What Happens at the Beach.... T Williams A
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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.
She climbed the flight of stone steps to the terrace and took a seat at one of the tables there, sheltering from the direct sunlight under the umbrella. One other table was occupied by a couple, and a pretty, dark-haired girl was in the process of serving them what looked like a bottle of Blanquette de Limoux, the local fizz. Natalie knew she wanted something non-alcoholic, so when another, slightly older, waitress came out, she ordered an ice tea. When it arrived, she sat back, took a big mouthful and let it trickle down her throat as she surveyed the view. Colette was right. It hadn’t changed, even if they had.
From where she was sitting, she could see right across the beach to the other side. The sun was now shining almost directly into the little bay and there was very little shade to be found apart from the shadows between some of the bigger rocks on the far side. Here, under the umbrella, it felt comfortably cool as the gentle breeze off the water kept the warm air moving. She studied the two sailing boats moored to the quay. It was only a tiny landing stage and two boats were about as many as could fit alongside. She saw the heads of a couple of people in one boat, sitting under an awning, while the other looked empty. Maybe the occupants were down below. Then, as she was sipping her drink, taking in the old familiar view and remembering so many happy times she had spent down here on the beach, she heard footsteps behind her and a voice.
‘Natalie? Is that you?’ It was a man’s voice and he sounded hesitant. She turned and looked up. From the apron he was wearing around his waist, it was clear that he worked there. She pulled off her sunglasses and took a good look at his face. It didn’t take long for it to dawn on her that she did indeed know him.
‘Alain? Little Alain? Is that you?’ There was nothing little about him now. He was taller than she was and his stomach was already bulging over the top of his white apron. His shoulders were broad and his arms, covered in a mat of dark hair, looked strong. His dark eyes were smiling at her from his swarthy face.
‘I thought it was you.’ He sounded really pleased to see her and she realised that she felt the same way. She stood up and gave him a hug, kissing him on the cheeks, trying to remember the last time she had seen him. He turned and called back through the door into the bar. ‘Dominique, you were right. It is her. It’s Natalie.’
‘Dominique?’ It was all coming back to Natalie now. She had known Alain since they were little kids playing together in the sand. He was a couple of years younger than her, hence the epithet little. The last time she had seen him had been in her late teens and she vaguely remembered him proudly introducing her to his girlfriend. And her name had been Dominique. As the waitress who had served her emerged through the multi-coloured fly screen, wiping her hands on a cloth, Natalie took a better look at her and realised this was the same girl. She gave her a big smile. Behind her, the head of the younger waitress peered out of the door at them with interest.
‘Last time I saw you, Alain, you told me you were going to marry your girlfriend.’ Natalie glanced down at the gold rings on both their hands. ‘So you did it. Congratulations to you both.’ She kissed Dominique on both cheeks and looked across at the two of them, indicating the empty chairs at her table. ‘Time to join me?’
‘Not now, I’m afraid. I’m up to my eyes getting ready for tonight’s dinner.’ Alain was smiling broadly. ‘I’ve got a whole heap of things cooking at the moment and a lot more to prepare. Are you any good at opening oysters by any chance?’
Natalie shook her head. ‘I only tried once and this was the result.’ She held up her left hand and showed them the faint pale scar where the pointed knife had slipped off the oyster’s shell and