What Happens at the Beach... (28 page)

From there they carried on into the city of Narbonne for lunch and the opportunity to visit the old Archbishop's Palace and the strange, unfinished cathedral next to it. They bought sandwiches and ate them in the shade of huge plane trees lining one of the side canals leading to the Canal du Midi. The heat was suffocating as they did the tour of the sights that afternoon and Natalie was relieved to return to the air-conditioned luxury of the car after they had seen everything Narbonne had to offer.

The drive up to Minerve took just over half an hour and they found themselves climbing steeply into the hills as they neared this little village. The road snaked along beside a dried-up river bed, set in a limestone gorge. As they approached Minerve, the sides of the gorge deepened until they rounded a corner and saw the village, perched high on a promontory where the gorge spilt into two. It was an atmospheric place, its stone houses and stone walls the same colour as the rock upon which they were built. Knowing that this had been the scene of savage fighting back in the thirteenth century, and was the place where so many people had been burnt to death, made it all the more special to two Cathar enthusiasts.

‘This place is definitely going in the book.' Mark parked in a car park directly opposite the fortified village and they stepped out into the heat. It was slightly cooler here in the hills, but it was still a very hot day. Mark dug out Barney's bowl and filled it with water for him. The dog wasted no time in emptying it. Mark grinned at Natalie. ‘He needs to replenish his reservoir from time to time.' While Mark took out his camera and took some photos of the village, Barney immediately went over to a dusty tree and cocked his leg against it. Natalie watched him and smiled as she waited for Mark to finish his photography.

‘So, how's the plot coming along?'

Mark slipped his camera back in his pocket and came back to her side. As they walked over the high bridge across the gorge into the village, he outlined how far his thinking had got. ‘My heroine's over here working as a waitress while she's looking for a job in a university. She's a medieval specialist.' He glanced across at her and saw the expression on her face. ‘No reference to people alive or dead, you understand. And, besides, she isn't tall, blonde and beautiful. She's tall, red-haired and beautiful. And she's got amazing
green
eyes. See… totally different girl.'

‘I see. And what happens to this green-eyed red-head?'

‘She overhears a conversation in the restaurant between two Englishmen. They keep mentioning Cathar names and places and she's interested. She tells them that she's just done a PhD on the subject and offers to help them if they're looking for some place in particular. That night, when she's walking home from work, the two men are waiting for her. They tell her they work for British Intelligence and swear her to secrecy. Then it all gets a bit complicated as a couple of Americans put in an appearance. She goes off to somewhere that you can find for me, where the records of the Inquisition are kept, and she locates a treasure map, or at least instructions about where to find the treasure.'

They reached the end of the bridge and began to climb the narrow street into the village. Natalie looked across at him. ‘That all sounds fine, but what's the twist? You know, what's the unexpected turn of events that's going to knock your readers bandy?'

He grinned at her. ‘Ah, that? Right, well I thought that the two British Intelligence officers could turn out to be phonies; baddies, not goodies. Oh, and yes, she falls in love with one of the Americans and finds herself caught in the middle.'

‘And the handsome American? Tall, fit, short fair hair by any chance? Runs marathons? Maybe with a pet Labrador?'

‘You think she'd fall in love with a guy like that?' His tone was so studiously even she realised that she was now staring down into a great big hole, a figurative spade in her hand. She avoided his gaze and answered judiciously.

‘I can't speak for a red-head of course, but love's an amazing force. Remember, Abelard was so much in love with Eloise he got himself castrated as a result.'

‘Ouch.'

‘Ouch, indeed. But what I'm saying is that love's unfathomable. What makes two people fall in love is one of life's great unknowns.' She was conscious that she wasn't answering his question, so she tried again. ‘For what it's worth, I fell truly, madly and deeply in love with Barney here, the very first time I met him.'

Hearing his name, the Labrador nudged Natalie's leg with his nose and wagged his tail. Mark glanced down and smiled. ‘The feeling would appear to be mutual. So love at first sight is a thing, as far as you're concerned?'

‘Definitely, at least as far as Labradors are concerned.' She looked across and met his eye, suddenly serious. ‘And not just Labradors. People too.'

She thought she caught a hint of a smile on his lips as he replied. ‘Then that's the way it's going to be. Rosie the red-head falls head over heels for Yogi the Yank and vice versa.'

‘I think you've got yourself a pretty intriguing plot, although maybe the characters' names could do with a little work.' She smiled back at him.

They toured the village and she explained to him that Minerve described itself as a
cité
, even though there were barely a handful of houses up there. She pointed out the ruined remains of a single octagonal tower that was all that remained of the fortress itself. They gazed down into the deep gorges on three sides of the village and finally sat down on the terrace of a café overlooking the dried-up riverbed far below and ordered two alcohol-free beers. A saucer of crisps arrived along with the beers and the dog suddenly woke up, raising himself to a sitting position, his nose pointed upwards. Mark tapped him gently on the nose.

‘You know you don't get food from the table, Barney. Lie down and be a good dog.' The Labrador gave Natalie a disgruntled look, but he obeyed. Natalie felt him rest back against her feet and smiled across the table at Mark.

‘You've got him really well trained. How long have you had him?'

‘I got him three years ago. To be honest, I think it was sort of as a way of trying to prove to myself that Beatrice and I were just a normal couple.' He took a big mouthful of the beer and grimaced. ‘It didn't work, I'm afraid. Last year, he was the only part of the divorce settlement that mattered to me. Luckily, Beatrice had no interest in being ordinary, so she didn't contest it.' He glanced across at Natalie with a sardonic smile. ‘Mind you, he was just about the only thing she and her lawyers didn't contest.'

‘Why did you split up, Mark, if you don't mind my asking?'

‘I don't mind at all. It's quite clear to me now. So clear I wonder why it took me so long to realise.' He glanced at her again and then looked away across the gorge to the sun-baked hills beyond. ‘I was born in a very ordinary house, in a very ordinary street. I had two fine, loving and ordinary parents until my dad died. My mum worked as a librarian. It was all very ordinary and I grew up as an ordinary sort of guy.' He took another sip. ‘Then I had the great good fortune to discover that tiny little gizmo that made me a millionaire. In the space of a very few years, I went from scraping around to repay all the debts I'd built up at university, to setting up a multinational company. The thing is, I was still the same, ordinary guy. I still am.'

‘And your wife wasn't so ordinary?'

He shook his head ruefully. ‘It's amazing what a few million in the bank does to your sex appeal. Suddenly I was being pursued by absolutely gorgeous women who were totally out of my league. Beatrice looked like something out of a magazine. In fact, she's been on the front cover of numerous magazines. She was, is, a very beautiful woman.' He looked across at Natalie. ‘As beautiful as you, but in a much showier way.'

Natalie felt her cheeks colour. ‘So you're saying these old shorts and my University of Cambridge T-shirt with the hole in the sleeve aren't showy?' She caught his eye and saw him looking unusually serious.

‘I'll be totally honest with you, Natalie. Ever since Beatrice, I've tried to avoid any kind of involvements with women. Once you've been burned, you think twice about approaching any fire, and when I first saw you, I thought you were so beautiful, you frightened the life out of me. I'm carrying some pretty deep emotional scars and these things don't just heal overnight. When I first met Beatrice, as a young man who had suddenly found himself catapulted from working in a laboratory to running a business, I was dazzled by her. I realise that now and I've been desperate not to fall into the same trap once more. It's only recently, as we've got to know each other better, that I've worked out that, stunning as you are, you're a very different sort of animal from the Beatrices and the Hortenses of this world.' He deliberately ignored Natalie's embarrassment. ‘Anyway, the answer to your question is that there are all kinds of reasons why we split up, but one was because she wanted to make me into something I wasn't.' He glanced back at her. ‘I'm just an ordinary bloke who got lucky, Natalie, and that wasn't enough for her.' He shrugged. ‘So, can I ask you the same thing?'

Natalie nodded. ‘It's sort of similar really. He wanted to make me into something I'm not either.' She looked across at him. ‘You know, cocktail parties, dinners with important clients, that sort of thing. Mind you, I'm at least partly to blame for the relationship going belly up. I was so totally involved with my PhD course that I probably neglected him a bit. I should have made more of an effort. I've been talking to my gran about it ever since I arrived over here and she's made me realise that my behaviour was as selfish in its way as his. He could only see as far as his career and I could only see as far as my PhD. In our own way, we were both at fault.'

‘And now you're going over to Cambridge to have it out with him. Make or break?'

‘Something like that. But I can't say I'm looking forward to it.' As she spoke, she reflected that she really was dreading, rather than looking forward to, seeing David again. Certainly, that didn't bode well for a happy outcome.

As the sun dropped down to the horizon they returned to the car and drove up the very steep hill behind Minerve to the restaurant recommended by Madame Lenoir. It was an old stone building, sort of a fortified farmhouse, surrounded by the only trees to emerge from the low scrub on that hillside. The views back down across the plain to the sea were spectacular, but no more spectacular than the restaurant itself. With its narrow arrow slits, massive walls and crenellations, it looked as if it could withstand attack from a whole army. Natalie found herself studying the architecture and soon decided it was an amalgam of different styles, built at different times, probably starting as long ago as the early Middle Ages.

She glanced across at Mark. ‘Let's ask, but by my reckoning, parts of this place were already here when the crusade came through in 1209.'

He grinned back at her. ‘So a good place to hide some treasure, maybe?'

‘Definitely.'

There were tables set out under the trees, shaded from the sunlight, and everywhere they looked there were chickens and ducks running free. Best of all, there was a lovely, cooling breeze under the shelter of the branches. As they picked their way through the poultry towards the door, Barney under strict instructions to behave, a matronly old lady came out to greet them and show them to a table. The view was delightful, the atmosphere romantic and Natalie was delighted to see that her shorts and scruffy T-shirt were more than elegant enough for the surroundings.

Fortunately, the tables were separated off from the poultry, so the ground was clean for Barney to lie down in front of them. They sat down, side by side, so as to take full advantage of the view down the hill, across the valley and onward as far as the sea that lay in the distance, glistening in the evening sunlight. The old lady reappeared with a carafe of red wine and another of water, along with a basket of freshly sliced bread. She didn't bring a menu and made no attempt to take an order. Natalie had a feeling chicken and duck would figure highly among the dishes on offer. She wasn't wrong.

As they helped themselves to a selection of local hams, sausages and pâtés from a massive wooden board, they talked, more freely and more intimately than they had ever done before. Her grandmother's death and the discovery that they had both lost their parents had brought them closer together. Natalie found herself recounting the events of the party at David's parents' house and she saw Mark shake his head in disbelief.

‘What a snide old bat.' He took a drink of water. ‘No wonder you were upset. And I'm afraid your fiancé sounds like a bit of an arse.' He caught Natalie's eye. ‘Doesn't he know what he's losing?'

Natalie took a final mouthful of ham and set her knife and fork down on the table beside her plate. Although the wooden board was still laden with meat, somehow she had the feeling this was going to be a big meal. She took a mouthful of the very good red wine and then wiped her mouth on her napkin. ‘Over the last few days he seems to have suddenly become a lot more caring, apologetic even.'

‘I should bloody well think so.' Mark took the last slice of sausage off his plate and flicked it off the table onto the ground with his finger. ‘Oh dear, Barney, I seem to have dropped a piece of sausage. Ah well, I suppose you'll have to eat it for me.' Natalie felt movement at her feet as the ever hungry Labrador accepted the offering. Mark grinned at her. ‘Well, he has behaved himself very well indeed, considering that there must be a hundred chickens around us here and he hasn't attempted to chase even one.'

After the lady had come to remove the plates, Mark remembered something. ‘I know what I've been meaning to say, Natalie. You've got interviews in Carcassonne and Toulouse on Tuesday, haven't you?' She nodded. ‘We want to go to both places for my book, don't we? Well, why don't we combine the two and then I'll drop you off at Toulouse airport? While you're having your interviews I can walk around and take in the atmosphere. What time's your flight that evening?'