Yours Unfaithfully (19 page)

“How dare you speak like that about a woman you hardly know. Yes you’ve spoken to her over the fence, you’ve listened to Ben telling you what she’s like, but you haven’t got a clue what she’s like underneath have you?”

No seemed the only sensible answer.

“Precisely, and you need to think about that when you treat me like dirt, the way Ben treated her. I hope this Beckie hasn’t given you ideas about trotting off with some lovesick teenager!”

“No darling, I’m hoping to go off to the South of France with you, if that’s still the plan?”

“Of course it is, but don’t think for one minute that I’d ever stand for any nonsense between you and another woman... OK?”

“OK love... good night.”

As the Eurostar snaked its way through Clapham Common on its way to the Channel Tunnel, the Fisher family seemed incredibly happy. For Henry, James and Amy this was an adventure about to begin, new friends to find, new places to see. They explored the Kent countryside through the window before it plunged into the darkness of the tunnel, from which they would emerge in France.

Tim and Mel had travelled across France several times before, but not like this. Neither of them had journeyed on the TGV before. As the train reached one hundred and fifty miles per hour they lazily watched the French landscape flash past for hour after hour until the sun began to fall and the scenery took on the terracotta shades so familiar in the rocky landscape of Provence. Eventually they climbed down onto the platform at St Raphael and, after a short journey by taxi, they arrived at their holiday park at the end of a long day. If the children were tired they didn’t show it as they pleaded to be allowed to explore at once. Top priority was the giant pool and waterslide, followed closely by the tennis courts. Melanie wanted to see inside the restaurant, but Tim suggested they have a drink first in the pub, which he knew boasted several pool tables.

“What a pity we didn’t invite Ben,” Mel said.

He gave her a wry smile but he couldn’t help thinking he would have enjoyed Ben’s company over a few beers and some leisurely days of pool in the air conditioned games bar. Wisdom decreed that he would keep such thoughts to himself.

The weather forecast was steady at thirty degrees for the week ahead, so their plan included trips to the beach and a day pony trekking. The mobile home was big enough for them to spread themselves out while, outside a wooden balcony extended out onto a rocky incline, providing plenty of room for sun beds and a fabulous view of the distant mountains.

After a good night’s sleep they made their first trip into the town of Frejus and the hypermarket, which would become a frequent haunt for the next two weeks, as they shopped for food, wine and clothes. In the mall there were rows of smaller shops selling designer clothes, watches and jewellery as well as pizzas, pastries and coffee. The kids wanted to explore independently, which suited Mel because she had a burning desire to acquire some chic French designer outfits and this looked like a good place to start. They agreed that they’d all meet back at the coffee shop in an hour.

Tim was happy to be led from one shop to another, pouring out compliments on new and expensive outfits and agreeing grudgingly to be kitted out with designer trousers, shirts and shoes. He briefly considered the damage to his credit card when Melanie insisted he buy an expensive bottle of men’s perfume, but he wasn’t about to spoil a holiday that was looking better than he could have hoped for two weeks ago.

If he was worried about the price of the perfume, he almost choked on the bill for five drinks and five pastries, but he said nothing. He watched Melanie fussing over her brood and at last it seemed like family life was back to normal. She was always attentive to the needs of the kids, but he had enjoyed her undivided attention as she’d chosen his new things. In return for this wifely devotion he would agree to anything they came up with and when Henry asked if they could spend the afternoon at the go cart track he was fine about it, even though it would dent his credit card still further.

As they waited their turn, James asked him which car was fastest, which pleased him. His son was acknowledging his mechanical skills and seeking out his opinion. He proudly suggested to James that he should head for the number four car and his advice proved sound when he beat his elder brother in two successive races.

After Tim had come last to all of them they headed back to their mobile home amid arguments about who was the best driver. Tim explained that his weight was the reason he couldn’t keep pace, but the kids were convinced that their driving skill was the deciding factor and eventually he gave in and let them have their way.

Melanie cooked what she described as a French meal and, apart from Amy, who made faces in protest at the mussels, they all cleared their plates. The kids did the washing up while Tim and Melanie sat out on the balcony in the evening sun with a glass of wine. Tim had wanted beer, but Melanie had insisted he drink the local Vin Rose. Determined that nothing should spoil things, he yielded to her wish yet again.

Over the next two days Melanie shaped Tim’s eating, drinking and dressing habits in a bid to rid him of his old fashioned ways. He allowed himself to be moulded into stylish shorts and designer shades, while he sipped a Dubonnet before his evening meal. No point in protesting for a beer and risking spoiling her mood – after all, three whole days had passed without the slightest chastisement. His marriage was back to where it was before all the troubles of the past few weeks and he had no intention of rocking the boat.

On the third evening they were alone on the balcony after their evening meal, the kids having gone off with new friends to the concert stage where camp staff arranged nightly entertainment. Melanie had decided they were quite safe within the camp boundary so long as they came back by nine. On the first night Henry had got a concession till ten as long as he brought Amy back safely at nine, and James had slid off with Henry leaving Amy to complain that she was being victimised because of her age.

They sat staring up towards the mountains, which rose steeply in the distance, and they watched as lights twinkled in the distant villages. It was Melanie who spoke first.

“Tomorrow night we’re going up to that village, she said, just you and me ... I’ve phoned and booked us a table at a little restaurant called ‘Le Stable’. I went to reception earlier and got the number from the very nice Frenchman behind the counter, who described it to me in great detail. He told me it was very romantic with lots of atmosphere and very good French food. To be honest, Tim, the way he talked to me I wondered if he was offering to take me, his French accent was so sexy I would have had to say yes.”

Although Tim knew she was joking, it jarred a little that his blissful state could be threatened by a ‘would be Latin lover’, even an imaginary one. It bothered him that she’d had this seemingly intimate conversation behind his back. He made a mental note to keep an eye out for the amorous Frenchman. “What about the kids? We’ll have to be back by nine for Amy.”

“No we won’t, I’ve made friends with the couple in the van next to us. They’ve got two girls around Amy’s age and she’ll stay with them until Henry comes in at ten. Terry, that’s her husband, is going to drive us up to the village at six thirty and I’ve booked a cab to bring us back at eleven.”

“How did you book a cab?”

“Francois, my Frenchman in reception, helped me. He knows a taxi driver who lives up in the village. He even got me a reduction in the price.”

“So what else did Francois say? Did he tell you what we should eat?”

“Yes he did, he said that if we wanted the beef bourguignon we would have to order it the day before, so I asked him nicely and he did it for me. The restaurant is run by two old ladies; Francois says they are celebrated around here for their traditional French cuisine. He did the ordering because they don’t speak a word of English. He’s also chosen for us a red wine which he says will be a perfect accompaniment to the food. He’s a gourmet of course, like most French men. The way he talks about food gets me quite excited. I don’t suppose you’d understand that.”

“What I do understand is that this greasy bugger breathed garlic fumes over you, muttered a few words in French and you had a bloody orgasm! I don’t want to hear any more about Francois or what he’s chosen for my bloody pudding. Christ, Mel, when you said this was to be a romantic night for two I thought you meant us two. This bloke’s already done the romance bit, all I have to do is hand over my plastic and pay the bloody taxi. I don’t want to go. Sod him. I’ll choose a restaurant and we’ll go where I choose tomorrow night, right!”

“No, Tim, wrong. Stop being so bloody jealous. All I did was ask for his advice on where to eat and he proved very helpful. I can’t help it if he just happens to be fantastic looking with a sexy voice can I?” She laughed at him, knowing that he would have to give in to her.

“Well, all right, but next time you decide to go up for some advice, tell me first and I’ll come with you, OK?”

“Of course, darling... after all it’s only fair that you should meet your rival.” For some perverse reason she didn’t fully understand, she was enjoying Tim’s discomfort.

He knew she was sending him up and his only defence was to join in her silly game.

“I shall challenge him tomorrow to a dual: Spanners at Noon – that’s what mechanics do ... not as messy as swords. I shall bash his French brains out before your very eyes and he will rival me no more.” He said it with the haughty accent of one assured of victory.

“Actually, darling, his t-shirt says he’s a martial arts expert, so you might want to be careful, especially with your back.”

Mel would always get the better of these exchanges and he knew when to quit.

“Then I shall poison the bugger. I’ll put arsenic in his Perrier; that should fix his sexy accent once and for all.”

They both laughed, but inwardly Tim was disturbed that Mel found it so easy to communicate with a man in just minutes. Mel made friends with everyone; that was part of her charm, one of the reasons he loved her so much, just like she’d made friends with the people in the next van. If he turned his back for two minutes she was making friends with someone. Having a lovely wife who everyone wanted to be friends with was fine, but sometimes it seemed to Tim that he had to try harder than everyone else to exact his share of that warmth.

Surely he should be at the front of the queue, she should pour her personality all over him, let him feel secure in the knowledge that he was the most important person in her life? Why then did he always feel like he had to work harder than anyone else for her attention? He would have to talk to her about it; he’d try to explain over their meal tomorrow. Surely she’d see that it was right to put him first.

Terry was good company on the seven mile drive up to the village in the mountain, keeping them amused with stories from his ten years of holidaying at the park. On arrival in the village they weaved their way up through the narrow main street under the shade of huge spreading platan trees. A wide pavement on the left hand side was busy with tables and chairs all beautifully laid out for tonight’s diners, some of whom were already sipping drinks in readiness for the meals to come. One of the two restaurants had yellow table cloths and napkins, while the other had red ones.

Melanie tried to see their names, hoping to work out which one they would be eating at. Terry slowly navigated the car up the crowded street. When he reached the end of the shops he turned right down a little alley behind the shops which led onto a boulevard lined with olive trees. Because the road clung precariously to the mountain side it boasted a fantastic view across the hills towards the sea and their camp site. Terry parked the car and insisted on escorting them to the restaurant, explaining that they would have trouble finding it without his help. They walked back towards the main street alongside a low wall which separated them from a two hundred foot drop down the cliff face. Terry explained how the Romans had originally built this village in the mountains where it could be easily defended. While the two men discussed several old vehicles parked in the street, Melanie silently took in the hustle and bustle around her. There was a post office building as well as a few food shops and one with postcards outside. She saw pictures of houses in a shop window and wondered how an estate agent could survive in such a remote village. A quick look at the prices provided the explanation and she moved on with interest to the shop next door, which was a ladies’ hair salon.

They crossed the road and made their way between the tables of the pavement restaurants. Melanie was surprised when Terry walked straight past the two restaurants she’d seen from the car. She sneaked a quick look at the menus, trying not to get left behind. The centre of the village was really quite large, with a relaxed, almost lazy atmosphere that was obviously attractive to the dozens of people who were milling around the focal point, a large, ancient fountain. Perhaps they had also come to this mountain paradise to eat because they certainly didn’t look like locals. Hurrying to catch up with the men, Melanie found herself in a narrow back street with tall houses on each side. Most had their front doors open and wonderful aromas of cooking drifted into the street. From an upstairs window an old woman smiled down at her so she returned it politely, not wanting to stare. After a few right and left turns up streets too narrow for any kind of vehicle they came into a wide open square under yet more platan trees.

Across the square was a beautiful church, hundreds of years old but clearly still in use. Terry turned sharply to the right and on their right was a large old house which, like the other buildings in the square was tall and in desperate need of renovation. Over the open front door was a small wooden sign, ‘Le Stable’. Melanie looked in amazement as Terry announced that they’d arrived. This was it, their romantic hideaway for the evening. He wished them bon appetite then promptly disappeared back the way they’d come.