Dreaming of St-Tropez

by T A Williams

  ‘See what I mean? And then, there’s the question of work. I’m not sure I’d enjoy serving ice cream for the rest of my life – even if I could get a job in the first place. The thing is – I’m an architect and I enjoy being an architect.’

  ‘They need architects here, you can be quite sure. You’ve seen how much building and renovating’s going on all over the place. If I were you, I’d check that out. You never know, with your experience of high-end clients, it seems to me you’d be perfect here.’

  ‘Apart from the fact that my French isn’t anything like good enough.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about that. I’ve heard your French – it’s pretty good, you know – and the longer you stay here the better it’ll get. Besides, having a native English speaker might be a positive bonus for a firm here. So many of the properties belong to people who speak a lot less French than you do.’

  Jess carried on slowly eating her way through her gorgeous ice cream, dreaming of somehow managing to make this temporary moment of bliss last a lifetime. Maybe she would check out architectural firms in the area as he had suggested. Then, as she took a big mouthful of mineral water and gazed out across the harbour, a thought occurred to her.

  ‘You know, Olivier, for years now I’ve been laughing at Hope. She’s always been dreaming of St-Tropez – almost for as long as I’ve known her. But you know something? She was right. This place really is wonderful, and now I’ve caught the bug. I’m the one who’s dreaming – dreaming of staying here.’

  The thought of Hope made her look up and search along the harbour for the Helios. In fact, the yacht was less than a hundred metres or so from where they were, and she wondered yet again how Hope’s meeting with Max had gone.

  Chapter 18

  Hope’s meeting with Max went very well.

  As Jess was walking back to the villa later on, she got a text:

  All good with Max. Am staying on the boat tonight. See you tomorrow. X

  Jess sent back a smiley face and rejoiced for her.

  When she got home, it was almost six o’clock, but the sun was still hot. She found the ever-slimmer and more energetic Brutus delighted to see her and even happier to go for a swim in the sea. This time, she decided the water was warm enough for her to join him, so she pinned her hair up, changed into a bikini, and followed him down to the beach. As the dog splashed excitedly into the water, she waded out until she could duck down and let the cool water cover her shoulders. It felt wonderful. Compared to the pool, the salt water was very buoyant, and it was easy to swim lazily out in the wake of the Labrador. When they were a good distance from the shore, she rolled over and floated on her back, doing her best to keep her hair out of the water, and looked up at the villa on the hillside above.

  There was a figure on the terrace, but she couldn’t make out if it was David, his father or Antoinette. Now, for the first time since he had given her the flowers, she allowed herself to think about David, and she felt a warm glow of happiness spread throughout her body – in spite of the cool sea water. He had sounded positive, contrite and caring. Of course, he had in no way declared undying love for her, but his attitude had been friendly, maybe more. She thought back on the words he had used and did her best to analyse them.

  He had apologised, then he had thanked her, and he had said that thing about her helping him ‘more than she realised’, just by being here. Surely this implied a depth of feeling towards her that he maybe couldn’t bring himself to admit. Or did it?

  The trouble was, of course, that they were two very different animals.

  David was a millionaire, probably a multi-millionaire. His background, upbringing and lifestyle up to the accident had been very, very different from hers. She had already had the experience of dating a millionaire in London and it hadn’t worked out. Terri at the beach bar had been in no doubt that there had been a long line of girls only too willing to hook up with him – and, no doubt, a lot of them had done just that. Jess herself had never had a line of men chasing after her – or, if she had, she wasn’t aware of it – and she certainly hadn’t leapt in and out of relationships with abandon. Very much the opposite, in fact.

  At university there had been a couple of relatively serious boyfriends, but they hadn’t lasted and, since qualifying and settling into the job in London, there had only been Rafael. Although she had launched into that relationship with enthusiasm and optimism, the difference between their two lifestyles had gradually eroded the love she had felt for him. In consequence, she now found herself on her own and up to now, she really hadn’t minded. She had had her parents, good friends like Hope, and her job. Now, suddenly, she found herself with the free time to consider what she really wanted out of her life, and two things were emerging from the pack.

  Put simply, she wanted to live in this little piece of paradise forever and she wanted David – irrespective of his wealthy background. But she was pragmatic enough to realise that neither looked like a realistic proposition. Both were lovely dreams, but dreams – unless in fairy tales – rarely come true.

  Her meditations were interrupted by the arrival of a big furry lump. Delighted to find her down at his level, Brutus appeared from behind her and did his best to climb onto her shoulders, pushing her head underwater and soaking her hair in the process. She emerged spitting and coughing and subjected him to a withering look.

  ‘Brutus, you don’t do that to a girl who only washed her hair this morning. Shame on you.’

  He looked anything but ashamed and paddled back towards her and nuzzled her with his nose. Unable to maintain the stern expression, she patted his head and started swimming back to the shore. One thing about dogs, she thought to herself – you’re never alone when you’ve got one.

  She climbed out of the water and rubbed her hair with the towel, feeling it stiff with salt, before stretching out on a flat rock to dry out in the sun. The rock was hot, but tolerable, and she felt cosy and relaxed. Beside her, the dog rolled around on his back in the sand, making happy grunting noises, and Jess reflected she would no doubt have to wash not only her hair, but the dog as well, when they got back to the house.

  She had been lying there for ten minutes or so and her bikini was already almost dry when she heard movement from Brutus and then a voice.

  ‘Hi, Jess, had a good swim?’

  She looked up and smiled. George was crouching on the beach, saying hello to the dog.

  ‘Hi, George. Yes, I’ve had a lovely time.’

  ‘All right if I join you?’

  ‘Of course.’ She sat up and moved across so he could sit down beside her, both of them looking out to sea.

  ‘I’ve just had a bit of good news.’

  Jess looked across at him.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘At lunch today, David was looking and sounding more cheerful. He really does seem to have bucked up since you got here. The good news is that he told me he’s spoken to his doctor, and he’s going to start an intensive course of physiotherapy.’

  ‘That’s good, but I’m surprised he hasn’t been doing that already.’

  ‘He’s done some, but not as much as he should be doing. They’ve been at him for weeks to start making a real effort, but he’s been so depressed, he’s been putting it off. Anyway, starting on Wednesday, he’s going to have regular daily sessions.’

  ‘Well, that really is good news. I’m so glad for him.’

  ‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – a lot of the improvement is down to you. Thank you once more.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s not me, really, but you – and he – are very welcome if I have had a hand in it. Anyway, I’ve got some good news as well.’ She told him about the text she had received from Hope. ‘So it seems pretty definite we’re going to stay on for the rest of the summer, if you’re sure we won’t be in the way. And of course I’ll be happy to keep an eye on the works on the villa.’

  ‘Excellent news. I’ll ring Mum and tell her. She’ll be deli
ghted. And, Jess, I’ve got some news of my own. Last night, I went out.’ He saw her eyebrows raise. ‘Yes, out into the big, wide world.’ He smiled at her. ‘All on my own.’

  ‘George, that’s amazing. Fantastic.’ Jess beamed back at him. This really was progress.

  ‘When I was out for a walk with the dog yesterday, I bumped into a couple of my oldest friends.’ His smile turned to one of regret. ‘I’ve hardly seen anybody since Babette’s funeral. We stood and chatted for half an hour or more and they managed to persuade me to come round to their house for dinner. I decided to go and called a taxi. We had a lovely evening together and I really enjoyed seeing them again and getting out and about for the first time.’

  ‘I’m so pleased, George. That really is terrific.’

  ‘Anyway, when I got home again, I did a bit of thinking. I reckon the time is maybe ripe for me to start living my life again. God knows, I’ve been a hermit here for long enough. I thought I’d do a bit of ringing round and see if I can get a bunch of people to come over for drinks in a few weeks’ time. As you know, July 14th is Bastille Day, and that’s a big day here in France. Babette and I always used to invite people round the day after, so as to keep the celebrations going. So, would you and Hope be able to come on the fifteenth?’

  ‘I’d love to, thank you, George. The wonderful thing about being on holiday is that my calendar is completely free. I have no idea what Hope’s plans are, but if she can, I know she’d love to come.’

  ‘Splendid. And tell her to bring her sailor boy if she wants.’

  * * *

  Hope arrived home late that night, but Jess was still up, waiting to get her news. Hope sat down and recounted everything that had transpired between her and Max and it was evident that they had cleared the air between them.

  ‘It’s like I told him, Jess. I couldn’t care less whether he’s a prince or a pauper. I just want him to be honest with me.’

  ‘So you’re no longer thinking of going home in a few days’ time?’

  Hope shook her head emphatically. As Jess had supposed, she was now dead set on staying on for the summer, maybe longer. In fact, circumstances had changed.

  ‘Jess, if I were to move out of here and onto the yacht for July and August, would that be a pain for you?’

  ‘Wow, July starts next Saturday. That’s a bit soon for moving in together, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well, to be honest, this would be a business arrangement.’

  Jess raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re going to have to explain.’

  ‘He wants me to be his hostie. The girl who was all set to start this weekend has just cried off.’

  ‘Hostie?’

  ‘That’s what they call it. You see, the boat’s fully booked throughout both months and he needs a deck hand – a deckie – and somebody to look after the guests, the food, the laundry and so on – the hostie. Sort of like a glorified housekeeper, I imagine.’

  ‘Deckie and hostie, eh? I suppose that makes him the skipper-ie. So, he’s offered you the job?’

  ‘That’s right, and it would mean living on board – apparently we’ll probably sail off along the coast to Italy or even across to islands like Corsica or Sardinia.’

  ‘That sounds amazing. And the deckie?’

  ‘The same guy who’s been helping him this month. His name’s Steve and he’s a Brit. I’ve met him. He’s a hoot.’

  ‘Sounds like fun. And of course I don’t mind. I’ve got my faithful hound to look after me.’ She glanced down at the freshly-bathed Labrador. ‘Besides, the work on the villa will be starting in a few weeks, so I’ll probably have my pick of hunky builders to invite back to my lonely bed.’

  ‘Yeh, right. That’ll be the day.’ Hope knew her too well. ‘Anyway, of course, you’ll have your hunk with the sexy old sports car to keep you company.’

  Jess told her the good news about David’s physiotherapy and passed on the invitation to the drinks party. Hope shook her head. ‘I expect I’ll be off with Max on the boat, but I’ll check with him. I’ll go and see George anyway and thank him for the invitation. It certainly sounds like he and David are moving in the right direction.’

  ‘I sincerely hope so.’

  Chapter 19

  The next two weeks flew by. Jess saw very little of Hope as she flitted between the house and the yacht, getting everything ready for the busy summer season. Jess even had to run the Range Rover out on one occasion – just about the first time she had driven the car for weeks – to take Hope to a ship’s chandlery to collect all manner of bits and pieces. She was pleased to find that she really rather enjoyed driving it, particularly now she felt confident finding her way around St-Tropez and its narrow streets. As a result, in the days that followed, she started taking the rejuvenated Brutus up into the forest for walks, short at first, but increasing in length as it became clear that his energy levels were once more approaching normal for a five-year-old dog, rather than a geriatric fatty.

  Feeling that it was time she started experimenting, she found wonderful fresh fruit in the weekly market and tried her hand at making summer pudding and homemade custard. She invited Antoinette to come and try it with her and was delighted with the reaction. Antoinette looked and sounded impressed.

  ‘This is an English recipe?’

  ‘My mum’s own recipe. I phoned her last night to get it.’

  ‘Over here in France we often joke about English food being terrible, but this is delightful.’

  At her feet, the expression on the Labrador’s face made it quite clear that his nose agreed with her.

  ‘That’s good to hear. I know I can’t compete with your skills in the kitchen, but I’m glad you approve.’ She felt relieved and she gave Antoinette a big smile. ‘Maybe I should make another one and invite David and George along to try it.’

  ‘You know what they say about the way to a man’s heart being through his stomach.’ Antoinette smiled back and Jess wondered if she, like Hope, had realised the way she felt about David.

  Unfortunately, however, she saw less of David. Now that he was having his physiotherapy – apparently in Toulon – he was out for most of the day, and she only glimpsed him on a couple of occasions, but didn’t have the chance to talk to him. She did, however, spend a lot of time thinking about him. It would have been rather nice to be able to sit down and chat to him, but he had made no move to contact her and she felt it better not to intrude.

  Then, one day, towards the middle of July, she was in St-Tropez, walking up the narrow street by the tourist information office, when she spotted a familiar shape coming towards her. Although her knowledge of cars was far inferior to Hope’s, she couldn’t mistake this one. The long sleek bonnet was unmistakably an old silver Jaguar E-Type and the only person she knew round here with one of these was David. She heard the throaty burble of the engine as he reached the corner and, as he did so, he must have spotted her. To her delight, he slowed and stopped. The overnight rainstorm had passed, and the streets were mostly dry again, so the car roof and windows were down. As she walked over to him, he looked up at her from the driving seat.

  ‘Hi Jess. Can I give you a lift somewhere?’ There was quite definitely the hint of a smile on his face.

  ‘That’s very kind. Where are you going?’

  ‘Wherever you want to go. I’m just out for a drive.’

  ‘Well, I don’t care where we go, and I’d love to have a ride in your wonderful car.’

  As she went round and opened the door on the passenger side, Jess distinctly felt the eyes of a number of the passers-by looking on enviously. She had little doubt that a lot of them were jealous of her getting a ride in such an iconic classic car, but many of the women were quite possibly more interested in the driver – just as she was. She shot a glance across at him and checked out his suntan, his strong forearm resting on the top of the door, and the immaculate pink shirt stretched tight across the muscles of his chest. Yes, she thought to herself, if it weren’t for the crutches stowed
behind the front seats, he would definitely have been fighting them off – and she wouldn’t have stood a chance.

  Getting in proved to be tricky. She had chosen to wear a light dress today, rather than shorts, and she soon realised that it was virtually impossible to get in gracefully. Unlike the Range Rover, you didn’t climb into the Jaguar. You fell into it. Or at least she did. Although he had seen her numerous times in her fairly skimpy bikini, she was as red as a beetroot by the time she had settled in and tugged her skirt down from where it had ended up around her waist. She found herself almost lying horizontal in the car, her legs stretched out in front of her. It certainly took a bit of getting used to.

  Politely he made no comment and waited until she was settled before pulling away and glancing across towards her.

  ‘How about going out of town? Maybe up for a drive in the hills?’

  ‘Oh yes, please. It’s lovely up there. And I might be able to show you the places where Olivier told me there used to be German bunkers during the war.’

  It took a few minutes before she began to realise that he was driving without using the pedals and she remembered he had told her the car had hand controls. Presumably his crushed legs were still too weak to press down hard. She debated for a moment whether to remark on this and then decided to air the topic. As his father had said, the main thing was to get him talking about the accident, his injuries and his experiences.

  ‘So let’s see if I’ve got this right. You pull the level towards you to accelerate and press down to brake. Is that right?’

  ‘That’s right. All done with my right hand. Luckily the car’s automatic, so there’s no clutch to worry about.’

  ‘And did you buy the car like that?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, I’ve had this car for five years. I got a specialised firm to modify it for me after the accident.’