‘I feel sick,’ Ivy says suddenly from the other side of the car. She leans forward to speak to the driver. ‘Pull over, please, sir?S’il te plait? Monsieur? Er, je suis . . . mal?’
He nods, understanding and quickly pulling over. Poor Ivy opens the door, throwing herself at the foreign ground, and then throwingupon that foreign ground.
‘Too much champagne?’ Audrey climbs out, rubbing Ivy’s back as Teddy and Paula hover at a distance.
‘She’s only had one glass,’ Teddy points out. ‘She fakes drinking when you aggressively top everyone up. She always does.’
‘Excuse me,’ Audrey smirks. ‘I was making Connie the air steward aggressively top everyone up,actually.’
‘Car sick,’ Ivy mumbles, her face hot and sweaty.
‘You’ve been in my car plenty of times!’ Audrey points out.
‘You go really, really fast,’ Ivy pants. ‘It helps.’ She collapses onto a grassy bank. ‘I just need a minute. I’m sorry, everyone.’
‘Don’t be sorry, my darling!’ Audrey tells her loudly. ‘It’ll give Paula a chance for a wee.’ Everyone looks to Paula quizzically and Audrey hastily adds, ‘Paula the Dog, I mean. Sorry, darling.’
Paula the Human steps away, thinking about how she does actually need a wee, but will probably wait. She takes in the scenery and her breath slows. It is so beautiful here.Sobeautiful. They are high up, looking down at endless rows of beautiful yellow, pink and orange buildings, dotted higgledy-piggledy across the landscape. The sea stretches out beyond it, covered in small white boat-shaped dots. A large port snakes out into the water, with what looks like a small lighthouse at the end. Paula suddenly wants to run towards it. She wants to dive fully clothed into the emerald sea and swim and swim and swim.
She won’t though. It’s not her.
‘Ah non, est-ce que tout va bien?’
Paula turns towards the lyrical syllables, finding a debonair older man in a hat, regarding Ivy prone on the grass.
‘She’s fine!’ Audrey leaps into his path and he steps back. ‘I mean,elle va bien, merci.’
‘British?’ the man asks with a smile. His teeth are startlingly white against his deep, deep tan.
‘Oui!’ Audrey says, offering him her hand. He kisses it, looking more and more amused.
‘How charming,’ he tells her in that swoony accent. ‘Have you just arrived?’
‘Oui,’ Audrey repeats, her eyes laser-locked on to his. ‘We’re on our way to our hotel right now. Do you have any recommendations for anything we should see while we’re here? We haven’t the first idea about this place!’
This, from a woman who spent the plane journey itemising every single building in Saint-Tropez.
‘I’m actually feeling a lot better now,’ Ivy says, sitting up. ‘We can get going.’
‘Not yet, darling,’ Audrey tells her. ‘You’re still very pale indeed. You stay seated on the ground there. It’s the best place for you.’
Ivy eyes the pool of sick beside her with discomfort. ‘Is it?’ she asks, but Audrey ignores her. Her gaze is focused.
The Frenchman considers her question. ‘Well, you must see the citadel,’ he says after a moment, ‘and the Saint-Tropez market. Pampelonne beach, perhaps? Cape Camarat? Oh!’ Inspiration strikes. ‘You must see the Château de la Moutte!’
Audrey inches closer. ‘That all sounds fascinating!’
They are all things she has already told the group they should see.
‘Mon nom est Antoine,’ he offers, and Audrey introduces everyone, barely turning as she waves, half-heartedly acknowledging her friends.
‘These three are not as cultured as I am,’ Audrey tells him. ‘They just want to sit by the pool and gossip about men.’ Shetitters as Teddy rolls her eyes. ‘Would you be interested in taking me to see the castle of Moutte? Maybe tomorrow?’ Audrey flutters her eyelashes and he beams.
‘Merveilleux!Wonderful!’ he says. ‘I would be honoured.’
They grin at one another, swapping numbers as the rest of the group pile back into the limo.
As they drive away, Audrey squeals, reaching over to cuddle Ivy. ‘Thank you, my darling! You did splendid work.’
