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She paused as she reflected that she really had been thinking too much about this delicate situation. It had started while she’d had to spend a lot of time resting during the early part of her treatment. Now was the time to act before she lost her nerve.
‘I’d like to buy you supper one evening as a means of thanking you for all your help in getting me back on my feet’
He was staring at her now, seemingly lost for words. ‘Chantal, you don’t have to buy me supper.’
‘Oh, but I’d like to.’
She’d rehearsed this invitation so often, not knowing how he would take it. She hadn’t meant to deliver it in this awkward position, sitting sideways to the desk, holding her convalescent ankle with both hands. She must look so ungainly.
‘Of course I know you must be busy in the evenings so if—’
‘I’d like to take up your offer, Chantal. Thank you. What did you have in mind?’
He was smiling now, trying to lighten up. She’d caught him completely off guard. It had been the last thing he’d expected from her.
‘Well, I thought it would be fun to have supper at that old wooden beach café near the place where you rescued me from that killer stone. I used to be taken there for lunch after a morning on the beach at Club Mickey. It was before my father died, I remember.
‘Every August my cousin Julia and her brothers came over from England with their parents for a holiday and that was where we’d all meet up. It was such a treat. Our mothers—they’re twins—were always there. Our fathers were both English so the conversation over lunch switched from English to French all the time. It was such a happy time in my life.’
He noted the poignant hint of nostalgia in her voice before he spoke to reassure her of his interest in this kind invitation.
‘I’d enjoy going to the beach café, Chantal. Actually, I’ve never got around to visiting it. It looks a quaint sort of place.’
She smiled. ‘I’m not surprised you haven’t tried it yet. It looks very shabby now. The winter winds and rain mean it needs repainting every summer. They haven’t got around to that yet this year but it’s got its faithful clientele just the same.’
‘Will you make the booking or shall I?’
‘Oh, we don’t need to book. It’s first come first served. Just let me know when you’re free.’
‘How about tomorrow?’
She hid her surprise at his prompt reply. She’d expected him to defer his answer and then possibly forget about it. She wouldn’t have had the nerve to repeat her invitation.
‘Yes, that would be good. If I’m only working for the afternoon I won’t be tired.’
He nodded. ‘That was exactly what I was thinking. We’ll go straight there when we come off duty. Now, finish your report as soon as you can and go and rest that ankle on your bed with a pillow to elevate it. Be sure to call Housekeeping and order supper to be brought up to your room.’
‘Oh, I didn’t know that was possible.’
‘All things are possible for the medical staff of the Hôpital de la Plage.’
He was reaching across the desk for the internal phone. ‘This is Michel Devine. My colleague Dr Winstone will be resting in her room this evening. Could one of your staff take her a supper tray? Yes, about seven o’clock.’
He broke off to speak to Chantal. ‘Coq au vin, omelette, or salade Niçoise?’
‘Salade Niçoise, please.’
He relayed the message. ‘So I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, Chantal. Now, do rest that ankle.’
He turned and moved towards the door to stop himself regretting his decision to have supper with Chantal. Closing the door after he’d passed through it, he leaned against it, breathing heavily.
‘You OK, Dr Devine?’
He hadn’t noticed a junior nurse coming along the corridor.
‘Yes, I’m fine, thank you, Nurse.’ He recovered quickly and smiled down at the young lady who was looking earnestly concerned about him.
He started walking in the other direction. Taking care of Chantal as a colleague posed no problems. But spending a whole evening with her in the romantic setting of the beach as the sun disappeared behind the hills? What was he thinking? It was the sort of situation he’d avoided since Maxine had died. OK he’d play it cool, very cool. No emotional involvement.
Two colleagues having supper together, discussing … well, whatever colleagues are supposed to discuss. Nothing remotely romantic. Books, theatre, cinema. That sort of thing should keep the evening going without too many gaps in the conversation. Ah, she’d lived and worked in Paris, hadn’t she? He could leave most of the talking to her.
Chantal could tell it was already morning before she even opened her eyes. She could hear the sound of footsteps hurrying down the corridor. Everybody was going on duty. But she had been ordered to rest.
She opened her eyes and looked at the travel clock on her bedside table. Eight o clock! She hadn’t set her alarm for once. No need for that this morning.
The phone rang. It was housekeeping asking if she would like breakfast. Dr Devine had left instructions for them to call. ‘Would you like a croissant?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘And a coffee with milk?’
‘Please’ She liked dipping her croissant in a large breakfast cup of milky coffee.
She got out of bed and went over to the window, pulling back the curtains. Wall-to-wall sunshine already. Well, it was almost summer. From her window she could see the main gate, the ambulances lined up for duty, one already speeding in from the seafront, making its way to Emergency where everybody would be hard at work by now. Including Michel. She swallowed hard as she thought of her embarrassing attempt to ask him out for supper yesterday evening. She’d been successful but she could tell he had only been polite with her. He would probably be relieved when it was all over. She couldn’t think why she’d set it up. Well, actually, she did have an idea but it was too complicated to analyse.
Was she testing herself to see if she really had changed into the ice maiden she tried to portray to the opposite sex? If that was her real reason for this date—if she could even call it that she’d have no problem sticking to the vows she’d made to herself last September. None whatsoever. Her emotions were completely surrounded by ice.
Someone was knocking on her door. She shrugged into her dressing gown and went to open it, taking the breakfast tray from the maid then climbing back into bed.
As she dipped her croissant in the coffee she reflected that her rendezvous with Michel this evening would be harmless as long as she remembered she’d arranged this meal together to thank a kind friend and colleague for all his help. That was the sole object of this evening out together.
‘Are you ready to go off duty, Chantal?’
The afternoon had flown by as she’d dealt with an influx of patients from a crash on the coastal road involving a coach and two cars. She was pulling back the curtains from her cubicle as her final patient was being taken away on a trolley to be admitted to Orthopaedics.
‘Have all the patients been seen, Michel?’
‘Treated, discharged, admitted and no fatalities. The evening staff have all arrived. I’ve even dealt with the police investigation and sent them on their way satisfied they’ve got all the medical details they need for their report. Excellent teamwork by everyone this afternoon, so let’s go!’
She wasn’t fooled by his bright and breezy attitude. He was as apprehensive as she was.
‘Give me ten minutes to clean myself up.’
‘Ten minutes? You look fine to me. OK. See you by the front entrance.’
She headed for the staff changing room to change into a pair of jeans and tee shirt, adding the white sweater she’d brought to tie around her neck in case it got chilly later on. Not that they were going to stay long enough for the evening chill to set in. A quick supper, a polite chat and they’d go their separate ways, wouldn’t they?
She glanced at her reflection. Mmm, not bad. A dash of lipstick and then she would be ready.
Michel was chatting to Sidonie by the main entrance and Chantal slowed her pace. Mustn’t seem too eager to be off.
Sidonie broke off the conversation. ‘Hi, Chantal. You look like you’re off out. Going anywhere nice?’
‘Off to the beach café for supper.’
‘Oh, that’s where you’re going Michel, isn’t it? Ah, so you’re going together? Keeping up the aftercare of your patient? Very commendable. Well, don’t let me keep you. Have fun but beware the killer of stones.’
Sidonie smiled at them as she moved away down the corridor.
Chantal was beginning to wish she’d never dreamed up this supper date. The entire medical staff would have heard about it by tomorrow morning.
‘So, shall we go?’
Michel was looking down at her, a wry grin on his face, probably knowing exactly what she was thinking but hoping he was covering up his apprehension better than she was.
CHAPTER THREE (#u9d5aff5d-82fa-5105-ad9b-2203ba5ccebb)
CHANTAL WAS VERY pleased to see that the Café de la Plage was filling up with lots of happy people. She was glad to have got through a busy afternoon working in Emergency and was now ready for some leisure time. She noticed chattering families, a couple of small babies being rocked off to sleep in their pushchairs, one by a serene-looking, white-haired grandmother and the other by a harassed-looking young mother who was also coping with a lively, demanding toddler while Papa was completely engrossed in a dispute with the elder sister.
It was the sort of warm family atmosphere she remembered from when she had been brought in here as a small child by both her parents, before her father had died. She felt safe here, at home, relaxed—well, almost. There was still a nagging doubt at the back of her mind that she could have made a mistake, asking out the boss on the pretext—no, it hadn’t been a pretext! It had been a genuine desire to say thank you to a colleague, now a good friend, who’d been extremely helpful in her time of need.
What other possible reason could she have had? After the treatment she’d suffered at the hands of the duplicitous Jacques she didn’t trust any man, not even Michel, who was obviously still in love with his irreplaceable wife.
Michel was holding the back of her chair, politely intent on making sure she was comfortable. She hoped they would both relax a bit more when they settled into their table by the window. Their conversation as they had walked across the sand had seemed strained, contrived almost, as they’d talked about their work and barely glanced at the setting sun, which was low in the sky behind the hills, causing a pink blush over the clouds and strands of gold to weave in and out of the lovely scenery.
She’d had the urge to stop and admire it but hadn’t known whether Michel had time for such romantic elements in his busy life. His devotion to duty was legendary at the hospital. He seemed to live for his work and probably hadn’t got time for sunsets and sunrises.
She’d remarked on the sunset a couple of times but Michel had seemed to increase his pace and had appeared to be in a hurry to get the dutiful evening over and done with. Well, that’s what it seemed like to her and she was beginning to feel the same way herself now they were inside the café.
She’d arranged this outing so it was her responsibility to make sure it wasn’t too painful. She put on her dutiful-hostess smile as she looked across the table at Michel.
‘Always a good family atmosphere in here, don’t you think?’
‘Well, I can’t really judge because this is my first time here.’
Chantal decided to try again. ‘Of course. As I told you, it’s a favourite of mine from childhood.’
‘Chantal! My husband didn’t tell me you were here!’ A plump, rosy-cheeked lady was leaning over the table. ‘We haven’t had the pleasure of serving you in our restaurant this season. Are you still living in Paris?’
‘Ah, Florence. Lovely to see you again. Actually, I’ve left the Paris hospital. I’m a doctor in Emergency at the Hôpital de la Plage now.’
‘A doctor? It’s not possible that you’re all grown up now. Now, what can I get you and your charming companion?’
Michel extended his hand. ‘Michel Devine, Madame, a colleague of Chantal’s at the hospital.’
Chantal could see that Florence was much impressed by her handsome friend and colleague. He could be really charming when he put on that dazzling smile. Florence was handing out menus now and being extremely deferential to the important-looking doctor.
Decisions were made about what they would choose from the menu. Florence put a bottle of red wine on the table. ‘On the house,’ she informed them, before returning to her kitchen.
‘Cheers. Good health,’ Michel said, raising his glass towards Chantal.
They could relax now. Michel was beginning to actually look her in the eyes. He seemed to be studying her face now, as if it was the first time he’d ever really seen her. Well, it was the first time they’d been alone together in an off-duty situation and it felt very strange.
She sipped the wine. Mmm, the house wine was always good here and the first bottle was usually a gift to regular clients.
She looked around her. ‘The babies seem to be settling at last.’
Michel smiled. ‘I love the sound of families enjoying themselves.’ He paused, his voice husky. ‘Except it reminds me …’
He was looking down at the table now, tracing the pattern woven into the lace. She waited until he looked across at her a few seconds later. There was a sad expression on his face.
‘What does it remind you of?’ she prompted gently.
‘Oh, it’s not important. I was simply going to say …’
‘Here you two go, a small starter for you.’
Florence was placing a couple of plates in front of them. There was pâté garnished with a tomato salad and gherkins and a basket containing warm, freshly baked bread in the centre of the table.
Chantal made a mental note to ask Michel what he’d been going to say just now about the families enjoying supper together. It had appeared to have had a profound effect on him. But she wasn’t going to pursue that line of conversation at the moment. Not when she was feeling relaxed and could see Michel was enjoying himself at last.
He picked up the bottle and poured more wine into her glass. She knew she would have to slow down on the wine at some point. Still, they weren’t driving and if she stumbled on the sand, Michel could always carry her. She suppressed a giggle as she reached for more of the delicious bread to accompany the tasty pâté.
‘What’s so amusing?’
She laughed. ‘I was just reminding myself I’ve got to walk over the sand near where I sprained my ankle so I’d better go easy on the wine.’
He laughed with her. ‘No problem. We coped last time, didn’t we?’
‘There won’t be a repeat tonight, I assure you,’ she said firmly, biting into a gherkin.
Florence took away their starter plates and placed a steaming tureen of asparagus soup on the table.
By the time the main course was served Chantal’s initial hunger was feeling deliciously appeased. They were both eating the roast-chicken dish much more slowly, talking more across the table, and the wine seemed to be disappearing very quickly. This was definitely a fun evening at last. The ice had been well and truly broken.
They had started discussing the theatres in Paris, shows they’d seen, music that pleased or displeased them. All the worthwhile frills of life that got pushed into the background when they filled their days with work, however important it was.
‘Yes, I do find I have to make time for leisure pursuits when I’m living away from Paris,’ Chantal said. ‘I love the countryside and the sea but sometimes I long to go out to the theatre.’
‘There’s a very good theatre in Le Touquet. I must take you there one evening.’
‘I’d like that.’ She would, she really would. Going to the theatre was something that good friends and colleagues could enjoy together without it meaning any commitment on either side.
Florence’s husband, Giles, who was now waiting on the tables while Florence concentrated on the cooking, paused beside their table to remove the empty bottle and bring back a new one. Michel was now chatting amicably with Giles about wine. It transpired that Giles’s brother had a vineyard near Bordeaux so supplies of good wine were easy to come by.
Chantal could feel herself warming more and more towards Michel. She was seeing sides of his character she’d never seen before. Asking him to come out for supper tonight had been a good idea after all. And whatever her motives might have been, she was enjoying herself, delighted that she was getting to know the real man behind the work-obsessed Michel.
The restaurant was now completely full and people were queuing outside. They’d finished their delicious dessert of raspberry tart when Florence asked if they would like to have their coffee served on the veranda.
