What Happens at the Beach.... T Williams A
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course, Natalie. Maybe we can do this again some other time.’
They both stood up and she saw that he was, indeed, an inch or so shorter than her. She smiled again and gave him a little wave of the hand as she left. He smiled back.
‘I look forward to seeing you again. I would like to have the chance to get to know you so much better.’
‘I’m sure we’ll meet again. Goodnight, Philippe.’
‘Goodnight, Natalie.’
As Natalie walked back up the path to her grandmother’s house, she found herself thinking about Philippe, but also about Mark and Rémy. Philippe was undeniably handsome, gentle and considerate and she really did hope she would see him again. It would be nice to have a kind, gentle man as a friend. As for the hunky fisherman, she was sensible enough to know that, physically attractive as he undeniably was, she had no intention of embarking on a wild fling with him. He, too, was a handsome man, but she knew that, at the ripe old age of thirty, she wanted more than just a quick physical affair, however stimulating that might appear to whichever part of the brain it is that channels basic instincts like lust.
And then there was Mark. Ever since his taut, muscular body had brushed against hers out in the bay, she had been unable to shake him out of her head. Of course, she told herself, it could just be because she was already head over heels in love with his four-legged friend. She was smiling to herself as she walked through the trees.
When she got back to the house, her grandmother was sitting up in bed reading. Natalie went in and sat with her, recounting the events of the evening, including the attentions of Philippe Chevalier. As she spoke, she reflected that this was probably the very first time she had ever spoken to her grandmother about a man taking an interest in her. Previously, revelations like this would have been anathema. Strangely, she now found herself not only able, but keen, to share this sort of subject with her. As for her grandmother, from the sparkle in her eyes, she thoroughly enjoyed hearing all about it, presumably being reminded of her own youth.
‘He sounds rather nice. But, of course, you don’t need to go looking for a man, do you?’
‘Absolutely not, not at all. It wasn’t like that. I think he just wants to be friends. And that’s the way I feel about him, too.’
Her grandmother looked across at her, a more serious expression on her face. ‘Well, just you remember, he’s a man after all, and you’re a very beautiful girl. Just you be careful.’
‘Of course.’ Natalie grinned at her. ‘You do wonders for my self-esteem, Gran.’ Natalie leant over and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Anyway, I’d better go and check my emails in case there’s already a reply from this Evelyn lady.’
Back in her room, she found that there was indeed a reply from Evelyn Markeson.
Dear Doctor Dryden
Thank you very much for your email. Your background and experience along with your qualifications would appear to make you an ideal candidate for the position. Also, the fact that we are both currently in the south of France is providential. Could we meet up?
As I am very keen to tie this up as soon as possible, I wonder if you might be free for interview as soon as tomorrow or the next day? You write that you are near Perpignan, so how about meeting for lunch together at a restaurant called les Vagues in Collioure, at 12.30, if that suits? It’s close to the beach and the food is reputed to be very good. Alternatively, if you prefer another location, day or time, just tell me and I will meet you there.
I look forward to hearing from you and, hopefully, to meeting you.
Kind regards
Evelyn Markeson
Natalie picked up the laptop and ran back into her grandmother’s room, an unexpected lump in her throat. She found she couldn’t say a word, as emotion threatened to overwhelm her, so she just passed the computer to Colette and sat down on the bed beside her, searching in her pocket for a tissue. Colette read the email and looked up, clearly concerned to see her granddaughter in tears.
‘What is it, Natalie? Why’re you crying? Isn’t this good news?’
Natalie nodded mutely, still wiping the tears from her eyes. Finally, she pulled herself together. ‘Sorry about that. Yes, of course it’s good news. In fact, it’s excellent news. I wasn’t crying about that.’ She blew her nose on her handkerchief and stuffed it back in the pocket of her shorts. ‘It’s just that this is the first time I’ve ever been addressed as Doctor Dryden. That was dad, and now it’s me. After all the years of hard work, it barely seems real.’
Her grandmother held out her arms and Natalie collapsed against her, the tears returning once more. Colette stroked her hair just as she used to do when Natalie was a little girl and this only made her cry all the more. It was quite some time before she managed to restore some sort of self-control and she sat up, wiping her eyes and doing her best to get a grip. Colette pointed to the message on the computer screen.
‘The lady has good taste. Les Vagues is far and away the best restaurant in Collioure. I believe it’s now got a Michelin star. You should eat very well there. When are you going to meet her?’
‘I think I’ll go tomorrow, if it’s all right with you? The sooner the better.’
‘Tomorrow’s fine with me. There’s still quiche left in the fridge from today and there’s all that ham that needs eating. I’ll be fine.’
Natalie smiled at her. ‘Right, then; if you’re sure, I’ll go and send her an email.’ She stood up and ran her hands through her hair. ‘I’ll wash my hair tomorrow morning after my swim. I’d better try to make a good impression.’
‘You’ll make a lovely impression, Doctor Dryden.’
This time Natalie managed to smile back at her. It really did sound rather good.
Natalie drove up the coast to Collioure and parked in a car park away from the centre of town. As it was the month of August, this famous little seaside town was packed with holidaymakers keen to experience the scenery that had attracted famous artists like Matisse and Derain. She made a point of getting there well in advance of the agreed time of half past twelve and walked down through the claustrophobically packed streets to the quayside where traditional, brightly painted old wooden fishing boats had been augmented, at least for now, by a flotilla of modern yachts. Natalie wondered as she looked out across the harbour whether Philippe Chevalier kept his yacht here.
She made her way slowly round the bay, marvelling at the crowds of people thronging the streets, until she found the restaurant. She checked her watch: twenty-five past twelve. Perfect. She told the headwaiter that she was looking for Doctor Markeson and saw that the man had already been primed. He nodded and led her out onto a panoramic terrace, perched above the gravel beach and the transparent sea. And it was here that Natalie got a surprise, a big surprise, as she followed the waiter across to the end table, on the corner of the terrace. As they got there, a large black shape emerged from beneath the table, tail wagging furiously, and stood up on his hind legs to greet her. Natalie stopped dead in amazement, the familiar tingling in her body telling her who it was sitting at the table. She looked down at the dog.
‘Charlie… Barney?’ There was no doubt about it. It was him all right. And sitting at the table was Mark, his owner. She was momentarily lost for words. ‘Um, what a surprise to see you, Mark.’ And, she had to admit to herself, a very pleasant one. ‘I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. I’m here looking for a lady called Doctor Markeson.’
‘Natalie? You’re Natalie Dryden?’ He sounded as surprised as she did. ‘It never occurred to me that it might be you. Barney, get off her and lie down. You’re only allowed in here if you behave yourself.’ As the dog retired to his position under the table