Follow Your Star

by Jennifer Bohnet

  It was the swish of the curtains that woke Nanette and she blinked as sunlight flooded the bedroom. Jean-Claude had entered the room quietly and placed a tray of coffee and croissants on the bedside table before crossing to the window to open the curtains.

  Nanette smiled sleepily to herself as she watched him. He’d been insistent she go to bed after he’d brought her back to the apartment early that morning.

  ‘I’ll take the twins to school if Mathieu hasn’t returned. You get some sleep. Afterwards you can explain exactly why you went alone to the yacht,’ he’d said.

  Nanette had done as she was told and gone to bed. To her surprise within minutes she’d fallen into a deep dreamless sleep.

  ‘What’s the time?’ she asked, sitting up as Jean-Claude placed the tray on her lap.

  ‘One o’clock. How do you feel?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Are you ready to tell me why you went alone to Pole Position?’

  Nanette, about to answer flippantly ‘It seemed a good idea at the time’, looked at his concerned expression and said quietly, ‘I’m sorry, Jean-Claude.’

  She stretched out a hand to gently touch his face.

  ‘At least he didn’t push me overboard as I thought he might do at one stage,’ she said quietly.

  Jean-Claude looked at her horrified. ‘Mon Dieu. I would kill him if he hurt you.’

  ‘Any hurt Zac inflicted on me is now in the past. I have no intention of going anywhere near him in the future,’ Nanette said, tiredly. ‘I’ll tell you all about last night but first I must get up. Give me ten minutes to shower and dress.’

  ‘I’ll wait for you in the sitting-room,’ Jean-Claude said, kissing her gently on the cheek as he took the tray. ‘Take your time.’

  Half an hour later, Nanette joined him on the balcony where he was reading a newspaper.

  ‘The charges against Takyanov are getting longer by the day,’ he said folding the newspaper. ‘And more people are being drawn into the net.’

  ‘Is Mathieu around?’ Nanette asked.

  ‘No,’ Jean-Claude shook his head. ‘No idea where he’s gone. Vanessa phoned while you were sleeping. She and Ralph arrive back in the UK next week. She wants you to take the twins over. She said something about her and Ralph taking them on holiday. Anyway, she’s going to phone you this evening to discuss it.’

  Nanette looked at Jean-Claude in dismay. She’d forgotten Vanessa’s return would signal the end of her stay in Monaco. ‘Next week?’

  Jean-Claude caught hold of her hands. ‘You leave the twins with Vanessa and come back to me, yes? You will have some holiday due?’

  ‘Patsy’s baby is due soon. If I’m in England I’ll have to be there for that. Maybe afterwards? But where would I stay? Mathieu won’t want me in the apartment without the twins.’

  ‘At the villa, no question. My housekeeper will prepare the guest suite, and look after us.’ Jean-Claude took her in his arms. ‘It will be wonderful, chérie. Just you and me. Getting to know each other properly. We’ll swim, relax, go to Italy.’

  Nanette smiled at him. ‘Sounds wonderful. Maybe by the time I get back all this business with Mathieu and Takyanov will be resolved. Has Mathieu accepted your offer of help?’

  Jean-Claude gave a shrug. ‘Apparently there is not a lot I can do – simply wait in the shadows and be ready to make a move when he asks – if he asks.’

  ‘Maybe that’s for the best,’ Nanette said. ‘He’s always said you must trust him; he knows what he’s doing.’

  ‘Which is more than you did last night,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘I couldn’t believe it when Mathieu rang to say that Zac had told him you were spending the night with him.’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep and it seemed like an ideal opportunity to get rid of the package,’ Nanette said. ‘If I’d known Zac was on board I certainly wouldn’t have gone.’

  Hesitantly she began to tell Jean-Claude about the previous night’s events. She glossed over her terror when she realized they had put to sea. Jean-Claude she knew would be furiously protective on her behalf.

  ‘At least Zac has finally acknowledged the truth about the accident,’ she said. ‘He was driving the night of the accident. He lied to the pompiers and the gendarmes. My loss of memory for so long was very convenient for him.’ Nanette took a deep breath.

  ‘I told him I was going to the authorities to clear my name. Although he reckons I’d be wasting my time because people wouldn’t believe me.’ She bit her lip. ‘Until last night I hadn’t realized how deep the scars were – how much the past was damaging my present. But I’ve decided not to try and clear my name. I will walk away from it. I need to relegate it to the past and forget it. Move on with my life.’

  Lovingly Jean-Claude took her in his arms.

  ‘I can never forgive him for what he did, but it’s not worth dragging it all up again,’ Nanette said, as he bent his head to kiss her. ‘You know the truth and that’s all that really matters to me now.’

  As the taxi pulled into the farmyard, the driver, a local man who knew Patsy and Nanette, nodded in the direction of a battered red Mini parked by the hay barn.

  ‘Reckon you’re an aunty,’ he said sagely. ‘That’s Dr Owen’s car.’

  ‘Reckon you could be right,’ Nanette said, fishing in her bag for the fare.

  Helen came bustling out of the kitchen. ‘It’s a boy,’ she said, seeing Nanette. ‘I’ve got a grandson, imagine!’

  ‘Can I go up and see them?’ Nanette asked.

  ‘Doctor’s with Patsy at the moment. Come into the kitchen and I’ll make some tea. You can take a cup up to Patsy.’

  It was half an hour before Nanette opened the bedroom door and peered round.

  ‘Hi, Mum! Congratulations.’

  Patsy, cradling her new son, smiled at her sleepily. ‘Hi, Aunty. Didn’t you time your arrival well? Meet your nephew – all seven pounds two ounces of him.’ Patsy held out the tiny bundle and Nanette tentatively took the precious cargo into her arms.

  Unexpectedly she found herself wondering, was this the closest she was going to get to having a baby of her own?

  ‘He’s gorgeous. So much hair,’ Nanette said. ‘Any names yet?’

  Patsy shook her head. ‘Helen is all for Hew Trefor.’ She laughed at Nanette’s expression. ‘Apparently they’re very old family names – Bryan’s middle name is Hew. But I fancy Dylan Robert.’

  ‘The new granny is beside herself with joy,’ Nanette said. ‘I don’t suppose she’ll care what you call him so long as she’s allowed to spoil him. Dylan’s a nice name.’ Nanette smiled down at the baby boy.

  ‘Bryan and I are hoping you will be a godmother,’ Patsy said.

  ‘I’d love to.’

  ‘Good. Any ideas who you’d like to see in the godfather role?’ Patsy asked innocently.

  Nanette laughed and shook her head before asking, ‘Shall I put Dylan in his cradle?’

  ‘Please. How long can you stay?’ Patsy asked, watching as Nanette gently placed a cover over the sleeping baby.

  ‘A few days. Vanessa and Ralph have taken the twins to Cornwall and I’m officially on holiday for the next fortnight.’

  ‘Why can’t you stay longer then?’

  ‘I’ve promised to return to Monaco and spend the time with Jean-Claude,’ Nanette said, blushing.

  Patsy looked at her sister speculatively. ‘Are you going to tell me any more?’

  Nanette shook her head. ‘Not right now. I’m sure you need your rest. I promise we’ll talk later when you’re up and about. I could do with some sisterly advice.’

  Two days later, sitting companionably under the shade of the horse chestnut tree that dominated the side garden, sipping cold lemonade with Dylan asleep in his pram beside them, Nanette talked to Patsy about her worries for the future.

  ‘I’ve got to decide what I want to do. Vanessas’s come back fired up with enthusiasm for starting a Fruits of the Forest cooperative in Brazil. The twins are growing up and don�
��t need a nanny twenty-four hours a day now so she’s offering me the job of helping her organize it – getting sponsorship, outlets, all the legal bits and pieces, you know the sort of thing.’

  ‘Sounds like something you’d enjoy,’ Patsy said. ‘I’d guess there would be a few trips to Brazil too.’

  ‘The thing is, the whole business would be based in the UK and.…’ Nanette sighed.

  ‘Jean-Claude is in Monaco,’ Patsy finished the sentence for her. ‘Is it serious between you two?’

  ‘On Jean-Claude’s part for several weeks,’ Nanette admitted. ‘And now that my memory’s returned and the whole Zac Ewart business has been finished with, I feel free to return his love. You don’t think he’s too old for me?’ she asked her sister anxiously.

  Before Patsy could answer, Dylan stirred in his pram and Nanette got up to check on her nephew. Picking him up and cradling him in her arms she sat back down in the shade.

  ‘From what I’ve seen of the two of you, you’re perfect together. He adores you and no, of course he’s not too old,’ Patsy said. ‘But it might be wise to check with him how he feels about babies, if you’re thinking of having a family with him. He might feel, been there, done that and just want you to himself.’

  Nanette picked up a magazine and a paper from the newsagent in the departure lounge Monday afternoon and settled down to wait for her flight back to Nice.

  She’d enjoyed her few days with Patsy and baby Dylan but had missed Jean-Claude desperately. She smiled happily to herself – a few more hours and they would be together with no responsibilities to worry about, just time to enjoy each other’s company.

  The newspaper was full of Zac’s performance in the French Grand Prix the previous day. He’d driven a faultless race and won convincingly, according to the reporter. His nearest rival for the championship had only managed ninth place thus increasing Zac’s lead substantially.

  Nanette stared dispassionately at the photograph of Zac standing jubilantly on the podium, before turning to the women’s pages. Zac Ewart was no longer a part of her life. She wouldn’t waste her time reading about him.

  Three hours later she stretched her legs as the captain’s voice crackled through the intercom of the 737.

  ‘Welcome to the French Riviera. The temperature at Nice and along the Côte d’Azure is 33 degrees and the forecast is good for the next few days.

  Collecting her suitcase from the carousel, Nanette looked through the glass windows towards the Arrivals Hall. As he’d promised, Jean-Claude was there waiting for her. She smiled happily and waved. Exiting the door from the final Customs Checkpoint she walked towards him looking forward to his welcoming kiss.

  Surrendering herself to his arms, oblivious to the milling crowds, she sensed a tension in his body.

  ‘Is something wrong? Has something happened to Mathieu?’

  ‘Non, it’s not Mathieu. Let’s have a coffee before we drive home,’ Jean-Claude said, taking her suitcase and leading her to the escalator to go to the fourth floor. Seated at a window table of La Badiane lounge with its view out over the runway, Jean-Claude ordered two coffees.

  Taking both of Nanette’s hands in his he said grimly, ‘Zac drove home from the French Grand Prix via his friends the Oliviers. They have a farm up in the hills – do you remember them?’

  Nanette nodded. ‘We used to visit them a lot.’

  ‘He left early this morning and got involved in an incident on one of the isolated mountain roads.’

  ‘What sort of incident?’

  ‘A car had overturned on a hairpin bend. A mother and baby were trapped inside. When Zac came on the scene the only thing stopping it from tumbling down the gorge was a tree. Zac managed to pull the woman out before going back for the child.’

  Jean-Claude was silent for a moment. ‘As he was struggling to undo the baby seat, the car caught fire.’

  ‘Did he get the baby out?’

  ‘Yes, wrapped in a blanket. But Zac himself suffered third-degree burns. The doctors are very non-committal about his chances.’

  Nanette turned and stared unseeingly as a plane landed and taxied down the runway, her thoughts in such turmoil she barely registered Jean-Claude’s next words.

  ‘The thing is, ma chérie, I know things are over between the two of you but in his delirious state he’s been crying out for you. Can you bear the thought of holding a vigil at his bedside?’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Nanette clutched Jean-Claude’s hand tightly as they made their way into the Princess Grace Hospital in Monaco.

  They found Zac in a small private room, wired up to a large piece of apparatus that was emitting a series of steady bleeps. Nanette swallowed hard as she looked at the heavily bandaged figure in the bed, unable to see any recognizable features and thinking it could be anyone.

  Quietly, Nanette approached the bed.

  ‘Zac?’ she said softly. No response. Nanette turned questioningly to the nurse making notes of a reading off the machine.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Monsieur Ewart slipped into a coma an hour ago.’

  Nanette glanced across at Jean-Claude.

  ‘Why don’t you sit down here?’ he said, pulling a chair towards the side of the bed. ‘I’ll go and find us some coffee.’

  Sitting there, gazing at Zac’s motionless body, Nanette felt the tears welling up.

  Through the years they had been together she had become hardened every time Zac climbed in a racing car, to expect the worst. She’d always known it was a dangerous sport where fatal accidents occurred despite all the modern safety measures and regulations. She’d learned to live with that fear, keeping her worries to herself and never mentioning them to Zac. He was doing a job he loved and living his life the way he wanted to and she’d reasoned it wasn’t up to her to stop him.

  To see him now, lying here in a hospital bed because he’d helped someone, was a cruel irony. Nanette bit her lip, determined not to cry at the unfairness of it all.

  Tentatively, with her fingertips, she gently touched his bandaged hand, hoping against hope that he would open his eyes. However much he had hurt her, however much he had reviled her, she had once loved this man.

  ‘I’m here, Zac,’ she whispered. ‘Please don’t die.’

  Jean-Claude returned with coffee and a sandwich for her. Moving away from the bed she gratefully accepted the plastic cup of steaming coffee, but shook her head at the sandwich he offered.

  ‘Thank you, but I couldn’t eat anything.’

  A sudden discordant beep from the machine at Zac’s side brought another nurse hurrying into the room, but seconds later the machine had settled back into its’ steady bleep, bleep. The nurse shook her head in response to Nanette’s worried look.

  It was late evening before Jean-Claude persuaded Nanette it was time to go home.

  ‘You need to get some sleep, ma chérie. And to eat something. If there’s a change in Zac’s condition overnight, the hospital will ring, and we’ll come straight back, I promise,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘There is nothing you can do here.’

  Glancing back as they left the room, Nanette sent a silent prayer winging in Zac’s direction. ‘Please, please wake up tomorrow. I want you to know how brave we all think you were.’

  The lights were on in the villa as they drove up and Mathieu’s car was parked in the driveway. Mathieu himself opened the front door to them.

  ‘How’s Zac?’

  ‘He’s been in a coma since this morning,’ Jean-Claude replied quietly. ‘What are you doing here? Do you have some news? A problem?’

  Mathieu shook his head. ‘No problem. But I wanted you to know that Boris was finally allowed to post bail today and he’s out on remand. He’s had to surrender his passport, of course, and must report to the police every day.’

  He looked at his father. ‘As far as he’s concerned I’m still helping him so the pretence goes on for at least a few more days. I’m hoping that he’s finally going to give me the name of his con
tact in Brazil who organizes the diamond smuggling. I can hand the completed file over to the police then.’

  ‘Does Boris know about Zac?’ Jean-Claude asked.

  ‘Yes. He’s asked me to let him know as soon as there is any change. He says he and Zac still have some unfinished business.’

  ‘The stuff I put in the safe!’ Nanette gasped. ‘Do you think it’s still there?’

  Mathieu shrugged. ‘Who knows? Maybe Zac moved it on before he left for the French Grand Prix. The unfinished business could be something to do with setting up Vacances au Soleil.’

  Nanette spent a restless night in Jean-Claude’s guest suite, unable to sleep, fearful that the phone would ring summoning her back to Zac’s bedside.

  Early morning sunlight was streaming in through the French doors of the sitting-room when she went downstairs. Jean-Claude was in the kitchen, listening to the news on the radio and preparing a breakfast tray for her.

  ‘After you eat, I’ll take you to the hospital,’ he said, pouring her a large mug of coffee.

  Nanette smiled her thanks and cupped her hands around the bowl. Information about Zac’s accident was dominating the local radio stations’ news bulletins and Nanette tensed as the voice of the woman he’d rescued came down the air. Praising his actions and calling him a hero, the woman sobbed with gratitude as she publicly thanked Zac for saving both her and her baby daughter and wished him a speedy recovery.

  Silently, Jean-Claude leant across and switched off the radio. ‘Breakfast, ma chérie, then we leave for the hospital.’

  There was a small group of journalists hanging around the main entrance to the hospital as they arrived. One of them clearly recognized Nanette, but a glare from Jean-Claude and a sharp warning ‘Non’ stopped him in the act of pointing his camera at her.