Hook, Line and Single

Chapter 20

20

‘ For fucking fuck’s sake! ’ I howl, unable to stop tears of frustration pouring down my cheeks as my lovely cabin, with its comfortable bed and hot shower, along with all my clothes and toiletries, heads for the horizon without me for the second day in a row.

‘Hey, we’ve got this,’ Cameron soothes as he wraps me in a hug. Although we’ve kissed, held hands and shared a bed, this is the first time he’s hugged me and I press my face against his chest, breathing him in. Like me, he smells a little bit jaded and sweaty, but it’s comforting nonetheless. I allow him to hold me until the tears subside.

‘I think we know the drill by now, don’t we,’ he tells me when I eventually disengage from his embrace. ‘Book hotel rooms, book transport, hope we catch the bloody ship tomorrow.’

‘I’m also going to need a change of clothes,’ I tell him. ‘I think these ones could practically stand up by themselves.’

‘Agreed. One thing at a time though.’ He pulls out his phone and launches a hotel booking website. He takes his time scrolling through the options and fiddling with the filters before looking up at me with a frown.

‘Bloody hell, Cannes is expensive,’ he remarks. ‘Most of the hotels are fully booked for tonight, and from the meagre pickings that are left, I can’t find anything for less than two hundred euros, and that’s room only. On top of that, there’s only one hotel that has two rooms available and they’re two-fifty each.’

He hands me the phone so I can look for myself, but he’s right. I know we got lucky by staying with Alejandro and Gabriela for free last night, but this is starting to look like a very expensive diversion, given that we still need to eat, get clothes and toiletries, and find our way to meet the ship tomorrow. I hand the phone back.

‘What do you want to do?’ I ask. ‘I’m not sure I want to sleep on the beach.’

‘We’d probably get moved on anyway. I’m sure a place like Cannes has strict rules on stuff like that. I do have one suggestion, but you might not like it.’

‘Go on.’

‘We could share a room again. Not ideal, I know, but it halves the cost.’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I’m not sure I fancy another early-morning wake-up call from little Cameron.’

‘Please stop calling it that. To be fair, I think hotel beds are generally larger than the one we were in last night, so we shouldn’t be, umm, pressed together in quite the same way.’

‘Let me have another look.’ I take the phone from him again and look through the rooms listed. All of them are doubles, but one has a super-king-sized bed. It’s well over two hundred euros, but it does include breakfast, which is a plus.

‘What about this one?’ I ask him. ‘Plenty of room for you to build a pillow wall to keep little Cameron in check.’

‘You’re enjoying winding me up, aren’t you?’

‘It passes the time.’

He sighs expressively. ‘Right. I’m going to book this, OK?’

‘Yup.’

Having done that, he turns his attention to the transport. Again, there’s lots of scrolling and fiddling before he speaks again.

‘This isn’t much cop either,’ he remarks. ‘There aren’t any direct flights to Pisa from Nice. We have to go via Paris.’

‘Paris? That’s miles in the wrong direction. Can’t we go by train?’

‘Nope. Apparently there’s a big strike tomorrow, so nothing will be moving. I’ve looked at car hire too, but that’s silly money. Flying is our only option, and the flights aren’t cheap either, probably because everyone who would normally go by train is doing the same as us.’

I sigh. ‘Just book it. I tell you, the bloody ship had better wait for us in Livorno. I can’t afford to carry on at this rate.’

‘At least it’s stopping there for two nights. Gives us twice the chance of actually catching it.’

A few minutes pass while he navigates his way through the booking process. ‘All done,’ he announces as he shoves his phone back into his pocket. ‘Let’s find a taxi. I can feel the shower calling me.’

The hotel turns out to be on the other side of Cannes from the cruise port, so the taxi takes us along the coast and I study the view as we drive. After a short while, we come across a long sandy beach. Even though it’s early evening, it’s still busy with families and the after-work crowd. There are people playing beach volleyball, and the sea is full of bobbing heads.

‘That looks amazing,’ I sigh. ‘I’d love a swim in the sea.’

‘We could stop,’ Cameron suggests.

‘Nice thought, but I don’t have my swimsuit with me. Do you?’

‘No, but we could improvise. Just swim in your bra and pants.’

‘Absolutely not. For a start, this is Cannes, and everyone else out there is looking effortlessly chic in swimsuits that probably cost a fortune, so I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb in my mismatched bra and pants. Second, I’m wearing white cotton knickers. What do you think happens to those when they get wet?’

‘No idea.’

‘They go pretty much transparent. I’ll come out of the sea looking like I’ve been skinny dipping, and I don’t even have a towel to wrap round me.’

‘Hmm.’ Cameron pulls out his phone again and fiddles with it for a couple of minutes, before leaning forward to speak to the driver.

‘ Pardon monsieur, pouvons-nous aller à une autre destination s’il vous pla?t? ’

‘ Bien s?r, où aimeriez-vous aller? ’

‘ La plage de la batterie .’

The driver looks sceptical. ‘ Vraiment? êtes-vous s?r? ’

‘ Oui. Merci. ’

‘Where are we going?’ I ask Cameron as he settles back into the seat.

‘It’s a surprise. You’ll see.’

After a short drive, the taxi pulls into a petrol station and I look at Cameron quizzically.

‘ Par là, monsieur. En bas des marches ,’ the taxi driver tells him, pointing at a set of steps on the other side of the road as Cameron pays the fare.

‘What is this place?’ I ask as we descend the steps and walk through a tunnel.

‘It’s a beach where nobody will worry about your mismatched underwear,’ he tells me cryptically.

As we emerge from the tunnel and I glance around, the reality of what Cameron has done suddenly dawns on me. I’m reminded a little of one of those seal colonies that you see on nature documentaries, inasmuch as all the best sunbathing spots are occupied by basking bodies. The difference is that these bodies are both human and completely naked.

‘Cameron,’ I ask in a horrified whisper. ‘Have you brought me to a nudist beach?’

‘The only nudist beach in Cannes,’ he tells me proudly. ‘It was your remark about skinny dipping that gave me the idea.’

‘I’m not taking my clothes off in front of you, and I’m certainly not taking them off in front of a bunch of strangers!’

‘Nobody’s forcing you to do anything, but if you fancy a dip in the sea, this is probably the only way.’

‘I’m not that desperate. You can go if you want. I’ll wait for you here.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. Thanks, but no thanks.’

He starts peeling off his clothes, placing them in a neat pile on the ground, before marching completely naked towards the water. I don’t know what takes me aback more: Cameron’s brazen self-confidence, or the complete lack of interest the other people on the beach take in him. I can’t help watching as he walks into the sea, seemingly without a care in the world. Having felt how solid he is both at Alejandro’s and when we hugged earlier, I’m not surprised to see that he’s a very nice shape. His shoulders are broad, with just the right amount of muscle. The eye travels easily down his back to a pleasantly pert bum, under which his thigh muscles flex attractively as he wades deeper. Forcing myself to stop staring at him and glance around, it’s like I’ve stepped into some alternate reality. The beachgoers are engaging in all the things you’d see on the main beach down the road. They’re sunbathing, sitting under umbrellas reading, swimming in the sea, or chatting over a glass of wine. But none of them is wearing a stitch of clothing. It’s a literal smorgasbord of human flesh. I sink onto the sand, overwhelmed.

‘ Excusez-moi, mademoiselle .’ The voice comes from above me and I glance up, only to wish immediately that I hadn’t. I’m literally face to face with a flaccid penis, surrounded by a few wisps of greying pubic hair. It’s obviously spent a lot of time in the open air, as it’s deeply tanned. I wrench my eyes upwards, past an equally tanned hairless pot belly that’s shining in the sunlight like it’s made of polished mahogany. I’m reminded momentarily of a Buddha statue before my gaze finally meets the face of the speaker. He’s bald, probably in his early sixties, with an impressive grey moustache.

‘ Si vous voulez rester ici, vous devez vous déshabiller ,’ the man tells me.

‘ Pardon. Je ne parle pas Francais ,’ I explain, dredging up my best schoolgirl French and silently cursing Cameron for both bringing me here and abandoning me.

‘If you want to stay here, you have to take off your clothes,’ the man says, switching seamlessly to accented English. ‘It’s the rules, I’m afraid.’

‘Of course. I’m sorry,’ I tell him as I feel the heat of embarrassment flooding across my chest and up my neck. What the hell am I going to do now? My initial hope that he’d wander off and leave me alone after delivering his message is dashed when he settles himself on a rock next to me.

‘Your friend is enjoying the water,’ he observes, pointing at Cameron, who is floating in the sea. If I were capable of projecting a death ray with my eyes, I’d be incinerating him right now. My new companion is looking at me quizzically, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I’m willing him with all my might to go away. Unfortunately, my powers of telepathy seem to be severely misfiring as, not only does he not get the message, but we’re joined by an equally naked woman.

‘ Salut, Philippe. Qui est ton ami? ’ she says as he stands and embraces her warmly.

‘ Je viens d’expliquer à cette jeune femme anglaise qu’elle doit se déshabiller si elle veut rester ici ,’ he tells her.

‘She isn’t going to undress with you watching her,’ the woman says with a laugh. ‘Where are your manners?’

‘You are right. My apologies. A bient?t, Claudine .’ To my relief, Philippe gets up and wanders off.

‘Is this your first time?’ the woman I now know is called Claudine asks me. I’m trying hard to stay focused on her face, but I can’t help taking in the rest of her. Her ample, deeply tanned breasts have no hint of a bikini line but, unlike Philippe, she’s sporting an impressive bush of pubic hair.

‘Yes. My friend brought me,’ I tell her, pointing at Cameron, who is still floating happily in the sea. Maybe he’ll get swept away by a freak wave, or eaten by a shark.

‘There is nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of,’ she says. ‘Come. Take off your clothes and join him in the sea. The water is the perfect temperature today. You will love it. It’s easiest if you cover yourself with a towel to begin with. Do you have one?’

‘No.’

‘Follow me. I will lend you a towel. Bring your friend’s clothes.’ She takes me by the hand and leads me down the beach to a spot where an umbrella has been set up, with two chairs underneath and a cool box. One of the chairs is occupied by Philippe but, after the initial shock, seeing him again is less difficult. Claudine reaches into a bag and pulls out a beach towel.

‘Put that around yourself while you undress. Then, when you’re ready, I will count down and voilà .’

I’m still deeply uneasy, but something about Claudine’s manner reassures me, and I wrap the towel around me as I wriggle out of my clothes, piling them neatly on the ground.

‘Are you ready?’ she asks.

‘No,’ I tell her honestly.

‘Just go for it. Drop the towel. I promise you the world will not end. I will count down. Trois, deux, un, allez!’

I fix my eyes on her, trying desperately not to think about what I’m actually doing, as I tug the towel away from my body.

‘There you are. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?’ she says encouragingly as I drop the towel on the ground. I daren’t glance down; although the soft breeze playing on parts of my skin that never normally experience it is firing messages to my brain that I am, in fact, naked, I think visual confirmation of the fact would be too much.

‘It is a nice sensation, hmm?’ Claudine says. ‘But you must be careful with the sun. You do not want to burn. Do you have lotion?’

‘In my bag,’ I tell her.

‘It is evening now and the sun is moins fort , so you will be OK if you don’t stay out for too long. Do you want to go and find your friend in the sea? The sensation of swimming without clothes is incroyable .’

I look around, expecting to see the eyes of everyone on me, but nobody is taking any notice at all. Nevertheless, the idea of walking past so many people to get to the sea is overwhelming. Claudine evidently senses my anxiety.

‘Shall we go together?’ she asks gently.

‘Please.’

She takes my hand again and gently leads me down to the water’s edge. I can’t believe I’m doing this, and I’m tempted to drown Cameron as soon as I get within reach of him, but the murderous thoughts are extinguished as soon as the cool water envelops me. I’ve heard people waxing lyrical about how wonderful skinny dipping is, but this is my first experience of it. The sensation of the water brushing against my bare skin is both soothing and exhilarating at the same time.

‘You like it?’ Claudine asks.

‘It’s incredible,’ I tell her as I start to giggle uncontrollably.

‘What is so funny?’

‘I was just thinking what my friend Sam would say if she could see me now.’

‘She would think what a brave, confident young woman you are, I think.’

‘I’m not so sure, Claudine. I think she’d probably have a fit.’