Follow Your Star

by Jennifer Bohnet

  The Italian restaurant he’d taken her to was hidden away in one of the back streets away from the tourist haunts.

  ‘I’m so glad you decided you’d come with the twins,’ Mathieu said, as they waited for their first course to arrive.

  ‘Can’t understand why you wanted me here really,’ Nanette said. ‘Florence lives in, and Jean-Claude seems more than happy to help look after the twins.’

  ‘I thought it was important for Pierre and Olivia to have some sort of continuity in their lives. They are used to you looking after them when Vanessa is away – I just thought it would make things easier for them.’

  He smiled at her and added, ‘It certainly made things easier for me earlier in the week knowing that you were here with them when I had my spot of bother.’

  There was a slight pause before he said quietly, ‘I have to confess to an ulterior motive too. I also hoped we could get to know each other better. That perhaps you could stop thinking of me as the twins’ father and we could become better friends.’

  The waiter had arrived with their starters at that moment and spared a surprised Nanette from responding. Afterwards Mathieu changed the conversation to more general things.

  ‘It’s the Tennis Masters Series soon,’ he said. ‘I remember you and Zac used to play a lot. I’ve been offered a pair of tickets for the opening day, would you like to come with me?’

  ‘Oh please,’ Nanette said, ignoring the flicker of pain at the mention of Zac. They had been passionate about tennis, both playing and watching.

  ‘Good. I’ll confirm the tickets before I go away next week.’

  ‘Business trip, or pleasure?’ she asked.

  ‘A trip to Switzerland on business,’ he said quietly. ‘So long as the authorities don’t prevent me leaving.’

  ‘Are they likely to?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’m hoping they’ll realize they’ve made a mistake in the next couple of days and everything will be sorted out. I’m not the man they want.’

  ‘Do you know who is?’ Nanette asked quietly.

  Mathieu had nodded. ‘Oh yes.’

  As they finished their meal and prepared to leave, the restaurant door opened and a couple entered.

  The man, a burly figure in an expensive black coat and wearing a trilby immediately came over to Mathieu. The two shook hands and chatted briefly, but it wasn’t until the man said, ‘Mathieu who is your charming companion?’ that Mathieu, reluctantly it seemed to Nanette, introduced her.

  ‘Boris, this is my children’s nanny. Netty, this is Boris, a business acquaintance.’

  ‘Aw come now, Mathieu, more than a business acquaintance since last week. Remember how I help you with your little difficulty?’

  Boris turned to Nanette, briefly acknowledged her with an abrupt ‘Bonjour, mademoiselle’, and turned his attention back to Mathieu.

  Knowing the way society in Monaco worked Nanette was not surprised that once he’d learnt she was a mere nanny, Boris ignored her. As far as he was concerned she was just a servant and not important enough for him to bother with.

  She wondered why Mathieu had introduced her as the nanny complete with the childish name the twins called her, when earlier he’d intimated he wanted them to get to know each other better. He must have realized he’d effectively precluded her from mixing with him and this particular business associate in the future.

  Turning to take her coat from the waiter, Nanette had heard Boris say quietly, ‘Tell Zac I need to talk to him urgently.’

  Now, as she drank her coffee and watched the morning activity around her, she wondered what the connection between Zac and Boris was and how long Mathieu had known Boris.

  The oft-quoted phrase about Monaco being ‘a sunny place for shady people’ came into her mind. What were Zac and Mathieu up to, doing business with a Russian whom she personally wouldn’t trust an inch?

  Thoughtfully, Nanette finished her coffee, left enough euros in the saucer to cover the bill and began to make her way down to the old port.

  So much had changed since she lived here and yet some things were still reassuringly familiar. From her bedroom balcony she’d struggled to remember the lines of the old port. To her eyes the new harbour extension, already crowded with the floating gin palaces belonging to the rich and famous, had blended in seamlessly.

  Walking slowly along the quay, Nanette recognized some of the yachts, but to her relief there was no sign of Pole Position the boat Zac had treated himself to after winning the US Grand Prix in Indianapolis.

  Knowing that he liked to have the yacht moored in Monaco and use it for parties both before and after the Grand Prix, Nanette knew that once Pole Position reappeared on its mooring, it wouldn’t be long before Zac too was back in town.

  Glancing up to the familiar skyline behind the Hotel de Paris as she walked up the hill, something jarred in her memory. It was a second or two before Nanette realized that the nineteenth-century villa where she’d had a tiny two-room apartment, had been replaced by a large ultra modern concrete building.

  Shame; the old building had emitted a belle époque atmosphere of the Riviera in its heyday, which she’d loved. Zac though, had always complained about its lack of modern conveniences and had rarely visited her there.

  His own large apartment had been in one of the ultramodern blocks a street or two away from Casino Square. Idly Nanette wondered if he still lived there or whether, like Mathieu, he had moved on to an even grander place. Whatever, she had no intention of walking anywhere near that particular area this morning.

  Instead she took the Avenue Monte Carlo turning and strolled along, happily indulging in a spot of wishful window shopping in the expensive boutiques that lined the small street.

  Dodging a string of excitable Japanese tourists, Nanette crossed the road and ran down a flight of steps into the Casino gardens. Last night Mathieu had mentioned an exhibition of sculpture being shown there by a little known Frenchwoman and she was looking forward to an hour or two wandering around the exhibits.

  Sitting on the bed in her air-conditioned hotel bedroom, Vanessa pressed the ‘save’ key on Ralph’s laptop before shutting the computer down and sliding it into the travel bag.

  In a few minutes they would be on their way to the airport and the adventure would really begin. Their honeymoon had been wonderful, but now she was looking forward to spending the next few months with her new husband in one of the world’s most exotic places. They would no longer be alone but part of a team. She hadn’t yet met Harry and Nick, the cameramen, but Ralph had assured her they’d all get on. He’d worked with them both before.

  ‘They’re both passionate about the environment and I know they’ll do all they possibly can to make sure the documentary shows the jungle as it is.’

  Vanessa knew Ralph was determined his documentary was going to record the lives of the ‘real’ native Indians as they struggled to survive in a changing forest and it was one of the reasons he’d refused a sponsorship offer from a large multinational company.

  ‘Staying independent, I can show the truth,’ he’d said to Vanessa when he was outlining his plans. ‘No-one can tell me what to film or say.’

  Deciding she had time for one last shower before Ralph returned and they left for the airport, Vanessa quickly undressed and stepped under the warm water. Wrapping herself in the hotel’s large bath towel afterwards, she crossed to the window and glanced out at the bustling street scene below.

  Tomorrow this room would be a memory, and the chaotic scenes outside would have been replaced by forest and vegetation inhabited by strange sounding animals.

  Their first few days in the Amazon jungle were going to be spent in the comfort of an ‘eco tourist’ camp before they and the crew moved off to explore more inaccessible areas with a native guide. Harry and Nick had flown up earlier with all their supplies and would have organized the next stage of the journey by the time she and Ralph arrived.

  Vanessa turned to smile at Ralph as he closed
the door behind him.

  ‘Everything packed? Good’ Ralph said. ‘Ten minutes and we’re off. Think I’ll have a quick shower too. Might be sometime before we get the luxury of hot water again.’

  Once they were both dressed, they picked up the backpacks Ralph had insisted were far more practical than suitcases in the jungle, and went to find their taxi for the trip out to the airport.

  The office of the company that operated the small Cessna plane Ralph had chartered to fly them up to an outpost on the Amazon River, was situated at the edge of the airfield. Only internal flights operated from this rundown airstrip and walking towards the shabby hut where they had to check-in, Vanessa found herself worrying about the safety of the plane she was about to board.

  ‘They do have regular maintenance and safety checks, don’t they?’ she asked Ralph.

  ‘Of course. Don’t worry. José and Carlos are very proud of their planes. Carlos told me they are the best in Brazil. Ah here’s José,’

  ‘Senhor Ralph and a senhora. We are ready for you. We go and—’ The shrill ring of a telephone interrupted him and he glanced towards the desk. ‘Bom-dia,’ he answered before immediately falling silent. When after several moments he replaced the receiver his eyes were bright with tears as he turned to face Ralph and Vanessa.

  ‘That was another pilot telling me that a mutual friend has been shot down near Manaus.’

  José swore angrily. ‘The authorities apparently mistake it for a drug-running plane. The fools! But this time it is a big mistake – an American missionary and her family were on board. Now we shall have an investigation.’

  Vanessa gazed at him horror struck. Manaus was a place on Ralph’s itinerary. They were due to camp near there in a few weeks. She moved closer to Ralph, who placed a comforting arm around her shoulders.

  ‘Do they often shoot planes out of the sky?’ she asked.

  José nodded vehemently. ‘It happens,’ he said shortly.

  Vanessa shivered. Of course she’d known they were going into a drug-smuggling area, but she didn’t do drugs, no-one she knew did drugs and she hadn’t expected the drug trade to impinge on her life.

  Images of the twins came into her mind. What if she and Ralph had been … no! She couldn’t, wouldn’t, follow that thought. Ralph had warned her about the dangers of this trip, from mosquitoes to alligators, but the shooting down of planes had never been mentioned.

  Ralph glanced at José.

  ‘I need to have a private word with my wife. Give us a couple of minutes, will you, please?’

  José nodded. ‘I’ll wait by the plane. We need to take off in the next quarter of an hour so don’t take too long for this private word.’

  As José strolled off to prepare the plane, Ralph took Vanessa gently in his arms.

  ‘Are you sure you want to go through with this? I know you’re thinking about the consequences for the twins if we’d been on that plane. After this flight into the jungle, I promise our exploring will be done on foot, or by water. So, after today the next plane you get on will be the one taking us home.’

  He gently kissed her on the forehead.

  ‘But on the other hand, if you’d rather I continued on my own and you go home now, I’ll understand.’

  ‘Do you know what time we can expect Mathieu?’ Jean-Claude asked, as he and Nanette sat on the terrace overlooking the swimming pool of his villa. ‘If at all?’

  ‘No,’ Nanette said. ‘I think he was hoping to be back before the twins went to bed tonight.’

  ‘Has he said anything to you about his spot of recent trouble?’ Jean-Claude asked.

  Nanette shook her head. ‘Seems to have blown over. He was worried that the authorities wouldn’t let him leave but.…’ She shrugged. ‘That doesn’t seem to have happened.’

  ‘He refuses to talk to me about it at all,’ Jean-Claude said, shaking his head. ‘Just tells me not to worry. Everything has been sorted out. I just wish I knew what was going on. Friends tell me he’s mixing with some bad company.’

  Nanette was silent, not knowing what to say.

  The last time Mathieu had been home, he’d been in a very upbeat mood saying that life and business was good, but, like Jean-Claude, she was concerned about who he was doing business with. And what sort of business was he dealing in anyway?

  ‘I’m a go between,’ he said, when she’d casually asked him about his business before he left on this latest trip. ‘A broker if you like. I find what people need, who’s got it and put them together. I keep most of the info in my head so very little paperwork.’

  And conveniently untraceable, Nanette couldn’t help thinking.

  Looking at Jean-Claude, Nanette asked, ‘Do you know a man called Boris?’

  ‘Only by reputation. I’ve never met him,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘Why?’

  Nanette hesitated before answering.

  ‘I think he was the business acquaintance who paid Mathieu’s bail. He has some sort of connection with Zac, too.’

  Before Jean-Claude could respond, his housekeeper appeared to say that lunch was ready.

  ‘Five minutes, Anneke. We need to round up the twins,’ Jean-Claude said.

  The games room where Pierre and Olivia were playing a noisy game of table tennis was next to Jean-Claude’s office. Nanette knew he ran a hugely successful corporate hospitality business, but she was amazed to see piles of papers and folders littering the desk and spilling on to the floor as she walked past. He obviously didn’t follow his son’s business philosophy of keeping paperwork to a minimum.

  Jean-Claude saw her looking and said, ‘My secretary left a few months ago and I haven’t had a chance to find a replacement. Wouldn’t have time to give me hand sorting things out, would you?’

  ‘Of course,’ Nanette said. ‘I’d like to. Florence takes care of everything at the apartment and politely refuses all my offers of help. I’ll come up tomorrow after I’ve taken the twins to school and make a start.’

  ‘I also have another favour to ask,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘I have to go to a business cocktail party at the Hotel de Paris in the week and I need a partner. It’s just a couple of hours. We could go for dinner somewhere afterwards if you like.’

  Nanette hesitated, not sure she wanted to get involved in the Monte Carlo social scene again. But it was only a cocktail party, not the Red Cross Ball, one of the major social events of the season’s calendar. And with over a month to go to the Monaco GP it was extremely unlikely that there would be anyone from the motor-racing world at the party.

  She smiled at Jean-Claude. ‘I’d love to come with you.’

  ‘Très bien. Now let’s have lunch.’

  Nanette had forgotten it was the first European Grand Prix of the season that afternoon until Pierre mentioned it as they were eating dessert.

  ‘Papa Jean-Claude, can I watch the San Marino Grand Prix please? Zac is on pole position.’

  Olivia gave an exaggerated groan.

  ‘Sure you can, and I’ll keep you company for a while,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘But if you want to watch the introduction and driver interviews you’d better hurry up and finish your crème bruleé. The programme starts in five minutes,’ he added, looking at his watch.

  ‘Can I go swimming?’ Olivia said. ‘I don’t want to watch the stupid race.’

  ‘You can’t go swimming straight after lunch. You’ll have to wait for a bit,’ Nanette said.

  ‘That’s OK. I’ll read The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe until then.’

  ‘How about you, Nanette? Are you going to watch the race with us?’ Jean-Claude asked.

  Nanette shook her head. It was years since she’d watched a Grand Prix, her interest in Formula 1 having hit an all time low when Zac had walked out on her. Silly really, when it was what had brought them together in the first place.

  ‘No thanks. I’ll go for a wander around the garden if that’s all right,’ she said. ‘And then maybe I’ll join Olivia in the pool.’

  Strolling around the ga
rden, Nanette found herself thinking about the race Zac had always called his home Grand Prix.

  Although there were two more races before the Formula 1 circus arrived in town for the most glamorous race on the calendar, Monaco streets were already in the process of being barricaded into a race circuit. During the next few weeks the streets would be transformed with steel safety barriers and huge tiers of seating would appear around the racetrack.

  Nanette knew that day-to-day living would become increasingly difficult as everything became geared to the smooth running of the biggest moneyspinner of the year. She also knew that the chances of her avoiding people from her past were slim.

  She turned as Jean-Claude appeared on the terrace with cups of coffee for them both.

  ‘Thanks. How’s the race going?’

  ‘Usual procession,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘Need a few pit stops to start changing the order of cars and liven things up a bit.’ He glanced at her. ‘Nanette, I know it’s none of my business, but are you going to cope with being in town for the Grand Prix? You know, better than most people I suspect, how invasive the whole Formula 1 thing is. The way it takes over completely. There’ll be no escaping certain’ – he paused – ‘people.’

  Nanette sipped her coffee as he continued, ‘Vanessa tells me you have the nightmares. You also have no memory of what happened to you before the accident. Perhaps you should not be in town for the Grand Prix. If you want to stay up here with Olivia – or even go back to the UK for a few days – I can take care of Pierre if Mathieu happens to be away.’ Jean-Claude regarded Nanette anxiously.

  ‘Thank you,’ Nanette said, ‘but I think I have to stay.’ She was silent for a few seconds before adding quietly, ‘It’s the third anniversary of my accident the week after the Grand Prix. Perhaps coming back to the scene of the crime will jerk my memory into action. Like the police doing reconstruction scenes in the hope of finding new witnesses.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, Nanette,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘But if you ever need a … I think you English call it a shoulder to cry on? Then I’m here.’