Biarritz Passion: A French Summer Novel (29 page)

‘Annabel, stop it!’ Claudette’s voice cut in sharply. ‘This is for the people who live here, not someone like Julian!’

Annabel turned to glare at Claudette.

‘Oh it’s little Claudie again, galloping to the rescue!’

She turned back to face Julian. A smile appeared on her lips. Her blue eyes glittered with excitement.

‘Darling. I’ll make you a deal. You go and be a bull fighter,
no, a
cow
fighter and I’ll go with you to Frankfurt!’

The smile was defiant
now, taunting. Julian didn’t move.

‘See? I knew you wouldn’t dare!
It’s only a cow.’

She broke into contemptuous laughter.

The people sitting nearby were staring curiously at the scene.

Claudette’s face was tense.

‘
Ce n’est rien
!’ she told them with a brusque wave. It’s nothing.

A wash of crimson had started up from Julian’s neck and was slowly suffusing his face.
Suddenly he sprang to his feet.

‘Where are you going? Julian!’

Caroline tried to grab his arm but Julian shook himself free and without a backward glance began to climb down into the ring. There were one or two cheers and shouts of encouragement from spectators as he passed. Caroline watched with horror as he ran towards the barrier and hoisted himself over the top. Then he was in the ring, along with the local men, all dressed in jeans and trainers. Caroline closed her eyes, unable to look at him standing there in the dust, incongruous in his pleated trousers, immaculate leather shoes, and the socks with their diamond pattern.

With a shudder she turned to her sister, eyes blazing.

‘You want him to look a fool don’t you? You deliberately goaded him!’

‘Oh shut up!’

Annabel snapped back at her. She was leaning forward intently, her face wearing that same look of excitement that Caroline had seen earlier.

‘Annabel! You will listen to me!’

‘No Caro, don’t!’

Claudette had grabbed hold of Caroline’s arm. She realised she had been
on her feet, just about to give her sister a hard slap. She sank back down, appalled. In front of them heads were turning, people were craning their necks to see what was happening, and there were smiles and nudges at the idea of a cat fight to add to the evening spectacle.

‘There is nothing we can do now,’ said Claudette in a low voice.

‘My God Claudie, what’s going to happen?’

The two of them had switched to French. They stared at each other in angry dismay.

A shout came from the ring. The doors had been opened and out of the pens rushed a newcomer. Over the loudspeaker, the commentator introduced Antoinette, giving details of her weight and age. This was her first appearance in the ring. As he talked, the animal stood still, breathing in little snorts and warily eyeing the strange two-legged creatures around her. Attached to one of her sharp horns was a red rosette. Anyone who succeeded in removing it, announced the commentator, would receive a prize of 100 euros. He reminded the participants they’d better be fast runners but warned, if any of them should get caught, to fall to the ground immediately, lie flat on their stomach and cover their neck with their hands.

Antoinette’s immobility brought one or two of the bolder challengers a little nearer. There was a sudden dash, as one of them made a bid for the prize and suddenly Antoinette was off, charging into the thick of the crowds, head down, horns seeking out her enemies. Within seconds the ring was magically deserted, except for the magnificent little black figure trotting in the dust, blowing happily through her nostrils
. The gasps provoked by her lightning attack turned to gales of laughter at the sight of the challengers, all clinging to the barrier with their legs tucked up. The commentator sarcastically extolled their bravery, comparing them to Hercules, Ajax and the mighty Asterix. One or two dropped cautiously to the ground, keeping a wary eye on the trotting animal. Caroline scanned the crowd anxiously. She finally caught sight of Edward and JeanPaul perched next to each other on top of the barrier, legs dangling, wide grins on their faces. And there was Julian, some distance away. In his unsuitable clothes he stood out from the others. He was clinging to the barrier with one arm, legs pulled up beneath him. Antoinette looked round her in evident disgust and began to walk back to her pen, undulating her behind. There were boos and whistles from the crowd. Gathering courage, the would-be matadors began to slide down from their positions of safety and creep towards Antoinette’s disdainfully swaying rump.

Soon the ring was full again as everyone inched forward, those behind pushing those in front, all eyes fixed on the rosette dangling from Antoinette’s left horn. Someone made a grab for it; Antoinette swerved, outraged at this second attack, and charged wildly at the nearest object. There was a flurry of running figures, a confused jostle near the back of the ring in which Antoinette’s tossing head emerged from time to time, still wearing the rosette. One brave soul grabbed hold of her right horn; furious, she swung round, kicking up her hind legs and scattering those close to her rear. More people rushed towards her head and for a while all that could be seen was a confused mass of bodies while always in their midst the bucking figure of Antoinette rushed this way and that. Suddenly the mass split apart and the animal emerged from the centre at a wild run heading for the opposite side of the arena. Those in her path leaped hurriedly to one side. All except for one. Caroline and Claudette were on their feet, ignoring the yells from the people behind them. They watched speechless as Julian, holding on to both of the animal’s horns with desperate tenacity was thrown from one side to the other as Antoinette plunged and twisted. Seeing what was happening, others rushed to help. With a sharp jerk Antoinette flung off her tormentor and turned in fury to punish him. Julian had fallen to one side, half-stunned, and with an angry bellow the animal thrust her horns underneath him, trying to get a purchase.

‘Cover your neck
Monsieur!
Cover your neck!’ howled the MC.

Julian, obviously dazed, made a feeble effort to roll over
out of the way.

‘Lie still!
Ne bougez pas
!’ roared the crowd, beating their feet on the planks in their tension. Julian did not understand, possibly did not even hear. Groggily he got to his knees. People ran towards him at the same time as Antoinette charged. He was flipped to one side like a rag doll, they saw blood stain his white shirt, then several men had thrown themselves on the animal’s neck, hanging on to her back and horns with grim desperation.

The events that followed seemed to take place in a dream. A stretcher appeared, Julian was lifted on to it, the stretcher bearers hurried out of the arena keeping an anxious eye on Antoinette who was at the other side of the arena, distracted by a protective hedge of gesticulating
competitors including the
écarteurs
who had rushed into the ring to help.

The voice of the commentator rose above the din explaining again and again that there was no danger from the animal provided that the competitors, if caught, lay flat on the ground and covered their necks. The show would continue he said and there would be news of the injured competitor as soon as possible.

The men scattered and Antoinette once more had the arena to herself.

Without realising how she had got there, Caroline found herself outside the ring. Claudette was pulling at her arm and shouting something about the ambulance. Then Edward and Jean-Paul were there, their anxious faces streaked with dust.

‘What happened?’ Jean-Paul kept asking as they fought their way to the exit. ‘How did Julian get into the ring?’

Caroline heard Claudette’s voice, high
-pitched, rushing through a stream of explanations in rapid French. Vaguely she heard Edward say something about ‘all my fault’ and then they were out of the enclosure, looking round for the ambulance.

It was only then that they realised that Annabel was nowhere to be seen.

By the time they got back to the villa it was almost two in the morning. There were no lights burning. In the empty hallway, their voices echoed.

‘Annabel? Annabel?’

She was not in her room. With growing anxiety they searched the house. There was no sign of her, nothing to indicate that she had been back to the villa at all. Her clothes, suitcases, toilet bag, everything was as she’d left them. After a fruitless search they ended up in the
salon
looking at each other helplessly.

‘I’ll make some tea’’ said Caroline finally. She headed for the kitchen.

‘Let me give you a hand.’ Edward followed her.

Claudette sank down into an armchair and looked at Jean-Paul. His face bore the signs of tiredness and there were smears of dust on his cheeks.

‘
Quelle merde!
’

Her twin nodded and gave a weary sigh.

In the big kitchen Caroline was putting cups on to a tray with mechanical precision.

‘At least he’s going to be alright.’ She forced herself to say something. ‘It could have been worse, much much worse…’ she shuddered remembering the awful sickening moment when he’d been tossed into the air like a
rag doll.

Edward moved across and took her in his arms.
She stiffened. He stepped back, his eyes searching her face.

‘Try not to worry about Annabel,’ he said. ‘She’s bound to turn up sooner or later.’

And then what? thought Caroline in anguish. And then what?

In the turmoil of getting to the hospital they had seen no sign of her sister. Claudette thought she’d seen her heading for the exit after Julian had been injured. Caroline couldn’t remember anything between the awful moment when Julian had been carried out of the ring with blood coming from his head and the moment when they were all standing by the barrier. Time seemed to have jumped. Her mind had gone blank.

‘She’s probably with him in the ambulance,’ said JP. ‘Claudie saw her heading for the exit. She must have stopped it, got in.’

Edward had
phoned for a taxi and they hung around for ages, waiting for it to get to them through the crowded streets. On the way to the hospital Jean-Paul and Edward kept asking them to go over the details of what had happened, of how Julian had come to find himself in the ring.

‘It’s my fault,’ Edward kept repeating. His face was pale beneath the tan. ‘I thought I’d calmed her down.’

They had told Claudie about the scene at the bar.

All Caroline could say was ‘I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.’

‘Look you two;’ said Claudie finally, ‘It wasn’t your fault, either of you. The only person who has screwed up tonight—and yesterday night—is Annabel. Neither of you is responsible for her. So just stop blaming yourselves.’

On arrival at the hospital they had to wait another hour before they were allowed to see the patient. The ER was full of people with cuts and bruises and knife wounds and worse. It was typical July 14
th
mayhem. They could hear the whistles and bangs of the firework display outside as the paramedics pushed open the doors, rushing past with stretchers. People were groaning and throwing up. At last they were able to speak to the doctor, who looked like an exhausted teenager with a stethoscope round his neck. He told them that it was not too serious, three broken ribs and some bad bruising. Julian had also hurt his head, there was a minor scalp wound which had required three stitches. That was what had caused all the blood. They needed to keep him in overnight. But all in all he’d been lucky to escape so lightly. The three of them listened, nodded, relieved and miserable. They could see him in a few minutes.

‘So. She’s not
with him.’

Jean-Paul was pacing up and down.

‘No.’

Edward ran his hands through his hair trying to think.

‘You tried her phone again Caro?’

‘Voicemail.’

Caroline’s face was drawn.

‘OK. Here’s the plan.’

They decided the most likely scenario was that Annabel, guilty and remorseful, had rushed back to the villa in a taxi, refusing to face what had happened. Caroline had told them of her sister’s head-in-the-sand approach when something happened that she didn’t like.

‘Probably finished off a bottle of wine by now,’ said Claudie.

They agreed to take things one at a time. First they would see Julian, invent an excuse for Annabel. Another excuse, thought Caroline. Then they’d head back to the villa and deal with her sister.

When they were eventually allowed to see the patient he was sitting propped up against the pillows, his chest covered in bandages
, part of his head shaved. He looked pale, but surprisingly cheerful. As they came through the door he looked up eagerly, then his expression changed to puzzlement.

‘Where’s Annabel?’

There was a silence. Edward took charge, smiling reassuringly.

‘Afraid it was all too much of a shock for her old boy,’ he drawled in his best public school manner. ‘We’ve had to put her to bed with a sedative. Best to be on the safe side. She’ll be in to see you though as soon as she’s feeling up to it. So
—how does it feel to be hero of the ring, Courtenay?’

Julian’s face registered a range of expressions from anxiety to doubt.

‘Bit of a baptism of fire,’ he said, finally, managing a wry smile. ‘I’ve probably gone viral on YouTube, be the laughing stock of the Cricket Club when I get back. Seriously though, is Annabel alright? Poor old thing. Probably thinks it’s all her fault…’ he glanced at Claudette and Caroline who were struggling to keep their calm. ‘She’s been terribly over-wrought these last few weeks. This German business, well you all know about it, and she’s, well, she’s been a bit under the weather. Physically I mean.’

He and Edward exchanged glances.

‘Tell her—’ he broke off searching for the words ‘tell her I’m sorry. I should never have blown my top and charged off like that.’

Edward shot a warning look at Claudie who was
tapping her foot nervously.

‘We’ll
see to all that old boy. Now, on a scale of one to ten, how much does it hurt if I poke you in the ribs?’

Julian gave a chuckle followed by a wince.

‘You must all think I’m a total idiot,’ he said.

‘Well, you got more applause than the clowns, that’s for sure,’ said JP
.

‘I never thought I’d have a bull-fighting brother
-in-law,’ said Caroline, forcing a smile as she squeezed his hand.

Julian looked at her with a frown.

‘Poor old thing, you’re as white as a sheet and Claudette too. I must have given you all a scare.’

Claudette forced a smile.

‘You were a very naughty boy to go into the ring. Especially in those socks.’

That brought a brief smile to Julian’s face followed by another frown.

‘I know, I know, I’m terribly sorry to have put all of you through this. I...I just blew my cool and didn’t think of anyone else. Selfish. You will tell Annabel I’m sorry, won’t you?’

‘Oh that...
’ Caroline turned away.

‘We will, we will,’ said Claudette hurriedly. ‘We will most definitely have a litttle chat with Annabel when we get back, don’t worry about that. Now you just concentrate on getting better. The doctor says you’ll probably be out tomorrow.’

‘That’s right, we’d better be off,’ said Edward. ‘You’ve had enough excitement for one night Courtenay. Shouldn’t think you’ll have much trouble falling asleep.’

They said their goodbyes and started to leave.

‘Remember Julian, you have to shout ‘
Olé
!’ the next time,’ said Jean-Paul with a wink.

Caroline turned for a final wave and was struck by how much older Julian looked, lying back against the pillows hands clasped in front of him.

In the corridor Claudette was the first to break the silence.

‘The man is a saint,’ she said through clenched teeth, ‘a saint.
Or an idiot. Oh yes we shall certainly have a message for Annabel. A good shaking till her teeth rattle! I’m sorry I stopped you slapping her Caroline.’

Caroline gave a mirthless laugh.
‘If only one of us had had the sense to give her that slap years ago none of this might have happened.’

It was only when they were in the taxi that Jean-Paul was struck by a sudden possibility.

‘What if she’s not there when we get back?’