La Vie en Bleu (17 page)

Babs grinned, clapping. I could have sworn she had a tear in her
eye. “She could not fail with that one,
non
?”

Berne nodded solemnly. “Very well, you pass.”

“
Merci
,
mon capitan!
” I carefully sat back down and
looked at Rebecca’s astonished expression.

“Wow, Pip. Where did that come from?”

Laughing, I leaned over and squeezed her shoulder. “Experience.
You’ll understand in a minute.”

Berne and Babs, who were still standing, motioned at Rebecca.

“Up . . . Up!”

Babs rocked the boat, making Rebecca grip on.

“Okay, okay already,” she muttered, pulling herself to her feet.

“Do you love the Ardèche?”

Rebecca looked at me and I nodded in encouragement.

“Oh yeah!”

Bless her.

“
Pardon?
” Babs said, putting her hand to her ear.

I saluted to try and help her.

“Right,” Rebecca said. “Oh yeah . . . er . . .
mon capitan
?”

Berne and Babs looked at each other.

Oh dear, poor Rebecca.

Babs dipped her leg. Rebecca lurched to the side.

Splash.

“What d’you do that for?” Rebecca spluttered out the river water
as Babs gave her a hand back into the kayak.

“Perhaps you will do better with the next question,
oui
?”

Rebecca flicked water at Babs but I could see the twinkle in her
eyes. The hint of challenge sparked between them.

“You betcha.” Rebecca got to her feet once more, the boat
wobbling.

“Do you love France?”

“
Oui
,
mon capitan!
”

Impressive, she sounded like a soldier. Babs looked impressed too.
I made another saluting gesture, and Rebecca managed to get it in before the
French court threw her overboard.

“Prove it.”

“I don’t know the anthem,” Rebecca hissed at me.

“It’s okay, you can sing anything.”

“Right,” Rebecca mumbled. “On the lip right?”

I nodded. “
Bonne chance
.”

The boat wobbled and swayed as she tried to stay upright.
Eventually she steadied herself. It had taken me a few tries when I’d done it
first but Rebecca was more talented in sporty things.

“Okay, well, we had France. Now I got to do my own thing.”

I laughed. Rebecca was a patriot through and through so out came
“God Save Our Queen” at the top of her lungs. She didn’t need encouraging, she
sang it with such feeling that I had a lump in my throat. The woman had the St.
George cross tattooed on her heart, I swore.

“What was that?” Babs asked, even though she had clearly enjoyed
it as had Berne.

I looked at the paddlers who clapped in respect for Rebecca’s
verve.

Berne and Babs sighed heavily in unison.

“That does not prove that you love France,” Babs said.

“Course it does,” Rebecca shot back. “I love it enough to share my
own heart with it.”

Ooh, nicely played.

That stumped them. They looked at the audience.

“Dip or dry?” Babs asked.

The young boy in the front cheered for the dip while his father
gave a reprieve. The mother in the second boat was with her son but the little
girl was on Rebecca’s side.

“It is a tie. What do you think, Bebe?” Babs asked.

It was a high tension moment. To dip or dry was a very important question.

Berne looked Rebecca up and down. “Well, she has a good voice, but
her choice is awful. It is up to you.”

Babs grinned. Rebecca grabbed for her. Pulled her over. The kayak
tipped.

Splash.

Both of them were dunked.

It was so funny that I had to hold onto my aching sides. The
family cheered as Rebecca surfaced.

“That’ll teach you,” she shot at Babs, splashing water at her.

Babs swam over and dunked her under. More cheers from the family.

“I think she is holding her own,” Berne whispered to me.

“I think Babs is smitten.”

Rebecca had a way about her that made women adore her. She was
cheeky, cocky, confident but sweet. Babs was the kind of woman who could make
women do almost anything for her. She was dashing, vivacious, curvaceous, and
exuded confidence but right now, she looked a little doe-eyed.

“You are too quick to decide, Rebecca looks captivated herself,
non
?”

Rebecca was chuckling, her helmet on the wonk, her vest hanging
open with sunblock dribbling down her nose. Her eyes were locked on Babs, eyes
that glinted with joy. Berne was right, Rebecca looked smitten too.

“Good thing you saved the kayak tipping completely,” I said.
“Looks like someone lost their tent.”

Berne looked at the bobbing cover and smiled. “Babs, I believe
someone is sharing a tent tonight,
non
?”

Babs swam over to the tent.

Uh oh, I recognised that patch . . .

“It seems that Mademoiselle may need some shelter for the night.”
Babs nudged Rebecca who nodded. “She will need a roof over her head,
oui
.”

“Guess so, she’ll probably sleep with m—”

“It is only right that
Berne
offers a place to stay,
non
?”
Babs said, her hand clamped over Rebecca’s mouth.

Rebecca went to shake her head but Babs dunked her. “Bebe, you are
the guide, you are the one who helps.”

Berne met my eyes. “
Oui
. We would not wish Rebecca to lose
sleep.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” I said. “I sleep with her all the time.”

Rebecca, who had surfaced, shrugged at the two glaring French
women. “She does . . . and before you both start, I had no clue she was gay.”
She shook her head. “I mean . . . glaringly obvious, right?”

“I am not.” I folded my arms, hoping that the family, who were now
paddling away, hadn’t heard her. “I’m not.”

“No offence, Pip,” Rebecca said, clambering back into the boat.
“But you sooo are.”

“Am not!”

Babs and Berne started to row us over to the beach as I splashed
water in Rebecca’s direction. I wasn’t gay. I didn’t have a problem with her
being gay or anyone else but
I
wasn’t. I didn’t run after gorgeous
women, neither did I go to clubs or march in parades. They’d never let me in.

I was me, I was . . . sort of . . . with Doug. He was a man. I
wouldn’t feel anything for him if I was gay? Would I? Nope.

Rebecca was wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Pip,” Rebecca said as we got to the beach. “Is that where this is
coming from?”

“You lost me.”

Berne let go of the boat and pulled the supplies and equipment out
with Babs assisting.

“Is that why you’re so worried?” Rebecca took the front end of the
boat. We lifted it and carried it up the beach. “Because you haven’t come to
terms with it?”

“I don’t need to come to terms with anything. I’m just not gay.”

“Pip, you slept with a woman.” Rebecca huffed as we placed the
boat down. “You are in love, and I mean epically in love, with a woman.” We
trudged back down the beach to the other boat. “You want to be with another
woman . . .” She pulled her helmet up as it fell over her eyes. “That’s kinda
gay.”

I hoisted up the back end of the boat as Rebecca again took the
front.

“It’s Berne. That’s all. I don’t feel that way about any other
women.” We clomped the boat down. “The receptionist thought the same.”

“Who?”

“The receptionist in Paris thought I was gay too.”

Rebecca raised her eyebrows. “The receptionist? What kind of
check-in service did they have there?”

I poked my tongue out and wandered over to my tent bag. We were in
a makeshift campsite less than a minute’s walk from the river. I checked around
in case there were any more streams. Not that it mattered. There was no way I
was using that again this trip. The patch had been to try and keep the cover as
waterproof as possible but it had failed spectacularly. Served me right for not
buying a new tent.

“I asked her if she thought I looked right with Doug and she
pointed out that I’d asked her of all people.”

I ignored Rebecca hovering next to my shoulder as I pulled out the
sodden tent.

“And why was that important?”

I shrugged and laid the tent out over the ground. It wouldn’t dry
tonight in time but at least it would be dry in the morning. “She said
something about being happy to have shown me had her girlfriend not been
working.”

“Hah,” Rebecca said, and Babs wandered over to us. “Apparently
she’s picking up receptionists now. Every time she goes to France alone, she
causes chaos I tell you.”

“She has seduced someone else?” Babs folded her arms as if she
really believed I could have managed anything of the sort.

There was no way they were dragging me into this teasing match. I
wandered over to Berne and carried the little gas canister for her.

“You want this up and running?”

Berne nodded and I set about attaching it to the mini-stove.

“You don’t get to walk away from that,” Rebecca said. “Why was the
receptionist hitting on you?”

Not missing Berne’s suspicious glance, I focused on getting the
flame going. “She was merely appreciating me. Either way she thought I didn’t
suit Doug because I’d asked her.”

Happy with the flame, I placed the pan on top of it. “I asked her
because she was the first person I saw. She was soooo wrong.”

That wasn’t technically right. There had been a few other members
of staff but it was down to the fact the receptionist had talked to me. That
was all. She was friendly.

“Is there something wrong with being gay in your eyes?”

My unimpressed face should have said enough but I knew that, after
her father, Rebecca would need more. “You know it doesn’t.”

“Then why is it so hard for you to consider that you might be?”

Ooh, she had me there. I hadn’t thought of that but still, I
didn’t need to
consider
anything. “This isn’t about sexuality. We all
know I love Berne. That’s not the issue.”

“But don’t you wonder why Berne is so attractive to you?”

I shook my head and put olive oil in the pan like I’d watched
Rebecca do a million times. “Not really. Berne is gorgeous. It’s a fact.”

That earned me a kiss on the cheek from the woman herself as she
moved around me, adding ingredients.

“What did the receptionist look like?” Babs asked, putting out
camp chairs for us all.

I’d make a rubbish witness, I could never remember details. “Dark
hair, dark eyes, nice tan.”

“She wear one of those slit skirts?”

I took the offered spatula from Berne and shovelled the food
around the pan. “No, she was always in trousers, why?”

The three of them exchange glances.

“What?”

“What was that girl’s name that you used to go to lunch with?”
Rebecca clicked her fingers. “She was tall, athletic looking—”

“Heather?”

Rebecca nodded. “That’s the one. You spent a load of time with
her.”

What did that have to do with anything? “She was interested in
carpentry.”

Again the three of them exchanged glances.

“Cut it out. I’m not gay so get over it.”

The food smelled just like it did when Berne cooked it and I slid
the mix of vegetables and stir-fry onto the large plastic serving plate. “It’s
not my fault Berne is beyond amazing. I didn’t stand a chance.”

A second kiss on my cheek, I leaned into it. Forgetting where I
was and all other thoughts but the conversation.

I sat down and Rebecca pointed to her food. “For someone who
doesn’t cook, you make a mean stir-fry.”

“I . . .” I looked at Berne who smiled. Hey, I’d made a meal, I’d
done it. I hadn’t burned it like my mother always told me I did. “It’s edible?”

“Taste it,” Berne said, offering a forkful of her food.

The delicious explosion of tastes on my tingling tongue made me
smile. “It’s not half bad, is it?”

“A woman of hidden talents,” Rebecca said.

“A woman of
many
talents,” Berne added.

Babs shrugged. “She’s beautiful. I could not care if she was
pathetic at everything as long as I could look at her.”

“Hey!” I wasn’t sure whether to be offended or slightly chuffed
that she thought so much of my aesthetic qualities.

“It is the truth, Pepe. Berne is as handsome as you. This is why
you look so good together.”