Dreaming of St-Tropez

by T A Williams

  The track curled gently down the hillside towards a pair of wrought iron gates, set between hefty brick pillars. Wire fencing stretched out on either side, behind it a mass of greenery, topped with the unmistakable shape of massive old umbrella pines. Just visible among these were glimpses of pink roof tiles. And the whole estate was positioned virtually at the waterside.

  ‘Blimey, what a place…’

  Jess coasted down to the gates and stopped. Sure enough – there was a wooden sign on the gatepost marked Les Romarins. She was just about to get out and ring the bell, when a yellow light on the gatepost began to flash and the gates started to open inwards. The two girls exchanged glances.

  ‘That’s a bit creepy. There must be video surveillance or something.’

  Jess peered around, but couldn’t see a camera. The sensation of being watched was a bit spooky, but a few seconds later, she discovered that the explanation was far less sinister. As the gates opened fully and she was about to pull the gear lever into Drive, the nose of another vehicle appeared, coming out towards them. Presumably this was why the gates had opened – not some clandestine surveillance operation, after all.

  The car that emerged from the gates was amazing. It was an old open-topped sports car and it looked like something out of a James Bond film – slick, silver and very sexy.

  ‘That’s an E-Type Jaguar.’

  Jess was mildly surprised to hear Hope demonstrating a hitherto unsuspected expertise in identifying classic sports cars, but what was even more surprising was the fact that she found herself much more interested in the driver. He was probably around her age, maybe a little older, maybe in his mid-thirties. He wasn’t classically handsome like the Ferrari driver back on the main road, but there was something about him that stirred sensations in Jess she hadn’t felt for a good long time. His face wasn’t particularly tanned, he didn’t look particularly cheerful, his short-cropped brown hair wasn’t particularly stylish, and his nose looked as if it had been broken at some point, but she just couldn’t keep her eyes off him.

  As his car drew level, she leaned towards the open window with a smile, ready to introduce herself, but, to her surprise, he didn’t stop. For a second he glanced in her direction and they made eye contact, but then, just as quickly, he looked away. The next moment, there was a throaty rumble, the noise of wheels spinning in the gravel, and the silver car shot off up the hill, raising a thick cloud of dust in its wake. As the cloud rolled towards them, Jess hastily closed the windows again, but not before a good bit of dust had made its way into the car. She reached for a tissue to blow her nose and heard the dog in the back start sneezing.

  ‘That was a bit rude.’ Hope coughed to clear her throat.

  ‘That was bloody rude.’

  Jess blew her nose and glanced in the door mirror just in time to see the silver car disappear over the crest behind them, the dust plume in its wake making it look as though the car was on fire. But even through her annoyance, she couldn’t stop thinking about the man in the car and, in particular, his amazing cornflower-blue eyes. She had only glimpsed them for a second, but she felt sure she would be able to pick them out again from among a thousand others.

  She ran her hand across her face and wiped the dust from her brow, shaking her head to return her thoughts to the here and now.

  ‘So who do we think that was?’ Hope asked the same question that was running through Jess’s mind. ‘He’s surely too young to be old Mrs Dupont’s son, isn’t he? Might he be a grandson? Did she talk about a grandson?’

  ‘Nope, but you’re right. Her son’s got to be in his fifties or sixties. Maybe that guy was just visiting.’

  ‘Well, he can come and visit me any time he wants. What a hunk!’

  Looking out of the windscreen, through the dissipating dust cloud, Jess noticed that the gates were once more closed. She opened the windows again and glanced over at Hope.

  ‘Feel like jumping out and pressing the button?’

  Hope climbed out, went across to the bell on the gatepost and pressed it. She had a pretty long wait. After a while, she pressed it again, glancing round at Jess and shrugging her shoulders helplessly. Then, finally, there was a crackle and, even from the driver’s seat, Jess quite clearly heard a disembodied voice answer.

  ‘Bonjour, oui?’ It was a woman’s voice.

  ‘Um… Bonjour, nous avons porté le chien.’

  ‘Le chien?’

  ‘Yes. Le chien de Mrs Dupont. The dog from London?’

  Hope’s schoolgirl French was beginning to fray at the edges.

  ‘Mrs Dupont in London? Did you say London? You’ve brought a dog – un chien?’

  Jess was relieved to hear that the woman’s English sounded fluent – certainly more fluent than their French – but she was dismayed that the voice on the other end of the line didn’t appear to be expecting them. She slipped out of the driving seat and went over to provide moral support to Hope.

  ‘Bonjour. My name is Jessica Milton. We’ve been asked by Mrs Dupont in London to bring her dog over to her son for three months, while she goes away on holiday.’

  There was silence for a few moments, before they heard the voice again, unmistakable exasperation in her tone.

  ‘Ah, I see. Well, you’d better come in. I will open the gate.’

  ‘Merci.’ They both climbed back into the car as the yellow light started flashing once more. They looked at each other. Jess was the first to speak.

  ‘I’m glad she speaks English, but it doesn’t sound good, does it? I rather think nobody’s told them we’re coming.’

  ‘But your Mrs Dupont said she’d spoken to her son, didn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, but she also said he was a bit absent-minded. Maybe he forgot to pass on the message.’

  ‘Oh, bugger.’

  Chapter 5

  Once the gates had swung open, Jess manoeuvred the big vehicle in through them and onto a gravelled drive, bordered by colourful oleander bushes – some of them bigger and taller than their car. The pink, red and white flowers made a delightful display as they passed through them, and provided welcome shade. After a short distance, the drive widened into a large circular area of gravel in front of the villa, with a massive umbrella pine in the middle, providing more shade.

  The villa was recognisably the same one they had seen on the computer but, close up, it looked even lovelier. As Jess had deduced, it was built in the old Provençal style – ochre walls, pink roof tiles, and dusty green shutters. It looked as if it had some rooms in the roof and, presumably, wonderful views of the sea from the far side. It was difficult to tell whether this was a genuinely ancient property or a modern recreation of something traditional. Jess’s gut feeling was that it wasn’t very old, but, either way, it was amazing.

  They drew up in front of a short flight of steps leading to the main door, tucked beneath a pillared porch, with rose beds on either side. Jess turned off the engine and climbed out, stretching as she did so. She felt a bit dishevelled after so long in the car, but she had to admit that the eight hundred kilometres they had driven that day had been remarkably smooth in the big vehicle.

  She walked round to the back and opened the tailgate. Brutus greeted her with a wag of the tail and an attempt to lick her face as she helped him down to the ground. Clearly, the journey hadn’t done him any harm. Jess made a mental note to call Mrs Dupont to let her know all had gone well. As the dog sauntered over to the base of the pine tree to relieve himself, the front door opened and a dark-haired woman, probably in her forties, appeared. She looked stressed.

  ‘Bonjour.’ She glanced across at Brutus dubiously. ‘You said you have brought a dog?’

  Jess went over to her. ‘Yes, I’m Jessica, but everybody calls me Jess. And this is my friend Hope. We were asked by Mrs Dupont to bring her dog over here. She said we could stay here for a few weeks to look after him.’

  ‘Stay here?’ The woman looked positively shell-shocked.

  A feeling of foreboding d
escended upon Jess.

  ‘She said something about a separate guest house in a corner of the garden?’

  Comprehension dawned in the woman’s eyes. There was a pause while she took stock and then she ran a tired hand through her black hair, before holding it out to them in greeting.

  ‘Welcome to Les Romarins, Jessica… Jess – and you, Hope. My name is Antoinette and I’m Monsieur Dupont’s housekeeper. I’m afraid Monsieur Dupont must have forgotten to mention that you were coming. I’m so sorry. I haven’t prepared anything. If I’d known you were coming…’

  From her tone, it was pretty clear that this wasn’t the first time Monsieur Dupont had forgotten to keep her informed. The exasperation they had heard earlier was now understandable. Jess was quick to reassure her.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Antoinette. Just point us in the right direction and we’ll be fine. Anyway, you can tell Monsieur Dupont that Brutus the dog has arrived safe and sound.’

  They both glanced across to the pine tree, where Brutus, mission accomplished, was still sniffing around happily. Sensing himself being watched, he turned and trotted across towards them, tail wagging lazily.

  ‘Brutus, this is Antoinette. Say hello nicely.’

  ‘What a handsome-looking dog, although…’ Antoinette still sounded a bit uncertain. She glanced up at Jess as she scratched his ears. ‘Although it looks as though he likes his food quite a lot.’

  ‘Oh yes. Brutus certainly likes his food. In fact, Hope and I feel he would benefit from going on a diet. I’m sure he doesn’t share our opinion, but it’ll be in his interests.’ Jess glanced around. ‘Is Monsieur Dupont at home? I bring greetings to him from his mother in London.’

  ‘Monsieur Dupont is home, but he’s in his room. He told me he didn’t want to be disturbed.’

  So not only did he forget to mention we were coming, he can’t be bothered to come down and say hello. Jess was saddened, but unsurprised. By the sound of it, he was out of the same mould as the driver of the silver sports car – money but no manners. She did her best to banish memories of Rafael and suppressed a sigh as Antoinette carried on.

  ‘Now, just let me pop back into the house to get the keys and I can accompany you to your house. I’m afraid it’ll be a bit dusty, but we’ll soon have it looking clean and tidy again.’ For the first time, she managed to muster a smile. ‘Actually, I’m very pleased you’re going to be staying for a while, although it would have been nice to have been told…. We so rarely get visitors these days.’ There was regret in Antoinette’s voice. Glancing over her shoulder to be sure she wasn’t overheard, she lowered her voice. ‘Monsieur Dupont lives a very solitary life nowadays, I’m afraid.’

  ‘We saw another man, just as we arrived. In a silver sports car?’ Jess couldn’t restrain her curiosity.

  ‘That was Monsieur Dupont’s son – David.’

  Jess waited for Antoinette to say more, but she didn’t. There was a brief, but awkward, pause that Jess would dearly have liked to break, but the housekeeper disappeared back into the house without a word.

  Inexplicably disappointed not to have learned more about Monsieur Dupont’s son, David, Jess exchanged glances with Hope once more.

  ‘What a balls-up.’

  ‘You can say that again. Thank goodness the housekeeper was here. Otherwise we might well still be sitting outside the gate. Fancy forgetting to tell her…!’

  Less than a minute later, Antoinette reappeared.

  ‘If you’d like to come with me, you’ll be staying down here.’

  She pointed down a gravel path that led towards an old brick wall – all but concealed beneath a magnificent purple bougainvillea.

  ‘We can leave your things in the car for now. Come and let me show you the guest house. My apologies once more. You’re going to find it in a bit of a state, I’m afraid.’ She turned towards Jess. ‘Did you say you were staying for a while?’

  ‘Well, hopefully a month or so, maybe more. Until our money runs out.’

  Antoinette smiled at her – this time looking more relaxed. ‘And it will run out pretty fast in St-Tropez if you go to the wrong places. I’ll have to tell you where to go and where to avoid.’

  ‘That would be very, very useful.’

  Jess and Hope followed Antoinette down the path and through an archway in the brick wall. Brutus trotted alongside them. It was probably just a side effect of spending two days in a car, but he appeared unusually full of beans and Jess hoped that maybe his new diet was beginning to give him a bit more energy.

  The archway led into a walled garden. The first sensations upon entering the garden were the wonderful scent of flowers and the persistent buzzing of bees. The gravel path split and fanned out into three separate paths, one to the left, one to the right and one straight on. Each of the paths was bordered by overgrown box hedges. The flower beds themselves were full of roses of all colours, as well as bright blue lavender and taller purple flowers that Jess didn’t recognise. Alas, they were also full of weeds and brambles and clearly hadn’t been cared for in a good while. In the middle of the garden was a little wooden arbour, submerged beneath a mass of pink flowers, with a bench set inside, in the shade. The whole place smelt and looked delightful, if a bit unkempt.

  ‘What a lovely garden.’ Jess nodded at Hope.

  ‘Yes, indeed. And what a fabulous scent in the air.’ Hope smiled back, her eyes misty. ‘I’ve never been anywhere like this.’

  ‘It’s terribly neglected, I’m afraid. Monsieur Dupont used to do it all himself, but he’s hardly been out of his room for months now. Luckily, there’s no shortage of water here. We have three wells at Les Romarins and an automatic watering system, so the plants are still surviving amidst the weeds.’

  They walked past the arbour to the far corner of the garden, where a wooden door was set in another arch.

  ‘Your house is through here.’

  Pushing the door open, Antoinette led them through into what would become their home for the next few weeks, maybe months.

  In front of them was a patch of what had once no doubt been lawn, but which was now an unruly mixture of weeds and long grass. Beyond this was a charming building that stopped Jess in her tracks. It was totally different from the villa itself. Gone was the rustic, Provençal look of the main house. Here they suddenly found themselves in ancient Greece. The building was a single-storey, all-white affair, with a flat roof. A line of Doric columns ran along the front, beneath which was a delightful shady terrace. In the middle of the lawn, directly in front of the entrance, was a white marble statue of a naked goddess in classic Greek style, her robe just preserving her modesty, her long hair coiled up on her head with a few locks hanging to her shoulders.

  ‘Aphrodite herself! What a place!’ Jess turned to Antoinette. ‘Is this old?’

  Antoinette shook her head. ‘Not very old – just a hundred years or so. I believe it was built in the nineteen-twenties. In fact, I remember hearing that the Germans used it for storing ammunition before the invasion.’

  ‘Invasion?’

  ‘Yes, in 1944, just after the Normandy landings, when the Allies came up from Italy and invaded, right here and along the coast.’

  This was news to Jess. ‘So, there was fighting here in St-Tropez?’

  ‘Yes, indeed. The original villa was badly damaged by shelling and rebuilt after the war. But this little house was untouched.’

  It was like walking into an ancient Greek temple. The house was bigger than it looked, with a little internal courtyard ringed with more columns, in the centre of which was another beautiful statue on a plinth – this time of a completely naked woman bearing a vase in her hands. There were two bedrooms – each with its own marble-clad bathroom – a fine modern kitchen, and a large open-plan living area opening onto the courtyard. In here there was a dining table with seating for eight, and a pair of leather sofas facing a huge TV screen. There was also a thriving colony of spiders, whose webs were all over the place. As Jess walke
d into the kitchen, something caught in her hair and she shook it off. In her profession, spiders were commonplace, but she still didn’t really like them.

  ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t know you were coming. I would have cleaned it up for you.’ Antoinette sounded mortified and Jess was quick to reassure her.

  ‘Don’t worry about it. Please. We’ll soon have it tidied up. We’ve got nothing else to do apart from feeding and walking the dog. Leave it to us. Really.’ Jess glanced at Hope, whose eyes were wide with appreciation – spiders or no spiders. ‘What a fantastic place.’

  ‘I’ve never been anywhere like this in my life.’ Hope repeated her mantra as she glanced down at her feet where the Labrador was rolling happily on the cool marble slabs, raising a cloud of dust as he did so. ‘And I get the feeling Brutus approves.’

  Antoinette was opening doors and checking cupboards.

  ‘I’ve turned the fridge on and it should be cold in an hour or two. There are bottles of water and wine in the cupboards, but I wouldn’t touch anything else – or at least check the expiry dates first. The last time anybody stayed here must be at least a year ago and it’ll all be stale.’

  She glanced at her watch.

  ‘I’m sure the last thing you want to do is to go shopping tonight. Leave it to me. I’ll pop back up to the house and fetch fresh sheets and towels for you and, while I’m at it, I’ll bring you something to eat tonight and for breakfast tomorrow.’

  ‘Please don’t go to any bother on our account, Antoinette. We can cope.’

  ‘That’s very sweet of you, Jess, but you must think we’re absolutely awful. Fancy Mr Dupont not telling me you were coming!’

  ‘Really, it’s okay.’

  Antoinette disappeared back to the villa to get their linen, leaving the two girls standing in the kitchen.

  ‘This is one hell of a place! Cheer up, Jess. All right, it’s a bit dusty, but we’ll get that sorted.’ Hope was sounding upbeat.