CHAPTER 23
It was hot, but there was a breeze from the sea. Later in the holiday I would experience what the wind could do, as the sand blew across in long plumes and rasped against the skin and stung the eyes, but for now it was just enough to ease the power of the sun. The beach seemed to go on for ever, great mountains bulky to my right, but it was the sea that drew my eyes.

Blue, low waves coming onto the sand and white seabirds diving for fish. There were a lot of people sitting or lying on towels or mats made of reeds, and there were breasts everywhere, naked and looking oddly unfinished. I could not understand why women would do such a thing; my breasts were my own, such as they were, mine and Benny’s, of course, and not for the gaze of any random stranger.

I heard some of the half-naked women speak, and it was clear then that they were from the Low Countries or Germany, somewhere that such nudity was common and accepted. I heard other languages, including English, but it was my own language that surprised me. I loved the Pagnol films, after all, so I was expecting the sound of Uncle Jules, the great trill as they said the letter R, for these people were Catalans. What I did not anticipate was that every vowel was wrong. It was almost like being in a foreign land, and yet all was still French, apart from rather a lot of red and yellow flags. Later, I was to see that even some of the signs for street and town names were inscribed in two languages. How odd.

I set out my towel, placing a book on it along with my sandals, and took a step towards the sea. I then stepped quickly back onto my towel with a shout. A woman of a certain age laughed at this.

“That burns, no? If your feet are tender, swim in your sandals!”

“Thank you. Is it always so hot on the feet?”

“Oh yes, but that is only this far from the water. It is better closer, and your feet will learn. This is your first time in this place?”

“Yes, Madame. I am with my mother; we stay at La Cheminée”

“A good hotel. Good food there”

“Ah, we are working there as well”

“Not a true holiday, then?”

“But yes, apart from some little tasks it is a real one. My mother is alone, so this is the easiest way to come south”

She laughed, and it was a pleasant sound. “Ah, little one, so many of these beach rabbits are campers. This coast is full of camp sites, and they in turn are full of blond people who burn in the sun and keep the chemist’s shop busy, and its owner richer than they would otherwise be. I should know, for the chemist is my son”

We shook hands. “I am Roser Borges, child. My son, Jaume, he has the shop in the main street”

“Sophie, Madame, Sophie Laplace. My mother is Julienne”

“You have what age, Sophie?”

“Seventeen years, Madame”

She shook her hands before her, as if warding off a dog. “Roser, child; you are almost a grown woman, and you are not in school at least for this month, and I am no teacher. We shall speak as friends. What work is it you will do in the hotel?”

“Just some tidying of the rooms each morning. My mother, she is a cook. I mean, she is a true mistress of the kitchen, not a potwasher”

Madame Borges–Roser–was nodding. “She does this where you live? Where is that?”

“I am a Norman girl, Roser. We live in the Calvados, on the coast”

“Ah, the accent…so you have the sand, and the sea, just rather colder, yes?”

“I do not know yet”

“Trust me, Sophie, that water over there will please you. Do you have a mask?”

“Your pardon?”

“A mask for your eyes, for under the water? No? Try these”

She handed me the sort of thing swimmers use in artificial pools. “Trust me once more, child. You will want to see underwater. Now, go and test the temperature before your day is ended! I will guard your things”

My sandals were of a simple plastic, so I did not fear for them in the sea, and Roser was of course correct: they made crossing the sand a lot more pleasant. I walked to the sea, and placed a foot into the water, expecting a chill, but it was merely cool, refreshing. I walked further in, and then decided I should plunge. I donned Roser’s goggles and in a way that was far from elegant threw myself at the water, and the world was transformed.

It was so clear! Beneath me lay ridges of sand formed by the waves, shells scattered about them, and small fish darted in groups wherever I turned my gaze. In that moment, I felt happier than I could ever remember. I was living as the person I had always known myself to be. My sweet brother was engaged to be married to someone I dearly loved. I had my own sweet man waiting for me to return. I was on holiday with my dear mother. I was floating in a warm sea, under a hot sun, in a beautiful place watching fish swim around me. I stood up in the water, delighted, and then heard a drone from an engine.

A small aircraft was flying along the beach, towing an enormous banner, which revealed itself to be nothing but an advertisement for a large supermarket. Even in Paradise, it seemed, there were serpents. Eventually, I emerged from the sea, and Roser tutted once more.

“Girl, you must put cream on your skin or you will spoil your holiday on the first day! Come here, let me”

“I cannot ask you to–“

“I am a mother and a grandmother, and I have done this for many young people. Hold still…ah, is that your mother I see in the broad hat?”

I looked up, and Maman was walking the sand towards where I sat. “Yes, it is. How did you know?”

“She resembles you more than a little, but also she is very pale, like you, in the skin. Hola!”

My mother reached us, and I saw that her hands were red. She followed my gaze.

“It is nothing, my sweet; I just wish that any cooking I do is done in things that are clean. You have made a friend?”

“Roser Borges; I am of the corner. My son has the chemist’s shop. You are Madame Laplace, no? Your daughter is a delight, so polite, and…”

She made a shrug of her shoulders that encompassed every woman or girl near us, who were mostly clad in nothing more than the tiniest of bikinis, or bare-breasted, and also my own rather fuller costume. “…so modest”

“Julienne, Madame, please”

“And Roser, of course. How do you come to our little piece of Mallorca? And please do not say ‘by train’!”

I had to interrupt. “Mallorca?”

Roser smiled. “Did you think you were in France here? No, this is Catalunya, Rrrrroussillon. This was the Kingdom of Mallorrrrca, and my son, he has the name given to some of our kings. Their palace is in Perrrrrpignan”

I looked at her as sternly as I could manage. “You are doing it deliberately, that thing with the Rs! Otherwise you would have said your name was Rrrrroserrrr!”

“Clever girl! And you say them so well we shall make of you a Catalane!”

Maman smiled. “How do you do it, my little one? You walk onto a strange beach, in a faraway town, and already you have a friend. Just as you did when you went to your new school. Roser, is she at all a bother?”

“No, but she will cost you money”

“Your pardon?”

I held up the goggles Roser pointed to. “I would like very much a pair of these, Maman”

Roser grinned. “But not a swimming costume of cobweb and postage stamps? Ah, there is yet hope for the world. What do you do for Thierry?”

Maman smiled. “I work for his cousin, so that with just some help for making of the beds in the morning, and three nights of each week to cook, we have a comfortable place to sleep. The cooking here, it interests me. I would do a full aíoli one evening, Friday of course”

“Allioli, Julienne; the other is Provençal mahonnaise with garlic. And there is pa amb oli, of course, and pa amb tomá quet, and cargolade, and, oh, so much more! A true cook must have her own recipe for the breads”

I had to ask. “What is this cargolade? We are to be served it tonight”

“Ah, child, that is for the tourists, but it is still a delight! You have, of course, the allioli, and the bread and olives, and some sausage, perhaps of the wild boar, or the fighting bull, or even the ass, and meat for the barbeque, which should be of vine branches, and then the main thing is lots and lots of snails for the grilling”

“Snails?”

“Yes. Mostly small snails, and perhaps some rabbit. You will enjoy!”

Maman laughed. “I do not think I am quite as familiar with snails as my own tourists think, nor with frogs. I have only cooked the big snails, from the Bourgogne. Now, it gets late, and this child has still to unpack fully"

“Maman, I …”

“My girl, you unpacked enough to find your costume and a pretty dress. Now, we will say that we hope to see you soon, Roser. Thank you for your kindness to my child”

I gave back the swimming goggles and Maman and I walked hand in hand after I had put on my dress.

“Sophie…this is hard to put the proper words too, but I watch you, like this, and I tell myself how blind I have been. Everything you do is as a girl would”

“That is because I am one, Maman”

“I know, my sweet, I know. But look at your life now: did you ever make friends as Serge? Did you ever speak with strangers as you do now? No, it pleases me so much to see my child happy, and it tells me that I did not lose my son, she merely awoke from a nightmare. Sophie: this will be a wonderful holiday, no?”

I embraced her. “It already is, Maman. I just need to do one thing”

She laughed. “There is a booth on the corner of our street. Do not use it all in one call”

I was handed a telephone card. “Call him just before dinner, so that you have to keep the call a short one. I will speak with your brother myself”

An hour later: “Hello, Benny---are you missing me?”