Hot Basque: A French Summer Novel 2

by Laurette Long

  ‘...not very responsive, in fact not responsive at all Mr Courtenay. I’d say the sooner she can get some treatment the better.’

  Julian’s face was tense. Annabel would be taken to the Sirona Clinic that afternoon. Physically she was recovering, though her wrist was still bandaged, but she hadn’t spoken a word to him either yesterday or today, lying in the bed with her eyes closed. According to the doctor she had been equally uncommunicative with the medical staff.

  ‘People react in different ways. She needs time more than anything else, time to work through what happened. How she deals with it–well that’s where Dr Novak can advise.’

  Their voices drifted off. Annabel’s eyes were closed, but she was not asleep. She could hear other sounds. The nurses coming in, fussing around. Water. She’d had to keep drinking water. They’d made her get up, go to the loo. The food, she’d refused, turning her head to one side. The nurses encouraged, then tut-tutted.

  Annabel closed her eyes. Waited.

  ‘Annabel.’

  Julian was back. Something was going to happen. She opened her eyes and looked at him. His face was bleached of all colour, deep lines making creases from his nose to his mouth. His Adam’s apple was sticking out and he looked quite ugly. He had a suitcase with him.

  He asked how she was feeling. When she didn’t reply, he told her that he’d brought some clean clothes, and that she had to get up and get dressed. He hesitated, then said a nurse would come in to help.

  When he left the room she pushed back the covers without waiting for the nurse. The movement set off a throbbing in her wrist. Her arm looked very thin against the large gauze padding round her wrist. Maybe she had lost weight. Moving carefully, she put on the clothes. Underwear, trousers, a sweater. She couldn’t manage the bra with her wrist so she left it off. She looked down at her shoes. The nurse could help with those. She sat on the edge of the bed as he came back into the room.

  ‘Where’s the nurse? Did you get dressed on your own?’

  In response to her silence he pursed his mouth, knelt down and pushed her feet into her shoes. Left foot first, then right. He stood up, looked at her, took a hairbrush from the case, hesitated.

  ‘Do you want to brush your hair?’

  She took the brush and tried to pull it through her hair. There were too many tangles so she put it down on the bed.

  Afterwards he put the rest of her things in the case.

  ‘Can you walk?’

  His voice sounded strange.

  She stood up, swayed, sat down again. He took her arm, helped her. They went down a corridor, moving slowly.

  Somebody else had helped her down a corridor, that was a long time ago. Her sister. She’d been in a hotel. This place smelled different. They went past a desk, with medical staff behind it, standing, sitting, looking at computers. Everyone stopped as they went past. Why were they staring at her? She recognised the doctor, he came to Julian, murmured something inaudible. Julian nodded.

  There were big doors opening onto the carpark. An ambulance was waiting, engine running. The back doors were open, a man in green trousers helped her up the steps. Julian spoke to him, the man nodded, Julian disappeared.

  The man in the green trousers told her to lie down, then he closed the doors and strapped himself into the seat opposite.

  ‘OK,’ he said to the driver.

  Outside, at the back of the hospital, Julian watched the ambulance drive off. He paid his parking ticket at the automatic machine, then walked across the crowded carpark. The lights on the Mercedes blinked twice as he pressed the remote.

  He got inside the car. The directions to the clinic were already programmed into the satnav. He watched them come up as the engine purred into life. Numbers flashed up. Expected arrival time: 55 minutes.

  He put his arms on the steering wheel, lowered his head, and wept.

  ***

  Edward pulled into the drive at Willowdale and turned off the engine.

  Before he had time to open the door, a doggy face was looking in the window at him, tongue lolling, feet scrabbling against the door.

  ‘Hello Titus old boy.’

  He managed to get the car door open and lever himself out without being overwhelmed by eighty pounds of smelly Labrador.

  ‘Guess you’re pleased to see me, hey?’

  He raised his head as the terrace doors opened and Margaret and Birdie stepped outside. The smile that Titus had brought to his face wavered. Time to bite the bullet.

  36 BIARRITZ, FRANCE. JUNE

  ‘Nadia, you are going to take the afternoon off. Go down to the beach. Walk along the sea front. Sit at a cafe. I insist.’

  Caroline knew the girl needed to get out for a while. The atmosphere in the villa was oppressive, the three of them wandering around, listening for the phone, listening for Joshua to wake up, unable to settle to any activity for more than a few minutes

  In the end Nadia had agreed. She’d changed into her new skirt and sandals and headed down for the sea front. Caroline had peeked outside, spotted Jill still beneath the cedar, sketching materials beside her. She’d peeked into Joshua’s room. He was fast asleep, arms above his head, fists curled. She’d picked up her phone, wondered about ringing Edward, put it down again. He’d said he’d be in touch after the visit to Willowdale. Finally she had gone into the kitchen and made an apple tart for a supper that none of them wanted.

  Nadia returned from her walk flushed and excited. She had met some Germans, from Frankfurt no less, a group of students who were spending their summer holidays touring France.

  Caroline’s spirits lifted at the sight of her animated face.

  ‘They are very nice. We talked for a long time, drank coffee. They invited me to go out with them this evening. But I said no.’

  ‘No? Why did you say no, Nadia? Of course you must go out with them.’

  ‘Oh, you know, there is Joshua. I am his nanny. He is my responsibility.’

  ‘That’s true, he is your responsibility, and things are difficult at the moment. But–’ Caroline leaned across the table and took hold of Nadia’s hand, ‘even people with responsibility are allowed to have fun from time to time. Josh is fine with me and Jill. He’s a welcome distraction. Have you got a phone number for the people you met?’

  Nadia took some persuading, but finally she made the call, and turned to Caroline, eyes shining.

  ‘They are coming to pick me up, if that’s OK? I will introduce you. We are going to Bayonne, there is a dance.’

  ‘That’s great Nadia. What time are they due?’

  After a moment’s hesitation Caroline called for Jill, who was still in the garden. She explained the situation and suggested that the three of them should have a clothing consultation about Nadia’s evening outfit.

  They all ended up in Jill’s room. Both she and Caroline were talking and laughing too loudly, but at least, thought Caroline, they were talking.

  There was a lot of trying on and posing in front of mirrors and borrowing of makeup. Joshua woke up in the middle of things and was brought in as an observer. He watched the proceedings with interest, particularly fascinated when Jill’s curling tongs were put to work and Nadia’s ponytail was transformed into a softly waving fall of blond locks.

  ‘Crew!’ he shouted, making them all jump.

  ‘Crew? Did he say crew? What does that mean?’

  They all crowded round to look at him. He was waving his arms and legs vigorously, gurgling and smiling.

  ‘That outfit. He has spoken. He likes that one,’ said Jill decisively, and they all smiled.

  The door bell rang just before eight.

  ‘Come in, come in,’ said Caroline, beckoning to a group of three shy-looking students. Hah! Two boys, one girl, she thought, quickly assessing the situation. They were polite, happy to see Nadia and anxious to reassure Caroline and Jill of their best intentions. Hans, who was older than the others, was driving. He would not drink alcohol. Nadia would be returned by midnight. Wel
l, possibly a bit later?

  ‘No problem,’ said Caroline, ‘Nadia’s got her phone. She’s off duty. She can stay out as long as she likes.’

  She and Jill waved them off, standing outside the gates of the villa.

  It seemed very quiet in the street after they left. The sun had disappeared and a veil of grey clouded the sky, though the temperature had scarcely dropped and the air was thick and warm. They walked back to the house. It seemed strange, being the only ones there. Except for Joshua of course, sleeping soundly in his cot, surrounded by a menagerie of furry animals.

  ‘Glass of wine?’

  ‘Sounds great.’

  They wandered down the garden, settled into the chairs underneath the pines. The air vibrated with the song of crickets, some in full swing in the bushes to their left, others starting up down by the boundary wall. Not all singing the same song, not all with the same beat, but the unmistakeable harmony of a summer night. The sky darkened, turning the trees into silhouettes, each leaf outlined like filigree. One or two stars were visible. Moths fluttered around the solar lamps and bats swooped.

  ‘Hope it doesn’t rain for Nadia’s dance.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Jill felt silent again for a minute, then her voice burst out of the dusk:

  ‘Big bad poopy bloody sodding mess.’

  ‘You can say that again.’

  Caroline felt a rush of relief. She turned towards her friend.

  ‘You can throw in a few more bloodys and poopys and bastards and mingings and–’ her voice cracked.

  ‘For a moment you had me there. I thought Caroline MacDonald was going to say a swear word. With four letters.’

  Caroline had to laugh.

  ‘The evening’s not over yet.’

  ‘No.’

  The moon had risen above the cedar. The crickets were doing big band. From a far off pond, a chorus of frogs tuned up.

  ‘Quiet here.’

  ‘As the grave. Jill...’

  Caroline put down her glass on the table between the two chairs.

  ‘I can’t beat around the bush. There are just too many things going on. I have to know, what’s the situation between you and Julian?’

  Jill was silent for a couple of minutes. Caroline could just make out her profile, the pretty turned up nose, the full lips.

  ‘There is no situation, as you call it.’

  Caroline picked up her glass again, said nothing.

  Jill sat up, turned to her friend.

  ‘Really Caro. I mean it. No situation. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Because I saw you! The other night. Edward phoned to say what had happened, I came downstairs to see if Julian was alright, the door was open, I couldn’t help seeing you. How can you say ‘there is no situation’?’

  Caroline was annoyed to find herself feeling defensive. She ploughed on.

  ‘Oh Jill, I know it’s not my business, but we’re friends. We’ve always been able to talk. And I get it, I honestly do, I understand why it happened, I’m not blaming either of you or anything like that, no, blame isn’t the word I’m looking for, it’s just...well, it’s just Antoine. I didn’t want him to get his hopes up again. I mean I didn’t go into detail, just said that you’d been terribly upset by all that Melodie business, that you were angry, that maybe he should just forget the whole thing. It was a stupid idea, anyway, my bloody mistake, trying to set you both up, I should just mind my own business. But Jill, if only you’d seen his face when I told him...and really, again, I know it’s none of my business, I hope you don’t think I’m criticising, or interfering, but I can’t help feeling worried–is it the right moment to start something with Julian? I mean, Julian, for Christ’s sake? With everything that’s going on, he’s so vulnerable–’

  ‘Stop!’ Jill was on her feet. ‘What are you talking about? What did you tell him, Antoine?’

  ‘I just said, like I told you, you were upset after the business in the restaurant, that you thought you’d made a mistake, and that you’d, you’d–’

  ‘Did you tell him about Julian? That I’d been in his room?’

  ‘No, not as such, I just said, just hinted, that maybe there was somebody else–’

  ‘No!’ Jill was furious.

  Caroline could almost see sparks coming off her.

  ‘You had no right to say that, no right at all! Somebody else! He must think I’m running round Biarritz picking up men like a hooker!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Caroline’s voice had risen too. ‘I saw you Jill! I saw you both, I didn’t mean to, I wish I hadn’t but the door was open–’

  ‘It’s not what you think! I was going up to my room and he was just putting down the phone, I only wanted to see if he was OK, well obviously he wasn’t OK, when he told me what had happened, what Annabel had done, I couldn’t believe it. I tried to calm him down, to comfort him–’

  ‘Jill, the pair of you were in each other’s arms! Kissing! I just thought, well hell I don’t know what I thought I was so stunned, but you know one part of my mind was saying after all, why shouldn’t they spend the night together, why be so judgemental, after all, his wife, my sister, had just been caught cheating on him, and splashed on the front pages of a daily rag and you, well, you’re a free agent now–’

  ‘We–did–not–do–anything!’

  Jill planted herself in front of Caroline’s chair, grabbed the arms and leaned forward until they were practically nose to nose. Even in the darkness Caroline could see her eyes were flashing green fire.

  ‘One kiss! That’s all! The poor guy lost it for one second, grabbed me, kissed me, and that was it! Maybe he wanted more, and who could blame him, but I let him have his kiss, then I gently disentangled myself, and gently put him to bed. On his own! I sat by his side, holding his hand, until he fell asleep, and then I left. I left! He was so mortified, he slipped a note under my door the next morning, apologising for ‘forgetting himself’ and begging me to forgive him! I can show it to you if you don’t believe me. And now Antoine thinks I’m, oh! I’m so–’

  Jill heaved herself upright and stormed off towards the house.

  Caroline put her head into her hands and closed her eyes.

  A swarm of microscopic black flies, storm flies, floated down from the sky and landed on her bare skin, making her itch from head to toe. Lightning flickered in the distance.

  37 BIARRITZ, FRANCE. JUNE

  Jill lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling sick. Her eyes were grainy, puffy. She turned her head. Six-forty a.m. So early, why had she woken up so early? The storm had passed, she had listened to the thunder crash and watched the lightning flashes for a good part of the night.

  Then everything had fallen silent. She must have drifted off for a couple of hours. Now the sun was up, shining in through the shutters and birds were singing in the pine tree and a gentle breeze was wafting through the window and she felt like death.

  Her flight left the following day. Back to Edinburgh, back to work. Back to internet dating and being set up with friends of friends, dinners and clubs and ‘hey why don’t you join this Highland dancing group? It looks just the thing for you Jill, who knows you might meet a man in a kilt.’ Right.

  It had been a wonderful holiday. It had been a terrible holiday. Never did she imagine when Caroline started her matchmaking game that it would all end like this.

  Like what, though? Why was she feeling such terrible pangs at the idea of never seeing Antoine again? Why couldn’t she eat? Why did she keep looking at that sketch she’d done, the one when they were in Guernica? Why did she lay awake at night, thinking about him? Why did she find her thoughts drifting off when she was with the others, scenes flashing through her mind, the day they went surfing, their trip to Bilbao, that special time, the first time, at the waterfall. The magic waterfall. She’d made her wish. She’d known then, if she was honest, only hours after they’d met.

  Had she fallen in love with Antoine, was that it? A man she’d only known for a few hectic days, a m
an who was no saint, even though she was becoming more and more convinced that there was not another woman in his life at the moment, nor was he pining for a former love. She’d played the scene at the restaurant over and over in her mind until she’d ended up with a version that had Antoine as Helpless Victim and the Mad Monkey as a Bunny Boiler.

  Love. She’d never been in love before, she was fairly sure of that. In lust, yes. She’d had her flings. There had been a couple of relationships, quite long relationships in fact where she’d felt a real pang of regret at parting, like saying goodbye to a close friend who’s emigrating to New Guinea as a missionary and you knew the odds on seeing them again were not brilliant even though the cannibals had all reformed and were singing hymns now. She’d even had a few panicky days after those relationships ended when she’d thought she’d made the wrong decision, almost caved in and begged for another chance.

  But never anything like this, this sick, hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. A feeling of disbelief that she’d never again hear Antoine’s warm voice murmuring in her ear, calling her his ‘Irish’, never feel those strong arms crushing her against him, never again tilt her head back and see his teeth flash white in a huge smile of pure delight. Her body felt drained, her heart ached. Why oh why had it all got so muddled up?

  She’d over-reacted to the restaurant scene, she knew that now. And then she’d been thrown into even more turmoil by what she now thought of the ‘the Julian incident’. She regretted with all her heart the impulse that had sent her into Julian’s room the other night, even though, as she’d told Caroline in no uncertain terms, nothing had happened. Well, practically nothing. Her conscience was clear.

  Or was it?

  She re-played the scene again in her memory. She’d still been hurting from the shock of seeing Antoine with the Bunny Boiler, hearing the words she hurled at him, the police, the whore. She’d felt stunned, belittled, betrayed. All in public, in front of his family, in front of her friends. When she stepped into Julian’s room that night, the thought uppermost in her mind was that he was hurting too, that he’d gone through a similar public humiliation and that a few words of comfort from a fellow-sufferer might ease his pain.