Two Days in Biarritz (7 page)

“That was no dream. It was a class A type night out with Annabel and Kate. Kate scores and Annabel gets the friend to keep her company.”

“I’m sorry, Annabel,” Kate sighed. “You’d think I’d have more sense.”

“Don’t say ‘at my age’,” Annabel interrupted. “If that’s what it takes to prove we’re not over the hill I’ll go along with it any time.”

She jumped out of the bed and started to peel off her pink silk pyjamas.

“So, where are we going today?” she asked.

Kate put her hand up to her head, shielding her eyes from an invisible light.

“I was thinking we should go into Bayonne – it’s only ten minutes on the bus.”

“I’d love a go on a bus,” Annabel giggled. “I can’t remember the last time I was on one.”

“Sorry, I forgot I’m on holiday with Mrs Webb,” Kate teased.

A short time later the two friends were squeezed into the narrow seats two rows from the back of the bus.

“This is great,” Annabel beamed.

“Wait until you see this place! It’s lovely,” Kate said excitedly.

The twin spires of Bayonne cathedral jutted up from the cityscape as they approached the town. Rows of impressive well-laid-out streets guided them towards the banks of the river Adour. The bus slowed down as Kate rang the bell on the pole beside her.

“Well, we’re here,” Kate exclaimed as they stepped off the bus.

“This place is gorgeous,” Annabel sighed, looking out on the gushing water. “I love the view. Can we have breakfast around here?”

“Over there – four euros and it’s nice enough to sit outside – what do you think?” Kate pointed at an open square by the river.

The two sat on the comfortable cane chairs under the large green umbrellas of the Café du Theatre. A handsome waiter in a formal waistcoat strolled over and took their order of hot chocolate and croissants.

“It’s so perfect here. I feel like doing something crazy today,” said Kate.

“I think you did something crazy last night!” Annabel replied.
And so did I!

“That was called maintenance,” Kate hummed. She still had the twinkle in her eye from the encounter.

“So where are you going to drag me after the croissants?” Annabel asked in fear and trepidation.

“Not sure yet but there’s definitely something out there waiting for us.”

After breakfast they sauntered through the meandering streets until they reached the magnificent cathedral which towered above their heads. They paid it a brief visit, the artist in Kate habitually drilled into grasping every opportunity of a new source of inspiration. Droplets of coloured light dappled the floor tiles from the tall narrow windows.

“It’s so cold in here,” Annabel complained.

Kate realised that these sorts of sights didn’t appeal to her friend.

“Come on, I’m sure you’d much rather be in Gallerie La Fayette,” she said linking Annabel by the arm.

“Am I that shallow?” Annabel winced.

“I’d never use that word for you. But, you know, you were clever in school and maybe you could use that brain of yours to do something for yourself.”

“I really would love to study again, now that you mention it. For instance, I did enjoy anything to do with nutrition and keeping healthy, didn’t I?”

“I always thought you should have finished your degree, Annabel. It’s no burden to carry. It’s probably the only sensible thing you
didn’t
do.” Kate raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe I will get around to it.” Then she added pensively, “I might be able to use my two years before dropping out as a springboard.”

“Life begins at forty, Annabel!”

They wandered down a hairpin bend and found themselves back at the river’s edge. The buildings were tall and painted sugary tones of pink, almond and pale blue. Coloured shutters framed long narrow windows that went up four or five storeys. The muddy water of the river flowed slowly, dividing the town in half. Along the walkway tall street lamps were decoratively surrounded with trailing flower baskets. Annabel was entranced by the scene and got a shock when Kate let out a wild squeal.

“I don’t believe it! It’s a sign!”

“What’s a sign?” Annabel couldn’t see anything out of place in this pretty French town.

“Look,” Kate pointed at a shop painted a garish tomato-soup red. The huge window was littered with pieces of paper covered with fantastic imaginative designs. “This is exactly what I was looking for and they have a picture of the Third Eye.”

The Third E
ye comment made Annabel turn and take notice.

“What is that place?” she wondered.

“It’s a tattooist’s parlour and it’s the perfect activity for us before lunch.”

“You must be nuts, Kate!”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

Fifteen minutes later Annabel was lying on a tatty, black leather chair that had spent a good deal of its life supporting terrified dental patients. Her right leg was wrapped around a grungy tattooist’s arm and he was etching an image of the third eye slowly and carefully to her inner ankle. His dreadlocks would have reached down to his elbows but were tied back in a massive knot resembling the ropes on the huge fishing trawlers in Howth. At least that’s what Annabel was fixing her thoughts on, anything other than the needle pricking her ankle. She was trying to remember giving birth and decided it didn’t hurt any
less.

“I don’t know what Colin is going to think about this!” Annabel cried with tears trickling down her cheeks.

“Don’t mind him. No one will notice it on your ankle,” Kate assured her.

“I hope you’re right. You’ve had me do some crazy things over the years, Kate, but this takes the biscuit.”

Half an hour later Annabel slid shakily off the chair. Her ankle no longer stung but she felt numb and jelly-like from the thighs down.

“Your turn, Kate,” Annabel said, with the only feeling of pleasure she could muster from the experience.

Kate took the needle like a professional and casually looked through a catalogue to focus her energies off the pain when it touched against her bone. Kate jumped off the chair after only twenty minutes with her tattoo complete.

“Hey, how come he did it much quicker on you?” Annabel moaned.

“That’s because he was only repeating what he had done a few minutes earlier,” Kate grinned.

“No wonder you made me go first,” Annabel sulked.

“I made you go first because I knew I’d go through with it and I didn’t want you chickening out!”

Kate did have a point and Annabel wasn’t going to argue it.

“Well, what do you think?” Kate flexed her foot this way and then that.

“I really like mine, not so sure about yours!”

Kate laughed. She liked the cheeky Annabel that was emerging with the new tattoo.

They paid the young tattoo artist and with their new appendages the two continued their trek through the town past the most unusual shops. They stalled at an army surplus store.

“Look, a bullet right through the top,” Annabel gasped, holding up a World War II German helmet. “There’s even numbers and battalions listed on the belts and boots.”

“It’s a bit like a graveyard,” Kate nodded. “I’ve a friend in Paris who would love to get her hands on this stuff. She’s always doing sculptures with historic pieces.”

“I really need a career, Kate. This break away is making me realise that I spend too much time living through my kids’ activities.”

“Is there anything stopping you?”

“Colin, for one,” Annabel sighed. “He’d hate me to study. He likes the wife-at-home routine.”

“This is your life, Annabel, and maybe it’s time you started realising that you’ve got to take the bull by the horns. You’ve only got one life.”

“I thought you believed in reincarnation?” Annabel asked with surprise.

“I do, I do, but you know what I mean,” Kate mumbled and slipped her arm through her friend’s once more. “Come on, let’s get
lunch.”

They were spoilt for choice as they took a short cut through the bustling market spotted with chic little eateries full to the brim with lunchtime customers.

“Colin asked me to get him some paté – he says the French keep the best and export the crap.”

“I hate to say it but I have to agree with him,” Kate nodded. “They do the same with the wine.”

Kate had never liked Colin. It was probably one of the only stumbling blocks in her relationship with Annabel.

Annabel had a few jobs after leaving college which was a credit to her resilience in 1980’s
Dublin. Her father had died while she was in her second year of her course and, being the only one at home, her mother was very dependent on her. She couldn’t let her mum pay for the remainder of her education and there were debts that her sisters left behind before emigrating to the four corners of the world. So she did the dutiful thing and got a job. She made some good friends but every now and again escaped up to Thomas Street to the decadent underground parties Kate frequented in Art College. Kate had been so keen to see the world, only days after getting her degree she set off on a Boeing 747 for New York, leaving Annabel with a big Kate-shaped hole in her life. The spontaneous artist was more career-orientated than her friend and had a placement organised in a posh downtown gallery while Annabel floundered about for two years after leaving her Arts degree in University College Dublin. A small number of positions became available in the Bank of Ireland a while later and she jumped at the opportunity to earn a steady income.

She always relished Fridays, all the girls in the bank did and they usually went to O’Neill’s Pub. One particular Friday, however, she found herself enticed by two of the girls to the Horseshoe Bar in the Shelbourne Hotel. It was the sort of place only professional people frequented but she agreed to go under duress, and the influence of three bottles of Bulmers.

Annabel looked great in the pencil-thin skirts and broad-shouldered business suits that were so fashionable at the time and she turned many heads that evening in the bar. Her blonde hair was tied back neatly in a knot and her hips swayed as she walked carefully in her pointed court shoes. Colin was over by the fireplace with a cigar and pint of Smithwicks in his hand, resembling a man ten years his senior. His hairline receded deeply but Annabel had always liked that look. He spotted her the minute she entered the room and made a beeline straight for her.

“Let me get you a drink,” he said, his arrogance and forwardness bowling Annabel into quiet submission.

She listened for two hours to him tell how much money he made and what a fantastic position he had in KPBM and how he was about to be made the youngest partner in the company’s history. It wasn’t love at first sight by any means but he wooed her with an intensity that finally wore her down. The courtship lasted two years and true to his predictions he did become the youngest partner in the company. It was a time in Ireland before the Celtic Tiger raged and men of such means were few and far between. Annabel’s first home with her new husband was a large four-bedroom detached house with spectacular views over Dublin Bay and there weren’t many girls who could boast such security and luxury. All she had to do in return was live her life by Colin’s book and her children followed as compensation. She felt she had no choices with her older sisters abroad and her mother was delighted with the match. Everyone was delighted with the match – except Kate.

“Would Colin like this?” Kate asked now, holding up a pot of Landes Fois Gras.

It was certainly packaged to please and the cream ceramic pot was re-usable and would suit Annabel’s kitchen very well.

They ambled along the spotless terracotta tiles, breathing in the pungent aromas from the array of cheeses and cured meats. The stalls were set in a perfectly rectangular high-beamed hall with a wooden roof. Rows of ripe colourful vegetables and floral displays made the shopping experience pleasurable to the eye.

“Will you stay in France? The lifestyle seems to suit you,” said Annabel as they strolled through the stalls.

“The boys don’t remember living in
Ireland. The only thing putting me off is their Granny and Granddad Macken. It’s hard enough putting up with them coming here once a year. I swear they still haven’t forgiven me for remarrying after Harry’s death.”

“I have never understood that. You were left a widow at twenty-eight years of age – surely they didn’t expect you to live the rest of your life alone.”

“Harry and I were tempestuous at the best of times. I sometimes wonder if we’d have killed each other if we were still together. There were moments of such extreme love and desire and then others when if I was given a length of rope I’d have happily strung him up.”

“Well, eloping off to the
Caribbean the way you did didn’t exactly please either your parents or his.” Annabel too had felt let down when she got a phone call from Jamaica informing her that her best friend was now Mrs Macken. Kate had forgotten their childhood vows to be each other’s bridesmaid, but at least she got a chance to be her bridesmaid not too long later.

“Harry was always going to be a sailing bum, jumping from yacht to yacht. I never saw it at the time.” Kate’s mouth widened slightly.