Dreaming of St-Tropez

by T A Williams

  ‘It’s all right, Jess. I can manage.’

  As she looked on, he reached over his right shoulder and removed a pair of metal crutches from a holder and rested them against the table beside him. Using his strong arms, he pushed himself up and onto his feet, holding onto the wheelchair for support. He then cautiously reached across and grabbed first one and then both crutches and transferred his weight across. His father pulled the wheelchair out of his way and David took a few hesitant steps across the courtyard until he could sink down onto one of the seats at the table.

  ‘Shall I take the crutches?’ Jess could hardly trust her voice after witnessing this laboured scene.

  ‘Thank you.’ David held them out to her and she rested them against one of the pillars. His father sat down opposite him just as Hope came across to say hello, before returning to the barbecue. For a second the two girls’ eyes met and just as quickly dropped again. As surprises went, this was one of the biggest of Jess’s life and she felt pretty sure Hope would be feeling the same way.

  ‘I’m so very glad you’ve both agreed to join us tonight.’ Jess glanced down at the bottles in the bag she was still holding. ‘Should I open the champagne?’

  ‘You choose, girls. We’re in your house.’ George was busy stroking the dog’s head, while David appeared to be more interested in the ground at his feet.

  Jess glanced across the courtyard. ‘What do you think, Hope? Champagne?’

  ‘Absolutely!’

  ‘Then champagne it is. We can celebrate the fact that Brutus has lost a kilo or two this week.’ Jess was determined to stay upbeat and to do her best to coax at least a smile out of David before the night was out.

  She hurried back to the kitchen and opened one of the bottles, putting the other in the fridge. She picked up four glasses and came back out again to find that Hope had managed to get George talking, although his son was just sitting silently, staring out over the courtyard. Jess filled the glasses, passed them round, and then took a seat alongside David, resolved to get him involved in the conversation. She would dearly have liked to ask him about his accident, but she felt this was neither the time nor the place. Instead, she stuck to the banal. Picking up her glass, she clinked it softly against his.

  ‘Cheers, David.’

  David returned his attention from wherever it had been and glanced at her briefly.

  ‘Cheers, Jess.’

  Jess took a mouthful of wine and murmured appreciatively.

  ‘What amazing wine. Thank you again.’ She searched for a possible ice-breaker. ‘Tell me, do you know the beach bar just around the coast from here on the way to St-Tropez?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, I know it.’

  ‘Have you been there recently?’

  ‘No, but I used to.’

  ‘We went there last weekend, but then we got rained out. What a storm!’

  ‘Yes it was.’

  Jess felt as if she was trying to get blood out of a stone, but she gritted her teeth and tried again, taking refuge in the old English staple in these situations: the weather.

  ‘I’ve never seen rain like it. It just bucketed down. I was lucky. A man I met there gave me a lift home, otherwise I think I might have drowned.’

  Was that a spark of interest in his eyes when she mentioned Olivier?

  ‘Yes, when it rains here, it really rains.’ Talk of the weather had at least produced an eight-word sentence from him – the longest of the evening so far.

  ‘I saw you out in it as well. I thought your beautiful car was going to slide off the track as you went down the hill.’

  ‘Yes. It certainly was slippery.’

  For some reason, Jess felt she wanted to tell him that Olivier was just a friend, nothing more, but she couldn’t think of any way of saying it without sounding a bit pathetic so, instead, she tried another topic of conversation. This time she made a point of choosing a question that had to elicit more than just ‘yes’ as an answer.

  ‘So what sort of places do you go to when you go out in the car?’

  ‘Nowhere special.’ He hesitated and she could see he was deciding whether to go into any more detail. In the end, to her relief, he did. ‘The thing is, getting in and out isn’t so easy, and, as you’ve seen, I’m still not very good on crutches. So, like I say, I just drive.’

  Jess could feel her heart bleeding for him as he spoke. If all he was doing was going out for long drives, little wonder he was depressed – however sleek and sexy the silver car was. Still trying to keep the conversation upbeat, she concentrated on the car.

  ‘Is it easy to drive – you know, seeing as you’ve got trouble with your legs?’ As she asked the question, she regretted alluding to his injuries, but he answered without any apparent difficulty.

  ‘It’s got hand controls. I don’t need to use my feet.’

  Jess gave a silent sigh of relief.

  ‘Well, it’s a gorgeous car. It looks like something out of a Bond film.’

  ‘One of the very first Bond films. It was built when Sean Connery was still a youngster.’

  ‘Jess, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.’ Jess looked up as their nascent conversation was interrupted by George’s voice. ‘You’re an architect, aren’t you?’

  ‘That’s right – although I’m an architect without a job at the moment.’

  ‘Of course. My mother said you lost your job for thumping a Russian. Is that right?’

  In spite of the emotions aroused in her by the realisation of the seriousness of David’s injuries, Jess couldn’t help smiling. As she did so, she caught David’s eye and, just for a moment, she saw what might have been a spark there. Encouraged, she set about putting the record straight.

  ‘I didn’t thump anybody, although I came close to it.’ She went on to recount her run-in with Drugoi and she saw both men shake their heads in disbelief. When she reached the end of the tale, to her delight, David was the first to react.

  ‘What a bastard.’

  Only three words, but they were just about the first she hadn’t had to prise out of him. She gave him a big smile, but he had already looked away.

  ‘And your boss doesn’t emerge from the episode with any great credit, does he?’ George took a mouthful of his drink and carried on. ‘Anyway, I was wondering if, maybe, you might like to take a look at the villa for me. You know – cast your architect’s eye over it and give me your honest opinion.’ He took another mouthful of wine. ‘My wife always said she wanted to make some changes – it is pretty dated as you must have seen. We never did anything about it and then, of course, there was her illness.’

  There was an awkward silence as Jess saw him begin to retreat into himself again, so she hastened to reply before she lost him.

  ‘I’d love to take a look, George. What sort of thing were you thinking of doing? Just cosmetic changes inside, or something more structural?’

  She was relieved to see his eyes lift and focus on her once more. A few weeks ago, that would have been much more of a struggle. This was definitely progress.

  ‘I wouldn’t want to change the character of the place too much. It’s a pretty idiosyncratic house, but that’s how it was built, and I’d like to keep that. But there are a few things I’d like changed – mainly practical things. Next time you’ve got a spare minute, why don’t you come up for a glass of wine and tell me what you think?’

  ‘I’d love to.’

  The meal turned out to be very good, and both men complimented them on the food. Hope sliced the huge steaks vertically into strips, Chateaubriand-style, and served the meat with leaves of fresh rocket and slivers of parmesan. The result was excellent and Brutus wasn’t the only one who thought it smelt wonderful. The champagne bottle was emptied pretty quickly and Jess brought out the red Burgundy she and Hope had found in the big supermarket. By the time they reached the fruit salad and ice cream, Jess felt the evening had gone really well, at least as far as George was concerned. As for David, it was hard to judge. He remain
ed fairly taciturn, but she thought she glimpsed a hint of a smile at one point when the dog did his best to climb onto Hope’s lap as she was serving the meat. However, no sooner had he finished his dessert than he made his apologies.

  ‘I’m afraid I have to get back to my computer. I’ve got a pretty important online meeting with some guys in California.’ He caught Jess’s eye for a moment. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Jess felt a pang of disappointment. Somehow, after the food and the wine, she had been hoping he would maybe have mellowed enough to start talking a bit more. Instead, she watched as he laboriously returned himself to the wheelchair. Once he was settled and the crutches returned to their holder, she accompanied him to the door. She wondered if she should offer to push the wheelchair, but he didn’t ask and he seemed competent, negotiating the little step at the door without difficulty. As she looked down at him, she could see that his powerful shoulders and arms were more than strong enough to propel himself along. Once outside in the starlight, he half-turned the chair towards her and looked up.

  ‘Thanks again, Jess. That was very kind of you and Hope. Sorry I wasn’t very good company. I did warn you.’

  ‘For somebody who claims not to have been out socially for a while, I thought you were great. I wish you could have stayed on. I’m sure there’s lots you and I could talk about.’

  ‘Well, hopefully you’ll be staying here for a good while. I’m sure we’ll have other opportunities to talk.’

  Jess was still wondering whether to shake his hand or even maybe kiss him on the cheeks when he spun the chair round again and headed back across the lawn to the gate. She saw him lift the latch and then turn his head briefly.

  ‘Good night, Jess, and thanks again.’

  It was hard to tell in just the light of the stars, but she had the impression his face might just have broken into a hint of a smile. Then the chair disappeared from sight and she walked slowly back into the house.

  George looked up as she came back to the table.

  ‘Thank you for inviting David.’ He sounded pleased.

  ‘Thank you for persuading him to come.’

  ‘That’s down to you, Jess. As recently as lunchtime he told me in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t coming. Clearly, you’re more persuasive than me.’

  ‘George… can I ask you something?’ Jess saw him nod, the expression on his face indicating that he probably knew what was coming. ‘David’s injury… how bad is it? Is he going to get better?’

  She saw George shake his head uncertainly and a wave of sadness swept through her.

  ‘Nobody knows, I’m afraid. The accident was six months ago now, and progress has been slow. All his fractures have healed well, but it’s the nerve damage that’s the big unknown. The nerves are controlled by the brain, so it’s the brain that’s the problem now.’ He looked across the table at the two of them. ‘He’s seen some of the best surgeons in the world and the consensus is that it’s unlikely he’ll ever walk properly again unless there’s some miraculous improvement in his nervous system. If not, then hobbling with a stick is about as good as it might get.’

  ‘How awful.’ Hope’s face mirrored Jess’s. ‘What was it? A car accident?’

  George shook his head slowly. ‘No. A boat.’

  ‘A boat? How did he break his legs in a boat?’

  ‘It was a powerboat, a racer. It flipped over and crashed at high speed. He was into all those high-octane sports – hang gliding, climbing, skiing, motor racing, powerboat racing. You name it, he did it.’ He looked up slowly. ‘He knew the risks, but that never stopped him. It’s tragic, really tragic.’ His voice tailed off and Jess dived in to rescue the evening from descending into a case of what the French call vin triste.

  ‘He’s young, he’s strong, he’s fit. I’m sure he’ll be able to progress.’

  ‘I’m not sure he wants to, Jess.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He’s always been an all or nothing sort of boy. Now that he finds himself in a wheelchair, it’s as if his life’s finished. It’s a vicious circle. Until he decides he wants to try to get better, and that means intensive physiotherapy, he won’t be able to improve. At least for now, he’s still clinically depressed and he says he can’t be bothered to do as the doctors say. And that means that any physical improvement just isn’t happening as it should. The doctors say it’s got to come from him and, so far, it hasn’t.’

  ‘How awful. So he just doesn’t want to help himself?’

  ‘Something like that. Mind you, I haven’t been much help since Babette’s death. I’m afraid my depressed state hasn’t made me much of a role model for him.’

  ‘But you’re sounding more positive now, even compared to just last week. You’re definitely improving, so maybe he can.’

  Jess and Hope between them managed to turn the conversation away from this morbid subject, mainly by getting George to talk about his work in the garden and the sort of changes he had in mind for the villa. When he finally left half an hour later, he managed a big smile to both of them as they kissed him on the cheeks. They watched him as he walked over to the little gate and disappeared.

  Jess turned to Hope and directed a finger towards the dog who was standing at the door, his tail wagging hopefully.

  ‘Shall we take Brutus out for a walk?’

  They decided to avoid the beach and headed inland, up a path they had discovered through the scrub that looped round before returning to the villa. As they walked, they discussed the evening’s events. Uppermost in both their minds was David and his wheelchair. As ever, Hope lived up to her name.

  ‘The fact that he’s able to walk with sticks, crutches, that’s good, isn’t it? At least that means he can get out of the chair and move about.’

  ‘But his dad says he doesn’t want to. It’s as if he doesn’t want to get better.’

  ‘It must have been a terrible shock to the system, specially if he was such an adrenaline junkie before. And don’t forget – his mum died just last year. What he needs, Jess, is for you to help him regain the will to live.’

  ‘Me, why me?’

  ‘Because it’s obvious he fancies you, that’s why.’

  ‘It’s obvious… what?’

  ‘He fancies you. And it’s as plain as the nose on your face that you fancy him. You need to step in and get involved.’

  Jess was speechless. First, she had had no idea that her attraction towards David – which she was honest enough to acknowledge at least to herself – had been so apparent. But second and more puzzling was how Hope could possibly think that David found her attractive. He had barely looked at her all evening and his responses to her attempts at conversation had been little more than monosyllabic.

  ‘I don’t see it, Hope. Besides, I’m no medical practitioner. I don’t know the first thing about depression – or broken legs for that matter.’

  ‘You heard his dad. David’s got medical practitioners coming out of his ears, but he isn’t listening to them. What he needs is somebody to get his spirits up – and you’re the girl for the job.’

  They walked in silence for a little while before Jess came to a decision. And this decision – she told herself – had nothing to do with any possible attraction either she or David might feel for the other. David’s grandmother in London had asked her to do her best to help both men. So far, David’s father seemed to be doing better – whether as a result of her presence or quite possibly the arrival of the dog. Now it was the son’s turn. She glanced across at Hope’s shadow beside her.

  ‘If I can help, I will.’

  Chapter 12

  The next night they walked round to the beach bar again. This time there was no risk of rain and the sky was clear and cloudless as the sun slipped towards the horizon. The air temperature was still high and both of them had opted for their lightest clothes. Jess even let Hope persuade her to walk along the beach to the bar with her feet in the water and she had to admit that the sea temperature was now a go
od bit warmer. Maybe she would be joining Hope and Brutus in the sea before long.

  They got there early, before too many people had appeared. Jess looked around but saw no sign of Olivier yet and hoped he would keep his promise of coming to meet her. She was looking forward to seeing the handsome, cultured Frenchman again. This relative calm gave her the opportunity to talk to Terri as she sipped a glass of cold mineral water. After the champagne and red wine the previous night, she had decided to give it a little while before starting on the rum punch.

  ‘Terri, do you know a guy called David? David Dupont?’

  A shadow fell across the waitress’s face. ‘Of course I know him. We all know him. You’ve heard about the accident?’

  ‘I heard he crashed a powerboat.’

  Terri nodded. ‘It was right out here.’ She pointed out into the shadows of the gulf. ‘He had this amazing powerboat. He used to race it and he used to win a lot of races.’

  ‘And the accident was during a race?’

  ‘Yes, but he didn’t hit another boat. He hit something under the water – a container, I think they said it was.’

  ‘Wow!’

  ‘You know Pete, the muscleman? You should ask him. He was racing in another boat and he saw the whole thing.’

  A few seconds later, Hope joined in the conversation.

  ‘Terri, there’s something else we were wondering…’

  Jess looked across at Hope, wondering what she was going to ask. She took a sip of mineral water and let the ice cube rest on her tongue, melting in her mouth.

  ‘Did he, does he, have a wife or girlfriend?’

  Jess jerked upright, appalled. As she did so, she choked, coughed, and the ice cube shot across the table into Hope’s lap. Blushing, she hastily apologised. Hope struggled masterfully not to giggle out loud. Fortunately, Terri had been looking over her shoulder and had noticed nothing. She turned back and answered Hope’s question as Jess mopped her face and did her best to stop her cheeks from burning.