by T A Williams
As they drank cold rosé and ate their food, they chatted, and Jess found that she was definitely enjoying Olivier’s company. He was very bright, as well as being good-looking, and it was a lovely way to spend the evening.
He told her more about the war and the part played in preparing for the landings by the local Resistance, supported by OSS operatives, parachuted in or smuggled ashore from submarines. It was fascinating, but he soon turned the conversation to her, asking her how she was finding life in the place he and the locals all called St-Trop. She was quick to sing the town’s praises.
‘It’s an amazing place. I freely admit that I came here expecting the worst. I thought it was going to be full of brash, selfish, rich people and, instead, I’ve found it full of some lovely, really normal people.’
‘That’s good to hear. Yes, there are a lot of very rich people around, but that doesn’t automatically make them bad people. And there are enough ordinary folk about to dilute them.’ He took a sip of wine. ‘Like the Duponts, where you’re staying. Yes, they’re rich, but David’s always been approachable. He’s a good guy. I was really glad to see him up and about again after his awful accident.’
‘Not so up and about.’ Jess told Olivier about the shock she had received at seeing David in the wheelchair.
‘Poor guy.’ Olivier sounded really sorry for him. ‘And he was so active. I do hope he manages to recover.’
‘I’m not sure full recovery’s on the cards. If he’s lucky, he might get some improvement, but he’s pretty knocked about.’
The thought of David was sobering, but Jess did her best to relegate him and his problems to the back of her mind, at least for now, and concentrate on her current friendly, handsome, and knowledgeable companion.
It was barely ten o’clock when they finished eating so Olivier suggested going down to the beach bar for a dance and Jess agreed happily.
They found the bar humming, with more people there than the previous week. Clearly, as summer approached, more and more people were heading for the Côte d’Azur. Jess and Olivier struggled through the crowd to the bar and found Terri, as ever, at the rum punch bowl.
‘Hi you two. Rum punch?’
Olivier shook his head and waved his car keys. ‘Just mineral water for me, I’m afraid.’
‘Make that two, Terri, please.’
Jess leant against the bar and looked around, spotting a few familiar faces and a lot of new ones. Then she got a shock. Among the new faces was a very unwelcome one. Very unwelcome indeed. She shrank back against Olivier and felt his arm catch her shoulders supportively.
‘You all right, Jess?’
‘I’m all right, but I’ve just seen somebody who isn’t. Look – that chubby guy over there. Ever seen him before?’
‘No, never. He doesn’t look French. Who is he?’
‘His name’s Drugoi – or at least that’s what he calls himself. He’s Russian.’ Jess could hardly believe her eyes. ‘And he’s an arsehole.’
Olivier grinned. ‘So I take it you don’t like him very much?’
At that moment the two mineral waters appeared on the bar. Grabbing both little plastic bottles, Jess led Olivier round to the back of the bar and they perched on a pile of beer crates while she told him the story of how she had lost her job.
‘So what’s he doing here?’ Olivier sounded as surprised as Jess herself.
‘God knows. Do you mind if I take another peek at him?’
‘Not at all. I’ll come with you.’
Together, they tiptoed – no mean feat in sand – to the end of the bar and peered surreptitiously across the throng of drinkers and dancers to the other side. Drugoi was still standing where Jess had seen him, and near him were three other figures – two she recognised and one she didn’t. At his side, wearing a figure-hugging pair of very short shorts and a skimpy top, was a very beautiful blonde. For a moment Jess thought it might be the same one she had met in London, but then realised that this was a different ‘companion’. This girl, like her predecessor, was probably a good few years younger than Jess herself – and that would make her less than half the oligarch’s age. Jess wasn’t close enough to see her eyes, but she felt pretty sure she would recognise the same lifeless expression in them.
The figure on the other side, however, was familiar. Clearly Drugoi brought his interpreter with him wherever he went. Dmitri was wearing what looked like the same white shirt he had been wearing with his suit in London, but, incongruously, this was accompanied by a pair of garish orange shorts. His frighteningly white legs protruded from the shorts like sticks of celery and finished in dark socks and black leather shoes. If he had been hoping his ensemble would allow him to blend into the St-Tropez scene, he was sadly unsuccessful.
Behind him, standing a few paces back – in the shadows – was another familiar face, and this time it came as a bigger surprise to Jess. It was none other than Pete – muscleman Pete, the minder. So, presumably, his current client was none other than Drugoi. She turned to Olivier, trying to make sense of what she had seen.
‘I wonder what Drugoi’s doing here at St-Tropez. Of all the people to meet, he’s definitely not one I would have chosen.’
‘And Pete’s working for him while he’s here, I guess.’
‘Certainly looks that way.’
‘Shall we go somewhere else? We can head back into town and find another place to go dancing.’
Jess shook her head. ‘I like it here. You like it here. I left my job because of that bastard. I don’t see why I should have to leave my favourite bar as well.’
‘Hi Jess. Hi Olivier.’
It was Hope.
‘Hi, Hope, you’ll never guess who I’ve just seen.’
Jess went on to point Drugoi out to Hope. She then had to restrain her friend from going across and throwing her drink in his face.
‘Leave it, Hope. He’s an arsehole and that’s all there is to it. Where’s Max?’
‘He’s back in the harbour with his latest guests. But at least this lot are only here for the weekend, so I’ll get to spend most of next week with him.’
‘More bankers?’
‘No, this lot are foreign – all men. Very serious and a bit scary, apparently. They just sit round drinking vodka and speaking Russian.’
‘Russians, here?’ As she spoke, Jess realised that there were probably many more Russians than she had imagined here in St-Tropez. It really was a very cosmopolitan place.
‘Well, Jess, if we’re staying, how about dancing?’ Jess felt Olivier’s hand on her bare shoulder.
‘Why not?’
Jess danced with Olivier and began to feel a bit better after the shock of seeing her old nemesis again. From time to time she spotted Drugoi, still accompanied by the blonde, with Pete standing in the shadows behind him. When she began to feel a bit weary, she returned to the bar and handed Olivier over to Hope. As she watched them dance together, she sipped her mineral water and reflected on the evening so far.
It had been a lovely meal and she had thoroughly enjoyed Olivier’s company. He was a good dancer and his caring attitude over the Drugoi affair had endeared him to her. But the truth was that, while she enjoyed his company, she knew that she couldn’t see the relationship developing. And the reason – she just had to accept it – was David. She kept thinking about him, as she had been since trying to rationalise her feelings towards him when speaking to Hope the previous day.
She knew she liked David a lot. The simple fact, though, was that getting together with him – assuming that he had any interest in her, which was still far from proven – would bring so many problems, practical problems, to overcome. Coming here tonight, for example, would be impossible. The beach was inaccessible to a wheelchair, and, most probably, crutches. Even if he managed to make it down here, he wouldn’t be able to dance or move about. But that was only the tip of the iceberg.
There was the whole question of his mental state. His father had made it clear that David’s
depression was deep-seated and intractable. Jess had absolutely no experience of depression and she was terrified of doing something wrong and making matters worse. Was she prepared to take on somebody like him? Yes, she liked him, felt sorry for him, but did she feel deeply enough about him to assume the responsibility of getting involved with somebody as troubled as David?
But, even more important was the effect this might have on him. What if she did start a relationship with him and it didn’t last? He was so very vulnerable at the moment – not just physically. What if she found herself unable to cope with the demands of looking after a disabled person? If she managed to get him to love her, only for her to then abandon him, what would that do to his already grievously wounded psyche? Given the depth of his depression at the moment, for all she knew, it could send him toppling over the edge. The ramifications were too terrible to contemplate. Was she strong enough to take on this sort of responsibility?
‘Hi, Jess.’
She was roused from her reverie by a familiar voice. She looked up and gave him a smile and a kiss on the cheek.
‘Hi, Pete. I see you’re on duty tonight.’
He glanced sideways and lowered his voice. ‘Yup. You’ve probably seen my man over there, but I can’t tell you his name.’
‘I don’t know what his real name is, but with me he used the name Drugoi – and his little friend is Dmitri. Not sure about the blonde, though.’
Pete’s face was a picture.
‘You know him? You’ve met him? Nobody’s supposed to know who he is. And you’re right about Drugoi being a pseudonym.’
Jess gave him a three-line précis of her previous dealings with Drugoi and she saw Pete nod as she finished. ‘So, Pete, you can probably imagine that he isn’t exactly my favourite person at the moment.’
‘Doesn’t surprise me. I only just met him yesterday, but he doesn’t strike me as particularly loveable.’ He dropped his voice to little more than a whisper. ‘Mind you, that’s what I’m here for. He’s probably made himself a lot of enemies over the years. Some of them, unlike you, would probably be more than happy to stick a knife in his back.’
‘Just hand me the knife…’
‘I’m not joking, Jess. Some of my clients are marked men.’
‘Well I can’t say I feel too sorry for him.’ Jess took a deep breath. ‘Anyway, just promise me you won’t go stopping any bullets aimed at him. Whatever he’s done to deserve it, you haven’t. You just be careful.’
At that moment, Hope and Olivier returned, flushed from their exertions.
While Pete greeted the two of them, Jess found herself turning over in her head what Hope had said earlier. She reached over and caught her by the arm.
‘Hope, you know you said there are Russians on the yacht tonight?’ Hope nodded. ‘Tell me a bit more about them.’
‘I don’t know very much, really. Max gets all sorts of different people coming along to charter the Helios – mostly through an agency – and he knows very little about them in advance. He says this lot look like gangsters and it’s all a bit tense, like they’re waiting for somebody or something. It’s all very mysterious. He said they’re going off somewhere tomorrow, so I’m out of it for now.’
‘Waiting for somebody…?’ Jess turned to Pete, who was chatting to Olivier. ‘Pete, this is probably going to sound paranoid, but you know Hope’s boyfriend, Max, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I saw him here last week.’
‘It’s just that Hope said he’s got a bunch of foreigners, all men, on board the yacht this weekend. Max says they look like gangsters. Tell him, Hope.’
‘He said they’re a bit scary. All they do is drink vodka and speak Russian, and it’s as if they’re waiting for something or somebody.’
Jess saw the interest in Pete’s eyes.
‘You don’t think there could be any connection, do you, Pete? Only it seems a bit of a coincidence, seeing as Drugoi’s just arrived, doesn’t it…?’
Pete’s expression hardened and she glimpsed the steel beneath the jovial exterior. ‘What’s the name of the yacht?’
‘Helios, or more precisely, Helios IV. She’s moored down at the harbour. I mean, it’s probably nothing, but it just occurred to me. Oh, and Hope, didn’t Max say they’re sailing off somewhere tomorrow?’
‘Yes, but he didn’t say where.’
‘Thanks, girls, I’ll get it checked out. Like you say, it’s probably nothing.’
‘You just take care.’
The easy smile returned to his face.
‘If they couldn’t kill me in Iraq or Afghanistan, I don’t see them managing it in St-Tropez.’
Drugoi must have disappeared at some point, along with Pete, Dmitri, and the blonde girl, and, as the evening progressed, Jess had a pleasant time, dancing and chatting with Olivier, Hope, and a few other people she was getting to know. Finally, at just before one o’clock, Olivier apologised and told Jess he had to go back home.
‘I promised I’d take my mum and dad to Grenoble for lunch with my sister and her husband in the morning. It’s their wedding anniversary. It’s a fair old drive, so we’ll need to get away pretty early and I’d better get a few hours’ sleep. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Of course not. I tell you what. Seeing as Hope’s here, why don’t you leave us here and we’ll walk home around the coast? That’ll save you a bit of time. It’s a full moon tonight so we’ll easily find our way.’
‘It’s no trouble to give you a lift. Both of you…’
In the end, Jess managed to convince him that she was happy to walk home and she accompanied him to his car, where she gave him a warm farewell hug. She was fully prepared to give him an equally warm kiss but, to her surprise, he just pecked her on the cheeks. As she walked back to where Hope was sitting, she reflected that it would appear that Olivier was quite happy to just be her friend and that, she told herself, was exactly what she had set out to accomplish. Wasn’t it?
‘So, did you let him down easy?’ Hope looked up as she returned and Jess saw that she was smiling. ‘Seeing as your heart already belongs to another…’
‘For your information, Olivier was the one who didn’t want to get physical.’
Hope didn’t look particularly surprised.
‘Is that so? Well, he is a very good dancer, after all.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘A little bird told me that Olivier might be less interested in the contents of your pants than, for instance, Pete’s.’
Jess looked up suspiciously. ‘And just which little bird might that have been, then?’
‘Olivier himself.’ Hope was grinning now. ‘He told me he rather fancies Pete. He’s got a thing for muscular men apparently.’
‘Blimey… I’m really not very good at reading the signs, am I?’ A sudden thought occurred to her. ‘So, does this mean I may be wrong about David as well?’
‘What do you think?’ Hope was grinning.
Jess didn’t reply. She just shook her head. She was quite sure she knew the answer to this one.
Chapter 15
Jess was woken by Brutus’s cold wet nose nudging her bare shoulder. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was already almost nine o’clock, so she climbed out of bed, slipped on a T-shirt and shorts, and took him out for his morning walk. After walking up through the fields behind the villa, they dropped down onto the coastal footpath and made their way along to Brutus’s beach. As he plunged happily into the sea, she sat down on her usual rock with her feet in the water. She had only been there for a few minutes when she was joined by George.
‘Good morning, Jess. I saw you from the window. I hope you don’t mind if I join you.’
She turned and gave him a big smile.
‘Hi, George. Of course not. And how are you this gorgeous sunny morning?’
‘Feeling pretty sunny myself, to be honest.’ He smiled back. ‘I’m still in awe at how you managed to get David talking the other night. And he’s been
doing more talking to me since then – not a lot, but he’s definitely started to open up.’
‘That’s terrific news. I’m so pleased.’
Brutus came swimming back to greet George and was then clearly delighted to have a stick thrown out into the deep water for him to fetch. As George sat down again after throwing it, he turned back to Jess.
‘I even called Mum to tell her all about it. By the way, she sends her love. They’re in the Caribbean at the moment, en route to the Panama canal.’
‘And all going well?’
‘All going brilliantly – even the weather. She says she’ll give you a ring one of these days to catch up.’
‘That’ll be nice, and I’m so pleased to hear everything’s going well for her. So, David’s started talking… that’s great news.’
‘Isn’t it? And it’s all down to you, Jess.’
‘Of course not. I just must have pitched up at the right time. So, tell me George, what’s he talking about?’
‘The accident and its repercussions. For the first time he’s actually starting to talk about how he feels.’ His expression became more serious. ‘It won’t surprise you to hear that there’s a long history of depression in our family.’ He pointed ruefully towards his own face. ‘Take exhibit A here, for example. I’ve been afraid he’d never come out of the cloud he’s been under, but now, hearing him start to articulate his feelings, I’m really hopeful once more.’
‘That’s such great news, George.’
‘And the other bit of good news is that Antoinette’s husband, Jean-Pierre, is more than happy to rewire the house. He’s calling in this morning to take a look and give me a price. That’s the other reason I wanted to talk to you. I was wondering, if you aren’t busy, if you might like to come along at half past eleven to see him? That way you could discuss all the technical things with him. Would that be possible?’