Dreaming of St-Tropez

by T A Williams

Jess was just about to refuse politely when she heard Hope’s voice.

  ‘I’d love a glass of champagne, please, Max.’ From the expression on her face and her tone of voice, Jess definitely got the impression Hope liked Max. A lot. After all, Jess thought to herself, one of Hope’s stated aims in coming to St-Tropez had been to find herself a millionaire. It looked as though she might have achieved this on her very first day. Not bad going. Not bad at all.

  Max disappeared back into the saloon to fetch the champagne, allowing the girls time to exchange a few words.

  ‘Nice boat, Hope. How about the captain?’

  ‘Dreamy.’ Hope looked as though she meant it. ‘Both of them.’

  ‘Are you going to be all right on your own if I go back and feed Brutus in an hour or so?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Make sure you behave yourself. You don’t know anything about the guy.’

  ‘Yes, Mum.’ Hope grinned. ‘It’s all right, I’ll be a good girl.’

  ‘And if you’re going to be late, send me a text.’

  ‘Yes, Mum.’

  ‘Here we are: a bottle of shampoo.’ Max appeared with a champagne bottle, ice bucket, and three glasses hanging upside down from his fingers. Expertly, he opened the bottle and filled their glasses, handing them across with a smile. ‘Cheers, and welcome to the Helios.’

  ‘Cheers, Max, and thanks for inviting us aboard.’ Hope reached across and clinked her glass against his, treating him to a beaming smile.

  They had a pleasant chat, learning about the yacht and the coastline around St-Tropez. Hope told Max how they were doggy-sitting, and likely to be staying for a month or more, and Jess could see that the idea of having Hope around for a while appealed to him. He told them a bit about himself, but gave no indication as to the origins of his considerable wealth. Presumably a generous daddy, Jess thought to herself, but at least in comparison to somebody like Drugoi, Max was pleasant, attentive, and seemed like a nice guy. Clearly, Hope shared her opinion of him.

  They had just finished the bottle of champagne between them and Max was asking if they wanted more, when Jess glanced at her watch and saw that it was already past one o’clock. She stood up, gave Hope a little wave, and made her apologies. Neither Max nor Hope looked sorry to see her go, although he gallantly accompanied her to the gangplank and even offered her his hand as she climbed up onto it.

  ‘Goodbye, Jess. I hope to see you again.’

  ‘Bye, Max. I’m sure we’ll meet up again very soon. Thanks for the champagne.’

  Chapter 8

  Almost directly opposite the yacht, on the other side of the road, was the local tourist information office. Although it was closed for lunch, there was a big map of the town on display and Jess saw from it that the most direct route back home was through the streets and over the hill. It wouldn’t be as picturesque as the coastal path, but, having told Antoinette she would be back to feed the dog by two, she didn’t want to start off by being late, so she decided to go for it.

  Excluding their stop at the beach bar, it had taken them the better part of an hour to get there along the coastal footpath and Jess was interested to find that by taking the direct route back she made it in barely forty minutes. At one point she was overtaken by a sweet little boxy-looking bus, like something out of a kiddies’ storybook, and realised that this had to be the navette that Antoinette had mentioned. Clearly, this would be the fastest way back another time. It was hot walking, although there was a surprising amount of shade to be found under the trees as she left the crowded town streets and found herself on the wider avenues flanked by swish villas. As an architect, it was interesting to study the different building styles through gaps in the hedges as she walked past. Apart from the White House look-alike she had spotted the previous day, there was quite a variety of other styles, including one whose design looked as if it owed much to the Taj Mahal. Clearly, there was a lot of money in these streets.

  When she got to the gates of the villa, she pulled out the keys Antoinette had given her and pressed the remote control. The yellow light started flashing and the gates opened. As they did so, she was reminded of David in his silver car. For a moment she found herself thinking of Rafael. He, too, was very wealthy, although in his case, he had worked for it. He, too, liked sexy sports cars – although his were always new, not classic old cars. He, too, had a swanky house. She had broken up with him as much over his lifestyle as anything else. This made her reaction to David Dupont even more inexplicable. Surely the parallels were all too clear, so how was it she still managed to feel attraction towards somebody so apparently similar? Had she no sense at all?

  Closing the gates behind her, she walked up the drive to the villa to collect the dog. As she reached the gravelled parking area she noted that the silver Jaguar was still parked alongside the Range Rover. Presumably this meant that David was around, unless he’d gone out on foot. Instinctively her eyes checked out the upstairs windows, but the closed shutters gave nothing away. She went round to the kitchen door and received a rapturous welcome from Brutus and a friendly reception from Antoinette.

  ‘I hope you didn’t spend too much money. I must take the pair of you into town one of these days and show you the best places to shop, and the cafés and restaurants where you won’t get overcharged.’

  ‘We found a little beach bar which was super, but it would be great if you could pass on a bit of your local knowledge sometime. How’s Brutus been?’

  ‘He’s been very well behaved. He didn’t beg for food, but his eyes never left my hands when I was getting lunch ready. In the end, I gave him a raw carrot and he ate it all in a matter of seconds.’

  ‘That’s great, thanks. I’ll take him for a quick walk and then we can go home and I’ll feed him. Brutus, how about a walk?’ The dog started to wag his tail. ‘Or maybe a swim?’

  They walked down the path to the tiny secluded beach – tucked between two rocky promontories and little wider than the Range Rover – and the dog wasted no time before wading in. Jess sat down on a rock and watched as he doggy-paddled his way out into deeper water, clearly delighted to be in the sea. She decided to see if his Labrador DNA was up to retrieving something. After hunting round, she found a smooth piece of driftwood and picked it up. She called Brutus, who turned obligingly towards her. As he came swimming back to shore, she threw the stick out past him and was gratified to see him turn and head out after it. Once he had collected it in his mouth, she tried calling again. It worked. He returned to the beach and dropped the stick proudly at her feet.

  ‘Good dog, Brutus.’ She patted his head, jumping back to avoid being soaked as he shook himself. ‘Now, go fetch.’ She picked up the stick, threw it back out again, and was delighted to see him turn and plunge back in. They did this quite a few times before he started to look a bit weary, and so they then walked back up the path, past the villa, to home. She was well pleased. This was more exercise than she had ever seen the dog take.

  She gave him his lunch and then made herself a sandwich. After the champagne at lunchtime, she avoided any more wine and just drank some water, sitting out in the courtyard where the temperature in the shade was just perfect. Probably because of the alcohol she had drunk, as well as the walk and the after-effects of the previous days in the car, she felt her eyelids grow heavy and she dozed off.

  When she woke up, the dog was still snoring at her feet and she saw that it was almost four o’clock. She had slept for well over an hour. She made herself a coffee and decided the time had come to check out the swimming pool. Although the dog opened one eye as she emerged from her room in her bikini with a towel wrapped around her, he showed no sign of wanting to accompany her, which was probably just as well. She let herself out quietly and left him to his dreams.

  When she got to the pool, however, she was in for a surprise. As she rounded the rosemary hedge, she found that she was not alone. There was a figure already in the pool and a quick glance immediately told her who it was. I
nexplicably her heart quickened as she saw that it was David. For a moment she hesitated, before deciding that, having come this far, it would look funny if she were to turn and run off, so she made her way across to where he was floating. She slipped off her sandals, but kept the towel wrapped around herself as she greeted him.

  ‘David? We met briefly yesterday. I’m Jess.’

  Reluctantly, or so it seemed, he propelled himself slowly across to where she was standing and caught hold of the side of the pool with one hand. Jess found herself looking down at his muscular, tanned shoulders and there was no hiding the fact that she liked what she saw. His face, on the other hand, remained impassive – far from welcoming. His blue eyes were bright, but the dark rings beneath them were testimony to internal troubles.

  ‘Hello. Yes, I’m David. Antoinette tells me you know my grandmother.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. She asked me to come over with her dog while she goes on a cruise.’

  ‘Aha.’

  It wasn’t the most enthusiastic of responses, but Jess did her best not to be disheartened.

  ‘I’m here with my friend, Hope.’

  ‘Aha.’

  ‘We’re staying in the guest house for a while.’

  ‘Aha.’

  By now, Jess was beginning to get a bit fed up of his terse replies, but she remembered what Mrs Dupont had told her about how both David and his father were suffering from depression, so she made one more attempt to kick-start the conversation.

  ‘Have you met Brutus, the dog?’

  ‘Yes, I have. I saw him in the kitchen at lunchtime.’ At least he sounded a bit more forthcoming. ‘I understand he’s on a diet.’

  ‘That’s right. He’s terribly unfit.’ Jess hesitated. ‘Is it all right if I have a swim? It’s absolutely boiling in the sun.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  His expression was less welcoming than his words, but Jess decided to go for it anyway. She peeled off her towel and laid it on a sun bed along with her sunglasses, feeling very self-conscious stripping to her fairly minimal bikini in front of him. Hurriedly, she went along to the far end and walked into the pool down the steps. Ducking her shoulders under water, she felt a sensation of relief to be away from his gaze. She remembered him spying on her earlier when she had inadvertently done her Miss Wet T-shirt impression and that same mixture of feelings struck her – part embarrassment, part arousal, as a result of his gaze.

  The water was a wonderful temperature and she sank into it gratefully. Although quite a strong swimmer, she stayed around the shallow end for a while, criss-crossing the pool from side to side. David remained at the far end and made no attempt to come down and join her. After a while she swam up the pool and back again a few times, passing close to where he was idly floating, but he didn’t try to engage her in conversation, and his blank expression remained in place, definitely not inviting any approach.

  After another couple of lengths, she decided to call it a day. It was pretty clear that she wasn’t wanted here, so she mustered a final smile as she passed him.

  ‘I’d better get back to Brutus – the dog.’

  ‘Aha.’

  ‘Well, goodbye then, David.’

  ‘Goodbye.’

  She swam back to the shallow end and climbed out up the steps. She didn’t turn round, but she was sure she could feel his eyes on her as she did so. She would have rather liked to stretch out in the sunshine by the pool to dry off, but she knew when she wasn’t wanted. Regretfully, she came back round to where she had left her towel, retrieved it along with her sunglasses, and made her exit, all without making any further eye contact with him.

  As she walked back through the walled garden, she did her best to analyse her feelings. There was annoyance at his less-than-welcoming attitude towards somebody who, after all, had been asked to come here by his grandmother. There was regret that this handsome man, to whom she felt an inexplicable attraction, clearly didn’t appear to feel the same attraction towards her. But, above all, the strongest sensation going through her head was one of pity. Clearly David wasn’t a happy man – for whatever reasons – and it saddened her to see a fellow human being who was so evidently depressed. Pretty clearly, trying to fulfil Mrs Dupont’s request that she try to cheer David up wasn’t going to be easy. Antoinette had been dead right about that.

  When she got back to the guest house, she pulled a sun bed out onto the overgrown lawn and stretched out in the sun to dry. A few seconds later she felt the touch of a cold wet nose against her thigh as Brutus, roused from his sleep, trotted out to greet her.

  ‘Hello, dog. At least you’re pleased to see me.’

  She gave his head a pat. By now, after his snooze in the sun, he was bone dry again in spite of his lunchtime swim. She felt his tongue against her palm and then a heavy thud as he sat back down again and busied himself scratching his ear with his back leg.

  She lay back and soon dried out in her turn. As she lay there, she reflected upon the events of the last few weeks and months. After splitting up with Rafael she had genuinely buried herself in her work and she had enjoyed herself. She knew she was good at her job and she knew she wanted to continue to be an architect. The problem now was just where she wanted this to be. If only she could manage to find herself a job down here, it would be fantastic. There was something about this place, the weather, the food, the stunning beauty of the Côte d’Azur that attracted her, just as it had attracted so many people. The almost magical blue light that enveloped the landscape gave the impression of living in a dream. Of course there was the language problem and Brexit looming but, even so, it was a wonderful dream. But dreams, she knew, didn’t always come true.

  After a while, bored of doing nothing, she got up and investigated the shed tucked away in the far corner of their bit of garden, immediately finding what she wanted. A virtually brand new electric lawn mower was in there, along with a collection of gardening tools. Their garden was completely private, well away from the villa and any prying eyes, so she set about mowing the lawn, just as she was, in her bikini, feeling rather licentious as she did so. For a moment she even flirted with the idea of removing her top half, so as to achieve an overall tan, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. St-Tropez might – as Hope had said – have been the birthplace of topless sunbathing, but this was definitely a step too far for Jess.

  As it turned out, it was just as well she kept her top on. She had just finished mowing the lawn and was standing back, admiring the immediate improvement this had brought about, when she heard a man’s voice. Turning towards the sound, she saw a figure standing at the gate leading from the walled garden. The sun was behind him and for a second, she wondered if it was David Dupont, but when the voice came again, she realised it wasn’t, and an inexplicable feeling of disappointment struck her.

  ‘Hello. Are you Jessica?’ He sounded rather hesitant and looked a bit embarrassed at the sight of a girl in a bikini.

  ‘Yes, I am. Are you Mr Dupont?’

  The man walked across the freshly-mowed lawn towards her, looking around appreciatively as he did so. He was carrying what appeared to be a heavy bag.

  ‘Hello, yes, I’m George Dupont. Thank you so much for mowing the lawn. You’re on holiday – you shouldn’t have. I’m afraid I’ve let the garden go a bit.’

  As he emerged from the direct sunshine, Jess saw that he was probably in his early sixties. He was a good-looking man and the resemblance to his son was unmistakable, although his hair was now grey. She could also see a resemblance to old Mrs Dupont, particularly around the eyes, but the black rings under them were, however, very similar to those on his son’s face. Evidently the depression Mrs Dupont had mentioned was still present in father as well as son.

  He put the bag down and they shook hands a bit awkwardly. By now she was wishing she had opted for a T-shirt and shorts for her gardening exploits, and from the expression of embarrassment on his face, so did he.

  ‘Here’s Brutus. Have you two
been formally introduced yet?’

  George Dupont knelt down beside the dog, a smile appearing on his face that transformed him in an instant, so that Jess caught a glimpse of the real man beneath the grief.

  ‘Hello, Brutus. I’ve heard a lot about you.’ He glanced up as Jess. ‘My mother must trust you a lot to let you look after her beloved dog. She’s forever talking about this old fellow as if he was my little brother.’ He studied the Labrador critically. ‘I see she still insists on stuffing her dogs full of food. You should have seen the last one. He could barely get through the door.’

  After stroking Brutus for a few moments, he straightened up again.

  ‘Antoinette tells me you’ve got him on a strict diet. Good for you.’ His expression changed to one of contrition. ‘Look, Jessica, I really must apologise. You must think I’m awful. Mum told me weeks ago that you and your friend were coming to stay and it’s inexcusable of me not to have passed the message on to Antoinette. I just forgot, I’m afraid. I seem to be forgetting more and more these days. I’m so very sorry.’

  ‘Really, Mr Dupont, it’s fine. Everything’s fine. Hope and I are both just so grateful to have the chance of staying here for a few weeks. It’s such a wonderful place.’

  ‘Hope – that’s a nice name. But just a few weeks? Mum told me her cruise is going to last for three months. Can’t you stay here until she gets back? It’ll be nice to have some young company here again, Jessica.’

  Jess smiled back at him. ‘I hope we can stay as long as possible – and it’s Jess. Everybody calls me Jess.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Can I offer you a tea or a coffee? A glass of wine, maybe?’

  ‘A cup of tea would be lovely.’

  ‘I’ll just go and put the kettle on.’

  ‘While you do that, I’ll stick these bottles in the fridge for you. I thought you might like a few bottles of good white wine – and it’s my attempt to say sorry again for forgetting to pass on Mum’s message.’

  ‘Please don’t give it a thought. And thank you so much, but there’s absolutely no need, you know.’