Chapter 9

J

eanne’s biggest decision the next morning was what to wear for the barbecue. Deciding against shorts – legs too pale and it might be cold later – she settled on a slim-fitting pair of black, low slung jeans with a blue V-necked cotton top which emphasised her figure and the colour of her eyes. She wasn’t trying to attract anyone, she told herself. Definitely not. Decision made, she threw on her usual, decidedly grubby jeans and a clean T-shirt before having a quick breakfast and two cups of coffee.

Going through her gran’s notebook of recipes, she ticked those that needed to be translated from the local patois and put the book in a plastic bag with a note to Mrs Le Maitre. She then started on her translation of the French recipes, taking a break for lunch.

Later Jeanne spent about an hour wrestling with the last of the French recipes and when a mal de tête threatened to develop, she went into the garden for some fresh air. The prospect of seeing the garden being improved next week helped to lift the tension evoked by the intense concentration. She pottered about, idly pulling up weeds, even though the gardeners would be doing some heavy digging in a couple of days. At the top of the orchard stood a grand old oak tree in pride of place, the very tree which had given its name to the cottage and which she had loved to climb as a child. Jeanne hauled herself up to where the branches formed a natural seat. As she sat gazing down at the orchard, she pictured herself as a child again.

She was about eight, skinny, with long dark hair tied back in a ponytail and running amongst the trees crying out ‘You can’t catch me!’ to her father who, handicapped by a blindfold, kept stumbling into the trees. Jeanne darted around, teasing him. ‘Come on, Daddy, you’re not trying very hard,’ she laughed at the tall, brown haired man who was nearly on his knees.

‘I give up, you win – again!’ he groaned, before collapsing in a heap and pulling off the blindfold, revealing bright blue eyes. She rushed towards her father and threw her small arms around him – or rather his leg which was all she could manage. He laughed down at her and pulled her up, tickling her until she screamed for mercy.

She shook her head at the memory and allowed herself to focus on the far-reaching vista spread before her. From this sheltered vantage point she could see Vazon Bay to her right and Perelle Bay to her left, noting that the tide was low and the sea calm. Good, perfect for the barbecue. Glancing at her watch she realised it was time to change and scrambled down inelegantly, landing with a bump.

Fifteen minutes later she had changed and was just spraying on perfume when the doorbell rang.

‘Hi, Jeanne. Hey, you smell nice!’ Marcus grinned as he gave her a kiss on both cheeks. Holding her arms, he added, ‘and you look great too.’

‘Thanks.’ She felt flustered, from the last-minute rush, she reassured herself.

‘Ready?’

‘Yep. I’ll just grab my things. I’ve got to drop something in at a house in Rocquaine, if that’s okay?’

‘No problem. We’ve plenty of time.’

Marcus waited until she had locked up and then opened the passenger door of his two-seater sports car for her. Very nice, she thought, glad that she was wearing trousers and not a short skirt. She had never mastered the art of getting in and out of a low slung car with any degree of decorum, while wearing a skirt. Perhaps she’d better start practising, she smiled to herself.

Marcus said little as he drove down the coast, except to confirm there would be eight at the barbecue. Jeanne enjoyed the novelty of being driven by someone else. She was able to admire the view of fields and hills to her left and the low-lying craggy coastline to her right.

‘Which road do we want at Rocquaine?’

‘Route du Coudre, just before the Cup and Saucer,’ she replied, referring to Fort Grey, an old Napoleonic Fort, now a nautical museum and shaped like an upside-down cup on a saucer. As they pulled in to the road Jeanne had to check the names of the houses – numbers were rarely used on the island – pointing to a stone cottage on the left.

‘Won’t be long,’ she said, before popping the notebook through the letterbox.

He drove back to the main road, turning left towards Pleinmont, the furthermost corner to the south-west of the island.

‘I’ve had a builder round this week, to give me a quote for the work that needs doing.’

‘So you’ve decided to do it up after all?’

‘I’m waiting for the quote before making a final decision. But I’m slowly coming round to the idea.’

‘So I guess that would mean you staying here for some time, then?’ he asked, an edge to his voice.

‘Mm. Several months, at least, I suppose,’ she replied, thinking he sounded a bit odd.

By this time they had reached the parking area just before Portelet Harbour and Marcus opened the door for Jeanne before retrieving two cool boxes and a picnic hamper from the boot.

‘You’ve brought loads! I should have brought something.’ Jeanne was dismayed.

‘Don’t be silly. There’s not that much, but you can give me a hand carrying it if you’re feeling guilty.’ He laughed at her.

Jeanne took hold of the picnic hamper and they walked along to the slipway leading to the beach. As they went down she saw two couples standing together, focused on a large portable barbecue secured amongst sheltering rocks, while surrounded by bags and boxes.

‘Hi guys!’ Marcus called out as they approached the group, who turned round and smiled.

‘This is Jeanne who used to live here but has been in England for years. I’ll introduce you – Scott and Colette, Tim and Rachel.’

As they shook hands and exchanged greetings, almost simultaneously, Jeanne and Rachel said, ‘I know you, don’t I?’ and they both burst out laughing. They had been in the same class at school.

‘It’s been so long, Jeanne. How’ve you been? It was so awful about your mum and dad…’ Rachel’s voice was sympathetic, putting Jeanne at ease as she told her what she had been doing over the years.

‘Now I have to decide what to do about the cottage and I’m not sure if I’ll be staying here long.’

‘Well, I hope you do stay. It’s great to see a familiar face as a lot of our year have settled in the UK. After uni I came back here to teach and I love it.’ Rachel’s face lit up as she spoke.

‘That’s great. How are your family? I seem to remember there were a lot of you?’

Rachel laughed. ‘Yes, I’m one of five – three boys, two girls. Fancy you remembering. Everyone’s well, my parents are still growers and enjoying being grandparents.’

Jeanne raised her eyebrows and Rachel grinned and said, ‘No, not me! Not yet. Tim and I are engaged and getting married in October, at half-term.’ Rachel turned and smiled at Tim, who had been standing by quietly as the girls chatted.

‘Congratulations, both of you. Are you a local lad, Tim? I don’t remember you from school.’

‘Oh yes. I’m a Guern, for sure. I went to the college but as I’m a bit older than you, our paths may not have crossed.’

Tim was dark with brown eyes and a shy smile but when he looked at Rachel he looked the confident fiancé, Jeanne noticed wistfully. While she had been talking to Tim and Rachel, another couple had arrived and Marcus came up to her and said, ‘Come and meet Nick and Sue. They’re late as usual.’

Jeanne turned round and gasped, ‘Muscles!’

‘Sorry? What did you say?’ Nick asked, looked nonplussed.

‘Mussels! I mean…all those crates of mussels, stacked there on the beach. I’ve, er, only just noticed them,’ Jeanne stammered, embarrassed as she recognised Muscles from the ferry.

‘Oh, yes. I see. They’re farmed here, you know. Anyway, I’m Nick and this is Sue.’ He was standing by the leggy blonde from her class at school.

‘Hi. I’m Jeanne. We were at school together, weren’t we, Sue?’

‘Yes, I thought I recognised you. How are you?’

They exchanged their news, Jeanne learning that Sue hadn’t gone to university and was now a legal secretary. While they chatted, the men were lighting the barbecue and the smell of smoke began drifting towards them. The girls formed a separate group and Jeanne introduced herself properly to Colette.

‘Were you at the grammar school as well?’

‘Yes, but I’m a bit younger than you girls. So you wouldn’t have noticed me, little squirt that I was!’ Colette laughed. She was still small and dark with blue eyes that looked familiar and an attractive, elfin face.

Jeanne asked, ‘So, what sort of work do you do?’

‘I’m a chef. A pretty humble one, I’m afraid, at the St Pierre Park Hotel. My dream is to have my own restaurant one day, just like every other chef in Guernsey.’

For its size there was a disproportionately large number of restaurants in Guernsey, it being possible to visit a different one every week for a year without repetition.

‘I wish you luck on that one, Colette. It must be such hard work and the hours are awful. Doesn’t your boyfriend mind?’ Jeanne nodded towards Scott, standing with the other men.

‘He works in a hotel himself so he’s used to the long hours. It’s unusual for us both to be free at the same time on a weekend, so this is a treat. And it’s great to see the men cooking for a change,’ she giggled.

The other girls agreed that the men seemed to think it was macho for them to be in charge of a barbecue, but not of a domestic kitchen.

Marcus came up with beers from the cool box and offered them round.

‘How’re you getting on, Jeanne? You all seem to be chatting easily enough.’ He slid his arm around her waist.

‘Fine, thanks. I remember Rachel and Sue from school, which helps. Will the food take long? All this talking is making us hungry.’

‘About fifteen minutes, I should think. Just relax and enjoy yourself.’ He squeezed her waist gently before going off to re-join the other chefs. Jeanne did feel relaxed. She was enjoying the company, the sun warming her face and the beer soothing away the last remaining threads of tension.

‘Didn’t you used to go out with Marcus when you were at school?’ Jeanne asked Sue.

‘Oh, that was so long ago now! It was never anything serious. I left the Grammar after doing my GCSEs and we drifted apart. Do you like him, then?’ Sue grinned at Jeanne.

‘I don’t really know him very well. But he seems nice. He invited me to join him today but we haven’t had a chance to talk much yet. Have you been going out with Nick long?’

‘Oh, we’re not a couple! Not that I’d mind if we were,’ she added, sotto voce. ‘I first met him at Colette’s house ages ago and he picks me up when we gather as a group. We live near each other, you see.’

Jeanne frowned and Sue added, ‘Oh, you probably don’t know – Nick and Colette are brother and sister, though he’s several years older than her.’

‘I see. It’s hard to imagine – she’s so small and he’s so… much bigger!’ Jeanne was surprised, but, thinking about it, they did share the same colouring and their eyes were the same deep blue.

Before the conversation could continue Scott shouted that the food was ready. The girls went to sort out the plates and cutlery and Colette offered everyone some of the fantastic looking salad she had made.

It was difficult to talk much when chewing overcooked steak and charred, but tasty, sausages so the conversation became more sporadic. Jeanne really appreciated the effort the others had made to feed her, and also to make her feel welcome. The only slight fly in the ointment was the unexpected meeting with Nick or “Muscles” as she’d christened him. Her inadvertent wit had saved an awkward moment, but really it had been a bit embarrassing and she wasn’t sure if he had recognised her. Recalling what had happened in the café, she didn’t think many men would like to be reminded of a time when they were being yelled at in public. Equally, she didn’t want to be reminded of their meeting on the ferry.

Marcus came to sit by her and asked, ‘Okay? Enjoying yourself?’

‘Yes, thanks. Everyone’s being very nice and the food’s not bad either.’

Marcus nodded. ‘I’ve known virtually everyone for years and we’ve had a lot of fun together. You know what a small world Guernsey is!’ He gave her his crinkly smile.

Jeanne felt herself going pink – damn those hormones! ‘Nick seems older than the rest of us. You wouldn’t have met him at school, would you?’

‘No. He’s about thirty-six or thirty-seven I think. Only met him through Scott. Seems okay, if a bit serious.’

More beer and food was passed round and there was much joshing and laughing. Jeanne noticed that Nick seemed quiet and looked a bit bored. Perhaps he’d rather be working on Mr Evans’ boat than sitting around on a beach eating cremated food…As if he’d read her mind he looked up and for a moment their eyes met. He frowned, shook his head and looked as if he was about to say something when Scott interrupted. ‘How about a spot of Frisbee, everyone?’

The suggestion was generally well received though some had to be chivvied with cries of, ‘You need some exercise or you’ll fall asleep!’ The plates were collected up and they gathered together on a flat stretch of sand. Forming a circle, the Frisbee was sent at random, causing much laughter when the wrong person made a dive for it. Jeanne was standing between Mark and Nick and at one point both she and Nick dived for the Frisbee, colliding with some force.

‘Oomph,’ she cried.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked as he picked her up.

‘Yes, fine, thanks. No bones broken this time!’ She rubbed her arms.

‘Have we met before? Only there’s something familiar about you. I can’t think…’ he frowned.

Jeanne was saved from replying by a shout of, ‘Hurry up, you two, get back to your places as the light’s going to fade soon.’

They moved apart and the game continued without any further contact between them. Jeanne could still feel the touch of his arms as he picked her up. The feeling had been like an electric shock and she was still stunned.

After a few more minutes of flying Frisbees it was decided to call it a day. The sun was sinking lower in the sky and the debris from the barbecue still had to be cleared. A happy group worked quickly to restore order on the beach and within minutes there were no visible signs of anyone having been there.

As they loaded up their cars, goodbyes were called out and Jeanne exchanged telephone numbers with the other girls, agreeing they would arrange a ‘girls only’ night out soon.

Marcus opened the car door for her and she eased herself into the narrow seat.

‘Well, you seemed to enjoy yourself, Jeanne. Glad you came?’

‘Yes, very glad, thanks. And you?’

‘Oh, yes. Always like getting together with the lads.’ He swung the car round to go back up the coast.

A short while later he pulled in to the driveway of Le Petit Chêne and after he had switched off the engine Jeanne asked, ‘Would you like to come in for a drink?’

‘Yeah, great.’

As she put the kettle on he looked around.

‘Doesn’t look like this has been touched for years. You’ll need a new kitchen, for starters.’

‘Oh, yes, for sure. Also a new bathroom, cloakroom, complete re-wiring, central heating and lots more besides. At least it’s sound and a good size – four bedrooms. Tea or coffee?’

‘Coffee, please, white and two sugars.’

‘Shall I show you around the cottage? It’s too dark to see the garden now.’

She handed him his coffee and picking up her own mug she led the way around, starting with the sitting room. Marcus didn’t say much as they walked round and seemed to notice nothing wrong with the small bedroom.

They made their way back to the kitchen and Jeanne asked, ‘What do you think?’

‘Not bad. With a ton of money spent on it, could be great. Really for a family, though. Be a bit big for you on your own, won’t it?’

‘Suppose so. I’m not sure if I’ll live here yet, I just want to see if it’s feasible to renovate first. So, where do you live?’

‘I’ve got a flat in town, overlooking the QEII marina. I only moved in last year, when they were finished. Very hi-tech and fantastic views, I can even keep an eye on my boat as an added bonus.’

‘Oh…so you’re a boating man. What kind – motor or sail?’ Jeanne twisted her hair.

‘Motor, a Sunseeker, twenty-seven foot. Now the weather’s improving I hope to get out in her soon. Perhaps you’d like to come out with me?’ At the look on her face he quickly added, ‘Sorry, Jeanne, I forgot. I guess you haven’t been on a boat for a while?’

‘No, not since the…accident. Except for the ferry, of course. Perhaps one day, but not yet.’

‘I heard you didn’t remember anything that happened that night. Is that, er, true?’ He asked, shifting from one foot to another.

‘No, I didn’t. But I’ve had nightmares which could be flashbacks. I may still remember it all one day though.’ She shivered.

‘Right. Well let’s hope that it helps, if you do,’ he frowned and Jeanne thought he seemed a bit nervous. Unlike the Marcus she remembered. His expression cleared and he added, ‘How about coming out for a meal with me – just the two of us, this time? One night next week – Friday or Saturday suit you?’

‘Sure, love to. How about Friday?’

‘Great. I’ll ring you when I’ve booked somewhere and confirm a time. I’d better get going now. Thanks for the coffee.’

‘No problem. Thanks for inviting me today. I had a great time.’

Marcus took her face in his hands and kissed her firmly on the lips. As he drew back Jeanne smiled at him.

‘Bye for now, see you next week,’ he called as he got into his car. Jeanne waved and shut the door with a sigh. How come if she’d fancied Marcus all those years ago and still did, she hadn’t felt anything when he kissed her? She couldn’t work it out. All she knew was that her whole body had responded when Nick had touched her on the beach and although he was attractive, in a brooding sort of way, she wasn’t really interested in him. No way. It was Marcus she had a date with and that couldn’t lead to anything serious. She still wasn’t ready for that, even if she did hang around Guernsey for a while. Realising she’d been mulling over this very question only the previous evening without result, Jeanne gave in and grabbed a bottle of wine. Might as well try in vino veritas.