Biarritz Passion: A French Summer Novel

by Laurette Long

  ‘That would be lovely.’

  Caroline perched herself on the edge of a yellow silk sofa, trying to pull down the skirt of her new dress and gather her thoughts at the same time. Things were not helped by the fact that Edward was staring at her legs with a bemused expression. She wished that Yvette would hurry up with the drinks.

  ‘Are you just over for the weekend, Edward?’

  ‘A long weekend. I have a couple of work meetings. I did manage to fit in a quick visit to Ravensfield, see how my mother was doing.’

  Caroline looked at him suspiciously. Had he been to see her aunt, by any chance?

  ‘So,’ his gaze slid up from her legs to her breasts. She had known the peach underslip was too low-cut. The see-through lace was a tease. ‘You’re the culprit Caroline, shopping all day with Yvette, I hear there’s nothing left in Oxford Street.’

  ‘Oh that’s true,’ said Yvette. ‘She really needs that drink.’ She handed a glass to Caroline. ‘And so do I. I just hope we don’t both fall asleep over dinner tonight.’

  Jacques raised his glass in a toast.

  ‘To the goddess of shopping,’ he said, ‘but forgive me, ladies, most of all I would like to raise a toast to our new baby. Edward, may she be a great success!’

  Both women paused in mid-sip. Edward put down his glass and leaned forward. His eyes lit up.

  ‘Our latest plane. Jacques has agreed to come over to Airbus in Toulouse to christen it. I was just arranging the final details with him.’

  ‘Oh that’s wonderful!’ exclaimed Yvette. ‘I shall no doubt be accompanying him, n’est-ce pas chéri?’ She gave her husband a sparkling smile. ‘I hear there are some marvellous boutiques in Toulouse. And you know Jacques, we could take a few days’ holiday, explore the region. How exciting! Do you know that part of France my dear?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ said Caroline. ‘I’ve been to Paris a couple of times, but nothing further south.’

  ‘Never mind,’ said Yvette ‘in a couple of weeks you’ll be in Biarritz. With your new wardrobe. Did you know Caroline was going to France this summer Edward? ’

  How had things become so entangled? Caroline laughed nervously and threw a ‘help me!’ look in Edward’s direction.

  He stepped in as smoothly as Fred Astaire.

  ‘I did. She’s going with me, actually. No, I’m just teasing. Caroline and her sister are coming to stay at my family’s house in Biarritz.’

  ‘Mais c’est extraordinaire!’ Yvette was thrilled. ‘This really is the most incredible coincidence! Or indeed, Fate, as you say, Edward! Oh I shall have to tell Marie-Claire about this. She will never believe me. She is always accusing me of, how do you say it, setting people up? But this time I am totally innocent. So, Caroline, all the day we have been shopping, it was to impress this handsome young man here in my drawing room!’

  ‘Oh no!’

  Her response was so vehement they all burst out laughing.

  ‘I mean, well, I don’t know what I mean really. Sorry.’

  She looked up at Edward and was irritated to see that he seemed to be finding the whole situation hilarious.

  ‘Yvette, consider the mission accomplished. I am impressed. I’m only worried about my rivals. Those Basque males are a passionate bunch.’

  ‘True,’ said Jacques drily. ‘You know of the Basque movement for Independence, Caroline?’

  ‘Oh Jacques chéri we are not going to talk politics.’ Yvette laid her hand on Caroline’s arm. ‘Don’t pay any attention to them, my dear. Tell me more about this holiday. How on earth did it all come about?’

  Edward and Caroline looked at each other. Edward shrugged a twinkle in his eye.

  ‘Annabel’s fiancé is a friend of mine.’

  There were more exclamations of surprise from the Delormes and murmurs of ‘a small world’ and ‘six degrees of separation’ as Edward continued to fill them in on the relevant details.

  ‘Have you seen him this weekend? Julian I mean?’

  The question came out more challenging than Caroline had intended.

  ‘Afraid not, he’s away for a few days actually.’

  Was his answer a little too glib?

  ‘And my—’

  Edward interrupted her before she could finish.

  ‘He’s in Frankfurt, on business. I don’t know if he’s mentioned anything to you, Caroline? About this new contract and everything?’

  She tried to read Edward’s expression. He was looking at her intently.

  ‘He did say something. When we were at Willowdale.’

  ‘Yes. It’s a terrific opportunity for his firm. One he really can’t afford to pass up, in spite of one or two...complications.’

  ‘Yes, I gathered that.’

  The two of them stared at each other.

  Yvette gave a little cough. Caroline realised she had picked up on the terse exchange.

  ‘Oh I’m so sorry Yvette, we got side-tracked, nothing important.’

  With the smoothness born of years of practice, Yvette assured them it was ‘of no matter’, then gave a little exclamation as she glanced at her watch.

  ‘Good heavens is that the time? Saturday is always busy. We’d better get going.’

  Rollins was waiting at the kerb. Jacques ushered his guests into the back and took a place in front. Caroline, seated between Edward and Yvette, leaned back against the cushions. She felt light-headed, her thoughts whirling. She was aware of Edward’s leg pressing against hers and wished she had worn something less revealing. Her new dress was definitely for standing-only occasions. She gave it a little tug and saw Edward smile out of the corner of her eye.

  As they got out of the car in Soho she lifted her face gratefully to the evening air. There was a festive atmosphere in the city, probably due to the warm weather. Couples strolled arm in arm along the pavements, groups of young people spilled into the middle of the road chatting and laughing, oblivious to the hoots of exasperated taxi drivers.

  Following Yvette into the restaurant, Caroline felt a surge of interest. As a teenager she had developed a passion for cooking, never missing a programme on television, trying out her experiments on Margaret, Birdie and Annabel.

  They were in a large square room with old-fashioned net curtains at the windows and a wooden floor that creaked as the waiters hurried past. There was a zinc topped bar, with bottles standing on glass shelves behind it. The tables were covered in red cloths, each with its own lamp, casting a pool of light on the red. It was a far cry from the sleek ultra-minimalist chic of the fashionable restaurants you saw nowadays on TV or in magazines. More like an old Parisian bistrot from the 1950s. Caroline thought it was charming.

  Edward was standing just behind her. She felt his warm breath on her neck as he bent to whisper in her ear and her arms broke out in goose bumps.

  ‘Looks just like the corner café near my flat in Toulouse. They do a mean sausage and chips.’

  She gave a nervous laugh, which she turned into a cough.

  ‘Everything alright, my dear?’

  Yvette was looking at the pair of them with interest.

  A lady of a certain age, dignified in a black dress with a gold brooch pinned to her bosom, was standing on a raised platform behind a high wooden cash desk. When she saw the Delormes she emerged from behind the battlements to greet them, delivering torrents of high-speed French in an unintelligible accent while embracing them both several times.

  The restaurant was almost full, but the murmur of voices was low and discreet. The diners were applying themselves to their food with evident seriousness, not letting banal conversation get in the way of gastronomic appreciation. The patronne led them to a corner table. Jacques pulled out a chair for Caroline, and sat down next to her while Edward seated Yvette. There was a rapid discussion between the Delormes and the patronne, involving the evening specials. Edward joined in with a couple of questions, nodding in appreciation each time Madame brought her fingers to her lips and kissed them.


  Caroline followed the conversation with half an ear. She was glad to have a moment to herself. Today had been a whirlwind. She had been buoyed up, euphoric, hardly believing what was happening, so that even the shock of walking into the Delorme’s living room and coming face to face with Edward Rayburn had not burst the bubble. Made it wobble a bit. Made it bigger, even.

  As the patronne bustled off, Jacques opened the menu and showed it to Caroline.

  ‘Would you like to choose my dear or may we recommend certain dishes they do particularly well?’

  ‘Sausage and chips?’ said Edward innocently, causing Jacques to raise his eyebrows and Caroline to giggle again.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said to his hosts. ‘It was just a silly joke. I saw it on the menu, saucisse de Toulouse. Reminded me of home.’

  ‘They do an excellent saucisse de Toulouse. But that’s more of a lunchtime option. I suggest we try something a little more sophisticated. Now Caroline, what about...’

  In the end they all went for the same thing, a starter of stuffed mussels à la provençale, followed by duck with orange sauce, and tiny artichoke hearts. They ordered a champagne aperitif while, heads together, Jacques and Edward, consulted over the wine list.

  ‘Cheers! Santé!’ said Yvette as they clinked glasses. ‘As you can see the choice is not large but what they do is first class. The chef is a young man from Gascony, making quite a name for himself.’

  ‘I’m impressed,’ said Edward. ‘Really impressed. Take note, Caroline. I’m expecting some first-rate cooking when you get to work in the kitchen. You do know there’s a cooking rota at the villa, don’t you? For the women that is. I hope Annabel explained the house rules. There’s the washing up schedule, plus the cleaning, we don’t have a washing machine I’m afraid so the sheets have to be done by hand at the village trough.’

  For a moment even the Delormes looked taken aback, then, seeing the gleam in Edward’s eye, Yvette gave him a pinch.

  ‘Oh he is terrible this young man! Now I know he is half-English, he is always talking with the tongue in the cheek!’

  ‘Yes, I was just trying to come up with an excuse to pull out of the invitation.’ Caroline narrowed her eyes. ‘But then I thought, Annabel? Doing the washing in the village trough? No way she’d have agreed to that. We’ll be lucky if we can get her to rinse out her coffee cup.’

  ‘Ah so little sister ‘Storm’ has not changed,’ said Yvette. ‘I hope she has found a fiancé with a nice big chef’s hat.’

  Jacques and Edward spluttered on their champagne.

  ‘Chérie, that sounds a little bit risqué if you don’t mind my saying so.’

  Both men were grinning like idiots.

  ‘Oh you two. Have you been drinking this afternoon? Before we arrived? But tell me Edward, who else is going?’

  ‘Ah, now there we’re lucky. I have cousins, twins, and Claudette,’ he did an imitation of Madame kissing her fingers, ‘my little cousin, bless her, is studying to go into the hotel trade. Cooking is her passion. It runs in the family. Our grandmother made the most wonderful dishes. We had a vegetable plot and an orchard at the back of the house, still do in fact, but it’s a bit overgrown now. And there’s a fantastic market in Biarritz, you should see the fish and the shellfish. Well, you will see the fish and the shellfish,’ he said, smiling at Caroline.

  ‘But that will be so interesting,’ said Yvette. ‘Caroline too, she loves cooking. I remember Margaret said you did a cookery course in Paris.’

  ‘Oh that was ages ago, Yvette. And it was just a weekend anyway. Well two weekends, actually, I went back the following year. I loved it, but I’m afraid nowadays it’s microwave or take-away.’

  ‘Except when you’re being wined and dined by love-struck suitors.’

  Edward was looking at her speculatively.

  ‘I think that is what the English call ‘fishing’ don’t you my dear?’ Yvette had that look in her eye again. ‘Talking of fishing here come the mussels, oh they smell so wonderful, I feel as though I am on holiday.’

  Caroline was fond of moules marinières but this was her first encounter with a stuffed mussel provençale. She dipped her fork into one of the sizzling little pots where a gold and green crust of breadcrumbs and parsley bubbled like a miniature volcano.

  ‘Mmmm! Mmmmm!’

  The combined flavours of mussels, garlic and gratin burst against her palate and she gave a moan of pleasure.

  ‘I think she likes them,’ said Jacques. ‘But careful my dear, they’re straight from the grill!’

  ‘Mmmmm.’

  Nodding gratefully Caroline took a sip of the Bandol wine they had ordered, cool and strong.

  ‘These are just amazing!’ she said, finally able to speak. ‘Absolutely worth a burned tongue.’

  ‘I have an excellent recipe at home,’ said Yvette. ‘Remind me to look it out for you. They’re not that difficult really, just a bit fiddly to prepare. And you’ll get them fresh in the market, like Edward was saying.’

  ‘Yvette is crazy about seafood,’ said Jacques smiling at his wife indulgently.

  ‘O happy Yvette, able to eat as much as she likes without worrying about her figure,’ said Edward.

  ‘Flatterer!’ said Yvette wagging her fork at him. ‘If you only knew how many days of starvation I shall have to suffer to pay for tonight. Now we keep getting off the subject, tell me more about this holiday. Did you say twins?’

  ‘Yes, my cousins, Claudette and Jean-Paul. So there’ll be six of us altogether, with Annabel and Caroline and Julian. My young cousins, I might add. Claudette and Jean-Paul are in their early twenties. A bit older than Annabel. It’s a family tradition for all of us to spend time with each other in the summer, but this time the parents are going on a cruise, and my younger brother, Antony, has fallen in love with a Brazilian, so I mentioned to Julian that there was plenty of room if he fancied coming, and voila! We added two beautiful women to the party.’

  Two beautiful women, thought Caroline. What was it you said at the pool? Your sister is so beautiful, not at all like you? It had been the final blow after everything she’d heard about her personal short-comings that week. She had wept a considerable number of tears into her pillow that night. But then, in the morning, thinking about it again, she wondered if she’d over-reacted. What were his words exactly? He’d said they were different. Perhaps he meant just that, she and Annabel were different. He’d certainly been covered in embarrassment.

  She stole a glance at him from under her lashes. He was talking animatedly to Yvette, another victim to his charm. He was one of those people who just had a knack of making women feel special. She wondered just how many love-struck females Edward had wined and dined back in Toulouse.

  ‘Sorry?’

  She realised Yvette had asked her a question.

  ‘I was just saying, you don’t usually go on holiday with your sister, do you Caroline?’

  ‘No, not usually.’

  She watched their waiter skilfully dismembering a duckling garnished with glistening oranges.

  ‘This is, well, let’s call it a rare example of sisterly fraternisation.’

  Yvette laughed, but Edward was looking at her in surprise.

  ‘Oh, but Annabel said—’

  He broke off and leaned back in his chair as the waiter served the duck.

  There was a short silence as everyone was served, then Edward announced in a tone that surprised them all by its formality:

  ‘I need hardly say that I personally am delighted with Annabel’s choice of a final member to complete our party.’

  ‘Oh Caroline! Isn’t he so gallant? He speaks like a book! Do you think that is his French side or his English side?’

  Yvette chuckled and attacked her duck.

  Caroline met Edward’s eyes for a second, then they both looked away. It seemed as though her sister had been playing tricks with both of them. The idea that Edward was trying to make amends made her feel both vulnerable and defensive at the same t
ime.

  ‘And what about Julian?’ continued Yvette, with a glance in Caroline’s direction. ‘You said that you were at school together, Edward?’

  ‘Yes. I did part of my schooling in England, part in France. We met when we were both quite young, then happened to be up at University at the same time. He became one of my closest friends in fact, despite the fact we lived in different countries for a lot of the time. He’s a wonderful man, one of those people who can seem pretty reserved if you don’t know him. Rather cold, even. He comes from a very well-off family who sent him to boarding school when he was six. He doesn’t talk about it much, but I don’t think it was easy for him. As I say, he can seem a bit buttoned up. But underneath he’s kind, patient, understanding. A rock.’ Edward gave a shrug, took a sip of wine. ‘A cliché, I know. But he’s the first person I’d turn to if I were ever in trouble. You know, pick up the phone in the middle of the night and say ‘help’. And he would. Drop everything, and be at your side, no questions. Sometimes you just know that about a friend don’t you? He helped me once, when I was going through a particularly bad time. I’ll never forget that, never.’ He looked up, cleared his throat. ‘Oops. Getting misty. Bring on the violins. I just wanted to say that Annabel is a very lucky girl.’

  They had all paused as he was speaking. Thoughtfully, Jacques picked up his glass.

  ‘Well, mon vieux, it works both ways. I think that Julian is a very lucky man, too, to have a friend like you.’

  ‘You are quite right, mon chéri,’ said Yvette, leaning across to squeeze her husband’s hand. ‘Which philosopher said that true friendship is even rarer than true love?’

  ‘Ah’ said Edward, ‘true love. Now that’s another topic.’ He was making an evident effort to get back to the light-hearted tone of earlier. ‘What did Woody Allen say? ‘If love is the answer, can you rephrase the question?’

  ‘Non, non, ce n’est pas ça,’ said Jacques. ‘It was ‘Love is the answer, but while you are waiting for the answer, sex raises some pretty good questions’!’

  That made them all laugh. The sombre mood had lifted. Glancing round the restaurant Caroline noticed that it had slowly filled up and now not a single table remained empty. The clatter of knives and forks blended with the hum of conversation. From outside, a slight breeze came in through the windows, ruffling the net curtains. The lamps were lit against a purple sky. As they chatted their way through dessert, a scrumptious confection of meringue and raspberries, she felt herself relax, succumb to the spell of the evening. Thoughts of her sister faded into the background. How long ago was it since she had enjoyed the pleasure of sitting with friends, sharing their conversation and laughter, eating wonderful food, feeling the wine warm her insides? She’d forgotten what it was like. One of life’s true joys. At nearby tables, couples held hands, friends engaged in animated discussions, while all around the soft night air wafting through the windows brought with it the smells of summer.