Built by the natives using traditional materials and techniques, there were several thatched wooden structures of various sizes, all on stilts, all giving the appearance of an authentic and indigenous rainforest village. It was only when she saw the western touches that had been added in the form of private bathrooms with sun-heated showers to the guest cabins that Vanessa realized the place was purpose built for the tourists.
Exhausted, Vanessa climbed up into the hut allocated to her and Ralph, determined to at least shower and change her clothes before joining the others for a meal. Served in the communal dining-room they made the acquaintance of the other guests who were amazed to learn of Ralph’s plans to take his new wife on a trek through unchartered, inhospitable jungle.
As they tucked into a hearty local soup followed by fish baked in vine leaves, Vanessa heard one earnest man tell Ralph quietly, ‘Remember, all the money in the world, won’t get you out of the jungle in a hurry.’
Making their way back to their hut at the end of the evening, Vanessa had asked Ralph what the man was warning him about.
‘Usual stuff about drug barons and gold smugglers.’ Ralph shrugged. ‘He didn’t seem to grasp the fact that my interest is in what remains of the ecological system, not the people who have ruined it. I have no intention of crossing swords with the local bandits.’
Vanessa shifted in her hammock trying to shut out the jungle’s night-time noises of howler monkeys and raucous insects. Briefly she wondered what other animals were out there, unheard, going about their nocturnal lives close to the encampment.
She shivered apprehensively. In twenty-four hours she wouldn’t even have the comfort of a native hut between her and the jungle inhabitants.
Ralph had decided to bring their departure from the camp forward by a day.
‘Harry and Nick have everything organized, so no point in hanging around in this pseudo environment,’ he’d said disparagingly, waving his hand around the campsite. ‘I know it is helping to remedy years of destruction to the jungle, but I want to get to where the real jungle is. See some natives living in the traditional way.’
Tomorrow they would leave the comforts of the camp behind them and then ‘Our adventure really will begin,’ Ralph had said excitedly, as they’d kissed each other goodnight.
‘You sure you won’t change your mind and come with us?’ Mathieu asked, as he and the twins left for their day out in the country. The outing hadn’t been mentioned since their argument a few days before and Nanette was relieved that Mathieu had allowed the subject to drop. This morning he seemed to have forgotten his earlier accusations and was happy to be going with the twins on his own after all.
‘It will be quiet here on your own all day.’
Nanette shook her head. ‘Quite sure, thanks. Besides, I won’t be on my own all day – I’m meeting Jean-Claude later. Enjoy yourselves.’
She was just closing the door behind them when Mathieu called out, ‘Nanette, there’s a package for you in my office. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you yesterday when it came. It’s on my desk.’
Nanette recognized Patsy’s handwriting on the large envelope. Taking a paperknife out of the desk tidy she carefully slit open the envelope. Replacing the paperknife, a crumpled piece of paper beside the wastepaper basket caught her attention. Picking it up she saw it was a detailed map of the Amazon clearly torn out of an atlas.
The twins were following Vanessa’s progress so there was nothing unusual in Mathieu having a map of the trip – in fact there was a large-scale one pinned to the wall – but this one had some of its place names circled in red and haphazardly linked together with numbers written against them. Puzzled, Nanette tried to work out what they could possibly represent, before deciding that it was probably a piece of scrap paper that Mathieu had been doodling on and threw it into the wastepaper basket where Mathieu had obviously intended it to go.
Going to her own room, Nanette carefully pulled out the contents of the envelope. Along, newsy letter from Patsy was wrapped around another sealed brown official envelope. Pensively, Nanette placed the envelope in the drawer of her dressing-table. Even without opening it she knew exactly what it contained. Taking Patsy’s letter with her she went to make a cup of coffee.
Because it was a fête day, Florence had the day off and for the first time since she’d arrived Nanette was completely alone in the apartment. Coffee cup in hand she wandered around enjoying the solitude. Pausing outside Mathieu’s closed bedroom door she realized she’d only ever had glimpses of that particular room – the door was always closed. Curiously, and smothering her guilty feelings, Nanette turned the handle, only to find the door was locked.
Nanette mused, sipping her coffee, was Mathieu just keen on privacy, or did he have something to hide in there? Deep in thought, she returned to Mathieu’s temporary office. The computer was switched off. The desk, aside from the desk tidy was empty. Not even a diary. And the filing cabinet was locked. The only discordant thing in the room was the crumpled atlas page in the wastepaper basket. She retrieved it and, smoothing it out, wandered back into the sitting-room. Maybe it was only a piece of waste paper, but somehow she had a feeling it was more than that. Perhaps she’d show it to Jean-Claude later and see if he had any ideas.
Standing by the sitting-room window she glanced out at the harbour and froze as she saw a figure sitting at a table on the stern deck of Pole Position. Even from her viewpoint, nine floors up she had no difficulty in recognizing Zac. Or the man he was now standing up to welcome on board – Boris.
Hoping she was shielded from view by the lemon tree in its pot on the balcony, Nanette watched as the two men were served coffee by a stewardess before Boris handed Zac what looked like a large packet.
Ten minutes later, both men stood up, shook hands and Boris took his leave of Zac, making his way slowly along the gangway back to a large black car waiting for him on the harbour road.
On board Pole Position Nanette could see Zac punching a number into his mobile phone before holding it up to his ear, and moving his head so that it was obvious he was looking directly up at the apartment. Nanette stepped slowly away from the window. Had he seen her after all? Realized she’d been watching him and Boris?
The unexpected shrill buzz of the apartment doorbell made her jump and she hurried to open it.
‘Bonjour, Nanette. Happy May Day.’ Jean-Claude lightly kissed her on both cheeks before handing her a pot of Lilies of the Valley.
‘Thank you, JC,’ Nanette said, surprised. She’d forgotten all about the tradition of giving the highly scented flowers on 1 May as a sign of friendship – and love.
‘You look a little flustered,’ Jean-Claude said, looking at her anxiously. ‘Nothing wrong is there?’
‘Zac is in town. I’ve just been watching him and his friend Boris meeting on Pole Position,’ she explained.
‘Is this Boris still there? I would be interested in seeing what he looks like,’ Jean-Claude said, walking out on to the balcony quickly.
‘No. He left a few minutes ago. But Zac is still on board.’
Joining him out on the balcony, Nanette could see Zac now in the cockpit gesticulating at one of his crew. As they watched, Zac turned and glanced upwards, raising his hand in greeting as he saw Jean-Claude. Rather than acknowledge him, Nanette turned and went back into the sitting-room.
‘I thought we’d have lunch at the Automobile Club,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘Or anywhere you like,’ he added quickly, seeing the look on her face.
‘It’s just that Zac’s in town,’ Nanette apologized. ‘I know it’s his favourite place for lunch. And I’m not quite ready to meet him socially yet. Could we go somewhere else please?’
‘Why don’t we walk up to Saint Nicholas Square?’ Jean-Claude said. ‘It’s a bit touristy, but on the plus side I doubt that Zac will venture up that way on a fête day.’
Nanette looked at him gratefully. ‘I’ll just get my bag.’
To Nanette’s relief, and by mutual
unspoken agreement, they left the apartment block by the quieter exit on to a back street so she didn’t have to walk past Pole Position.
The weather for the May Day holiday was perfect – blue sky, a gentle breeze and warm sunshine. Joining the throngs of tourists they began making their way up towards the Palace.
Saint Nicholas Square was in the labyrinth of busy narrow streets that clustered around the cathedral in the old town. Choosing an outside table at one of the restaurants, they sat down under a gaily stripped umbrella. Snatched conversations in French, English, Italian and the inevitable Japanese floated in the air around them. An attentive waiter handed them a menu.
‘Vous faites décider … ah, pardon Nanette. I forgot. I will speak English.’ Jean-Claude said. ‘Have you decided what you’d like to eat?’
‘JC, please speak in French,’ Nanette answered. ‘Not using it for three years mine’s a bit rusty, but I do still understand. I need to start speaking it again too.’
She glanced at the menu. ‘I think I’ll have the plat du jour, s’il vous plait.’
Sipping her glass of ice-cold rosé Nanette looked at Jean-Claude.
‘Something else I haven’t used for three years arrived today,’ she said quietly.
Jean-Claude looked at her in puzzlement.
Nanette pictured the envelope in the drawer before saying quietly, ‘My driving licence has been returned. My driving ban is finished.’
‘But that is good, isn’t it?’ Jean-Claude said. ‘Now you can truly put the past behind you and start driving again.’
‘I’m not sure that I have the confidence to get behind the wheel of a car again.’
‘If you are nervous I can come with you for the first few times,’ Jean-Claude offered.
‘I don’t know that it’s that simple, JC.’ Nanette fiddled with her cutlery. ‘What if—?’
Jean-Claude stopped her in mid sentence.
‘Non. No what ifs Nanette. You’ve been punished for the accident. Now you must put it behind you and get on with your life. I forbid you to let it blight the future.’
In spite of herself Nanette smiled at the stern look on Jean-Claude’s face.
‘I know you’re right, but I don’t have a car at the moment anyway, so’ – she shrugged – ‘I shall avoid the issue for at least a few more weeks.’
After an exasperated ‘Tch’ Jean-Claude changed the subject.
‘I hope Mathieu has invited you to the lunch he’s hosting Vintage Grand Prix weekend?’
‘Yes, I’m looking forward to it. Will you be there?’
‘Yes and no. I’ve been persuaded to get my Lotus out of mothballs and give it an outing, so I shall be spending most of my Sunday with the mechanics. Be interesting to drive on a circuit again after so long. Especially this one.’
‘I didn’t know you’d been a racing driver,’ Nanette said.
‘Only very briefly. It was at the time the sport was changing rapidly into big business with the manufacturers taking over. It simply became too expensive without a sponsor; I found myself priced out of the market.’ He shrugged. ‘And if I’m honest I lacked the competitive edge that people like Mansell and Senna had. So, the car has been under wraps for the last few years. I’ve got the next couple of weeks to finish checking it over mechanically and prepare it. Of course, I don’t expect to be placed, but must admit I’m looking forward to the weekend.’
‘Who have you got supporting you on the day?’ Nanette asked. ‘You’ll need someone in the pits to help.’
‘Not a problem. There are always young lads wanting to get involved and I’ve got a mechanic called David coming over from Le Cannet to help. He used to work the circuit so he knows the ropes.’
He glanced at her. ‘And Zac has offered me the expertise of one of his mechanics if I need it. The Formula One circus will be arriving in town by then with only a week to go to the Grand Prix proper. Looks as though it might be Zac’s year,’ he added casually. ‘I see he’s leading the championship and is favourite to win next week in Germany.’
Nanette nodded. Despite herself she’d been keeping an eye on the results since the drivers had arrived back in Europe from Australia.
‘My offer still stands by the way,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘You’re more than welcome to use the villa as a hideaway anytime – not just on race day. After the Spanish race Zac is certain to be in town more or less permanently until the Grand Prix.’
‘I know,’ Nanette said diffidently, remembering previous years when Zac had used the run up to the Monaco Grand Prix to do a lot of socializing. She sighed inwardly. The inevitable meeting was getting closer.
‘You will have to meet him face to face one day, Nanette. What will you do then?’ Jean-Claude asked gently.
Nanette shook her head before saying slowly, ‘I don’t know.’
*
For the next couple of weeks Monaco continued to gear itself up for the busiest part of its year. The needs of the vintage Grand Prix weekend complicated things as everything had to be ready a week earlier, which had added a manic frenzy to the normal busy preparations.
Walking to school every day, Nanette and the twins got used to dodging around obstacles on the pavement, lorries parked unloading yet more essential street furniture and the inevitable crowds of tourists being disembarked into the Principality for the day from the cruise ships moored in the harbour.
Every street had an army of workmen busy hammering and fixing things into place. Terraces of stands had taken over the hillside and the harbour, large television screens had appeared in strategic places around the route and the barriers were in place around the length of the circuit. Fresh white paint detailed the starting grid below Nanette’s balcony.
The main players in the Formula 1 circus had yet to arrive, but the supporting sideshow of trucks, traders and hangers-on, were already making their presence felt. The harbour was jam-packed with more and more luxury yachts whose owners were all determined to be a part of the glamorous scene.
Nanette had so far managed to avoid walking directly past Pole Position but this morning returning from taking the twins to school, she had no choice but to walk along that side of the embankment, as the other side had been blocked. Looking straight ahead she walked quickly, not looking at the boats until she was certain she had left Pole Position well behind.
With a deep breath of relief, she managed to cross the road and make her way into the small supermarché. Mathieu had asked her to pick up some croissants for his breakfast on her way back.
‘Florence won’t be in this morning – dentist or something,’ Mathieu had said.
Resisting the urge to buy herself a pomme de tart for her own breakfast, Nanette held the still warm croissants carefully as she let herself into the quiet apartment. She switched on the coffee machine before laying a tray with cups and plates and the croissants.
‘Hi Mathieu. I’m back,’ she called. ‘Do you want your croissants and coffee on the balcony?’
The words died in her throat as a familiar figure appeared in the kitchen doorway.
‘The balcony sounds fine. Hello, Nanette.’ As Nanette stood in total shock looking at him, Zac Ewart walked purposefully into the kitchen – and back into her life.
CHAPTER FOUR
Dressed in his favoured black jeans and polo shirt, a suede jacket slung casually over his shoulders, sunglasses perched on top of his head, Zac regarded Nanette contemplatively, his eyes taking in everything about her appearance.
Nanette, frozen into stillness, managed a strangled, ‘Hello Zac.’
‘That’s not much of a greeting for an old friend,’ and Zac moved forward to kiss her cheek.
‘Don’t you dare,’ Nanette said, between clenched teeth.
Zac stepped back, his hands in the air. ‘Sorry.’
‘How did you get in here anyway?’
‘Mathieu let me in – and then remembered he had an urgent appointment in Fontvielle.’ Zac gazed at her serenely. ‘So, we have the plac
e to ourselves. We can catch up with all our news over breakfast.’ He picked up the breakfast tray. ‘I think we agreed on the balcony?’
Nanette, knowing full well there was no urgent appointment for Mathieu, followed Zac slowly out to the balcony.
‘How are you?’ Zac asked, as he placed the tray on the table.
‘How am I? Why should you care? It’s been three years – three years, Zac – since the accident, without a word from you. Why the sudden interest?’
‘I was glad to hear you were back. I care about you – I’ve missed you.’
Nanette gazed at him in disbelief.
‘If you missed me that much, why didn’t you get in touch? Visit me in England? And,’ Nanette took a deep breath, ‘I thought you more than cared for me – we were engaged. I thought you loved me. Disappearing out of my life without even officially breaking off our engagement was cruel, Zac.’
Zac regarded her steadily. ‘I’m sorry, Nanette. It seemed the right thing to do at the time.’
‘Right for whom?’
‘Me. Selfish, I know but there it is,’ and he shrugged his shoulders apologetically.
Nanette turned away and leant on the balcony rail, her senses in disarray. She’d spent a lot of time with this man, had thought she was going to spend the rest of her life with him, but their three years apart had turned him into a stranger, and she didn’t know what to say to him.
‘Coffee?’ Zac handed her a cup. ‘Has Mathieu told you about my party next week? I hope you’re coming.’
Nanette shook her head, but before she could say anything Zac continued, ‘I’d at least feel you were starting to forgive and forget the past, and my running out on you, if you’d come.’
‘I don’t know that I do forgive you,’ Nanette said sharply. ‘As for forgetting, well, my memory is still hazy about the actual accident, but I doubt that I’ll ever forget its consequences, or the hell of the last three years.’
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