Dreaming of St-Tropez Page 25

  The raw mushroom salad, served with shavings of mature goat’s cheese and local olive oil, was delightful, and Jess had no trouble clearing her plate. Then the meat arrived on a wooden platter – not a lot smaller than a dustbin lid – and it tasted as good as it looked. In consequence, conversation was fairly limited during the meal and when Jess finally set down her knife and fork and admitted defeat, she looked forward to hearing what was bothering David.

  She decided not to burden him with her job offer, and her uncertainty about how to respond to Graham. That could wait until she got to the bottom of what was bothering him. All the way through the meal he had been caring and attentive, but she could tell he had something on his mind. She waited until he, too, gave up on the mountain of food and then she did a bit of digging.

  ‘You’re very quiet tonight, David.’

  ‘It’s difficult to speak and eat – and there’s certainly been enough to eat. Did you enjoy it, Jess?’

  ‘I loved the food and I love the place. You’ve got it dead right – this is my sort of place.’

  ‘I’m sorry last night was so different. Like I said, I wanted to give you a treat, but neither of us fit into a place like that anymore.’

  ‘Last night was amazing, memorable, unforgettable, but I’d be lying if I said I felt comfortable there among the glitterati. Somewhere like this suits me down to the ground. Like I say – you really do know me well now. Besides, from what you were saying, this sort of place suits you down to the ground as well.’

  For some reason this caused him to drop his eyes and start talking vaguely about tomorrow’s storm. Jess gave him until their crèmes brûlées arrived before taking another stab at it.

  ‘Is something bothering you, David? You seem a bit down.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  As answers went, this was pretty non-committal and it only increased her suspicions, but it took until they got back to the villa before he finally opened up – a bit.

  When they got back and he parked underneath the umbrella pine, he switched off the engine, but made no attempt to get out. Jess could feel the tension in him and she sat quietly, waiting for him to say what was on his mind. It took all of four or five minutes of silence before he turned towards her. His eyes sparkled green in the orange light shining down from the tree above them.

  ‘Jess, I like you a lot, an awful lot.’

  To her delight, his hands reached over and landed softly on her shoulders.

  ‘I like you an awful lot, too, David.’

  Jess could hear the emotion in her voice and he couldn’t have missed it. He leant towards her and gently pulled her so that their lips met. Her eyes closed as he kissed her more tenderly than she had ever been kissed before. This time the tremor that went through her wasn’t so much physical desire – although that was strongly there as well – but something much more elusive. Never in her life had she felt anything like this before and she could feel her eyes welling up under the force of the emotion she was experiencing.

  Finally, he drew back a few inches and she opened her eyes again. The light sparkled in his and she saw the raw emotion on display. She caught his hands in hers and gave them a gentle squeeze.

  ‘That was really lovely, David.’

  ‘It was.’ She felt his lips brush hers again and then, finally, he started speaking.

  ‘Jess, there’s something I’ve got to say to you, and it isn’t going to be easy. I wish things could be different, but they aren’t, I’m afraid.’

  Jess felt a cold stab in her stomach as she listened to his words. What on earth could he mean…?

  ‘I’m leaving on Saturday. I’m flying back to the States and I don’t know when I’ll be back.’

  ‘You’re leaving?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘What’s the matter? Is it a business thing? Is there a problem?’

  He hesitated. ‘Something like that.’

  She picked up on his hesitation.

  ‘Is it me, David? Is it something I’ve said or done? Tell me if it is. I certainly didn’t…’

  His lips pressed gently against hers once more.

  ‘It’s not you, Jess. You’re perfect.’

  ‘But if I’m perfect, why do you have to go off and leave me?’

  ‘I just do, Jess. I’m sorry, very sorry, but I have no choice.’

  Jess didn’t know what to say. She had never felt so abandoned. Even the shock of being told she had lost her job didn’t even begin to approach the feelings now coursing through her body. She heard him clear his throat.

  ‘I’ve loved getting to know you, and being with you and, like I say, I wish things could be different, but I have no choice. I have to go.’ He was keeping his voice studiously expressionless. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve done. Thank you for being Jess. I’ll always remember what you did for me.’ Releasing her hands, he caught her cheeks between his fingers and his mouth pressed hard against hers as he kissed her with real passion. In spite of her bewilderment, she felt a wave of arousal that only further confused her. Then he drew back, released his hold on her and opened the driver’s door. Remarkably nimbly, he swung himself out and onto his feet and by the time Jess had undone her safety belt and got out in her turn, he was already resting on his crutches. His eyes met hers for a second or two and she read what could have been despair in them.

  ‘Goodbye, Jess, it’s been wonderful knowing you.’

  He turned and made his way across to the front door of the villa and disappeared inside, leaving Jess feeling totally numb.

  Chapter 24

  Jess did manage to sleep for a few hours that night, but that was only because she hadn’t slept much the previous night. When she woke, however, she didn’t feel rested, she felt drained – physically and emotionally. All night long she had been wrestling with what he had said, analysing his words, doing her best to read between the lines, and make some sense of what might be behind his decision. She had felt tenderness and passion and definite attraction. Why, then, did he tell her he had to leave? Why had he said, ‘I have no choice. I have to go’?

  She heard the clicking of Brutus’s nails on the floor tiles as he came in to tell her it was time for his early morning walk, so she pulled on some clothes and followed him out. The sky was no longer clear today. A few patches of blue remained, but a strong wind was blowing and an ominous bank of dark grey clouds was building over the hills. It looked as though the weather forecasters had got it right – something nasty was coming. The grey conditions further served to dampen her already gloomy mood.

  She had cried a lot overnight – more than she had cried over any man, even back in her years of teenage angst. Even before he had kissed her in the car, her feelings towards him had been strengthening. But that kiss had pushed her over the edge, spinning her irresistibly towards a depth of emotion that was completely new to her. And then, just like that, he had pulled the rug out from underneath her and left her with nothing – not even a clear explanation.

  She sat in the shelter of a big rock, her back to the wind, and watched the dog swimming happily, without a care in the world – apart from where his next meal was coming from – and she envied him. After a while, she glanced back towards the villa in the hope that George might be about. Maybe he would be able to shed more light on just what was driving David’s sudden decision to return to America. But, for once, the terrace was empty and there was no sign of father or son.

  As Jess and the dog tramped back up the slope, Antoinette appeared at the kitchen door.

  ‘Hello, Jess. You’ve got a letter.’

  Jess’s eyes widened. ‘A letter for me?’ She hadn’t received any mail since arriving here. ‘Who’s it from?’ For a moment she wondered if it might be from David – maybe with an explanation he hadn’t been able to articulate face to face.

  Antoinette shook her head. ‘I don’t know, but it was hand delivered. Look, it’s just got your name on it.’

  Jess took the long white en
velope from Antoinette and saw that it was simply addressed to:

  Jessica Milton

  Villa les Romarins

  She realised she had never seen David’s handwriting, but, somehow, this looked a good bit more flowery than she would have expected. Nevertheless, although she could see Antoinette was fascinated to know who had sent the letter, she decided to read it when she was alone, just in case it was from him, and it brought about a further emotional reaction.

  ‘Thanks, Antoinette, I’ll read it back home. Brutus is dying for his breakfast.’

  True to her word, Jess waited until she was home and had given the dog his breakfast. She even delayed opening it a bit longer while she made herself a cup of coffee. Finally she sat down at the kitchen table and opened the letter.

  It wasn’t from David.

  It was a typewritten letter on headed paper belonging to a firm called PM Design. The name meant nothing to her, so her eyes flicked down to the signature at the bottom and a ray of light began to dawn. It was signed Philippe Mailly. This, she suddenly remembered, was the name of the smiley older gentleman she had met at George’s party. It appeared that he was the senior partner of a firm of architects here in St-Tropez and, as she read down the page in amazement, it became clear that he was offering her a job. As an architect. Here in St-Tropez.

  She read and re-read the letter several times, checking a couple of the words in her French dictionary, to be sure she had got it right. But there was no doubt about it – he was offering her a job and inviting her to telephone to arrange to meet him and his colleagues to discuss this offer in more detail. She remembered how George had introduced her to M. Mailly and she also remembered how a few weeks earlier – when she had refused payment for drawing up plans for the alterations to the villa – George had told her he would have to see if he could come up with ‘some other way of saying thank you’. Somehow she felt pretty sure the introduction to Monsieur Mailly, leading to this job offer, was indeed George’s doing and she smiled at the thought of his kindness.

  However, if her head had been spinning before, this further confused her. If this letter had arrived a day or two earlier, it would have been the very best news she could have imagined. Now, after David’s bombshell last night, she didn’t know what to think. She loved St-Tropez and the idea of living here forever had been uppermost in her mind for weeks now – that and a certain Mr David Dupont. Now, just as she had been refused one, the other appeared. What on earth was going on and what was she to do?

  She pulled out her phone and called Hope.

  ‘Hi Hope, it’s me – I’ve got a problem.’

  ‘What’s up, Jess?’ Hope must have picked up on Jess’s tone, and she sounded concerned for her.

  ‘Have you got a few minutes? This could take a bit of time to explain.’

  ‘As long as it takes. I’ve already done the breakfasts, so I’m sitting on the deck with a coffee, enjoying the last few rays of sunshine before the big storm hits.’

  Jess glanced at her own coffee – still untouched.

  ‘Well, Hope, it’s like this…’

  Hope listened in silence as Jess told her everything David had said to her the previous night in the car, and then about M. Mailly’s job offer. Finally, she ground to a halt with a simple, but fundamental, question.

  ‘What do I do now?’

  She picked up her cold coffee and took a big mouthful.

  ‘Do you want the job?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Jess could hear the pathetic note in her own voice and tried again. ‘The thing is that I’d love to live in St-Tropez, but then David…’

  ‘Jess, let’s just say for a moment that David carries out his threat of going to the USA and he never comes back.’

  ‘But his dad’s here…’

  ‘Forget short visits. Just imagine he’s gone back to the US and you never see him again. Try to erase him from your mind completely for a moment. Which would you prefer, St-Tropez or London? Don’t forget, you’ve got job offers in both places now.’

  Jess glanced out of the French windows into the courtyard where the dog was wriggling about on his back on the flagstones like a freshly-landed fish, grunting happily to himself. The perfume of roses was, if anything, even stronger today – strong enough to blot out the wet dog smell – and the birds were still singing. She knew she loved this place, the beaches, the sea, the wildflowers on the hillside and so many people she had met. It really was a wonderful place to live in, but, of course, if she took the job here, she would almost certainly find herself living in a tiny flat across the bay in Ste-Maxime, or even further away. She wouldn’t be in a wonderful house with a private pool, only a few steps from the beach. It could never be like this again.

  ‘I really don’t know, Hope. On the one hand, I suppose the sensible thing would be for me to go back to London and accept Graham’s offer. At least I know what I’d be letting myself in for there. What if I don’t like working for Monsieur Mailly? By refusing Graham’s offer, I’d be burning my boats.’

  ‘All right, then, let’s turn the question round. Supposing David were to come knocking on your door in ten minutes’ time, pledging eternal love and asking you to marry him.’ She ignored Jess’s snort of derision. ‘Would you take the St-Tropez job or the London job?’

  ‘Well, ignoring the fact that that isn’t going to happen, there’s no doubt about it. I’d take the St-Tropez job without a moment’s hesitation.’

  ‘Well, if you want my advice, I’d say you have to speak to David before he goes off to America. Get him to tell you just what’s behind this sudden disappearing act and tell him you’ve been offered the job here. See what he says. If he tells you he’s got a wife or a boyfriend in San Francisco, at least you’ll know where you stand. Maybe it really is just a business thing and it can be sorted out soon. And, if he knows you’re going to be here for a while, he’ll be able to come back, say, in the autumn and you can pick up where you left off, sitting in his lovely old Jaguar, with his tongue down your throat.’

  They talked for another few minutes, but without Jess managing to come to any firm conclusion. Deep down she felt sure Hope was right with her suggestion that she and David should talk some more, but his last words to her had been a final farewell. If he had wanted to spend more time with her before taking the plane to America, he could easily have done so. The fact that he hadn’t spoke volumes. Pretty plainly, he didn’t want to see her again.

  Jess went out into the garden and took a good look at the sky. It was getting darker and darker, but it was still dry. The temperature was already high and it felt increasingly clammy. It was almost ten o’clock and the forecast had been for heavy rain, starting mid-morning. She decided that some fresh air before they got cooped up by the weather would be good for the Labrador and good for her, but the sooner they set off, the better, or they risked getting soaked. She made a snap decision, grabbed the car keys, and hurried across to the Range Rover with Brutus. David’s Jaguar was still parked there, but there was no sign of him, and she wasn’t sure if she was pleased or sorry. She wouldn’t have known what to say if she had seen him. She still badly needed to make up her mind about that. She opened the boot door and, this time, Brutus had no trouble in jumping up into the car. This, more than anything else, was the living proof that his new lifestyle was working out.

  The thought of changing lifestyles made her think of her telephone conversation with Mrs Dupont the previous day. The old lady had asked her to see that David changed his lifestyle and settled down – with or without Jess – but that was now looking less and less likely. Maybe his lifestyle was what was calling him away. Maybe he had seen that Jess didn’t fit into his billionaire’s lifestyle and so was heading back to other people – other women – who matched his tastes. She sighed to herself as she slammed the boot shut and got into the driver’s seat.

  She decided to head for the wooded hills, in the hope of finding shelter from the increasingly blustery wind. She took the road tow
ards Ramatuelle and turned off when she came to the track that David had told her would lead to the wartime bunker. The Range Rover easily coped with the rutted surface as they ran down into the forest and she stopped when she reached the old stone house David had described to her. She parked alongside a tall stack of logs at the side of the track and opened the boot. Brutus came charging out full of vigour, no doubt delighted to find himself with a whole lot of new smells, and the two of them started making their way up a narrower track into the trees. From time to time there were piles of logs, evidently freshly cut, and the scent of resin was heavy in the air. It was steep, but it had clearly been used by a tractor fairly recently and it was easy to follow.

  As they walked through the trees, the noise of the wind in the branches above them gradually increased and, as they emerged into a wide clearing where forestry work had recently been completed, Jess was physically blown back by the strength of it. She glanced up at the sky – now a scary battleship grey – the clouds low and so full of water they were almost black. Jess looked back down again at the dog who was standing, waiting to be told which direction to take.

  ‘I think that’s it as far as today’s walk is concerned, Brutus. Back to the car.’

  As they turned and headed back into the trees, she felt the first rain on her bare legs, blown in almost horizontally by the wind. Seconds later there was a loud rumble of thunder and, almost simultaneously, a flash of lightning that almost blinded her and had the dog cowering against her legs. The rain steadily increased in intensity until Jess and the dog were both drenched. The thunder and lightning were right over their heads and Jess began to feel a bit scared. The temperature was dropping like a stone and the ever-stronger wind was evaporating the water from her skin, making her feel really cold. She increased her pace, almost running down the hillside, the track now streaming with water, the dusty soil transformed into thick, unpleasant mud.