Biarritz Passion: A French Summer Novel (27 page)

They were all flushed and laughing as they spilled out into the square, which was packed
full of people talking about the game, many of them speaking Basque. Young children were running in and out of the tables, jumping in the air and imitating the players with whoops and yells. There was a crash as one of them knocked a chair over and a torrent of recriminations as the would-be player got hauled back to his seat by his mother. They had arranged to meet Jean-Paul and Dominique at the
Cafe du Fronton
.

Edward and Antoine were discussing the match, analysing the moves. Claudie had just come back from the Ladies room with a fresh coat of lipstick, leaving a trail of Dior
in her wake. Ever since they’d arrived Annabel had been on her cell phone, texting. She had a gleam in her eye and an air of mystery about her.

‘Everything OK?’ Caroline asked.

‘Great.’

She tucked the phone back in her bag.

Good, thought Caroline. Julian was due back tomorrow, presumably with a suitable bauble for his fiancée, judging by the smug look on her face.

She
took a deep breath of the pine-scented air. The night was warm, no breeze, with a scattering of stars. The conversation level was high, people laughing and chatting, pulling tables together to sit with friends.

A blast of music came from inside the cafe and one or two couples got up and started to fool around, inventing numbers that were a mixture of the high
-kicking Basque folk dances and old fashioned polkas. It was a long way from rainy England, and the fluorescent lights of a government office.

‘Hey! The heroes return!’

Edward was pointing across the square. Jean-Paul and Dominique were coming towards them, carrying sports bags, getting held up every two seconds by people standing up, shaking hands, clapping them on the back. They looked like brothers, black hair gleaming, wet from the shower, brown faces split by wide grins. Applause broke out as they reached the table where everyone was sitting. They gave mock bows, waved their clasped hands in the air in a gesture of triumph.

‘No
w I know how you two keep your figures!’

Caro was smiling at them.

‘Congratulations! It was marvellous. Really marvellous. What’s the Basque word for ‘brilliant’? We enjoyed every minute, didn’t we Annabel?’

She looked round. Annabel had disappeared. Probably off to the Ladies, not about to let herself be outshone by Claudie, smiling like a sphinx from behind a curtain of hair.

‘
Merci chère Caro
.’

Jean-Paul raised her hand and kissed it before flinging a friendly arm around her shoulders.

‘Drink up, heroes, you’ve deserved it.’

The waiter was putting tall glasses of beer in front of them.

Claudie had turned to a good-looking man in a football shirt sitting at the table behind them and was flirting outrageously, batting her eyelashes and smiling provocatively. Dominique’s face darkened. He took a swig of his beer, then lifted his chair and banged it down in front of Claudie, blocking the football shirt who reared back in surprise.

Edward grinned and whispered in Caroline’s ear.

‘Uh oh. ‘High Noon’.’

Suddenly the grin disappeared. His attention had been caught by something happening behind her. She started to turn round at the same time as she heard her sister’s voice, unnaturally high-pitched.

‘Look who I’ve found!’

Caroline was on her feet without realising it. The colour drained from her face, she gripped the back of her chair. She felt Edward’s arm come round her waist steadying her.

‘Caroline, hi. Good to see you, it’s been a while.’

His voice was strained, at odds with the half-cocky half-defiant expression on his face.
He was wearing jeans and a polo shirt, his hair shorter than when she’d last seen him.

The others had stopped speaking. Claudette had got to her feet and was standing, arms crossed, body language radiating hostility. Dominique, sensing that something was amiss, pushed back his chair also.
Jean-Paul came to stand on the other side of Caroline, instinctively closing ranks with his cousin.

‘Annabel, are you going to introduce us?’

Edward’s voice was like ice.

Annabel’s smile faltered.

‘Of course! Sorry! It was the excitement. I’m forgetting my manners.’

She turned to the man standing next to her.

‘Everybody, this is Liam, Liam Evans. He’s...an old friend. We’ve known each other for ages. He’s with some people—’ she gestured in the direction of the bar. ‘They’re down here on a sailing holiday.’

Another man
joined them, glass in hand, an open, friendly grin on his face.

‘Hi everyone. I’m Alan. Pleased to meet you all. Good to hear some English voices in all this racket.’

He was holding out his hand. No one moved to shake it and he drew it back uncertainly.

‘Did I say something wrong? You are English aren’t you?’

He turned to look at Liam and Annabel, eyebrows raised.

‘Liam and Alan have invited us to have a drink. On their boat. Isn’t that kind? What do you think Caro?’

Annabel was gabbling now.

As if underwater, Caroline dimly heard Edward say to Claudette
‘Get her out of here.’

Claudette cut across in front of Annabel and took a firm grip on Caroline’s arm.

‘
Caroline, tu peux m’accompagner aux toilettes s’il te plaît?’

In a daze she turned to follow Claudie, then stopped.

Edward, Jean-Paul, Dominique and Antoine were all on their feet. Their hands were bunched, shoulders tensed. No one knew what was going on except Edward but they had all moved in silent solidarity to line up with their friend. Alan had taken a step back, his face registering incomprehension mixed with alarm. Liam was still looking defiant, but he’d lost some of the bluster, and there was something else in his eyes, maybe regret. Annabel stood, a beautiful statue, in the middle. Her smile had faded.

Caroline touched Edward’s arm, timidly. The muscles were rock hard. He turned to her.

‘Edward,’ she said. ‘Please. Don’t.’

There was a moment when he didn’t move. Then she felt a slight relaxation, and he gave her a nod.

Claudie let go of Caroline’s arm, stepped forward in front of the men. She looked as regal as a Spanish princess.

‘Excuse us please gentlemen. I go to powder my nose, with my friend
Caroline. Such a pleasure to meet you. Enjoy your holiday. Please take Annabel with you, on your boat. But careful, she is full of vomit.’

She swung round, her long black hair lifting like a cape, and marched Caroline off to the Ladies.

‘How could you do it? How could you do it?’

They were in Annabel’s bedroom.

Caroline could barely restrain herself from grabbing her sister and shaking her till her teeth rattled. She was furious, hurt, stunned, could hardly believe what had happened. Her hands were still trembling.

‘I’ve told you! I thought it would be a nice surprise!’

Caroline closed her eyes, made an effort. She didn’t want everyone hearing their row.

‘You had no business doing that. What happened between me and Liam was not your business! Are you listening?’

‘But I just thought
—’

‘No Annabel. You did
not think. You never think. You just do the first thing that comes into your stupid little brain. You are an egocentric, self-absorbed, manipulative bitch!’

They stared at each other in shock. Never in her life had Caroline spoken to her sister in such a way.
Venom flashed in Annabel’s eyes and she sprang to her feet.

‘He wanted to get back with you! He told me! He’s been trying for months! And you never said a word, you just let me think he’d dumped you but all the time it was you, wasn’t it? Nothing’s ever good enough for you! He was hurting, Caroline, hurting!’

Caroline thought she was going to throw up. He was hurting! After everything he’d done to her, now he was trying to twist the truth and play the victim! The weeks she’d spent checking the shadows outside her flat, frightened that he was waiting for her. The flowers she’d tossed in the bin, the torn up cards.

‘You idiot. You played right into his hands.’

Even as she spoke the words, her brain was telling her it wasn’t entirely true. Her sister had her own agenda, no matter what she might say about ‘a nice surprise’ and Liam ‘hurting.’ She wondered which of them had got in touch first. How long ago it was. What they had said about her. Just the thought of them discussing her behind her back made her see red.

‘You do
realise don’t you that as well as making me suffer you have also spoiled this holiday for everyone? With your behaviour the other night, and now this?’

‘Oh so I’m to be cast as the villain of the piece, am I? I told you, I was just trying to help, you’ve been moping and drooping for months,
everybody noticed it! Naturally we all thought that he was the one who broke it off, that you were missing him. And then, the other day, when he told me how you’d treated him—’

‘
The other day? You saw him? Here in Biarritz? You knew he was here, and you didn’t tell me?’

‘I told you, it was supposed to be a surprise! He was coming down with his friends so I thought
—’

‘How did you know?
’

‘
How did I know what?’

‘
About his plans, about him coming down here?’

‘
It was, we, I can’t remember now, he just happened to call! What is this, the Spanish Inquisition? He told me he still loved you, if you could only have seen him the other day, he actually broke down, Caroline! Broke down, right in front of me. I almost cried myself, the poor man, it was so sad!’

‘
Does Julian know about any of this?’

‘
Julian? What’s Julian got to do with it, of course he doesn’t know. Oh for God’s sake don’t look at me like that! I’ll explain to the others, they’ll see my point of view, I was just trying to do a good turn! I can’t seem to do anything right these days, as far as you’re concerned!’

‘
How could you possibly think you were doing me a good turn? You have absolutely no empathy, no inkling of how other people are feeling! It’s all about you, what suits you, what you want, oh, why am I even bothering!’

She
stopped abruptly and headed for the door. She had discovered, long ago, that Annabel had her own world-view, and no amount of reasoning, pleading, appealing to her better nature—nothing could change it. She was simply wasting her breath and making herself more upset.

She left her sister standing in the middle of the room, a look of injury on her face.

Liam. Lying on her bed, head pounding, Caroline remembered the day she had finally confronted him, outside his work. He’d been flustered, had made an excuse to the colleague walking down the steps with him.

Caroline’s knees had been quaking but she told herself this was the only way.

‘I have a letter here, for your boss.’

She waved it in front of him, quickly, so he wouldn’t see her hands were shaking.

‘It’s a letter of complaint. You’ve been making harassment calls from your place of work. I’ve got another one too, a bit different. That one’s for your parents.’

‘You wouldn’t dare.’

He took a step towards her.

‘I would. Yes I would Liam. I’ve had enough. I’m giving you one last chance. One. If you bother me again, I’m sending the letters.’

She had glared at him, turned on her heel and left.

It had been as easy as that. She had pushed open the door into the first pub she found, ordered a brandy and drunk it straight down. She had dared to do it.

Margaret’s words came back to her, from her schooldays.

‘There’s only one way to deal with bullies. Stand up to them, even if you’re frightened to death, even if you think you’re going to die on the spot.
You must stand up to them. Use your intelligence. Find their weak points.’ She had tilted her head to one side, looking down at the slight figure of her niece. ‘Remember David and Goliath. Every bully has a weak point, you just have to find out what it is.’

Of course Liam had had the last word, when he left a message on her work phone, telling her about Annabel.

There was a council of war the next morning, in the kitchen. Madame Martin was off, it was the National Holiday, July 14
th
, Bastille Day.

‘Pity we still
have not the guillotine,’ said Claudie, dipping a croissant into her bowl of coffee.

‘No but we have the
vaches landaises
tonight,’ said Jean-Paul. ‘We could throw her into the ring, with the bull.’

Edward’s hand was warm
on Caroline’s shoulder.

‘Annabel knows what we think of her. She got the message last night, loud and clear. And so did that son
of a bitch ex-fiancé of yours. I still can’t believe the sheer brass neck– anyway, we’ve agreed, no more re-hashing of events, and no reason to spoil things for Julian. We’ve only got another few days together. I think Claudie’s right. We should try to carry on as normal, for Julian’s sake. But it’s up to you, Caro. You were the one in the firing line. If you want me to throw your sister in the car and dump her at the airport, I will.’

‘
No, you’re right, we all love Julian, he’s having a bad enough time without adding anything else to his problems. Oh God.’

She
rested her head on her hands.

‘
I just feel as though the MacDonald family has put a total blight on the holiday. I don’t know how you can all be so understanding, so forgiving.’

‘Oh we are forgiving nothing,’ said Claudie. ‘I will never forgive what Annabel did to you last night. Unbelievable. If that is what sisters are like, I am glad I’ve got
him
.’

She jabbed a finger in JP
’s direction.

‘
At last! Recognition. I’ve been telling you how lucky you are for years.’

Caroline smiled wanly. They were all doing their best. She felt worn out. At the same time she was profoundly touched by the way they had rushed to her rescue last night,
she’d had a good hard cry when she got back to her room. And now the way they were rallying round this morning, she felt the tears threatening again.

‘I don’t deserve it,’ she said, with a sniff, groping for a Kleenex.

‘You do deserve it. Caroline
ma chérie
, we all luuuurv you!’

JP had flung himself in front of her and was making little panting noises like a puppy.
Edward stroked her hair, massaged her neck. It had taken every ounce of self-control not to hit Liam last night. Then an extra effort not to burst into Caroline’s room where he could hear her crying. In fact he would have gone in to her, it had been Claudie who had shaken her head, said ‘No.’ He had given in to Claudie’s superior knowledge of the mysterious workings of the female mind, gone back downstairs, and knocked back a couple of glasses of scotch.

‘
Shoulders back, sweetheart. Have another coffee. And a
croissant
. Claudie’s made some damson jam.You know you love Claudie’s jam. Come on, I’ll even put the jam on for you. Open wide!’

Caroline had ended up laughing.

And so it was decided. Julian was due back this afternoon, they would go out to the fireworks as planned. They would go to see the
vaches landaises
. They would enjoy themselves.

During the day,
Annabel kept mostly to her room, which made things easier. And Julian returned triumphant, his trip to Frankfurt had been a huge success. There was an even bigger contract in the pipeline.

He told them all about it as they ate a light meal on the terrace that evening. He was
delighted with his German colleagues, optimistic about future developments. They all congratulated him, patting him on the back and telling him he’d saved the British economy single-handed. Edward and Claudie recounted Jean-Paul’s triumph on the
pelota
court, carefully avoiding any references to how the evening had ended.

‘I’d have loved to be there with you all,’ said Julian.

‘
Yes, it was a memorable evening,’ said Edward.

He shot a dark look at Annabel, who had been unusually silent, picking at her food but serving herself liberally with wine.

Now she
said she had a headache and was going to lie down before they went out.

‘Do you want me to bring you a cup of tea, darling?’

Annabel shook her head no, said she’d take some paracetamol.

‘We’ll be leaving in half an hour,’ Edward called after her.
‘You don’t have to come if you don’t feel up to it, you know.’

Caroline watched her sister head for the stairs. She was swaying a little
, probably from too much wine. She’d felt like hitting the bottle herself when Annabel had finally made an appearance earlier. Either that or strangling her. Her sister had just looked mutinous and stalked past her into the living room in frosty silence.

Now
Julian was looking at them as if sensing a problem. Claudie turned to her brother.

‘Jean-Paul, explain to Caro about the
vaches landaises
. She’s worried it’s a bullfight.’

‘No bulls,’ said JP, patting her hand.

‘Nothing to worry about.’ Edward patted the other one. ‘No animals are harmed. One or two humans, but no sweet little cows. Lots of fun and games. Clowns even.’

‘
So these ‘
vaches’
are really cows? Not bulls?’

‘
Not bulls. But they are
vaches
from
les Landes
. Big ones with sharp horns.’

JP stuck his fingers on either side of his head.

‘It’s sort of like the revenge of the beef family. They fight us. You’ll see.’

He gave her a wink.

‘We’d better not leave it too late, there’s always a crowd.’

Dusk was falling as they arrived at the
park. At Jean-Paul’s suggestion they had come on foot. Cars were parked bumper to bumper in the surrounding streets and there was a festive mood as crowds flocked towards the ticket booths outside a fenced enclosure where tiers of wooden seats rose on three sides of a makeshift arena. Despite the cooler weather many people were in short sleeves and summer dresses.

Once inside Jean-Paul started eying the seats.

‘There,’ he said, pointing to what looked like an impenetrable mass of spectators. ‘Follow me!’

They clambered up awkwardly
towards the top, trying not to step on any toes, murmuring excuses as they went. Somehow all six of them managed to find spaces on the top row and squeezed themselves onto the packed benches. There were groans and protests from their neighbours who nevertheless made room for them good naturedly, especially as some of them recognised JP.

‘Nice to have a hero for a brother,’ remarked Claudie.

‘This seat’s hard. And I can’t see a thing.’

It was the only thing Annabel had said since they left the villa.

‘It will be a lot harder in a couple of hours
ma belle,’
said Claudette with a cheerful grin.

Caroline was
on edge. She noticed her sister’s eyes were glassy. Familiar signals were coming off her. ‘Batten down the hatches. Storm MacDonald approaching,’ as Margaret used to say. She was torn between going back to the villa or staying, in case damage limitation was needed. What would Sarah Lund do? Probably shoot her. She was really truly fed up with Annabel.

Edward took her hand and leaned
close to murmur in her ear.

‘Enjoy yourself. You’re on holiday. Forget about yesterday.
I sneaked to the port at midnight and drilled a hole in their boat, didn’t tell you that, did I? Ah, that’s better. Did I ever tell you what a beautiful smile you have? Who’s your dentist? Now I can see a dimple. Did I ever tell you I adore dimples? Would you like something to eat? You always cheer up when you’re eating. I bet you’d like some candy floss. Or peanuts.’

Peanut sellers were making their way through the crowd, trays of sweets and nuts slung on ropes round their necks. Long
-drawn-out cries of ‘
Cacahuètes
!’ mingled with the noise from the spectators, the shrieks of children climbing up and down the benches and the music blaring through the loudspeakers high above the arena. Tangos, paso dobles. It was like being in a time capsule, back in the sixties, like those nostalgia films about small towns in America. One horse towns. Or in this case, one cow. She felt a sudden urge to giggle.

‘What’s the matter?’

Claudette, sitting on the other side, began to smile too.

‘
Oh, just all of this! It’s so quaint. Nice. Great music.’

As she spoke, the
paso-doble was suddenly cut off in mid-blare. A forlorn off- key wail from a lonely trumpet heralded the next masterpiece.

That set Claudie off
.

‘
Not just the music, look at the ring, over there! They have made it with cardboard I think. If the cow leans on it, it collapses instantly!’

Jean-Paul, at the end of the row, gave them a severe look.

‘Soon you will be speechless with terror, I’m warning you.’

His words provoked even more giggling.

‘What’s the matter with those two?’

Annabel peered at them from the other side of Julian. She took a large swig from a bottle of
Evian.

‘Maybe
,’ said Claudette, ‘maybe…’ she spluttered and then said in a rush:

‘Ma
ybe they are trying to wake Buttercup the Cow!’

Claudette choked and Caroline
had to wipe away tears. What’s the matter with us both? she thought. Must be the reaction. It wasn’t all that funny.

‘
The master of ceremonies.’

Edward pointed at the raised dais on the opposite side of the ring. A little procession was making its way towards the platform.

The MC positioned himself in front of the microphone and starting fiddling with it, sending blasts of feedback into the air. The crowd groaned and jeered, setting Claudie and Caroline off once more.

‘Everything OK?’
Edward was smiling in sympathy, but he sounded slightly worried.

Caroline nodded, speechless, shoulders shaking.

‘
Mesdames et Messieurs
!’

The sounded boomed out into the night, accompanied by a whistling noise. The
MC looked like a fairground huckster. He was dressed in old trousers and an open-necked shirt, with a cigarette glued to his bottom lip in blatant defiance of the ‘No Smoking’ signs nailed to the arena. Below him, just outside the ring a dozen young men in white shirts and trousers with red sashes round their waists were waiting, chatting to each other. Edward pointed.

‘They’re called the ‘
écarteurs’
he said, ‘sort of matadors if you like. What they do is make passes in front of the animal, as close as they can get but without using a cape.’

He stared closely at the group.

‘Ah! They’ve got a
sauteur
with them as well.’

He called out to Jean-Paul.

‘Have you seen the
sauteur?
It’s the boy we saw last year isn’t it?’

Jean-Paul leaned forward.

‘I don’t see him, ah yes you’re right, he’s only fifteen. Really terrific.’

Caroline saw a small figure with the typical bullfighter’s tiny waist and lithe torso. When he raised his head, tossing back the lock of black hair that fell over one eye she could see he was just a young boy.

‘A
sauteur
jumps over the bull. Or cow, in this case. A bull leaper, like they used to have in ancient Crete.’

‘Really? I
thought that was just a myth.’

She had seen pictures of the wall decorations of the ancient palace of Knossos. Five thousand years ago, the story went, teams of young Athenians were sent as a tribute to King Minos. They entertained the Cretan courtiers with displays of daring agility, leaping over the heads of charging bulls and turning somersaults inches above their sharp horns.

‘No, not a myth. Of course what we’ll see tonight is nowhere near as elaborate. But it’s pretty impressive.’

The music from the loudspeakers stopped. There was a stir in the ranks of spectators
. The children were called back to their seats. There was a crackle from the loudspeakers, then the MC’s voice boomed out again, reverberating beyond the trees of the park. In the little circle of light forming a bright oasis among the dark silhouettes of the trees, the spectacle began.

First into the ring were the
é
carteurs
. They lined up, arms held high turning to salute the crowd. The MC introduced each one in turn. It was clear that most of them were familiar faces. Two other men appeared. Their job, said Edward, was to control the animal by ropes attached to it, leading it into position for each pass. There was a fanfare of trumpets as the doors to the pens were hauled open.