L'amour Actually

by Melanie Jones

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

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

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

  The audience cheered.

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

  The French remained quiet.

  'And I love Johnny Hallidaaaaayyy!'

  The French people around me erupted in cheers.

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

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

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

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

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

  Chapter Nineteen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  'Thank you… I think.'

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

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

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

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

  'Bon, I will pick you up at seven.'

  'I'll be here.'

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

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

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

  'Oh God, I don't want to go.'

  'But you must. Your ladies are waiting.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

  'Ah, well…'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Julien, now fully dressed, walked into the kitchen.

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

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

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

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

  'Shagged to death, eh?'

  'Moi? I'll never tell!'

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

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

  'Penny for them?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  'Great. Like a Labrador.'

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

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

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

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

  'Good fête. I quite enjoyed it.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

  'You do miss it, don't you?'

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

  'Warren?'

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

  'But I thought it was CeeCee. I was convinced it was her.'

  'Nah, it was him all along. You have no idea what a lot of messed-up people work in the music business. Sometimes I think I'm better off out of it. So anyway...'

  A ringing in her bag had Tracey diving for her phone. She looked at the number on the screen. 'Effing hell! I've got to take this. See you later.'

  She jumped up from the sun lounger and headed back to her house, talking into her phone in a hushed voice.

  I lay back for a few more minutes, listening to the birdsong and the far-off puttering of a tractor. A slow smile crept across my face.

  Chapter Twenty

  'Oh my goodness, I had no idea this place was here. I mean, I've seen the signs on the road but I didn't realise it would be like this.'

  I stopped to admire the huge lake surrounded on all sides by a wide sandy beach.

  'It's not at all what I was expecting.'

  The lake nestled in a valley in the middle of a pine forest. Log cabins were scattered around the shore interspersed with colourful tents, dotted like confetti. Children were paddling in the shallows while the more adventurous older ones were diving off a pontoon moored in the deeper part.

  'Let's go and get a drink shall we?' He placed a hand gently on my back and led me up some steps to a terraced area with tables and chairs beneath huge blue and white parasols.

  Choosing a table overlooking the lake, we sat down to order a bottle of rosé. With the sun starting to set on the horizon, casting a vivid orange stain across the water, I could almost believe I was down on the Mediterranean.

  'This is really lovely,' I said raising my glass to him. 'Santé. Thanks for bringing me.'

  We sat quietly watching the last few children playing in the water. A lifeguard was tying up a flotilla of bright yellow canoes that visitors could hire for a few hours, and the water on the big waterslide was gradually reducing to a trickle.

  Julien reached across the table and took my hand. I smiled, marvelling again at my luck to have found him. He gently stroked the back of my hand before lifting it to his lips.

  'Chérie, you look beautiful tonight.'

  I blushed slightly. 'Thank you, you don't look so bad yourself.'

  'You English girls,' he smiled, 'you can never take a compliment.'

  I smiled back. 'You French boys, always so smooth.'

  He poured me some more wine. 'Trying to get me drunk now, are you?' I leaned across the table and kissed him. 'So where is the concert then?'

  'At the cultural centre on the other side of the lake.'

  'A cultural centre? That's so French! What do you have there? Poetry readings? A bit of Molière?' I teased him gently.

  'Ah, we French like a bit of culture.'

  'And add in a bit of philosophical navel-gazing and you are happy.'

  'A bit like you British are with vodka, eh?'

  'Oh Julien, you've got us so wrong,' I paused, 'it's gin!'

  'You need something to save you from the London fog,' he laughed. 'You know, when I first went to England I thought that everyone stopped working at four o'clock to have tea and cucumber sandwiches and went everywhere in red double-decker buses. That's what we were taught in English lessons at school. Prince Charles went to Rugby School and it rains all the time.'

  'Rugby? It was Gordonstoun. Well, I suppose it's no different to the British believing that the French are all rude and never speak English.'

  'And that we are all cheese-eating surrender monkeys.'

  'Well, I wasn't going to mention that.'

  'Come on, drink up. The concert starts in ten minutes.'

  I downed the last of my glass of wine and let Julien lead me down the steps and round the lake, linking my arm through his and leaning on his shoulder. The sun had gone down and a sprinkling of stars was beginning to appear in the sky. The gentle lapping of the water on the shore, mingling with the soft chatter of voices in the distance, created a sublime effect and I felt a rush of love for my adopted country, and for the man next to me. I looked up at him, feeling suddenly quite emotional. He smiled at me and bent to kiss me gently, looking perplexed at my misty eyes. 'What is it, chérie?' has asked anxiously.

  'Oh, nothing. Don't mind me. I just feel so ridiculously happy.'

  'I'm glad. Me too.'

  The cultural centre turned out to be a large hall with a semi-circle of plastic chairs occupied by a motley collection of local people, campers and holidaymakers with an average age of sixty. The younger ones had obviously found something better to do.

  We took two chairs in the back row and sat down. Julien recognised a few people and chatted to them while I listened, pleased that I was actually starting to understand a bit of what was said, although the local accent was proving hard to crack. Anything that ended with a short 'a' sound, like bien or pain or vin had an extra 'g' so it became 'bieng', 'peng' and 'veng'. It was very unlike the Parisian French I had learned at school and was now relearning from Martine. I pondered whether it was the French equivalent of a rol
ling West Country burr or the harsh sound of a Black Country accent. If Julien and I were to have children would they sound like French yokels? I smiled at the thought, watching him as he talked animatedly to some friends.

  A few more people started to arrive, some older, some younger, swelling the crowd to about fifty. A bunch of young French people with hair in dreadlocks and clothes that came from Army Surplus sat down behind us. The unmistakeable aroma of marijuana started to waft across the room. No one else seemed to take any notice. It wasn't the first time since I'd moved here that I had come across people smoking dope in public. They seemed to have a much more liberal attitude to it here.