bulls come from, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. And it’s the home of the gipsies, too — Aigues Mortes, that I was telling you about?’ — she nodded, remembering — ‘is on the edge of the Camargue, where the Rhône delta meets the sea. Well, strictly speaking it’s no longer on the sea, since all the silt brought down by the river has built out the shore.’
She gazed downstream where he had pointed. ‘Wild horses, bulls and gipsies. It all sounds improbably romantic — I expect it’s just one big tourist attraction now.’
‘It isn’t. There’s a clutch of new businesses offering horse rides to see the wildlife, but most of the area’s quite unspoiled. The middle bit — round the Étang de Vaccarès — is a nature reserve.’
She had the feeling he was about to say something more, but he didn’t. ‘I read somewhere you can see flamingoes,’ she said. ‘I went to see the ones at Slimbridge once.’
He said, ‘Mm,’ but she wasn’t sure he’d heard. Then he began: ‘I’m going to —’ and stopped.
She waited, but he didn’t go on.
After a moment she turned away from the window and the stupendous view. ‘I’m tired,’ she said. ‘And I can’t take in any more.’ She looked round for Joe, and saw him staring out of the next window. ‘Joe, let’s go home.’
Without waiting to see if he’d follow, she walked back to the steps and slowly climbed down.
*
It must be the heat, and all this tramping round, she thought later as she lay in bed: Adam had suggested a drink as they left the amphitheatre, but she’d said no thanks, she wanted to go back and put her feet up, and Joe had said he had notes to write up. After a light supper, she’d left him to it.
Comfortable under the crisp sheet, very soon she felt herself growing drowsy. Sights and sounds of the day flashed through her mind, faithfully reproducing the atmosphere of the place, and she smiled. An image of the Alyscamps took on momentum of its own: she was dreaming, fast asleep.
Some time later, the sound of a telephone woke her. It only rang once then stopped, almost as if someone had been waiting for the call and had pounced on it as soon as the ringing began. Must be next door, she thought vaguely, turning over, but then softly her door opened and Joe peeped in.
‘Just going out to get some fresh air,’ he whispered. ‘Sorry if I disturbed you, but I didn’t want you to wake and find me not here.’
‘Thanks, Joe.’ How nice of him, she thought. ‘Night.’
‘Good night, Beth.’
She was too sleepy to dwell on the coincidence of the ringing telephone and Joe’s sudden need for fresh air: it was only later that it struck her as odd.
*
They were having breakfast out on the terrace in the morning when a white Peugeot drew up in the car park below. Just as she was registering that it had British number plates, Adam got out of it.
She went to the edge of the balcony, waving. ‘Adam! Up here!’
He looked up, smiling. ‘Good morning.’
‘Come and have a coffee?’
‘Thanks.’
‘Over there — up the steps.’ She watched him walk to the foot of the stairs, then turned to Joe. ‘It’s Adam.’
‘So I gathered,’ Joe said drily.
‘Isn’t that a coincidence, him parking right below our house?’
‘Not really.’ Joe went back to his notebook — he’d been engrossed throughout breakfast, and had hardly said a word. ‘I told him where we were staying.’
‘Oh.’ She tried to work out why he’d have done that, if he wasn’t keen on their spending too much time with Adam. ‘Why?’
He didn’t bother to look up, so she couldn’t read his expression. ‘He asked.’
‘How —?’ But just then the front door opened and Adam came striding down the hall. She shrugged. I don’t care, she thought.
*
‘What’s on your agenda today?’ Adam asked. ‘Lovely cup of coffee, Beth.’
‘Plodding on through the list of sights, I expect.’ She realized she could have been more diplomatic, thought
‘Yes. And it’s the home of the gipsies, too — Aigues Mortes, that I was telling you about?’ — she nodded, remembering — ‘is on the edge of the Camargue, where the Rhône delta meets the sea. Well, strictly speaking it’s no longer on the sea, since all the silt brought down by the river has built out the shore.’
She gazed downstream where he had pointed. ‘Wild horses, bulls and gipsies. It all sounds improbably romantic — I expect it’s just one big tourist attraction now.’
‘It isn’t. There’s a clutch of new businesses offering horse rides to see the wildlife, but most of the area’s quite unspoiled. The middle bit — round the Étang de Vaccarès — is a nature reserve.’
She had the feeling he was about to say something more, but he didn’t. ‘I read somewhere you can see flamingoes,’ she said. ‘I went to see the ones at Slimbridge once.’
He said, ‘Mm,’ but she wasn’t sure he’d heard. Then he began: ‘I’m going to —’ and stopped.
She waited, but he didn’t go on.
After a moment she turned away from the window and the stupendous view. ‘I’m tired,’ she said. ‘And I can’t take in any more.’ She looked round for Joe, and saw him staring out of the next window. ‘Joe, let’s go home.’
Without waiting to see if he’d follow, she walked back to the steps and slowly climbed down.
*
It must be the heat, and all this tramping round, she thought later as she lay in bed: Adam had suggested a drink as they left the amphitheatre, but she’d said no thanks, she wanted to go back and put her feet up, and Joe had said he had notes to write up. After a light supper, she’d left him to it.
Comfortable under the crisp sheet, very soon she felt herself growing drowsy. Sights and sounds of the day flashed through her mind, faithfully reproducing the atmosphere of the place, and she smiled. An image of the Alyscamps took on momentum of its own: she was dreaming, fast asleep.
Some time later, the sound of a telephone woke her. It only rang once then stopped, almost as if someone had been waiting for the call and had pounced on it as soon as the ringing began. Must be next door, she thought vaguely, turning over, but then softly her door opened and Joe peeped in.
‘Just going out to get some fresh air,’ he whispered. ‘Sorry if I disturbed you, but I didn’t want you to wake and find me not here.’
‘Thanks, Joe.’ How nice of him, she thought. ‘Night.’
‘Good night, Beth.’
She was too sleepy to dwell on the coincidence of the ringing telephone and Joe’s sudden need for fresh air: it was only later that it struck her as odd.
*
They were having breakfast out on the terrace in the morning when a white Peugeot drew up in the car park below. Just as she was registering that it had British number plates, Adam got out of it.
She went to the edge of the balcony, waving. ‘Adam! Up here!’
He looked up, smiling. ‘Good morning.’
‘Come and have a coffee?’
‘Thanks.’
‘Over there — up the steps.’ She watched him walk to the foot of the stairs, then turned to Joe. ‘It’s Adam.’
‘So I gathered,’ Joe said drily.
‘Isn’t that a coincidence, him parking right below our house?’
‘Not really.’ Joe went back to his notebook — he’d been engrossed throughout breakfast, and had hardly said a word. ‘I told him where we were staying.’
‘Oh.’ She tried to work out why he’d have done that, if he wasn’t keen on their spending too much time with Adam. ‘Why?’
He didn’t bother to look up, so she couldn’t read his expression. ‘He asked.’
‘How —?’ But just then the front door opened and Adam came striding down the hall. She shrugged. I don’t care, she thought.
*
‘What’s on your agenda today?’ Adam asked. ‘Lovely cup of coffee, Beth.’
‘Plodding on through the list of sights, I expect.’ She realized she could have been more diplomatic, thought
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