T Williams - What Happens at the Beach...

She turned her attention to the other emails, hoping that one of them might at least bring good news on the employment front. She had been scouring the internet for lecturing positions anywhere in the UK or France, but the sad fact was that good jobs in medieval history were few and far between. There was nothing of interest, except for one from Amy in Cambridge, and a very kind and heartening email from her professor, telling her she was casting about, looking for jobs for Natalie. She said she would be in touch if anything suitable presented itself.

Finally, she read Amy’s email. The night she had spent with her before taking the plane to France had been a pretty downbeat affair. She had recounted to Amy the events of the garden party, in particular the conversation she had overheard in the kitchen. As ever, Amy was supportive. They had known each other since their schooldays and there wasn’t much about Natalie that Amy didn’t know. She had been a tower of strength when Natalie’s parents had died and they had stayed close ever since. And, since the break-up with David, she was her closest friend in the UK. Today’s email from her, predictably, was to see if Natalie was feeling better. Before answering, Natalie sat back and reflected. Seeing her grandmother again had been wonderful and this place, with the sun shining outside and the hum of the bees in the flowers in the garden, had cheered her immensely. Being with her grandmother was beginning to remove, or at least reduce, the sense of loneliness that had haunted her for so long and make her aware that she was a stronger person than before. Here, in Colette, she had somebody with whom she knew she could talk about anything. She found she was able to reply to Amy in all sincerity that she was indeed beginning to feel better now.

Natalie closed the laptop and sat quietly for a few minutes, doing her best to banish her anger at David, before going out onto the landing. She decided she had better check on her grandmother, so she tiptoed to her door and peered into the shadowy interior. The shutters were firmly closed as this room faced south and, without them, it would have become intolerably hot in there. As it was, it felt pleasantly cool. There was a movement from the bed and she saw her grandmother turn her head towards the door. ‘Hello, dear. It’s all right, I’m awake. Did you have a little sleep?’

‘I dozed a bit, and it was lovely out there under the vines. There are already little grapes forming in bunches. Looks like it’ll be a bumper harvest.’

Colette nodded. ‘Shall we have a cup of tea? I’ve been lying down for long enough. I need to get up and tidy up the house. Jeanne comes in at five, so I’ve got an hour before that.’

Natalie smiled to herself. It was the carer’s job to do any tidying up for her grandmother, not the other way round. While Colette went out to the table under the trellis, Natalie went into the kitchen and made two mugs of tea. She brought them out and they sat and chatted until the carer arrived. Once Jeanne had taken over, Natalie decided to go down to the beach for another swim and maybe a drink at the beachside bar. This time, as she walked down through the pine trees, the air was scalding hot and it felt almost suffocating beneath the shelter of the branches. It was a relief to come out onto the beach. Here, at least, a light breeze cooled the air and she began to breathe easily once more. Two sailing boats were now moored to the jetty and a couple of towels on the beach showed that she would no longer be alone. However, considering it was the middle of July, it was remarkable how few people had discovered this little bay. As she stepped onto the sand, she spotted a familiar figure.

‘Hello, Charlie.’ Hearing her voice, the Labrador turned round and sprang to his feet. He had been sitting right by the water’s edge, his eyes glued on the sea. Seeing Natalie, he came trotting over, tail wagging, to greet her. She dropped down onto one knee to pet him, the heat of the sand almost unbearable under her bare skin. ‘What’re you doing down here?’ Natalie looked out to sea, following the direction of the dog’s eyes, but couldn’t spot anybody or anything in particular. She straightened up and went across to the rocks, stripping off her shorts and setting them on a warm rock along with her towel and her dark glasses. She then hopped hurriedly across the burning beach until she got to the blessed relief of the damp sand at the water’s edge and waded into the sea.

The dog followed her as far as his elbows but no further. She even picked up a few stones and threw them into the deeper water for him, but without success. It would appear that this particular Labrador was not a fan of the water, unlike most of his breed. Unable to persuade him to accompany her, Natalie left him on the beach and waded out until she could sink gratefully into the deeper water, feeling revitalised as it cooled her down. She swam slowly out, parallel with the rocky shore, diving down from time to time to check out the sea bed. She spotted shells, some patches of weed and one little crab, but nothing else of interest. However, the sea was crystal clear and she loved the sensation of the cool water on her skin and in her hair as she twisted and turned under water like a mermaid.

She was hanging on to her same mooring buoy, floating on her back with her head in the water, when she suddenly became aware of a noise and then a moment later felt something bump into her shoulder. She swung round to find it was another swimmer. Clearly he had been swimming in from the open sea with his face down and hadn’t seen her before ploughing into her. Realising his mistake, he stopped and straightened up, his expression apologetic. He shook the water out of his eyes and ran his hand across his short-cropped hair. He caught her eye and summoned a smile. ‘ Excusez moi, madame .’ Then he turned and resumed his apparently effortless front crawl back towards the shore.

Natalie’s eyes followed him as he made short work of the last hundred metres or so to the shore. As he approached the beach, she saw the dog jump to his feet, tail wagging furiously. As the man stood up and waded through the shallows, the dog came jumping and bouncing into the water to greet him. Then both turned and set off back up the same path Natalie had used on her way down through the trees. So, she thought to herself, this had to be the dog’s master and, presumably, they were returning to the old chateau. She watched as they headed up the hill into the trees, reappearing from time to time as they climbed, finally disappearing from sight somewhere up above her grandmother’s house.

All the time she was watching his retreating shoulders, she had the strangest sensation. Her shoulder, where he had bumped into her, could still feel his touch. It wasn’t pain. He hadn’t done her any harm, but her skin could still feel exactly where he had come into contact with her. Even stranger, her brain still held a crystal-clear image of his suntanned face, fair hair and blue eyes. His voice, with an accent that could maybe have been English, repeated ‘ Excusez moi, madame ’ over and over again in her head. She dipped her face into the cool water and then shook her head to clear it. What on earth was going on?

She swam slowly back to the shore, loving the cool embrace of the water, still trying to work out what had happened back there. Bemused, she walked across to her towel and patted herself down, before laying it on a clean patch of sand and stretching out on it. Gradually she managed to banish the image of the man from her head and did her best to relax. She lay there on her front for little more than ten minutes, while the sun dried her back, then she turned over and let it dry the other half of her. She was still pale after a chilly English spring, but she knew it wouldn’t take long for the sun to tan her a golden brown. Finally, almost completely dry, she got up, slipped her shorts and T-shirt back on and headed across the hot sand of the beach to the café, glad that her feet were once more protected by her sandals.