‘I think he’s from the chateau. You know it was sold last autumn?’ Natalie vaguely recalled her grandmother telling her something to that effect, but she had been here so rarely over the past few years. ‘It’s been bought by some rich people, most probably for a holiday home. At least, that’s what I hear from Marie who got the news from Maître Delatour. They’re foreign, maybe even English.’ A note of regret entered Colette’s voice. ‘No surprise there. All the most beautiful places are being bought up by foreigners and turned into holiday homes. The local people can’t afford to buy houses down here any longer. It’s a real problem.’
By this time the dog had collapsed onto his back on the flagstones and was grunting happily to himself as Natalie scratched his tummy. ‘So does he have a name?’ She spotted a medallion hanging from the dog’s bright red collar. Squinting down at it, she saw that it only bore a telephone number, no name.
‘I call him Charlie and he doesn’t seem to mind.’ No surprise there. All the dogs her grandparents had ever had had been called Charlie. Up till now they had all been cocker spaniels, but the name seemed to suit the big black dog just as well. Natalie looked down at him again.
‘So, Charlie, would you like a biscuit?’ The dog clearly understood what was on offer. He rolled to one side and leapt to his feet, tail wagging. Natalie glanced across at her grandmother. ‘Have you been giving him bad habits?’
‘He always gets a biscuit when he comes to see me. I got Jeanne to buy some proper dog biscuits when she did my shopping. I’m just being hospitable, after all. You’ll find them inside on the window ledge.’
Natalie went into the kitchen, located the packet of bone-shaped dog biscuits and removed one. Back outside, she gave it to the dog who took it delicately from her fingers and settled down at her feet, the biscuit held vertically between his front paws, to crunch it up. Natalie glanced at Colette again. ‘And here I was thinking you might be lonely.’
‘I could never be lonely down here.’ A distant expression crossed her old face. ‘Everywhere I look, I see friends and I remember them. I see the bench your grandfather made, where he used to sit in the evenings, smoking those disgusting yellow papier maïs cigarettes of his. I see the flower bed he planted and obstinately watered all the way through every long dry summer. I see the path up which the fishermen would come every morning to sell us fresh fish from the bay. I see the towers of the chateau where Madame de Gruchy lived. She used to give us kids sweeties and serve us lemonade made from the lemons in her garden. I’m not lonely, Natalie, and now that you’re here, that’s just perfect.’ She looked across and caught Natalie’s eye. ‘And you mustn’t feel lonely either. It’ll all work out for you, just like it worked out for me.’
She closed her eyes and Natalie saw the weariness in her face. Ninety was, after all, a grand old age. Meanwhile the dog, having finished the biscuit and then having licked the stones all round him for any remaining crumbs, stood up and took his leave. Natalie watched as he trotted off back the way he had come, his tail still wagging lazily, until he disappeared from sight into the scrubby bushes alongside the path. Just visible above the roof of her grandmother’s house were the twin turrets of the chateau. Natalie reflected that this was a very lucky Labrador to live in such a place, with a whole hillside where he could roam free. Like Colette, she looked forward to seeing him again. As it happened, this was to be sooner than she expected.
She spent the day helping her grandma and chatting, catching up on all the news. Just before lunch, she took the little Renault and a long shopping list and drove down to the shops in Banyuls-sur-Mer. As well as food, wine and water, she also found a rather nice new bikini; fairly minimal, but not obscene. It was comfortable, a good fit, and not too expensive. That was all that mattered.
After lunch, they both had a little siesta. Colette retired to her room, while Natalie chose to snooze on the old wooden sun bed under the vines. It had been built by her grandfather and had been there for as long as she could remember. It was made of cypress wood and the aroma was still intoxicating even after the passage of the years. Miraculously it was still solid enough to take her weight. She dozed for an hour, aided by the two glasses of ice cold rosé she had drunk with her lunch, before getting up and digging out her laptop. She scanned her emails and spotted one from David. The content was far from inspiring.
Nat, sorry you felt you had to leave. Everybody was asking where you had gone off to on Saturday. I said you weren’t feeling very well. I haven’t told my parents about your moment of bad temper. I’ve put the ring on the bedside table. When are you coming back? There’s the office summer party at the end of the month and I really need you with me for that.
David
Moment of bad temper? Only the presence of her grandmother in the next room prevented Natalie from squealing at his crass choice of words. If she had been harbouring any lingering doubts as to the wisdom of breaking off the engagement, this email confirmed she had made the right decision. He really had changed from the man she had first met. And, she told herself firmly, she had changed as well. She was no longer the helpless, lonely girl who had latched on to him in her moment of crisis. She had grown up and she, like David, had changed. She no longer needed a man to look after her and hold her hand. She was fully capable of standing on her own two feet.
She turned her attention to the other emails, hoping that one of them might at least bring good news on the employment front. She had been scouring the internet for lecturing positions anywhere in the UK or France, but the sad fact was that good jobs in medieval history were few and far between. There was nothing of interest, except for one from Amy in Cambridge, and a very kind and heartening email from her professor, telling her she was casting about, looking for jobs for Natalie. She said she would be in touch if anything suitable presented itself.
Finally, she read Amy’s email. The night she had spent with her before taking the plane to France had been a pretty downbeat affair. She had recounted to Amy the events of the garden party, in particular the conversation she had overheard in the kitchen. As ever, Amy was supportive. They had known each other since their schooldays and there wasn’t much about Natalie that Amy didn’t know. She had been a tower of strength when Natalie’s parents had died and they had stayed close ever since. And, since the break-up with David, she was her closest friend in the UK. Today’s email from her, predictably, was to see if Natalie was feeling better. Before answering, Natalie sat back and reflected. Seeing her grandmother again had been wonderful and this place, with the sun shining outside and the hum of the bees in the flowers in the garden, had cheered her immensely. Being with her grandmother was beginning to remove, or at least reduce, the sense of loneliness that had haunted her for so long and make her aware that she was a stronger person than before. Here, in Colette, she had somebody with whom she knew she could talk about anything. She found she was able to reply to Amy in all sincerity that she was indeed beginning to feel better now.
Natalie closed the laptop and sat quietly for a few minutes, doing her best to banish her anger at David, before going out onto the landing. She decided she had better check on her grandmother, so she tiptoed to her door and peered into the shadowy interior. The shutters were firmly closed as this room faced south and, without them, it would have become intolerably hot in there. As it was, it felt pleasantly cool. There was a movement from the bed and she saw her grandmother turn her head towards the door. ‘Hello, dear. It’s all right, I’m awake. Did you have a little sleep?’
‘I dozed a bit, and it was lovely out there under the vines. There are already little grapes forming in bunches. Looks like it’ll be a bumper harvest.’
Colette nodded. ‘Shall we have a cup of tea? I’ve been lying down for long enough. I need to get up and tidy up the house. Jeanne comes in at five, so I’ve got an hour before that.’
Natalie smiled to herself. It was the carer’s job to do any tidying up for her grandmother,