was hanging neatly from the side of the frame. He immediately saw that something was wrong. Shifting over to one side, suppressing a yawn, he took her hand and guided her down onto the seat beside him.

‘What’s up, Nat? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

She took a deep breath and recounted the conversation she had overheard, hoping she could count on his support. However, it soon turned out that her confidence was misplaced. As she came to the end of her tale, he reached for his champagne glass and swallowed half in one big gulp.

‘I’m so sorry you had to hear that, Nat, but you must understand that Mum has a point.’

Natalie couldn’t believe her ears. ‘A point? What’s that supposed to mean, David?’

‘You have been working very hard, after all. She’s right about that.’

‘I’ve been doing a Ph-fucking-D, David. Of course I’ve been working hard.’ She was doing her best to keep her voice down, but it wasn’t easy.

‘And that’s another thing. Since you’ve gone back to being a full-time student, your language has deteriorated most awfully. You never used to swear like that.’

Natalie caught his eye. They had argued about this before. ‘We both did, David, if you remember right. It’s just that you’ve now gone all prim and proper. Listen to yourself. You sound like an old maid.’

‘Don’t be so silly. I’ve told you tons of times, in my position I can’t allow myself to use words like that. It would be more than my job’s worth. And I do think you could make an effort to tone it down a bit, if not for my mother, at least for me.’

‘After what your precious mother has been saying about me, I am very, very close to telling her just what I think of her in good old-fashioned Anglo-Saxon.’ For the first time an expression of worry crossed his face.

‘For God’s sake, don’t do that, Nat. My boss is here, after all. You can’t let me down like that as well.’

‘As well? What does that mean? So you think I let you down? Just like your mother and your evil little sister were saying?’

‘Not all the time, Nat. Of course not. But you could make a bit of an effort; nicer clothes, a bit of make-up. Why, you even cut your own hair.’

‘I cut my own hair because I’m living on a student grant and I haven’t got the money to go to expensive hairdressers. And there’s no way I can afford the sort of dresses the women back there are wearing, even if I wanted them.’

‘I’d give you the money. All you have to do is ask.’

‘I haven’t asked you for any money so far and I’ve no intention of starting now. I pay my own way in this world and if I’m not classy enough for you and your precious family, you know what you can do.’ Natalie was furious with him but, deep down, maybe she wasn’t as surprised as all that. For months now she had sensed a change in his priorities, in his allegiance. Now he wasn’t even trying to understand how she had been made to feel. The fact that he was teaming up with his mother to criticise her, painful as it was, wasn’t completely unexpected. ‘Have you got that?’ She could hear the anger in her voice. He could hear it, too.

‘You going to swear at me again? For crying out loud, Nat!’

‘Don’t think I’m not tempted. You’re my fiancé, David. You’re supposed to be on my side. I’ve been working my butt off for three long years now and yet, to them, I’ve just been wasting my time. They called it a hobby.’

‘Well, it is, really, isn’t it? I mean, we both know that you’re going to end up as a mum, looking after our children. You’re never going to make a living out of medieval history now, are you?’

Natalie was speechless for a few moments as she heard the same note of disdain in his voice she had heard from his mother. Finally, she looked up and their eyes met. ‘You just don’t get it, do you? You can’t even begin to imagine what it’s meant to me to have got my PhD. I didn’t do it for kudos, or respect, and it certainly wasn’t for money. I did it for me, for my own personal development, for my future. And yet, all I am to you is a baby-producing machine. Well, like it or not, I’ve chosen my path and I do intend to make a career out of it.’ Her head cleared as she came to the inevitable conclusion. ‘I think maybe you’d be better off with somebody else. Somebody who can provide you with the sort of trophy wife you and your bloody family are looking for.’

He dropped his eyes and turned away, reaching for his jacket. ‘Maybe I would.’ He wasn’t speaking very loud, but she heard every word quite clearly.

‘Then you’d better have this back.’ She found herself twisting the engagement ring from her finger, the sunlight glittering in the cut facets of the cluster of diamonds as she did so. ‘You can tell your mother she doesn’t need to worry any more.’ She thrust the ring at him and headed for the gate. Behind her she heard him call her name, but only very quietly so as not to disturb any of the guests. She ignored him and left.

It was a ten-minute walk to the station. When she got there she discovered that the next train to get her back to Cambridge would not be along for half an hour. She walked right to the far end of the platform and sat down on her own on a bench in the sun. It would have been very easy for her to bury her head in her hands and cry, but she had no intention of letting that happen until she was well away from David and his family. She dug in her bag for a tissue and blew her nose, taking a series of long, slow breaths to calm her racing heart.

She needed to speak to somebody, badly. In Cambridge there was just Amy, her oldest friend, and a few other girls she knew fairly well, and there was her supervisor, with whom she had grown pretty close, but that was about it. It was almost five years now since the crash that had robbed her of her parents. Without brothers and sisters, without her mother to turn to, and without David, that only left one guaranteed shoulder to cry on. She pulled out her phone and checked the time. It was almost three. In France, it would be almost four o’clock. Her grandmother should have woken from her afternoon snooze by now. Natalie flicked through her contacts until she reached Gran and pressed the green button.

It was a while before she answered, but the old voice was unmistakable. ‘Oui, allô.’

‘Hello, Gran. It’s me, Natalie.’ She switched effortlessly into French.

‘Natalie, my darling girl, hello.’ Her mother and her grandparents had always spoken to her in French and Natalie had grown up bilingual as a result. As her doctoral thesis had been on the Cathars of southern France, the ability to read and speak fluent French had been a massive help to her in her research.

‘How are you, Gran?’

‘I’m all right, in a geriatric sort of way. The sun’s shining, the doctor still allows me a glass or two of wine, so I can’t complain. And how’re you?’

‘A bit low, to be honest.’

‘But you’ve only just been awarded your doctorate. You should be up on a cloud right now.’ A note of concern entered her grandma’s voice. ‘You’re not ill, are you?’

‘No, I’m fine. It’s just...’ She hesitated, unwilling to launch into a post-mortem of the afternoon’s events on the telephone. ‘I’ll tell you all about it when I see you.’ She suddenly felt very weary. ‘Gran, I was wondering. Would there be room for me over there for a few weeks? I’ve really got to get away.’

‘Of course, my child.’ The fact that Natalie was now thirty made no difference to her grandmother. She would always think of her only granddaughter as about ten years old. ‘I’d love to see you. Come as soon as you like and stay as long as you like.’

Natalie thought fast. It was the middle of July now. She had finished all her commitments at the university and, particularly after the events of this afternoon, there was nothing and nobody to keep her in Cambridge. She didn’t hesitate. ‘I’ll come over as soon as possible, tomorrow if I can. I’ll get on the first flight I can find. I’m at the station waiting for a train at the moment. As soon as I get back home I’ll sort everything out, and I’ll call you this evening.’

‘That’s wonderful, as long as you’re sure. It’ll be so good to have you here again.’ Natalie could hear the pleasure in her grandma’s voice.

‘Of course I’m sure. Besides, I haven’t been down to Port Renard for ages now. I need to see if the beach has changed.’

‘The beach hasn’t changed, my dear. We have, but it hasn’t.’

Not only was there a flight from Stansted to Perpignan the next day, there was still a spare seat at a reasonable price. And, after checking, Natalie was relieved to see that she had enough left in her current account after buying the ticket to still be able to go down to the cash machine and take out enough money to last her for a few weeks while staying with her grandmother, without digging into her very modest savings account. Even better, when she pulled out her passport, she found eighty euros tucked inside it, left over from her last trip to France. Satisfied that everything was arranged, she rang her grandmother to tell her what time she would be arriving.

‘The flight gets in just before three. I’ll get the bus into the station at Perpignan and, if all goes well, I should be in Banyuls by five or so. When I get there I’ll take a taxi along to you.’

‘I’d come and pick you up if they’d let me, dear. I’ve still got the car, you know. But the doctors said I can’t drive any more. They say it’s because of these drugs they’re giving me, but I think it’s just because they know I’m ninety. It’s prejudice, you know.’

Natalie couldn’t help laughing at the outrage in her grandmother’s voice. ‘Don’t worry about it, Gran. I’ll be fine. I’m looking forward so very much to seeing you tomorrow night.’

‘Me, too, darling. Bon voyage.’

After ringing off, Natalie looked down at her phone. The thought occurred to her that she should maybe call David to tell him where she was going. It was almost eight o’clock and he might well be on his way home by now. One thing she knew for sure was that she didn’t want to see him. After a few seconds’ hesitation she decided not to call him and dropped the phone in favour of a pen and a sheet of paper. The message she wrote was brief and to the point.

David

I’m going over to France to stay with my grandmother in Port Renard.

Nat

I’ll come and pick up the rest of my stuff when I get back.

Next, she phoned her friend Amy to ask for a bed for the night. Although she tried her best to sound normal, her voice gave her away.

‘What is it, Nat? What’s happened?’

Natalie took a deep breath. ‘David and I have split up.’

‘Oh, dear.’ Amy sounded surprised, but not that surprised. Natalie reflected that she had been speaking to Amy more and more over the past few months about her reservations and doubts as to her future with David. ‘Split up as in engagement off, or just taking a break?’

‘I gave him his ring back and told him where he could stick his whole bloody family.’

‘I’ll take that as engagement off, then.’ There was a pause. ‘Well, in a way, it’s sort of what you’ve been building up to.’

‘I don’t know, Amy. I suppose so.’ Natalie hesitated, wondering whether that really was true. ‘Brace yourself. I rather think you know what we’re going to be talking about tonight.’

‘I’ll be here waiting.’

Natalie put the phone down and then collected enough clothes to last her for a few weeks, ensuring that she packed lightweight summer stuff, including sandals and her two bikinis, the elastic of one of which, she noticed, was beginning to go. She resolved to take a trip to the hypermarket in France to buy a new one as soon as she got over there. David’s mother, she reflected, had been pretty close to the mark in her barbed jibe about her clothes coming from the supermarket.

‘Well, we can’t all be bloody millionaires.’ She stuffed all her things into a bag, collected a few important books along with her laptop and left.


Chapter 2 (#ulink_41bb63e1-b78f-5d4a-b2d8-6fc8d6110a81)

When she came back up from the beach, her hair already beginning to dry in the increasingly hot sunshine, she found her grandmother resting in a wicker chair on the terrace, sheltered from the sun by the canopy of vines overhead. Natalie hung her towel on the line and went over to kiss her on the cheek. ‘You’re up early.’

‘Not as early as you, Natalie.’

‘Feel like some coffee?’

‘Tea please, dear. The way your father used to drink it. With milk.’

Her grandmother had always been very fond of her English son-in-law and had even adopted some of his habits. Tea with milk was just one of them. Natalie went into the big old farmhouse kitchen and filled the kettle. Mention of her father reminded her of so many lovely times they had had here as a family while she was growing up. And he, she thought with a twinge of bitterness, still smarting from the things David and his mother had said, had made a successful career out of history. He had met her mother when she was a student at Montpellier University and he had been over for a year from England on an exchange. By the time of his death, not yet sixty, they had been married for thirty-five years and he had been a professor of history for twenty of them. So, Natalie reflected, as she took a tea bag out of the same old familiar tin, history was a damn sight more than a hobby, and David and his mother knew where they could stick it.

She made two mugs of tea and took them out onto the terrace. As she set them down on the table, she studied her grandmother’s face in the bright morning light. She was still as beautiful as ever and she had even put on some make-up in an attempt to hide the dark rings under her eyes. She was thinner than the last time Natalie had seen her, her hair now more white than grey and, of course, she was the last of Natalie’s family. And Natalie knew only too well that, when her gran died, she would be totally alone. It was a very scary thought. She sat down alongside her and reached over to take her hand.

‘How’re you feeling, Gran?’

‘I’m feeling fine, my dear.’ And, indeed, she looked bright and cheerful this glorious sunny morning. Her grandmother dropped her other hand down on top of Natalie’s. ‘These drugs are very good. To be honest, I almost feel I could walk down to the beach and go for a swim.’

‘Well, we could do that if you like. You said you’ve still got the car. I can drive you down to the beach if you want.’

Her grandmother smiled; a gentle, weary smile. ‘Let’s see how I feel a bit later on. I’m not sure I’m really strong enough for a swim and, besides, my costume wouldn’t fit these days.’ She caught Natalie’s eye. ‘When I was your age I was oh so careful about what I ate, so as to keep my figure. Now I eat and I eat, but the weight just drops off me.’ She released Natalie’s hand and reached for her tea. She took a sip and breathed out appreciatively. ‘Ah, yes, that’s just right. Now, tell me all your news.’ Her expression darkened. ‘You’re looking very tired. What’s the trouble?’

Natalie had arrived at the house at just after six o’clock the previous evening and found her grandmother laying the table out on the terrace. She had prepared a cold evening meal for them. True to her word, there was a bottle of cold white wine in the fridge and she helped Natalie drink most of it. Afterwards there were fresh figs from the old tree in the garden. Although the two of them chatted throughout their dinner, Natalie had steered clear of any reference to the events at Marjorie’s garden party. Her grandmother had soon begun to tire and both of them had gone to bed early. In consequence, they still had a lot of catching up to do. Now, in the cold light of day, Natalie knew the time had come to tell all. She looked across the table.

‘It’s been a long, hard last few months, Gran, for all sorts of reasons, not just my research. Anyway, David and I have split up.’

Her grandmother sipped the tea and nodded. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ She caught Natalie’s hand in hers. ‘You mean, really split up? For ever?’

Natalie nodded her head slowly. She had been asking herself this question for thirty-six hours now and the answer came back the same every time. ‘I’m afraid so, Gran. That’s it as far as David’s concerned, not least as I refuse to have anything more to do with his mother or his sister. And that would make the wedding a bit difficult, to say the least.’

‘What on earth did they do to you?’

Natalie recounted the doubts that had been assailing her over the past few months, terminating with the conversation she had overheard, followed by her fiancé’s refusal to side with her. Her grandmother listened gravely, before passing judgement.

‘Well, it sounds to me as if you’re better off not getting involved any further with an awful woman like that. As for David, you never know. He may come to his senses and realise what he’s missing. If he’s as bright as you say he is, he’ll know that you’re more important to him than a nasty woman like that. Just you wait.’

Natalie shook her head. ‘Somehow I doubt it. I’m pretty certain I’m not more important to him than his mother, and certainly not his career. He’s dead set on becoming the number one lawyer in the whole of England. Now, I’ve got nothing against him working hard. In fact, that’s good and I respect him for it. I’ve been working really hard myself. But it’s all the bowing and scraping, keeping up appearances, dressing up for stupid parties and fawning on his boss that he wants me to do that gets me down. I don’t think he’s going to let anything, or anybody, get in the way of his career plans.’ She caught her grandmother’s eye. ‘And that includes me.’

‘Then he’s a fool. Look at you, Natalie. You’re so, so beautiful. You’re clever, very clever, and you’re a fine, kind girl. If he’s too stupid to want to hang on to you, then there are thousands, millions of men out there who would jump at the chance. But what about you? Is he worth fighting for? Do you miss him? Do you, maybe, still love him?’ Her eyes twinkled from beneath her long eyelashes.

Natalie’s grandmother had been telling her she was beautiful for so many years now that it had long since ceased to have any meaning. As for the question of her feelings for David, that wasn’t too hard to answer. ‘I’ve known him for almost five years and we’ve been living together for three. I did love him at the beginning, or at least I thought I did. He was my anchor, my mainstay in England after Mum and Dad died. I felt sure I could count on him and that meant an awful lot.’ She looked up and exchanged glances with her grandmother. ‘I was so terribly, terribly lonely after the accident. The problem is that trying to escape from loneliness isn’t the best foundation for a successful relationship. We’ve been arguing about it more and more since Christmas, and I hoped it was just a phase he was going through and he’d change back again. But now I know that’s not going to happen.’

‘And what about you, Natalie? Have you changed?’ Her grandmother was staring out across the hillside. ‘We all change, you know. Did your studies maybe make you a bit less sympathetic to his needs? It’s a two-way thing, you know.’

Natalie took a mouthful of tea. ‘You’re right, Gran, of course you’re right. I have been obsessing about my studies, I know. I wanted to do the very best I could and I suppose, looking back on it, this made me selfish in my own way. I probably didn’t try hard enough to keep the relationship going and I can see that now.’ She saw her grandmother nod sagely. ‘But, even so, when he had his chance to stand up and defend me against his mother and listen to my side of things at that bloody party, he blew it.’ She paused for a moment of self-analysis. ‘To be quite honest, Gran, it’s not so much what his mother said, it’s the fact that, by not standing up for me, David the rock, David my anchor, ceased to exist. I realised then that he’s not really interested in what happens to me and I’m back on my own again, and I’m better off without him.’ She paused again, searching for words. ‘You’re right, Gran. I have changed. I don’t necessarily like being on my own, but I’m no longer as desperate for support and company as I was. The best thing was to make a clean break and that’s what I’ve done. What I need isn’t a rock or an anchor. It’s an equal partner.’

‘I’m so pleased to hear you say that, Natalie. You’re so right. But, anyway, don’t let it get you down too much. You’re doing the right thing, I’m sure. And you’re not on your own, darling. You’ve got me, after all.’ She gave Natalie a comforting smile. ‘And anyway, like I say, you’re a very pretty girl and you’ll soon have the men fighting over you.’

Natalie shook her head. ‘The last thing I want for now is anything to do with another man. The fact is, all that’ll happen is I’ll think I’ve found somebody to be with and then, a year or two down the line, it’ll all fall apart again, just like it’s done with David. My number one priority for now is to find myself a job and a place to live. I’m going to concentrate on becoming self-sufficient. Maybe I’m better off on my own anyway, Granny.’

‘Nobody wants to be alone. You’ll find somebody, when the time’s right. And in the meantime you concentrate on your career and, remember, like I say, you’ve got me.’ Then her grandmother surprised her. ‘And another thing, Natalie; don’t you think you’re a bit too old to be calling me granny? It makes me feel so ancient.’ Natalie found herself grinning at her. ‘You’re a grown woman now, so do you think you could bring yourself to call me by my real name, like everybody else?’

It took Natalie a few moments to remember her grandmother’s first name. ‘You mean Colette?’

‘Of course. Do you think you could manage that?’

‘Yes, of course… Colette. I mean Gran. I mean Colette…’ She paused. ‘Oh no, it’s no good. I can’t, Gran, I just can’t.’ Natalie caught her eye and shrugged her shoulders helplessly. ‘Sorry, Gran. It just doesn’t feel right.’

‘I understand, dear. I only asked you as I was rather hoping people might start thinking I was your big sister.’ The old lady erupted into a fit of giggles.

Just then, their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a visitor.

‘Ah, here he is, Natalie. This is my special friend. I forgot to tell you about him. He comes to visit me every day.’ She sounded very animated. Natalie looked up and saw that the object of her attention was a handsome black Labrador with a red collar who had appeared round the side of the house and was heading straight for the table. He was wagging his tail enthusiastically and he came across and nuzzled Colette with his nose. He sat down beside her and put a paw on her thigh.

‘What a beaut.’ Natalie had always loved dogs and her grandmother had always had a dog in the house until the last few years. ‘Where does he come from?’

Hearing her voice, the dog relinquished Colette and trotted round to Natalie’s side. He looked up at her with big brown eyes and Natalie fell instantly in love with him. The feeling was obviously mutual as the dog reared up on his hind legs and did his best to climb onto her lap. Kindly, she pushed him back onto the ground and took the big black head in both hands. ‘Who needs a stupid fiancé when there’s a handsome chap like you around? And where’ve you come from?’

‘I think he’s from the chateau. You know it was sold last autumn?’ Natalie vaguely recalled her grandmother telling her something to that effect, but she had been here so rarely over the past few years. ‘It’s been bought by some rich people, most probably for a holiday home. At least, that’s what I hear from Marie who got the news from Maître Delatour. They’re foreign, maybe even English.’ A note of regret entered Colette’s voice. ‘No surprise there. All the most beautiful places are being bought up by foreigners and turned into holiday homes. The local people can’t afford to buy houses down here any longer. It’s a real problem.’

By this time the dog had collapsed onto his back on the flagstones and was grunting happily to himself as Natalie scratched his tummy. ‘So does he have a name?’ She spotted a medallion hanging from the dog’s bright red collar. Squinting down at it, she saw that it only bore a telephone number, no name.

‘I call him Charlie and he doesn’t seem to mind.’ No surprise there. All the dogs her grandparents had ever had had been called Charlie. Up till now they had all been cocker spaniels, but the name seemed to suit the big black dog just as well. Natalie looked down at him again.

‘So, Charlie, would you like a biscuit?’ The dog clearly understood what was on offer. He rolled to one side and leapt to his feet, tail wagging. Natalie glanced across at her grandmother. ‘Have you been giving him bad habits?’

‘He always gets a biscuit when he comes to see me. I got Jeanne to buy some proper dog biscuits when she did my shopping. I’m just being hospitable, after all. You’ll find them inside on the window ledge.’

Natalie went into the kitchen, located the packet of bone-shaped dog biscuits and removed one. Back outside, she gave it to the dog who took it delicately from her fingers and settled down at her feet, the biscuit held vertically between his front paws, to crunch it up. Natalie glanced at Colette again. ‘And here I was thinking you might be lonely.’

‘I could never be lonely down here.’ A distant expression crossed her old face. ‘Everywhere I look, I see friends and I remember them. I see the bench your grandfather made, where he used to sit in the evenings, smoking those disgusting yellow papier maïs cigarettes of his. I see the flower bed he planted and obstinately watered all the way through every long dry summer. I see the path up which the fishermen would come every morning to sell us fresh fish from the bay. I see the towers of the chateau where Madame de Gruchy lived. She used to give us kids sweeties and serve us lemonade made from the lemons in her garden. I’m not lonely, Natalie, and now that you’re here, that’s just perfect.’ She looked across and caught Natalie’s eye. ‘And you mustn’t feel lonely either. It’ll all work out for you, just like it worked out for me.’

She closed her eyes and Natalie saw the weariness in her face. Ninety was, after all, a grand old age. Meanwhile the dog, having finished the biscuit and then having licked the stones all round him for any remaining crumbs, stood up and took his leave. Natalie watched as he trotted off back the way he had come, his tail still wagging lazily, until he disappeared from sight into the scrubby bushes alongside the path. Just visible above the roof of her grandmother’s house were the twin turrets of the chateau. Natalie reflected that this was a very lucky Labrador to live in such a place, with a whole hillside where he could roam free. Like Colette, she looked forward to seeing him again. As it happened, this was to be sooner than she expected.

She spent the day helping her grandma and chatting, catching up on all the news. Just before lunch, she took the little Renault and a long shopping list and drove down to the shops in Banyuls-sur-Mer. As well as food, wine and water, she also found a rather nice new bikini; fairly minimal, but not obscene. It was comfortable, a good fit, and not too expensive. That was all that mattered.

After lunch, they both had a little siesta. Colette retired to her room, while Natalie chose to snooze on the old wooden sun bed under the vines. It had been built by her grandfather and had been there for as long as she could remember. It was made of cypress wood and the aroma was still intoxicating even after the passage of the years. Miraculously it was still solid enough to take her weight. She dozed for an hour, aided by the two glasses of ice cold rosé she had drunk with her lunch, before getting up and digging out her laptop. She scanned her emails and spotted one from David. The content was far from inspiring.

Nat, sorry you felt you had to leave. Everybody was asking where you had gone off to on Saturday. I said you weren’t feeling very well. I haven’t told my parents about your moment of bad temper. I’ve put the ring on the bedside table. When are you coming back? There’s the office summer party at the end of the month and I really need you with me for that.

David

Moment of bad temper? Only the presence of her grandmother in the next room prevented Natalie from squealing at his crass choice of words. If she had been harbouring any lingering doubts as to the wisdom of breaking off the engagement, this email confirmed she had made the right decision. He really had changed from the man she had first met. And, she told herself firmly, she had changed as well. She was no longer the helpless, lonely girl who had latched on to him in her moment of crisis. She had grown up and she, like David, had changed. She no longer needed a man to look after her and hold her hand. She was fully capable of standing on her own two feet.

She turned her attention to the other emails, hoping that one of them might at least bring good news on the employment front. She had been scouring the internet for lecturing positions anywhere in the UK or France, but the sad fact was that good jobs in medieval history were few and far between. There was nothing of interest, except for one from Amy in Cambridge, and a very kind and heartening email from her professor, telling her she was casting about, looking for jobs for Natalie. She said she would be in touch if anything suitable presented itself.

Finally, she read Amy’s email. The night she had spent with her before taking the plane to France had been a pretty downbeat affair. She had recounted to Amy the events of the garden party, in particular the conversation she had overheard in the kitchen. As ever, Amy was supportive. They had known each other since their schooldays and there wasn’t much about Natalie that Amy didn’t know. She had been a tower of strength when Natalie’s parents had died and they had stayed close ever since. And, since the break-up with David, she was her closest friend in the UK. Today’s email from her, predictably, was to see if Natalie was feeling better. Before answering, Natalie sat back and reflected. Seeing her grandmother again had been wonderful and this place, with the sun shining outside and the hum of the bees in the flowers in the garden, had cheered her immensely. Being with her grandmother was beginning to remove, or at least reduce, the sense of loneliness that had haunted her for so long and make her aware that she was a stronger person than before. Here, in Colette, she had somebody with whom she knew she could talk about anything. She found she was able to reply to Amy in all sincerity that she was indeed beginning to feel better now.

Natalie closed the laptop and sat quietly for a few minutes, doing her best to banish her anger at David, before going out onto the landing. She decided she had better check on her grandmother, so she tiptoed to her door and peered into the shadowy interior. The shutters were firmly closed as this room faced south and, without them, it would have become intolerably hot in there. As it was, it felt pleasantly cool. There was a movement from the bed and she saw her grandmother turn her head towards the door. ‘Hello, dear. It’s all right, I’m awake. Did you have a little sleep?’

‘I dozed a bit, and it was lovely out there under the vines. There are already little grapes forming in bunches. Looks like it’ll be a bumper harvest.’

Colette nodded. ‘Shall we have a cup of tea? I’ve been lying down for long enough. I need to get up and tidy up the house. Jeanne comes in at five, so I’ve got an hour before that.’

Natalie smiled to herself. It was the carer’s job to do any tidying up for her grandmother, not the other way round. While Colette went out to the table under the trellis, Natalie went into the kitchen and made two mugs of tea. She brought them out and they sat and chatted until the carer arrived. Once Jeanne had taken over, Natalie decided to go down to the beach for another swim and maybe a drink at the beachside bar. This time, as she walked down through the pine trees, the air was scalding hot and it felt almost suffocating beneath the shelter of the branches. It was a relief to come out onto the beach. Here, at least, a light breeze cooled the air and she began to breathe easily once more. Two sailing boats were now moored to the jetty and a couple of towels on the beach showed that she would no longer be alone. However, considering it was the middle of July, it was remarkable how few people had discovered this little bay. As she stepped onto the sand, she spotted a familiar figure.

‘Hello, Charlie.’ Hearing her voice, the Labrador turned round and sprang to his feet. He had been sitting right by the water’s edge, his eyes glued on the sea. Seeing Natalie, he came trotting over, tail wagging, to greet her. She dropped down onto one knee to pet him, the heat of the sand almost unbearable under her bare skin. ‘What’re you doing down here?’ Natalie looked out to sea, following the direction of the dog’s eyes, but couldn’t spot anybody or anything in particular. She straightened up and went across to the rocks, stripping off her shorts and setting them on a warm rock along with her towel and her dark glasses. She then hopped hurriedly across the burning beach until she got to the blessed relief of the damp sand at the water’s edge and waded into the sea.

The dog followed her as far as his elbows but no further. She even picked up a few stones and threw them into the deeper water for him, but without success. It would appear that this particular Labrador was not a fan of the water, unlike most of his breed. Unable to persuade him to accompany her, Natalie left him on the beach and waded out until she could sink gratefully into the deeper water, feeling revitalised as it cooled her down. She swam slowly out, parallel with the rocky shore, diving down from time to time to check out the sea bed. She spotted shells, some patches of weed and one little crab, but nothing else of interest. However, the sea was crystal clear and she loved the sensation of the cool water on her skin and in her hair as she twisted and turned under water like a mermaid.

She was hanging on to her same mooring buoy, floating on her back with her head in the water, when she suddenly became aware of a noise and then a moment later felt something bump into her shoulder. She swung round to find it was another swimmer. Clearly he had been swimming in from the open sea with his face down and hadn’t seen her before ploughing into her. Realising his mistake, he stopped and straightened up, his expression apologetic. He shook the water out of his eyes and ran his hand across his short-cropped hair. He caught her eye and summoned a smile. ‘Excusez moi, madame.’ Then he turned and resumed his apparently effortless front crawl back towards the shore.

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 (#ulink_8d109217-5c43-5b17-9d9c-5b129cc542c0)

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 hermoment 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.

‘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.’

Of course this outrageous flattery was all an act, but it was quite some time since Natalie had been on the receiving end of this sort of charm offensive and, phoney as it no doubt was, she rather enjoyed it. She was glad the shadows on the terrace prevented him from seeing her face as she replied. ‘In fact, I am sort of a native. My father was English and my mother was French, from Port Renard. I used to come here often as a little girl. My name’s Natalie Dryden.’

He gave a little bow. ‘Could I offer you something to drink, Natalie?’

She shook her head. ‘Thanks, but no. I’m fine, but don’t let me stop you.’

He gave a little wave of the hand. ‘That’s fine, your company is intoxicating enough.’

Natalie almost giggled out loud. Where did he get his lines? But, nevertheless, she had to admit that it was a perfect evening. The view across the bay was now punctuated by the tiny flashes of fireflies, the distant hiss of the wavelets across the sand was soothing, there was resin as well as salt in the warm night air. Above them, the canopy of stars in the deep purple of the sky was captivating. She sat back and chatted to him, pleasantly surprised to find him caring, interested, but not in the least bit predatory, more like a big brother than a potential partner. Her feeling that he might be gay lessened as they spoke. Somehow, the way he looked at her and the things he said made that seem ever more unlikely. He was just a very nice man and she enjoyed chatting to him. Half an hour later, she glanced at her watch.

‘It’s been very nice to talk to you, Philippe, but I’m afraid I really must go.’

‘Of course, Natalie. Maybe we can do this again some other time.’

They both stood up and she saw that he was, indeed, an inch or so shorter than her. She smiled again and gave him a little wave of the hand as she left. He smiled back.

‘I look forward to seeing you again. I would like to have the chance to get to know you so much better.’

‘I’m sure we’ll meet again. Goodnight, Philippe.’

‘Goodnight, Natalie.’

As Natalie walked back up the path to her grandmother’s house, she found herself thinking about Philippe, but also about Mark and Rémy. Philippe was undeniably handsome, gentle and considerate and she really did hope she would see him again. It would be nice to have a kind, gentle man as a friend. As for the hunky fisherman, she was sensible enough to know that, physically attractive as he undeniably was, she had no intention of embarking on a wild fling with him. He, too, was a handsome man, but she knew that, at the ripe old age of thirty, she wanted more than just a quick physical affair, however stimulating that might appear to whichever part of the brain it is that channels basic instincts like lust.

And then there was Mark. Ever since his taut, muscular body had brushed against hers out in the bay, she had been unable to shake him out of her head. Of course, she told herself, it could just be because she was already head over heels in love with his four-legged friend. She was smiling to herself as she walked through the trees.

When she got back to the house, her grandmother was sitting up in bed reading. Natalie went in and sat with her, recounting the events of the evening, including the attentions of Philippe Chevalier. As she spoke, she reflected that this was probably the very first time she had ever spoken to her grandmother about a man taking an interest in her. Previously, revelations like this would have been anathema. Strangely, she now found herself not only able, but keen, to share this sort of subject with her. As for her grandmother, from the sparkle in her eyes, she thoroughly enjoyed hearing all about it, presumably being reminded of her own youth.

‘He sounds rather nice. But, of course, you don’t need to go looking for a man, do you?’

‘Absolutely not, not at all. It wasn’t like that. I think he just wants to be friends. And that’s the way I feel about him, too.’

Her grandmother looked across at her, a more serious expression on her face. ‘Well, just you remember, he’s a man after all, and you’re a very beautiful girl. Just you be careful.’

‘Of course.’ Natalie grinned at her. ‘You do wonders for my self-esteem, Gran.’ Natalie leant over and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Anyway, I’d better go and check my emails in case there’s already a reply from this Evelyn lady.’

Back in her room, she found that there was indeed a reply from Evelyn Markeson.

Dear Doctor Dryden

Thank you very much for your email. Your background and experience along with your qualifications would appear to make you an ideal candidate for the position. Also, the fact that we are both currently in the south of France is providential. Could we meet up?

As I am very keen to tie this up as soon as possible, I wonder if you might be free for interview as soon as tomorrow or the next day? You write that you are near Perpignan, so how about meeting for lunch together at a restaurant called les Vagues in Collioure, at 12.30, if that suits? It’s close to the beach and the food is reputed to be very good. Alternatively, if you prefer another location, day or time, just tell me and I will meet you there.

I look forward to hearing from you and, hopefully, to meeting you.

Kind regards

Evelyn Markeson

Natalie picked up the laptop and ran back into her grandmother’s room, an unexpected lump in her throat. She found she couldn’t say a word, as emotion threatened to overwhelm her, so she just passed the computer to Colette and sat down on the bed beside her, searching in her pocket for a tissue. Colette read the email and looked up, clearly concerned to see her granddaughter in tears.

‘What is it, Natalie? Why’re you crying? Isn’t this good news?’

Natalie nodded mutely, still wiping the tears from her eyes. Finally, she pulled herself together. ‘Sorry about that. Yes, of course it’s good news. In fact, it’s excellent news. I wasn’t crying about that.’ She blew her nose on her handkerchief and stuffed it back in the pocket of her shorts. ‘It’s just that this is the first time I’ve ever been addressed as Doctor Dryden. That was dad, and now it’s me. After all the years of hard work, it barely seems real.’

Her grandmother held out her arms and Natalie collapsed against her, the tears returning once more. Colette stroked her hair just as she used to do when Natalie was a little girl and this only made her cry all the more. It was quite some time before she managed to restore some sort of self-control and she sat up, wiping her eyes and doing her best to get a grip. Colette pointed to the message on the computer screen.

‘The lady has good taste. Les Vagues is far and away the best restaurant in Collioure. I believe it’s now got a Michelin star. You should eat very well there. When are you going to meet her?’

‘I think I’ll go tomorrow, if it’s all right with you? The sooner the better.’

‘Tomorrow’s fine with me. There’s still quiche left in the fridge from today and there’s all that ham that needs eating. I’ll be fine.’

Natalie smiled at her. ‘Right, then; if you’re sure, I’ll go and send her an email.’ She stood up and ran her hands through her hair. ‘I’ll wash my hair tomorrow morning after my swim. I’d better try to make a good impression.’

‘You’ll make a lovely impression, Doctor Dryden.’

This time Natalie managed to smile back at her. It really did sound rather good.


Chapter 4 (#ulink_b5b71b38-1ec1-5f9b-940d-7901537bfd17)

Natalie drove up the coast to Collioure and parked in a car park away from the centre of town. As it was the month of August, this famous little seaside town was packed with holidaymakers keen to experience the scenery that had attracted famous artists like Matisse and Derain. She made a point of getting there well in advance of the agreed time of half past twelve and walked down through the claustrophobically packed streets to the quayside where traditional, brightly painted old wooden fishing boats had been augmented, at least for now, by a flotilla of modern yachts. Natalie wondered as she looked out across the harbour whether Philippe Chevalier kept his yacht here.

She made her way slowly round the bay, marvelling at the crowds of people thronging the streets, until she found the restaurant. She checked her watch: twenty-five past twelve. Perfect. She told the headwaiter that she was looking for Doctor Markeson and saw that the man had already been primed. He nodded and led her out onto a panoramic terrace, perched above the gravel beach and the transparent sea. And it was here that Natalie got a surprise, a big surprise, as she followed the waiter across to the end table, on the corner of the terrace. As they got there, a large black shape emerged from beneath the table, tail wagging furiously, and stood up on his hind legs to greet her. Natalie stopped dead in amazement, the familiar tingling in her body telling her who it was sitting at the table. She looked down at the dog.

‘Charlie… Barney?’ There was no doubt about it. It was him all right. And sitting at the table was Mark, his owner. She was momentarily lost for words. ‘Um, what a surprise to see you, Mark.’ And, she had to admit to herself, a very pleasant one. ‘I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. I’m here looking for a lady called Doctor Markeson.’

‘Natalie? You’re Natalie Dryden?’ He sounded as surprised as she did. ‘It never occurred to me that it might be you. Barney, get off her and lie down. You’re only allowed in here if you behave yourself.’ As the dog retired to his position under the table Natalie had to make a conscious effort to close her mouth. Her jaw really had dropped.

‘You know Doctor Markeson, then?’ She was feeling decidedly bemused. His face split into a smile.

‘I am Doctor Markeson.’ He indicated that she should take a seat. The waiter, who had been observing the scene, pushed her chair in for her as she sat down. She gave him a little smile and he retired. Mark continued. ‘I’m sorry, I owe you an explanation. My father had a thing about the works of Evelyn Waugh. Would you believe he even renamed our house Brideshead? Unfortunately, when I came along, my mother didn’t have the good sense to stop him naming me Evelyn. Luckily it was all surnames or nicknames at school, so it soon became Mark Markeson and it’s stuck. I only ever use my proper name on high days and holidays.’

‘Or when writing to Cambridge professors.’ Natalie was beginning to understand now.

‘Or when writing to Cambridge professors. Anyway, I’m very sorry to have misled you.’ He sat down and reached for the bottle of wine in the ice bucket beside him. ‘A glass of wine? White all right?’

‘Very definitely. Thank you.’ Natalie hung her bag on the back of the chair and sat back, surprised, shocked even, but definitely very, very pleased to see him. ‘There are times when alcohol definitely has its uses.’ He lifted the bottle out and filled her glass. After replacing it in the bucket he picked up his own.

‘Well, Doctor Dryden, here’s to you and apologies once more for my name confusing you. Blame it on my dad.’

Natalie raised her glass, clinked it against his and then tasted it. It was delicious; a pure golden colour, cool, crisp and dry. She took a second, bigger mouthful and then set the glass down once more. ‘Want to tell me more about your plans?’

‘Of course, but I suppose it might be a good idea to order first.’ He pointed to the menu on the table in front of her. She opened it and immediately realised that meals in a Michelin-starred restaurant in Collioure, on a terrace overlooking the Mediterranean, didn’t come cheap. She hesitated, not wanting to order something outrageously expensive. He must have sensed her hesitation. ‘For what it’s worth, I was planning on having a plate of fresh anchovies as a starter. According to the menu, these are served raw, marinated in lemon juice and herbs. They are the local speciality, after all. And then I rather fancy the lobster. How does that sound?’

‘That sounds wonderful.’ And expensive. She scrutinised him surreptitiously as he called the waiter over and placed the order. Today he wasn’t wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Instead, he was wearing a lightweight linen blazer, faded jeans and a crisp white shirt. Natalie thanked the instinct that had made her relinquish her normal shorts for a light summer dress. Just then she felt a cold wet nose against her ankle followed by furry warmth as the dog laid his head on her feet. She smiled to herself as Mark returned his attention to her. He started with a confession.

‘I’d better come clean and tell you that I’m only starting out as a writer. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do, but I’ve never had the time before.’

‘And now you’ve retired?’ She was joking. He could only have been a few years older than she was, maybe mid-thirties at most. She was surprised to see him nod.

‘Yes, in a way.’ He took another sip of wine. ‘Look, I’d better explain. The full story goes like this. I did engineering at university. I got lucky when I was doing my PhD and I hit upon something I’m sure you’ve never heard of. It’s a tiny little piece of technology that ensures that aircraft can consume about ten to fifteen per cent less fuel while maintaining the same speed and range. I had the good sense to patent it and then I set up a company to produce the thing. For your information it revels in the rather snappy name of GN23c.’ He grinned at her. ‘See, I told you you’d never heard of it. Anyway, it’s fair to say that ninety per cent of all international airlines are now using GN23c, happy to pay my company a load of money for the privilege, while at the same time saving themselves millions of pounds every year as a result.’

Natalie was impressed. ‘So you have a company that makes these… things. How come, then, you’ve the time to think about writing books?’

‘Well, the company’s grown quite a bit. We no longer just make little old Genie and we’ve expanded into all sorts of other fields. Anyway, last year our accountants turned the company into a corporation and I now have a board of directors and a very clued-up CEO running things, so I can take time out.’

‘I see. But why the Cathars?’

‘Although I did engineering, I’ve always had a thing about history. I came on a camping holiday with my family to the coast not far from here when I was a teenager and there was something about the Cathars that hooked me. Since then I’ve been reading up about them, about the way the Church decided to make an example of them, and how their priests and their religion were very efficiently wiped off the face of the earth. Nowadays they’d probably call it genocide.’

Natalie nodded. ‘But you’re not thinking of writing a factual history of the Cathars, are you? You mentioned a novel.’

‘I wouldn’t presume to try to write a history of the Cathars. I’ve read lots, but nothing like enough. That’s where you and professional historical experts like you come in, Natalie. No, I’m planning a thriller, set down here, dealing with people looking for the legendary treasure of the Cathars.’ He saw her about to chime in and held up his hand in front of her. ‘Yes, I know, nothing ever found, no proof, maybe not even treasure in the sense we think of it. Maybe a secret, rather than a chest full of gold. Maybe a secret that could embarrass the Catholic Church.’

‘You’re not running the risk of treading on Dan Brown’s very successful toes, are you? That was his thing, wasn’t it? The bloodline of Christ and so on.’ She was getting really quite interested and found she was leaning forward, elbows on the table. She made a conscious effort to relax and sit back.

‘No, I’m going with the chest full of gold theory, so Mr Brown can sleep easy. I’m taking it literally to mean treasure. So we can leave the whole esoteric side of things to other people.’ Just at that moment, a waitress arrived with two small plates of amuse bouches, consisting of a delicate glass dish holding a small slice of foie gras accompanied by cubes of fresh figs and apricots, and alongside this, a single scallop sitting in its own shell.

As they nibbled at the appetisers, Mark went on to give her a rough idea of the plot of his novel. It sounded intriguing, consisting of two opposing teams of treasure hunters following clues revealed in an old document. He explained to her that he was relying on her to come up with a suitable source for this fictitious document, and she found herself being drawn into the story. By the time their anchovies arrived, she had a pretty clear idea of what he was planning and she rather liked it. She also liked the anchovies. Opened into the traditional butterfly shape, they had been marinated with an amazing mixture of herbs, lemon and olive oil. They were wonderful; delicate, refreshing and very tasty. Natalie was glad she was feeling hungry.

As they ate the fish, she realised that she was also enjoying his company, very much, and it looked as though he was enjoying being with her. She was very impressed that the dog wasn’t making any attempt to beg at table, considering the enticing aromas that must be filtering down to him. His head was still resting on her feet and he appeared to be asleep. She mentioned this to Mark. He smiled back at her.

‘We have an understanding, Barney and me. I have my food and he has his. He gets to come with me to places like this on condition that he behaves himself. If he does, he knows that he gets a walk somewhere nice afterwards and there’s always a treat for him at the end of that. It took a bit of time to get him to realise that’s how it goes, but he’s got it now and it works.’ He finished the last of his anchovies and sat back. A waiter appeared and topped up their glasses without being asked and then cleared the plates away.

Mark looked across the table at Natalie. ‘Want to tell me a bit about you?’ He paused for a moment and caught her eye. ‘By the way, you’d better know before you start that the job’s yours if you want it, so no need to tell me how excited you are at the chance of working with me, or how you were captain of the school netball team. Like I say, you’ve got the job. All I’d really like is to know a little about you, and a lot about your Cathar studies.’

Natalie smiled back at him. ‘Considering this is my first job interview since going back to uni to do my doctorate, I’m finding it a lot less daunting than I feared.’ She held up her glass to him. ‘This wonderful wine helps.’ He reached across and clinked his glass against hers.

‘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.





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