by T A Williams
‘It’s the least I can do.’
Jess went back into the house, filled the kettle and then went through to her room to pull on a T-shirt and shorts, blessing the instinct that had prevented her from mowing the lawn topless. When she came back out again, she found George Dupont on the kitchen floor playing tug-of-war with Brutus, who had got hold of a hefty piece of driftwood from somewhere. It was good to see the Labrador looking friskier – and his playmate was looking cheerier as well.
‘Do you take milk and sugar, Mr Dupont?’
‘George, please. Call me George. No sugar, just milk please.’ He stood up, looking less embarrassed now that she was properly dressed again, and rested against the worktop as she prepared the tea. ‘Have you got everything you want here? Does everything work? It’s been a while since the place was used.’
‘It’s fabulous and we’ve got absolutely everything we need. And I just love the style of the place. It’s the first time on my life I’ve stayed in a house with Doric columns and a statue of Aphrodite outside the door.’
‘Doric columns, eh? Well spotted. Of course… my mother told me you’re an architect. You’ll have to come and take a look at the villa. It was rebuilt after the war by a loony architect. I’ve forgotten his name, which is probably just as well. Although the outside’s fairly traditional Provençal style, it’s a bit quirky inside.’ He smiled again. ‘When I say quirky, I mean a bit idiosyncratic. I don’t know what the guy was smoking at the time – it was all done in the sixties, right in the middle of Flower Power and all that – and I reckon he was stoned out of his head most of the time. At least, I hope so. Anyway, that’s what I wanted to say – would you and Hope like to come for dinner today or tomorrow? I’d enjoy your company and maybe my son might join us.’
Jess noticed the smile fade as he mentioned David. Clearly, there were issues there. She did a little bit of gentle probing.
‘We’d love to, thank you, if you’re sure it’s no trouble. Um… I saw David at the pool earlier this afternoon. Does he live here with you?’
George nodded his head. ‘For the moment. He’s been with me for a few months, recuperating.’ He caught Jess’s eye and she read the sadness within. ‘He maybe told you, he had a bad accident back in the winter, and he’s staying here while he tries to get over it.’
‘Oh dear, I’m sorry.’ This, at least, went some way towards explaining David’s obvious unhappiness. ‘I hope he gets better soon.’
George made no reply so Jess hastily passed him his tea and returned to more mundane matters.
‘Would you like a biscuit, or one of the lovely pains aux raisins Antoinette brought us?’
‘Thank you, no. I’d better not.’ He seemed grateful for the change of subject and sipped his tea silently for a few moments before returning to his invitation. ‘So, if you two would like to come for dinner, would tonight, tomorrow or another night be better for you?’
Jess had been thinking about this. ‘If it’s all the same to you, I think tomorrow might be better. I left Hope down by the harbour in St-Tropez a few hours ago and I’m not sure what time she’ll be back, nor what state she’ll be in.’ She gave him a smile. ‘We were drinking champagne on a yacht at lunchtime. I left before the second bottle got opened.’
‘Tomorrow it is. I’ll tell Antoinette. And you’d better warn your friend that those sailor boys can be a handful – you know, a girl in every port and all that. Anyway, are you two omnivorous, or is there some food we should avoid?’
‘We eat anything, but please tell Antoinette not to go to a lot of trouble for us. Now that I’ve dug my bikini out, I’d better follow the dog’s example and go on a diet.’
‘Don’t be so silly. You can’t come to France and diet. Just make sure you get lots of exercise – and Brutus here will help with that.’ He swallowed the last of his tea and stood up. ‘Right, I must go and tell Antoinette you’re coming tomorrow, before I forget again.’ He gave her a smile. ‘My apologies once more.’
‘It’s absolutely fine. Don’t give it a thought. And thank you so much for that wine… and everything.’
He reached down to give Brutus a pat before leaving. ‘Do you know what I think I might do one of these days? If you don’t mind, I think I might start taking our furry friend here for a walk every now and then.’ He caught Jess’s eye and shook his head soberly. ‘I need to get out. Would you believe I’ve hardly left the house for almost a year?’
Jess gave him an encouraging smile in return. ‘Yes, please. Brutus needs all the exercise we can give him. Just come over any time. And you can tell David he’s very welcome to take him out as well, if he likes.’
A very distinct shadow fell across George’s face and Jess immediately regretted mentioning his son. They exchanged farewells and phone numbers and she stood at the door, watching him make his way back over the freshly-mown grass and disappear through the gate. She was pleased to find him far more natural and normal than she had feared and to have seen a smile on his face from time to time, but not, alas, when speaking of his son. Whatever the accident had been, its impact on the family, coming soon after the death of George’s wife, had clearly been considerable.
Hope arrived back home with a silly smile on her face just after six and the silly smile remained firmly fixed across her face for the rest of the evening. Jess recounted the events of that afternoon, George’s invitation, and passed on his warning not to trust sailors. She saw Hope grin.
‘Max was a perfect gentleman.’ She giggled into her mineral water. ‘Which is probably just as well seeing as I must have drunk at least a bottle of champagne all by myself.’
‘So nothing happened?’
Hope shook her head. ‘Nope. Like I said, he behaved impeccably. All right… he did give me a tour of the cabins in the afternoon, including his cabin – he called it the stateroom. It was absolutely enormous, with a king size bed and all the trimmings. Jess, have you ever lain on a bed with a mirror on the ceiling above you?’
Jess shook her head decisively. ‘No I haven’t, Hope, and I thought you said nothing happened.’
‘Nothing much happened. All right, we did fool around a bit, but, like I told you, he didn’t try to have sex with me.’ There was what sounded suspiciously like a note of regret in Hope’s voice. ‘So I’ve got that to look forward to next time.’
‘There’s going to be a next time?’
Hope nodded. ‘You bet. He’s going to be based here all summer. He charters the boat out to rich people like himself, though he says most of them are happy just to stay moored up in the harbour, rather than brave the open sea. So I’m hoping to see quite a lot of him.’ She giggled again. ‘And he can see as much of me as he likes, any time.’
‘So you’ve found your millionaire?’ Jess was really happy for her. ‘That was pretty fast work.’
‘I told you St-Tropez would be full of them, Jess. Now all we’ve got to do is to find one for you.’
‘I’ve tried one of those and it didn’t work. I’m just fine as I am, Hope.’
‘Keep telling yourself that, Jess.’
Chapter 9
Next day, they both took the dog for his morning swim and Hope bravely joined him in the water. Jess was quite content to sit and watch as the two of them splashed about happily – Hope claiming that the water was ‘like a warm bath’. Jess had had warm baths many times in her life and one thing was certain: inviting as the clear Mediterranean looked, it felt absolutely freezing to the touch. She determined to go for a swim later on in the definitely warmer water of the pool – just so long as David wasn’t in there at the time. Trying to strike up a conversation with him the previous day had been very hard work and she had felt very embarrassed. She preferred not to have to go through that again, particularly if she was going to be having dinner with him that night anyway.
After Brutus’s swim, they took him for a short walk along the coast, in the course of which they were surprised to come across two elderly ladies, sunning them
selves stark naked on a secluded beach. Even the dog looked taken aback. Jess and Hope hurried past and, once they were a safe distance away, Hope voiced what Jess was thinking.
‘Do you think those two are relics of the Swinging Sixties? Peace, love and take your top off?’
‘Not just your top.’ Jess shook her head with a bewildered grin. ‘I don’t know what these old people are coming to. It was never like this in my day.’
After a while, they spotted a path leading inland. This led through rough scrub and onto an unspoiled hillside. The previous night she had read up about St-Tropez on the internet and had discovered that this whole area, right up to and including the distant hills way back inland of them, had been designated an area of special natural beauty, with the protected status of a national park. This, too, was far from what she had been expecting.
Back at the house, she and Hope had a mid-morning coffee, and then Jess went down to the pool for a swim, casting an eye at the shutters in the villa above her to see that they were all closed, and tip-toeing the last few feet around the rosemary bushes to check whether David was already in there. This time the coast was clear and she enjoyed a good long swim, counting thirty lengths of the pool. When she began to feel tired, she climbed out of the water and stretched out on one of the sun beds, feeling the hot sun make short work of drying her body and her bikini. After a while, she turned over onto her front and was dozing happily when she heard a noise from above. Rolling back over again she glanced up and saw the same shutters and window open once again. This time, David was leaning on his elbows on the window ledge, making no pretence of concealment. Jess found herself blushing at the directness of his gaze and did her best to affect nonchalance as she called up to him.
‘Hello, David. Good morning.’
‘Good morning.’ Had he forgotten her name?
‘Are you coming for a swim?’
‘No.’
Jess made a mental note to try to avoid straight yes/no questions with him from now on.
‘Your father’s invited us for dinner tonight. What’s Antoinette preparing?’
‘I don’t know.’
A three-word answer was progress, but it could hardly be called a conversation. Jess tried again.
‘What time should we come along?’
‘You’d better ask Antoinette.’
Four words.
‘Are you going to be there?’ Jess was conscious of the hope in her voice. She needn’t have bothered.
‘No.’
‘No?’
This time he appeared to register that some sort of fuller explanation was demanded.
‘I can’t, I’m afraid. I’ve got a thing.’
He didn’t elaborate and Jess didn’t press him. Although pleased she had managed to squeeze a seven-word answer out of him, Jess felt a twinge of disappointment that he wouldn’t be joining them after all.
‘That’s a pity. Some other time, maybe.’
‘Maybe.’
With the slightest wave of the hand, he retreated into his room again and Jess lost sight of him. She lay back down on her front again, her head turned away from the house, seriously questioning her own sanity. How could it possibly be that she could feel attraction for such a morose, taciturn, some might say downright rude, man? She sighed in frustration. Just what was going on inside her head?
Dinner that evening with David’s father proved to be very good and very pleasant. As it turned out, it wasn’t all cooked by Antoinette. She had prepared a lovely cold potato, egg and black olive salad, and an open fruit tart for dessert, but the main part of the menu was cooked by George on the barbecue. But it was the location of the barbecue that fascinated the girls – particularly Jess. It wasn’t outside, but indoors. It was built against the dining room wall, right alongside the table. George spotted the expression on her face.
‘You know I said this place was a bit quirky?’
The girls, accompanied by a very excited Brutus, were standing alongside George as he cooked three lobsters, split down the middle into halves, on the gas barbecue. All around the stainless steel grill were vents, leading to powerful fans that sucked the smoke and smell away to the outside as soon as it was produced. Just four or five feet from the flames, Jess couldn’t smell a thing. It was amazing and she told George so. He laughed.
‘If you think an indoor barbecue’s strange, wait till you see the bath in the lounge.’
‘The bath…?’
‘Go through those glass doors and take a look. I’d better concentrate on my cooking.’
Jess and Hope wandered through into the large lounge and gawped. Sure enough, there, in the middle of the room, was a glossy white bathtub, sunk into the floor. The weirdness didn’t stop there. There was a pizza oven set into the far wall, startling yellow and purple tiles covered the floor, a mirrored disco-ball was suspended from the ceiling, and a series of triangular windows ran along one side of the room to complete the wacky feel of the place. Hope turned to Jess and raised her eyebrows.
‘Did you ever…?’
‘Nope, never.’ Jess looked back over her shoulder towards the dining room and called to George. ‘What did you say the name of the architect was?’
‘I still can’t remember. I believe my father found him down at the port one day. I think he said he was Finnish or Danish or something Nordic. He was bonkers, but they were all a bit crazy in those days.’
In spite of the cooking having taken place inside, they sat outside on the terrace to eat. This wide paved area extended along the full length of the villa and looked directly out over the sea. The temperature was perfect, the breeze so light it barely ruffled the napkins, and the scent of rosemary was in the air. Jess glanced across at Hope, thinking of her long-standing dream of visiting St-Tropez and reflecting that it hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. Certainly, the reality was just like her poster and her dreams: blue sky, deeper blue sea, palm trees and umbrella pines, purple bougainvillea growing up the wall, fresh lobster on the plate in front of her, and ice-cold white wine in her glass.
‘George, you’re a very lucky man.’ Jess raised her glass towards him. ‘You live in one of the most fabulous places on earth.’
‘I often try telling myself that, but nature has a way of compensating. Yes, I have the great good fortune to live here, but life hasn’t exactly been kind to me.’
He caught Jess’s eye and she saw his eyes glistening. Silently kicking herself for broaching the topic, she was about to try to steer the conversation into safer waters when he continued.
‘My mother probably told you about Babette – my wife, David’s mother. She died just over a year ago.’ His voice dropped to almost a whisper. ‘It was cancer. There was nothing they could do to save her.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ Jess kept her voice low as well. George didn’t seem to notice she had spoken.
‘And then David’s accident. I keep asking myself what my family’s done to deserve so much bad luck. Yes, it’s a wonderful place to live, but only if you’re happy. And happiness doesn’t come from money or beautiful views, it comes from good health, and being surrounded by people who love you.’
Jess took a big mouthful of wine, wondering what she could possibly say to help cheer him up. Hope got there first, sounding almost as emotional as he did.
‘My mum died two years ago. At first, I thought I’d never get over it, but it gets easier. It’s true, you know, what they say – time really is a great healer.’ In spite of her words, Jess saw her wipe away a tear. ‘I know my mum wouldn’t have wanted me or my dad to spend our lives mourning her loss, and I’m sure your wife would have felt the same way.’ Jess saw her reach across, catch hold of George’s arm and give it a squeeze. ‘It’ll pass, but I know it’s terribly, terribly tough.’
Just then, Brutus, maybe sensing something in the atmosphere, hauled himself to his feet from the position he had taken up under the table and pushed between Jess and George, resting his big hairy head on George’s thigh
. Jess saw the Labrador’s soulful brown eyes gaze up at George as he added his own canine encouragement. Nobody moved for a few moments and then finally George stirred, reached gently down with both hands to catch hold of the dog’s head, and spoke to him so quietly his words were almost inaudible.
‘You know something, Brutus, you’re a very good dog.’ He raised his eyes towards Hope and then across to Jess. ‘Thanks, girls. I’m so very glad you’ve come, and thanks for bringing this chap.’
Releasing his grip on the dog, he wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and took a deep breath.
‘I know he’s on a diet, but do you think I could give Brutus the head of my lobster? Our old dog used to love that.’
‘I’m sure this one would love it as well.’ Jess suppressed a sigh of relief at the lightening of the mood. ‘Besides, lobster’s supposed to be low-calorie.’ She wasn’t too sure that this was true, but a little treat under the circumstances seemed totally appropriate.
After dinner, George gave them a brief tour of the ground floor and Jess saw more examples of the Scandinavian architect’s eccentricities – from the rectangular toilet and matching bidet in the cloakroom, to the study which was clad from floor to ceiling in lime green glass tiles. Working in there would surely be like trying to write inside a lettuce! There was a lift to the upstairs bedrooms, completely lined with mirrors, even the floor and ceiling. Jess stood in it for a moment and it felt weirdly disconcerting. To an architect, it was a fascinating trip back in time, and an insight into how the psychedelic sixties had striven to turn traditional artistic values upside down. Practicality had been a far lower priority back in those days when what counted was the ability to shock.
By the time she and Hope left the villa and walked back to the guest house with the dog, it was dark and the sky was full of stars. The moon hadn’t risen yet, but the starlight produced more than enough illumination for them to find their way. There was very little light pollution here and the stars felt close enough to reach out and touch. Jess glanced across at Hope.