Read What Happens at the Beach... for Free Online Page A

his face down and hadn’t seen her before ploughing into her. Realising his mistake, he stopped and straightened up, his expression apologetic. He shook the water out of his eyes and ran his hand across his short-cropped hair. He caught her eye and summoned a smile. ‘
Excusez moi, madame
.’ Then he turned and resumed his apparently effortless front crawl back towards the shore.
    Natalie’s eyes followed him as he made short work of the last hundred metres or so to the shore. As he approached the beach, she saw the dog jump to his feet, tail wagging furiously. As the man stood up and waded through the shallows, the dog came jumping and bouncing into the water to greet him. Then both turned and set off back up the same path Natalie had used on her way down through the trees. So, she thought to herself, this had to be the dog’s master and, presumably, they were returning to the old chateau. She watched as they headed up the hill into the trees, reappearing from time to time as they climbed, finally disappearing from sight somewhere up above her grandmother’s house.
    All the time she was watching his retreating shoulders, she had the strangest sensation. Her shoulder, where he had bumped into her, could still feel his touch. It wasn’t pain. He hadn’t done her any harm, but her skin could still feel exactly where he had come into contact with her. Even stranger, her brain still held a crystal-clear image of his suntanned face, fair hair and blue eyes. His voice, with an accent that could maybe have been English, repeated ‘
Excusez moi, madame
’ over and over again in her head. She dipped her face into the cool water and then shook her head to clear it. What on earth was going on?
    She swam slowly back to the shore, loving the cool embrace of the water, still trying to work out what had happened back there. Bemused, she walked across to her towel and patted herself down, before laying it on a clean patch of sand and stretching out on it. Gradually she managed to banish the image of the man from her head and did her best to relax. She lay there on her front for little more than ten minutes, while the sun dried her back, then she turned over and let it dry the other half of her. She was still pale after a chilly English spring, but she knew it wouldn’t take long for the sun to tan her a golden brown. Finally, almost completely dry, she got up, slipped her shorts and T-shirt back on and headed across the hot sand of the beach to the café, glad that her feet were once more protected by her sandals.
    She climbed the flight of stone steps to the terrace and took a seat at one of the tables there, sheltering from the direct sunlight under the umbrella. One other table was occupied by a couple, and a pretty, dark-haired girl was in the process of serving them what looked like a bottle of Blanquette de Limoux, the local fizz. Natalie knew she wanted something non-alcoholic, so when another, slightly older, waitress came out, she ordered an ice tea. When it arrived, she sat back, took a big mouthful and let it trickle down her throat as she surveyed the view. Colette was right. It hadn’t changed, even if they had.
    From where she was sitting, she could see right across the beach to the other side. The sun was now shining almost directly into the little bay and there was very little shade to be found apart from the shadows between some of the bigger rocks on the far side. Here, under the umbrella, it felt comfortably cool as the gentle breeze off the water kept the warm air moving. She studied the two sailing boats moored to the quay. It was only a tiny landing stage and two boats were about as many as could fit alongside. She saw the heads of a couple of people in one boat, sitting under an awning, while the other looked empty. Maybe the occupants were down below. Then, as she was sipping her drink, taking in the old familiar view and remembering so many happy times she had spent