2010
Bleary-eyed and stifling a yawn, Natalie headed for breakfast on the veranda on Sunday. Although past ten, she appeared to be the first one down, the table settings undisturbed. Adele bustled out, crying, ‘Bonjour, Mam’selle, bonjour!’ Natalie smiled a response and gratefully accepted a cup of coffee strong enough to hold a spoon upright.
‘Merci, Adele.’ She took a scalding sip before reaching for the croissants still warm from the oven. Adele must have been out to the local boulangerie and bought a selection of bread rolls too, all nestling under linen napkins in wicker baskets. Brightly decorated pots held a selection of jam, honey and marmalade. Natalie had taken a first bite of the croissant slathered in honey when Rose appeared with the children, quickly followed by Stuart.
Half-hearted greetings were exchanged as the grown-ups slumped into chairs. The children seemed full of beans, however, and began squabbling before they had sat down. Rose groaned, holding her head. Stuart and Natalie exchanged glances and he rolled his eyes, whispering, ‘What a couple of brats! I shall do my best to avoid them the next two weeks.’
‘They do rather put you off having children, don’t they? Although I’ve always thought I’d have them one day. When the time’s right.’
Stuart looked about to say something when Alan and Tabby arrived.
‘Good morning, everyone! Did you all sleep well?’ Alan’s hearty voice cut in and Natalie looked up to see the loved-up newlyweds looking extremely perky as they sat down next to the children. She smiled inwardly, thinking what a great advert the pair of them were for mature love, her own parents being another good example. Natalie, glancing sideways at Stuart, now chatting to Tabby, wondered if she would find such a deep love herself. Ideally before she reached sixty…
Blake turned up, muttering apologies for being late, and Rose threw him a resentful glance. All was not sweetness and light with those two, she thought. The palpable happiness of Tabby and Alan seemed to diffuse any lingering tensions at the table and it wasn’t long before it was smiles all round. Between sips of coffee, Tabby asked Stuart when he was setting off with Natalie to Aix. She tapped her watch. ‘You need to go soon if you want to catch any of the few shops which are open. They’ll be closed this afternoon.’
‘Right, yes.’ Stuart looked at Natalie, eyebrows raised. ‘You still want to go out for the day? Not too tired?’
She searched his face, looking for signs he’d changed his mind. But no, he appeared genuine.
‘I’m fine. Once I’ve finished breakfast I’ll grab my things.’ Natalie’s spirits lifted, all the earlier hungover tiredness dissipated. They had a whole day, just the two of them, and she meant to enjoy it, not letting her worries about the cottage intrude. Or her doubts about the wisdom of becoming closer to Stuart. Time to think about both when she went home. Alone.
Natalie was entranced by the picturesque road to Aix-en-Provence, winding through quaint hillside villages protected by ruined castles. Vineyards nestled below them and to the north the magnificent Sainte-Victoire mountain range dominated the landscape. Neither of them spoke much; she was lost in the beauty of the countryside opening up around them and Stuart concentrated on driving an unknown car on unknown roads. The sleek Peugeot was equipped with satnav and a husky-voiced female prompted him with frequent instructions, making Natalie break out in giggles. Stuart only frowned. They pulled into the town an hour later, keen to grab a drink before any sightseeing.
Natalie spotted a pavement café with brightly coloured umbrellas shading the customers from the glaring noon sun. She ordered a coffee and Stuart a beer and while they waited he dug out his guidebook, flicking through the pages to find the right section. The air was noticeably cooler than back down towards the coast, probably no more than the low twenties, Natalie thought, both surprised and relieved. She gazed admiringly at the beauty and elegance of the baroque buildings forming the open square, the sun glinting on the ochre stone. Her eyes were drawn, as if mesmerised, to the marble fountain in the centre releasing a stream of tinkling water.
‘Isn’t this wonderful! It’s as if time’s stood still and we’re back in the eighteenth century.’ Natalie thanked the waiter for her coffee and smiled at Stuart, who broke off from his reading to sip his beer. He followed Natalie’s gaze around the square, nodding his appreciation.
‘Beautiful. And there’s masses to see according to my book. Far too much for a single day so we’ll need to prioritise. This is what the guide recommends…’ He read out the list which included L’Atelier Cézanne in the city and his country estate, Jas de Bouffan. ‘Oh, and there’s even a mini-tram running around the city with an on-board audio commentary if we want to be true tourists,’ he added, rolling his eyes.
‘That could be fun. I don’t mind looking like a prat if you don’t.’ Natalie grinned as he released a deep, soulful sigh.
‘If we must.’ He checked his watch. ‘The next tram’s not till 2.15 so we’ve time to have lunch first. Then we could…’
The next few hours passed in a blur of colour, sound and the wonderful aroma of freshly-cooked food. Natalie enjoyed every minute, soaking up the buzz of the city which reminded her a little of her old life in London. A million miles away from life in Guernsey. For a brief moment she experienced a pang of regret for her old life, but pushed it down when she remembered the beauty and peace she enjoyed on the island. And Stuart. She glanced at his profile as they drove back to the villa. In spite of appearing to enjoy himself, he had been quieter than usual that day, as if something lay heavy on his mind. Not wanting to interfere with his concentration on the driving, Natalie resisted the urge to ask if anything was wrong. If it was important, he would say something, wouldn’t he?
The sound of splashing in the pool greeted them as they walked out onto the terrace to find Alan, Tabby and Rose sipping drinks on loungers while Blake and the children messed about in the water. Greetings were exchanged and Tabby asked if they had enjoyed the trip.
‘It was brilliant. Isn’t Aix beautiful? And there’s so much to see! But it’s also tiring to get everything in. Stuart wants to go back, I think.’ Natalie looked at him, chatting to Alan on a nearby lounger.
Tabby sat up and leaned towards her, head on one side.
‘You two seem to get on well. I’ve not seen Stuart as keen on anyone since Pam,’ she said, sotto voce. ‘Is there a chance you and…and he could become close?’
Natalie could see why Stuart needed his space from Tabby. One controlling mama!
‘I don’t know. It’s possible, but–’
Tabby gripped her arm.
‘That’s wonderful. I know it’s early days, but when he returns to Guernsey you’ll have loads of time to get closer. And perhaps absence will make the heart grow fonder,’ she added, with a wink.
Natalie felt the heat rise in her face, but was saved from replying by the appearance of Adele bearing a tray of drinks. She grabbed a glass of lemonade, took a gulp and promptly choked. Stuart came to her rescue, patting her back and in the process making her feel even more self-conscious. She managed to gasp, ‘went down the wrong way’ before taking deep breaths. He stood in front of her, his face puckered in concern.
‘You okay? You went bright red.’
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Why did Tabby have to try and push them together when Stuart had seemed more distant? He hadn’t even tried to kiss her during their time together in Aix! Appearing satisfied she was okay, Stuart returned to Alan’s side to pick up their conversation. Natalie caught the words ‘local beer’ and decided not to join them, opting to chat to Rose instead. Anything to avoid talking to Tabby again.
Supper on the veranda turned out to be a much quieter affair than on the previous days, an almost tangible air of deflation hung over the table. Even the swaying party balloons had a collapsed, hang-dog appearance. Natalie forced herself to stay cheerful, joining in the desultory conversation started by Alan or Rose. A wave of extreme tiredness washed over her and she was relieved to see others yawning as the plates were finally emptied. A combination of sun, alcohol and the anti-climax after the wedding had worn them out. As Rose stood to take the children upstairs, Natalie proffered her goodnight to everyone, pleading the need for an early night. Cries of ‘sleep well’ and ‘I’ll be going to bed soon’ followed her as she left the table. Stuart remained in his seat and nodded as she walked past him. As deflated as the limp balloons, Natalie climbed the stairs, wishing only for instant sleep.
After a round of goodbye hugs and kisses, Natalie slipped into the back passenger seat next to Stuart. Alan had insisted on driving when Stuart had offered, saying the roads around the airport were confusing and he didn’t want them getting lost. Natalie, touched he had offered, still wondered why she was receiving such mixed messages from Stuart, but couldn’t talk to him properly with Alan inches away. They resorted to small talk and what his plans were for the rest of his holiday. The drive took longer this time around and Alan explained the road to Marseille was always particularly busy in the summer as the French headed for the coast. At the airport Alan tried unsuccessfully to find a parking space in the drop-off car park, dépose minute, and stopped outside Départs on double white lines.
‘We’ll have to be quick, I’m afraid, or I’ll get booked. It’s been lovely seeing you again, Natalie, and I hope we’ll meet again soon. Probably in Guernsey.’ Alan gave her a hug and a kiss before moving away to let Stuart say goodbye.
Natalie looked at him expectantly.
Stuart thrust a hand through his hair before taking her in his arms.
‘I know I behaved a bit odd yesterday after…well, the day before. It must have been confusing for you–’
‘It was. I thought you’d gone off me–’
‘No, no not at all. It’s just that I’m torn. I would like a relationship with you, but I’m afraid…there’s something I have to tell you first.’
Her heart thumped. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I–’
‘Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a policeman heading straight for us and he doesn’t look best pleased. We have to go.’ Alan waved his arm towards the uniformed man bearing down on them.
Stuart said, ‘We’ll talk when I get back, promise.’ He gave her a quick kiss on the lips and shot into the passenger seat as Alan revved the engine and drove off. Natalie, stunned, gave a half-wave at the retreating car and turned towards the entrance. What on earth was that about? And she had to wait nearly two weeks to find out!
The flights back home seemed longer than the outward flights and Natalie put it down to being on her own. Not in the mood for small talk with anyone, she pretended to doze on the flight to Gatwick. In fact her mind wouldn’t settle and she tortured herself wondering how serious Stuart’s ‘something’ could be. Was he ill? He didn’t look ill. But you couldn’t always tell…Planning to leave Guernsey? No, he seemed to love the island and he couldn’t leave the school without giving notice. Her mind went round and round and she felt drained by the time the plane landed at Gatwick. Natalie had a two hour wait before the flight to Guernsey and took herself off to Nando’s for a decent meal in an effort to distract herself.
Natalie parked the car in front of her cottage and remained seated, breathing in the early evening air, cooled by a light sea breeze. The raucous call of seagulls provided the only sound. The cottage looked exactly as she had left it four days previously, but it felt different. She knew, without going in, that something had happened. Something, or someone, had invaded her space in her absence. For a brief moment Natalie considered ringing her parents and asking them to come round. That would be the sensible course to take. But, gritting her teeth, she reminded herself she was a mature woman and didn’t need her hand held any more. Not totally convinced, she wheeled her case to the front door and inserted the key. She pushed it open slowly, and listened. Silence. Her heart thudding, Natalie left the case in the hall and tiptoed to the closed kitchen door. Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle and let the door swing open.
The sight brought an anguished cry to her lips.
Anything which had been on the kitchen worktops had been flung onto the floor – cookery books, fruit bowls, toaster – everything. Anything breakable lay smashed on the tiles.