by Karen Abbott
Even so …
“This is a bit basic, even for you, Xavier! However will you survive? You haven’t even got a shower!”
Xavier grinned … or tried to—it ended up as a distorted wince.
“There’s an oceanful of water out there! What more do I need?”
“A bit of pampering, from the look of you! Let me at least book you into a hotel whilst I’m here. I can stay until Monday evening if you wish.”
Xavier shook his head. “No. I’ve already made friends here and they accept me as I am. Come on, let’s have some lunch, whilst I tell you in more detail what it’s all about.”
They ordered a light lunch and, whilst they ate it, Xavier explained as much as he knew about the situation at the windmill.
“And what if I disagree with your opinion?”
“Then, nothing. They will still have the option to apply for a grant towards restoration … but they may have legal bills to pay out to this Leon Boudot. That would probably be the end of the matter. They would have to sell and move elsewhere … which would be a pity.”
“And you would have to look elsewhere for some models. Is she pretty?”
He painfully grinned self-consciously at Jocelyn’s perception.
“Who?”
“The miller’s granddaughter!”
He tried to look indifferent but a slight reddening of his swollen cheeks betrayed that he did have an underlying motive.
“I just don’t like to see the ‘big boys’ putting pressure on the smaller ones,” he said.
“Like Papa tried with you?”
“Probably. Everyone should have the right to choose.”
“Even Henri?”
Xavier frowned at the mention of his elder brother.
“It’s a bit different with him. If he wants there to be any of the business left for him to inherit, he had better stop his gambling with the profits and start to plough some money back in. Papa is desperate over it all.”
Jocelyn laid her hand gently on his arm.
“He wants you back in the business. Can’t you come back, just to oblige him?”
Xavier shook his head. “I’ve never made any pretence of wanting to join the family business. It’s not in my line … and I’d find it impossible to work with Henri. No, Papa will have to have it out with Henri and draw up some clear lines of responsibility. He knows he’s living beyond his means ... and thinks he knows how he’s managing it.”
He looked cynically at Jocelyn, his lips grimacing slightly.
“I called to see Henri on my way here. He was very much on edge. Papa could be right about him. What do you think?”
Jocelyn laughed shortly. “I’m the last one Henri would take into his confidence. He knows I’ve no sympathies with him. Anyway, enough of Henri and his machinations … let’s get this place tidy and then you can take me to this windmill and I can give you my opinion of it ... and your new ‘model’,” she added mischievously.
Xavier tried to laugh dismissively … but winced with the effort. He shook his head at her former suggestion. He wanted to get on with the inspection of the windmill.
“I’ll do this later. It won’t take me long. Jump in your car and I’ll direct you to Le Deu. Oh, and by the way, if anyone asks, your payment is to be a painting of your choice.”
In spite of the pain of each movement as he got out of the car by the windmill, Xavier had temporarily forgotten how awful he looked. Lys’s gasp as she saw him reminded him.
“Xavier! What’s happened?”
“I ran into three thugs who didn’t like the look of me!” he replied lightly, not wanting to delay Jocelyn’s inspection of the windmill. “It’s not as bad as it looks!”
“Liar!”
The light taunt drew Lys’s eyes to the attractive young woman who had driven Xavier here. She was beautiful! What an extraordinary friendship they must have! Xavier looking like a free spirit of nature and this immaculately dressed woman who might have stepped straight out of a fashion magazine!
“Lys, meet Jocelyn, my … er … friend from back home.”
Lys noticed that he seemed to throw Jocelyn a warning glance about something. Did they have a relationship going that they wished to keep private? The disparity of their appearance made it seem unlikely … but who could tell? Opposites often attracted each other. Maybe Jocelyn liked her men casual? However, it was no business of hers, she reminded herself, making a deliberate effort to force her unbidden pang of jealousy aside.
She reached out her hand as Xavier continued, “Jocelyn, this is Lys, the miller’s granddaughter. Shall we say hello to your grandfather first, Lys?”
“Yes. He’s keeping awake specially. Come this way, mademoiselle.”
“Oh, call me Jocelyn, Lys. A friend of Xavier’s is a friend of mine!”
Hmm, so there was something between them! Lys felt another spark of jealously but tried to quell it.
She saw Xavier wince as he stepped forward and she reached out to touch his arm.
“You’re really hurting! Come and sit down inside. Never mind about the windmill today. There’s no hurry.”
Xavier made his twisted grin. He was touched by the concern he could read in her face. Her fingers felt cool on his arm and he wondered if she would be able to soothe away the aches in his body. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the right opportunity to find out.
“Sitting, standing, lying down … it makes no difference. I’ll take some more painkillers in ten minutes or so. I’m all right.”
Fortunately, the poor light in Etienne’s bedroom hid his injuries from the older man’s sight and, after a few words of introduction and Etienne’s appreciation for Jocelyn’s time, they left Etienne to go to sleep and went over to the windmill.
Lys found it interesting to hear the professional jargon as Xavier and Jocelyn discussed the condition of the windmill and the likelihood of trickery by Leon Boudot. Xavier let Jocelyn arrive at her own conclusions and they were both relieved when her judgment agreed with Xavier’s.
“I’ve got my laptop in my car and I’ll make out a report this evening,” she promised. “You can take it to the Hotel de Ville as soon as it opens on Tuesday morning. I’ll write a separate report on the likelihood of the cause of the stairs falling and describe the evidence. Don’t let m. Boudot handle it. If he’s guilty, which I’m sure he is, he’ll know how damning it is and I’m sure he’ll back down. There’ll be no claims for injuries on your property. In fact, I advise you to make a counter claim for damages from him. He might fight it but the damage needs to be repaired and will add extra costs.”
Lys was grateful for their help and advice. She invited them both to stay for a light meal but Jocelyn insisted that she take Xavier back with her and get him to bed.
Xavier made no move to desist and it tore at Lys’s heart to see him painfully manoeuvre himself into Jocelyn’s car. She reluctantly waved them off and returned to the windmill to bring Grand-père up to date with their assessment, wishing it were she who was to take care of Xavier instead of Jocelyn. The more she saw of him, the more she liked him and but she realised her newly found attraction to him was unlikely to lead anywhere.
She pulled a wry face. From their relaxed way with each other, Xavier and Jocelyn knew each other well … friends from home, Xavier had said … and still in touch with each other. It must mean they were more than just friends—though, again, she wondered at the incompatibility of their life-styles.
Grand-père was much encouraged by Jocelyn’s agreement with Xavier about the condition of the windmill and Lys eagerly began to toss ideas to him about what they might be able to achieve. When it was obvious that the old man was tiring, she settled him for the night and sat in the open doorway of the cottage and began to write down some their better ideas.
She knew it was something she could pour her heart into. A scheme with a purpose. Her mother could forget about her going into Oscar’s bank. She would have hated it … though she felt a sense of gratitude tow
ards Oscar that he hadn’t insisted she do as her mother wished. Maybe they would get on better if she weren’t forced to live with them?
It was late when she retired to her room and went to bed. She spent time going over her plans for the windmill… and time wistfully dreaming of romance with Xavier. Her memory of his former attractive face blotted out the disfigured one and it was his handsome face that smiled at her in her thoughts, melting her heart with longing.
She was just drifting off to sleep when a horrid thought struck her. What if Xavier had been attacked because of his involvement with the mill? Had Leon Boudot discovered Xavier’s intention to help them? If so, it was all her fault!
Chapter Six
Since Grand-père hadn’t noticed Xavier’s injuries, Lys didn’t confide her worries to him. She collected fresh croissants and rolls from mme. Giraud and told her she was going into Le Chateau to the Sunday market and would be getting some mussels and prawns for tea and would she like to come and join them?
Mme. Giraud thanked her for the invitation but said she always used the opportunity of closing at lunchtime on Sundays to visit her friends. Today she was going to visit one at La Cotiniere, a fishing port a few kilometres north of Vertbois.
“I haven’t been for a few weeks, so it’s nice to be able to go today,” she confided. “I’ll see to Etienne’s lunch, then you needn’t rush back from Le Chateau. You enjoy the market and maybe have a coffee in the square.”
Lys decided to go in her car, though once out on the road she doubted the wisdom of her choice, as the traffic was unusually heavy. Of course! It was the holiday weekend! Hundreds of day-trippers were flowing onto the island.
She parked where the road from Ors met the road to the port but went to the market first to buy the moules and crevettes, which she stored in a coolbox in the boot of her car and then drove down the road to Xavier’s hut.
She was surprised to find him up and busy with a long-handled broom, though she could tell that every movement gave him pain.
“Let me do that!” she pleaded, reaching out for the broom.
“Lys! Salut!”
He looked pleased to see her, Lys noted with pleasure.
“If you hold the shovel for me,” he continued, “it will be a great help! Bending is still a bit difficult.”
“Er, is Jocelyn still here?” Lys was curious to know, as she picked up the shovel. “Did she stay overnight?”
“Not in here!” Xavier grinned, his smile less painful today. “A bit too basic for Jocelyn!”
“Mmm, and for most women!” Lys agreed, glancing around at the lack of comfort. There wasn’t much left apart from the debris on the floor. “Is everything ruined?”
“More or less. I can salvage some of the wood and knock up a couple of easels but the paint is ruined and all my paper. I’ll have to get some more on Tuesday.”
“Can you afford it?”
Xavier smiled at the concern in her voice.
“I’ll buy what I can afford … and buy more as I sell some sketches. I had planned to do quick portraits of visitors this weekend but I think my face will frighten them away! What do you think?”
She regarded him critically. “I think you’re probably right!” she grinned. “Seriously, though, do you know why they did it, Xavier?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t a clue! I’m wondering if they mistook me for someone else.”
“Do you think it might be because of me?” Lys asked hesitantly.
“Because of you?” he echoed in amazement. “Why on earth should that be?”
She spread her hands. “Maybe m. Boudot knows you’re helping us? Maybe it was to frighten you off?”
She looked so downcast that Xavier put his hands on her shoulders and then gently tilted her chin up towards him. Her face, as she looked up at him was so anxious that he smiled tenderly and shook his head. He would have loved to have kissed her … but he feared his lips were still too painful and he wanted to enjoy it to the full when the proper occasion arose.
“Whatever their motive, it was nothing to do with you or your grandfather’s windmill,” he assured her. “They kept saying, ‘What have you done with it?’ but I’ve no idea what they were talking about! That’s why I think it might have been a case of mistaken identity.”
She felt vastly relieved. “Are you sure? Only I felt so guilty about it, I hardly slept all night.”
“Don’t tell me that my ugly face gave you nightmares!” he grinned.
“Sort of!” she grinned back, vastly relieved to hear Xavier’s assessment of the situation. “That’s why I’ve dashed round here!”
“And I thought it was to help me sweep out my hut!”
The pseudo-downcast expression on his face made her heart leap and beat uncontrollably.
“That, too!” she laughed, wanting him to know she cared, even if his thoughts for her were purely platonic.
They worked in harmony until everything worth salvaging had been neatly stacked to one side and everything else swept into a plastic bin-bag. Lys then looked questioningly at Xavier.
“What are you going to do with yourself for the rest of the day? Did you say Jocelyn was still in town?”
“I didn’t say … but, no, she’s not. I persuaded her to go back to her holiday on Ile de Ré. I didn’t want her fussing over me like a mother hen.”
Lys doubted that Jocelyn’s fussing would have been motherly! Still, it was a warning to her, wasn’t it? He didn’t like fussing!
“I wondered if you felt up to a drive around part of the island. It would give you a general idea of the place and you can return at your leisure on your bicycle when you don’t hurt quite so much.”
“And no fussing?”
The dancing light in his eyes made her tummy flip. She had read him correctly, then!
“No fussing!”
“You’re on! Pity about my sketchpad, though.”
“Have you tried La Maison de la Presse on the square? They sell art materials … though possibly not of professional quality.”
“I haven’t tried anywhere … but lead the way!”
With sketchpad, pastels and charcoal purchased, Lys suggested they began at the southern end of the island, since the day was half gone, and showed Xavier on a map how they had to go inland a little way to skirt the salines, the salt marshes now used mainly as oyster beds, before turning south towards St. Trojan.
As they drove along, she pointed out the start of a cycle path that veered away from the road just before Le Petit Village.
“Grand-père tells me there’s a museum of the salt farmers, a bird sanctuary and a thriving fish restaurant that looks like a series of huts on a jetty just along here,” she informed him. “Look! There it is! And, along here … another cycle path goes through the forest to St. Trojan or to the Atlantic side of the island.”
Just further on, another path on the left went to the town’s small port and then a cycle track along the sea edge to the wide boulevard that led as far as the Yachting Club.
She drove slowly along the boulevard and through the pretty town of St. Trojan that rivalled any Mediterranean village in Lys’s opinion, drinking in the almost-forgotten sights.
She stopped at a small café and bough some sandwiches.
“Let’s eat them on the beach. I’ve been here three days and haven’t seen the Atlantic waves yet! We’ll go down to Le Grand Plage. There’s an old wreck there that was washed ashore years ago. It might make an interesting sketch.”
The roar of the Atlantic, rushing ashore crested with frothing foam, greeted them as they topped the rise of the sand-dunes. A few surfers were riding the waves and other holidaymakers were splashing about in the shallower water. Lys wished she had thought to bring the body-board that used to be kept in the store-shed.
“Do you surf?” she asked Xavier, thinking he probably did.
“Yes … but not right now! The very thought of flinging myself onto a board makes me wince!”
�
�Sorry! We could swim though, couldn’t we? I’ve got my bikini on under my shorts. What about you? The salty water will be good for your bruises.”
“The sight of them might empty the beach!”
“We’ll go down to the far end. Everyone’s too busy enjoying themselves to bother about anyone else.”
They picked their way over the hot sand, through family groups and children building sandcastles, until they reached a more secluded area.
“Swim first … and sandwiches after!” Lys suggested, dropping the beach mats onto the sand. “Come on! I’ll race you!”
She knew Xavier still found movement painful but she guessed he would find it worse if she were solicitously waiting for him. As it was, he had pulled off his shirt and shorts before she had and was legging it down towards the sea.
With a cry of, “Wait for me!” she ran after him and caught up with him in the shallow water. She gasped at the sight of his back, chest and legs and was glad that she was still behind him so that he couldn’t see the concern on her face. The blue/black bruises glared angrily through his tan, making her wonder how he managed to stifle the pain he must be in.
To ease her embarrassment, she threw a handful of water at him.
“Last one under is a jellyfish!” she cried.
Xavier turned to return the splash but Lys dived into the next wave, gasping at the sudden chill to her body. A hand grasped at her ankle but she jerked away and surfaced a metre or so away. They frolicked in the waves for ten minutes or so, ending when they surfaced near together. The water felt warm now … and the sun even warmer. Droplets of water glistened on their skin.
“Had enough?” Xavier teased, taking hold of both of Lys’s hands.
The humour in his voice was suddenly belied by the expression in his eyes and Lys wasn’t surprised when he drew her towards him until their bodies were touching. He released her hands and cupped each side of her face.
“You’re very beautiful!” he whispered. “Maybe I shouldn’t … but I want to kiss you.”
Lys felt the same … and he had said that he and Jocelyn were old friends. Maybe that’s all they were to each other? She certainly had no-one special to think about. She lifted her face and they gently kissed. Electric tingles ran through Lys’s body and she yearned for a deeper kiss.