SEVEN DAYS (21 page)

“Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?” the man said.

She looked around and saw no-one she recognised.

She stumbled backwards and ended up in the ladies’ toilets. She held onto the cubicle walls for a while, sucking in deep panic breaths.

There was banging on the door, which she had confused with her heartbeat.

“Open the door, Judy.”

It was Andre's voice.

She unlocked the door and peeked around.

“What are you doing in here?” Judy said.

“This is the men’s',” Andre said.

      At the urinals, three guys were looking over their shoulders at her.

“Mark was right,” she said. “I think I had too much...stuff.”

“I'll take you home,” Andre said.

It was Mark she wanted to say that, but he was nowhere to be seen. Not until she was on the bus and Andre was pulling out of the car park. Mark was on the balcony with Maggie. They were silhouetted. His wavy hair and her ridiculous boots, her hand on his arm, stroking him. They made a beautiful couple.

It was one step too far, however, when she saw him stroking her arm back, in combination with Maggie’s appreciative laughter, deep and suggestive.

Unable to look away, Judy saw that Maggie was unbuttoning her shirt. She wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing but was staring at Mark as her fingers worked down her top from neck to waist. What? Was she going to bare her breasts for him right there on the balcony?

Mark was regarding her openly, clearly enjoying the view unfolding before him more than the surrounding landscape. Neither of them realised that they were being watched. They were too busy with each other to care.

Judy wondered if she’d tell him that she’d spotted them together, at which point she imagined that he would blame his indiscretion on the drugs.

Andre passed a tree, which obscured the couple on the balcony, and then the minibus turned a corner. They were out of sight.

Unfortunately ‘out of sight and out of mind’ did not apply.

* * * *

When she woke, she felt as though she had eaten her feather pillow, but no, there it was, crushed beneath her head with a face imprint in it.

“Never again,” she said. “I know I said that this morning, but this time I mean it.”

“Are you okay?” came a man's voice.

It was Andre, standing in the doorway.

Judy pulled the covers up over her, although it wasn't necessary, because he hadn't undressed her.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asked.

“I came to check on you,” he said.

She told him about the feather-pillow eating and he looked confused.

“I'm going to brush my teeth,” she said. “Then I'll be fine. Thank you for putting me to bed. I remember you were so gentle.”

He nodded gallantly.

“Did I...did I do something crazy at the party?” she asked.

“You were beautiful,” he said. “Everybody wanted to dance with you.”

She laughed, thinking that he was joking, but he didn't join in and gradually, things started to come back to her. She recalled dancing with somebody she thought was Mark, but it was...someone else...nobody...he'd told her that he loved her. Hadn't he?

“You were confused,” Andre said. “You got lost. I brought you home to rest.”

“Thank you,” she said again and laid a hand on his chest. “You've been sweet to me.”

Now she noticed the empty bed beside her and wondered if Maggie would be back that evening.

“Maybe we should get back to the party,” she suggested, “although I don't really feel like going anywhere.”

“The party's over,” Andre said. “It's four in the morning.”

Judy looked at her watch on the bedside table.

“So where's Maggie?” she said.

Andre shrugged and looked embarrassed. His eyes slipped away from hers and he took an exaggerated breath as if that would be enough to change the subject. Silence, however, rolled between them.

“Is she with Mark?” Judy asked.

“I don't know,” Andre said. His eyes were fidgety.

She was reassured that he was such a terrible liar. It meant that all his sweetness had probably been real. At least someone could be trusted.

Sure, he might be a holiday destination Romeo, but he really liked her and she liked him. Their growing friendship was uncomplicated.

“Would you like to come with me for a walk?” he said. “It is cool outside.”

She glanced again at Maggie's empty bed. She couldn't help herself imagining Maggie in Mark's bed, in Mark's arms.

This week was such a mistake. Her ego wasn’t ready for this much of a pounding.

“Maybe you will feel better if you come with me?” Andre suggested. “For some air.”

“Maybe I will,” Judy said and slipped on some shoes. “For some air.”

* * * *

As she walked through the French garden, she thought about those she had left behind. Peter would be surprised and concerned to see her walking in a garden at night with 'some strange man' as he would have put it.

If he were here now, Judy would have reassured him that she wasn't on the rebound. Deep down, she knew that she and Peter could never have a life together. A night perhaps. A month. An excruciating six months even. A life? No.

With Andre, it would be simple. What she saw was what she would get.

She looked down at her trousers and realised that they were stained with some spilled drink or other. Had she done that? Or had someone bumped into her? It didn't matter. What mattered now was that she looked like crap. If Lisa were here she would have scolded her in that friendly but too-pushy way of hers, which she had initially mistaken for irony. Lisa would have commanded her to strip off, right there and then, and on the basis of what had happened last time, she'd have done it.

It wasn't unusual for her to feel sexy whenever she thought of Lisa as she had always had that effect on people, but this was a stronger sensation than she ever thought she would feel, triggered simply by the mention of her name or by her mind flashing on her during her early morning walk with Andre.

Peter would be perplexed by what she was now doing. Lisa would love it. Jules would be jealous. Barry: bemused.

What mattered, of course, was how she felt about it, but there was another face that kept swimming into focus, even when she was looking into Andre's eyes.

Mark.

Was Maggie on top of him or was he on top of her? Were they in his room? In his bed? On the floor? Had they even made it home?

Evidently, she'd pushed him away too many times.

What was done was done.

And so why did she feel guilty now?

“Mind your step,” Andre said and used a boulder on the path as an excuse to take her hand. He was obvious, but charming, and she had no doubt that he had done this exact walk before.

His hand closed around hers with a grip that alarmed her.

“You don't know your own strength,” she remarked.

“You don't know your strength either,” he said. “You don't know that you are beautiful.”

They walked silently up the hill. Behind them, the grand house moved further and further away. They ascended over a beautifully-mown lawn that was flanked with swaying and bobbing flowers in pastel shades. It would have been stunning during the day, but seeing it at night was a different kind of pleasure and had a unique significance.

“There is a fantastic view if we keep walking,” Andre said.

Of course there is
, Judy said to herself.

“We will see the whole of Sarlat from the top.”

“How many times have you seen this view?” Judy asked him, panting despite Andre's considerate pace.

“A few times,” he admitted.

“And is it always beautiful?” she asked.

“Always very beautiful.”

“That's what I thought.”

He detected the edge in her tone and added a get-out clause:

“Maybe you are too tired for this,” he said.

“No,” Judy said, giving his firm fingers a squeeze. “Now's a perfect time.”

She was pleased when they got to the top, not only because there was indeed a fantastic view, but because there was somewhere to sit. They sat side by side on a large tree trunk. He stroked her back while she got her breath back.

Below them, looking down the way they had come, she could see the very top of the roof of the house. Beyond, a marvellous landscape of mountainous hills with urban colonies here and there, marked by glowing, pin-prick lights.

She was glad to see the back of London and was surprised to find that she was enjoying the sight of another city so soon. At this distance, the lights of streetlamps and cars and houses appeared to be flickering like candles. The urbanisation made the mountain more beautiful and vice versa.

His hand moved over the small of her back and then down one arm.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” Andre said, but he wasn't looking down the hillside. His eyes were on the slope of her neck, following his hands over her shoulder.

“Breathtaking,” she said.

Since the night before, it seemed that her head had not quite stopped spinning. She noticed again the slight movement in her peripheral vision. A blurring that had at first been alarming, but was now pleasurable. She let herself go, enjoying it, in addition to the sensation of his firm fingers on her neck.

She wished that she had worn something with better access.

Lisa would be livid.

“Do you live in that city?” Judy asked.

Andre shook his head.

“I'm actually homeless,” he said. “I used to work in two bars in Sarlat,” he said, “but there was some conflict and now I work in only one bar. Unfortunately one of my bosses was also my landlord and so I am homeless, but Mark has said that I can stay here in Trignac until I find somewhere.”

“That was lucky.”

“We have known each other only for a few weeks, but he offered me this job to make up for my lost work and gave me food, somewhere to stay. He saved my life, or at least, my ass.”

“That was kind of him,” Judy admitted.

“He is a wonderful man,” Andre said. “Crazy, but wonderful.”

Crazy, but wonderful. That summed him up. It also summed up how Judy felt when she was near him. Right now, however, talking about him and his good deeds was driving her crazy and she wasn't feeling wonderful at all.

“He didn't have to help me,” Andre went on, “but he said that I have the soul of an artist.”

“And the body of a God,” Judy replied.

“Perhaps,” Andre said, but then he returned to the subject of Mark again and what a saviour he was and how they had trusted each other completely and very quickly.