Cast Iron

Chapter six

Several of the beachfront restaurants had already shut down for the season, but there were still plenty to choose from, and the good weather had brought a late rush of holidaymakers, so they were all crowded.

Sophie and Bertrand sat beneath the canopy of one that served barbecued meat and fish on hanging skewers. Their table was right down on the promenade, just feet away from the soft, golden sand that sloped away to the gentle wash of the Mediterranean. You could almost hear it breathing in the night, the lights of Argelès riding the black swell of the incoming waves in fractured shards.

It was getting dark faster now, and the couple had eaten earlier than usual. Their first-floor apartment above a bicycle-hire shop was just a hundred metres further along the beach, and they were looking forward to a night of undisturbed pleasure, windows left wide, net curtains billowing in the sea breeze, the sound of the sea itself accompaniment to their lovemaking.

It was unusual for them to have time alone together like this. Bertrand still lived with his mother. She was elderly and frail now, and he was reluctant to leave her on her own. Sophie still stayed in her father’s apartment, which seemed always to play host to a procession of visitors and rarely offered privacy. So they had jumped at the chance of this late-season booking to escape to the coast and indulge themselves a little in each other.

Bertrand poured the last of the wine into their glasses from a bottle of Collioure Puig Oriol from Domaine La Tour Vieille. It was a heady local wine, a rich blend of Syrah and Grenache noir, 14.5 per cent alcohol that slipped only too easily over the tongue. The two young people were mellow and easy in each other’s company. Laughing at silly things and revelling in their freedom. This, they thought, is how it would be when they were finally together, free of family responsibilities, free to live life exactly as they wanted.

They paid up and left the restaurant to walk hand-in-hand along the promenade, the chatter of diners receding behind them, the air filled with the sound of the sea breaking on the slope of the beach. Bertrand untangled his hand from hers and put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her towards him. She slipped her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder, the faintest streak of white running back through her long dark hair, just visible in the moonlight. She sighed her contentment. This was heaven.

Bertrand said, ‘Will you marry me?’

Sophie stopped dead in her tracks, and he had taken two further steps before he could stop himself and turn back. She was staring at him, open-mouthed, eyes wide with excitement. ‘You’re kidding?’

‘You want me to get down on one knee?’

She laughed. ‘Don’t be silly.’ Then composed herself. ‘You’ll have to ask my papa, though.’

Bertrand turned his head away, towards the sea, expelling air. ‘You’re not serious?’

She raised a coquettish eyebrow. ‘I am. What? Are you scared of him? He didn’t like you much at first.’

‘Of course I’m not scared of him. Enzo’s the finest man I ever met.’ He turned to look at her and she saw just how much he meant it. For some reason it brought tears to her eyes. Her father and her lover had got off to the worst of all possible starts. Then Bertrand had saved Kirsty’s life, and Enzo had financed the rebuilding of Bertrand’s gym after it had been burned down. There was such respect now between the young buck and the old stag that it filled Sophie’s heart to bursting with love for them both. ‘Okay, I’ll ask him,’ Bertrand said. ‘But what am I going to tell him your answer is?’

She shrugged. ‘Maybe I’ll have to think about that.’

‘Sophie!’ Bertrand growled at her and she grinned.

‘Yes, of course. Yes, yes, yes!’

And they embraced and kissed in the moonlight, not caring who might see them. He grabbed her hand. ‘Come on.’ And they ran the rest of the way back to their holiday let. Bertrand stood by the shuttered window of the bicycle shop, fumbling with his key to open the door to the stairwell. Then they rushed inside and up the stairs, barely able to contain their love and lust for each other. He struggled again, with trembling fingers, to get the key in the lock of the apartment door, but it simply swung open. A sudden stab of misgiving pierced his happiness.

‘Idiot!’ Sophie said. ‘You forgot to lock the door.’

But Bertrand was standing perfectly still. ‘I didn’t.’

‘You must have.’ She pushed past him before he could stop her and flicked the light switch. But the room remained in darkness, divided into slats by the moonlight that fell in through the shutters. And, for the first time, she became aware of an alien scent. Something that didn’t belong.

Two figures detached themselves from the dark. They were dressed all in black, ski masks drawn over their heads. And Bertrand saw the whites of their eyes catching the light. One of them grabbed Sophie from behind, a gloved hand immediately around her face to stifle her scream. The other came for Bertrand, but could never have imagined the strength or ferocity with which his attack would be met. All the hours spent pumping iron in the gym were concentrated in the fist that Bertrand smashed into his attacker’s face. He felt teeth and bone breaking, and heard the man’s pain in the cry that gurgled through the blood in his mouth as his legs buckled beneath him.

The second man hurled Sophie away across the room, and Bertrand heard the sound of her crashing into the kitchen table. The whole weight of his second attacker descended on him. And this was a big man. Bertrand went down, all the air exploding from his lungs as the man landed heavily on top of him. The first man was on his knees again now, cursing, and his fist caught Bertrand on the side of his head. Bertrand’s world became filled with pain and light. He tried to wriggle free, but a second punch almost crushed his larynx, and he found himself choking and unable to breathe.

A scream filled the air as a shadow flew through the darkness and knocked the big man off him. Sophie was all legs and clenched fists, striking out at anything and everything. The man whose nose and teeth Bertrand had broken swung around, and Bertrand saw his fist make an arc before connecting with Sophie’s face. Her dead weight hit the floor. Bertrand tried to get to his feet, but a heavy boot sank itself into his midriff, bringing bile bubbling into his mouth, and a second blow to the head brought darkness.