AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yes, a holiday,” I agreed, retrieving some vocabulary. “An extended one.”
He gave a nod. “You speak French very well for an English rostbif.”
Praise indeed from a Frenchman. “Thank you. I lived in Paris for a while, years ago. And I need language skills for my job occasionally. Although my accent needs some work.”
“It does. You were taught by an illiterate drunk farmer, yes? Who spoke like this?”
He said the last few words in a lumbering parody, and his teasing almost wrenched a smile from me.
“Next time I visit the Sorbonne, I will be sure to feed that back to my very expensive tutor.”
“Ah, your tutor must have been a drunk farmer with a sense of humour.” He slapped me on the back, the most physical contact I’d had with anyone since my arrival. “The best sort.” Silver rippled around him. “I’m Florian, by the way.”
“So I gathered. I’m Charles.” We shook hands and Florian indicated over my shoulder.
“We are walking the same way, Charles. Let me buy you a drink to say thank you.”
CHAPTER 4
FLORIAN
Nico and Jerome refrained from catcalls when I reached L’Escale in the company of my new friend, but only because of the stern raised eyebrow I threw their way. This wasn’t a pickup, not a normal one anyhow, even if I was buying this Englishman a drink. My gratitude was real, as was my need to hear his side of the story. Papi had painted a plausible picture of how him and this stranger had struck up a conversation for no other reason than to pass the time, but I wasn’t buying it. Which meant I wanted half an hour alone with this guy, and if he came with wary, shy eyes and a trim body, then who was I to complain? And did I mention the hot British accent? Objectively, his French was excellent, but oh, fucking merde, he’d spent too long talking with uptight Parisians.
Of course, every single permanent resident of Loix and a few of the regular second homeowners, too, were scattered around the bar, and it seemed every single one of them wanted to say hello and chew the cud with me tonight. Including Julien, his hopeful gaze tracking my every move as I shook hands and kissed cheeks and waded through each jolly greeting. To my irritation, the one person not present was Papi, sending me a pulse of anxiety as I scanned the bar.
“Relax, he’s over there,” offered Julien, pointing beyond the tables and umbrellas laid out across half the square. Sure enough, the old man in question was safe, locked into a life-and-death boules match with his cronies on a sandy patch marked out expressly for this purpose in front of the church.
“Thanks.”
Julien beamed as though I’d just promised to let him fuck me to oblivion after he’d finished his drink. Not now, Julien, and not ever. I made a point of showing him I had company, which soon wiped the smile off his face.
Charles—the rostbif—chose a modest pression, I selected a Ricard. Usually, I’d be in the thick of the rowdy crew of locals leaning on the bar, but instead led him to one of the outside tables from where I could keep a watchful eye on Papi and not have Jerome and Nico’s smirks, or Julien’s face like a whipped dog’s, in my line of vision.
The fact that Charles was older than me, by ten years or so, judging from the silver flecks in his dark hair, should have told them this wasn’t a pickup. If he had been fifteen years younger then, yes, of course I’d have made a beeline for him. With his pale English skin, elegant long limbs, and that tight, reserved attitude I tended to enjoy unravelling, he was one hundred per cent my type. The type I liked to smudge up a little. Straitlaced on the outside, but once breached, tended to fuck like a mink. Deciding to flirt anyhow, I removed my hat, tossing my head and brushing out my hair so it fell to my shoulders. With a bit of luck, I wasn’t too grubby after a day toiling under the hot sun.
“So, the dramatic rescue of my papi,” I began in a playful tone. “Continuez, monsieur.”
Charles’s slim fingers curled around his glass as he took a sip of his beer. Soft, indoor hands and a fancy watch. No wedding band and no pale circle of skin around his third finger betraying where one usually lived. Alas, no gay vibes either. He shook his head, a lock of dark hair falling in front of slate grey eyes.
“As I said, it wasn’t a rescue. He just seemed lost, that’s all, as if he’d taken a wrong turn and couldn’t work out the right way to return to the square. So, I showed him—I assumed he was on holiday here, and it was easier to walk with him than explain. And no bother, fifteen minutes out of my day. Has he recently moved to the village?”
Hah! If only. “If you are an archaeologist and consider eighty-two years recent, then yes,” I answered. “He was born on the mainland and moved to the house he lives in now when he was three days old. If I hear the exaggerated story of the perilous crossing in a rickety boat through choppy seas one more time, I might have to kill him. It was three kilometres in the height of summer, not a circumnavigation of the globe.”
I waited while my new friend joined the dots and smiled politely at my joke. Charles’s side of the story was as depressing as I’d predicted.
“I live in the house with Papi, too,” I added, unnecessarily. “We’re about a two-minute walk away, around the corner.” I thumbed in the direction beyond the indoor market hall. In case you decide you’re in need of some bedtime company. “Papi’s definitely more forgetful than he was, but this is the first time I’m aware he’s actually become lost.”
I didn’t know why I felt the need to explain to this Englishman. Especially as a whole bunch of old mates I could confide in stood gawping not five metres away. His girlfriend or wife or children were probably wondering where he’d got to on this fine sunny evening.
A cheer and a cackle went up from the boules pitch and my papi raised a clenched fist in triumph while one of his friends groaned. Not all his faculties were fading.
“Have you visited the island before?”
Charles shook his head. “No. A colleague recommended it.”
“Your colleague has excellent taste. So, are you here with friends or family?” Don’t mind me, just nosing out the gay. I wasn’t exclusively drawn to younger men.
Charles hesitated before he spoke, the grey eyes sliding away from mine. “Um… neither, actually. I’m… er… taking an extended break alone.”
