Follow Your Star

by Jennifer Bohnet

  Zac’s room was full of doctors and nurses and a worried Nanette and Jean-Claude had to wait outside for some time before they were allowed in.

  ‘Is there any improvement in his condition?’ Nanette asked.

  ‘Monsieur Ewart had a stable night,’ a young nurse informed them, ‘but he remains unconscious.’

  It was early afternoon when Zac stirred briefly and returned the gentle pressure as Nanette held his hand. That hardly felt squeeze filled Nanette with hope, but the rest of the afternoon passed without any further progress in Zac’s condition.

  At eight o’clock, as Jean-Claude suggested they should think about preparing to leave for the day, Zac unexpectedly opened his eyes and looked at them. Nanette felt her heart skip a beat as she smiled down at him.

  ‘Hello Zac.’

  ‘Nanette. Sorry. Shouldn’t have lied.’

  The words were spoken so softly that Nanette could barely hear them. She bent over him, anxious to catch anything else he might say.

  ‘Please forgive me.’

  ‘Of course, Zac. It’s in the past. Just get well.’

  Nanette glanced up as the machine started to emit a series of quick peeps and a nurse bustled in to check it.

  ‘Would you mind leaving and coming back tomorrow please?’

  As she turned to go, Zac murmured her name.

  ‘Nanette – thank you.’

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Zac.’

  Moving towards the door where Jean-Claude was waiting for her, she turned to smile and mouthed ‘goodbye’ at Zac and caught the whispered words ‘Be happy, Nanette’ before his eyes closed again.

  Jean-Claude held her hand tightly as he quickly led her past the journalists still waiting in the foyer.

  ‘Any news?’ one called out.

  ‘Non,’ Jean-Claude answered shortly.

  To Nanette’s surprise Jean-Claude didn’t drive straight back to the villa instead he drove down to Cap D’Ail and parked the car.

  ‘Come on, a walk along the beach to blow the cobwebs away,’ he said. ‘You need some fresh air before we go home for supper.’

  Strolling along with Jean-Claude’s arm around her shoulders holding her tight, Nanette felt strangely detached from reality. The last thirty-six hours had passed in a blur. Only now was she beginning to comprehend what had happened.

  Zac’s delirious ramblings had taken her to his bedside out of compassion and in remembrance of their past love. Now, as the breeze off the Mediterranean ruffled her hair, she thought about that love. How Zac’s actions had changed it – how she had changed in the aftermath of her accident.

  ‘If – when – Zac comes out of hospital, he will still need a lot of care for some time,’ Jean-Claude said quietly, interrupting her thoughts. ‘Round the clock attendance probably.’

  Nanette nodded. ‘I’ll find the best for him. We’ll nurse him back to health. Thank goodness he can afford all the care and help we need.’

  At her words, Jean-Claude stopped walking and turned Nanette to face him. ‘You are going to help nurse him?’

  ‘No, not nurse him, but I’ll organize his day-to-day needs.’

  ‘How do you think he will react to the scars he is clearly going to have? Modern plastic surgery can do so much, but I’d hazard a guess that Zac’s good looks have gone forever.’

  ‘He’s never been a bitter man – arrogant and self-seeking maybe,’ Nanette answered slowly. ‘I think once he knows the extent of his injuries, he’ll get on with improving what he can and simply accept what he can’t. He’s always been very strong like that.’

  ‘And you, ma chérie?’ Jean-Claude gazed at her intently. ‘How strong are you? How will you cope with a damaged Zac Ewart in your life?’

  ‘JC, I can’t just walk away from him.’ Like he did to me, she added mentally.

  ‘I wouldn’t ask you to. I just don’t want you to be hurt again.’

  ‘I won’t be, I promise.’

  Nanette put a hand up and gently stroked Jean-Claude’s face. ‘Can I tell you something? Sitting at Zac’s bedside I thought about you and me and wondered how I’d feel if it were you in that hospital bed.’ Reaching up she kissed him. ‘I couldn’t bear it. I would really be hurting then.’

  He hugged her tightly for several seconds before releasing her. ‘Come on, let’s walk.’

  Dusk was falling as they returned to the villa. Mathieu met them at the door, his face serious.

  ‘The hospital rang. Zac suffered a stroke shortly after you left. Nanette, I’m sorry, they did everything possible but they couldn’t save him.’

  Nanette lay on the airbed, her fingers dangling in the cool water as she drifted aimlessly around the pool. Jean-Claude had urged her to go for a swim but she simply didn’t have the energy.

  She’d felt so positive that night walking on the beach with Jean-Claude, watching the setting sun, believing against all odds that Zac was going to recover now he’d regained consciousness and making plans for his future care.

  The numbness that had descended over her as Mathieu told them the sad news, had drained her of all rational thought and energy. Only Jean-Claude’s quiet, loving presence had kept her focused on the things that needed to be done.

  Together they had arranged the small immediate funeral service for Zac that would take place tomorrow in the church at the cemetery. They’d also begun to set the plans in motion for a big memorial service to be held in October at the end of the racing season.

  And now an unknown Monsieur Mille had phoned wanting an urgent meeting with her that afternoon. Jean-Claude had been strangely reticent about the man, saying simply the name seemed familiar but he wasn’t sure, and, as Monsieur Mille had declined to give details over the telephone, she’d have to wait and see what it was all about.

  Reluctantly Nanette guided the airbed towards the pool steps. The mysterious Monsieur Mille would be here soon. She needed to shower and get dressed. Maybe she’d start to shake off this stupor after tomorrow when the saga of her and Zac would finally be laid to rest alongside his poor burned body.

  Monsieur Mille, when Jean-Claude introduced them half an hour later, turned out to be a lawyer. Zac’s lawyer.

  ‘Mademoiselle Weston, I am here to offer my condolences and to tell you that you are the only beneficiary of Monsieur Ewart’s estate.’ He handed Nanette a legal document and an envelope containing a set of keys.

  A stunned Nanette looked at him in disbelief as Jean-Claude took charge and began to question him.

  ‘There is no mistake. Monsieur Ewart lodged his will with me three years ago with the instructions that in the event of his demise, I was to contact Mademoiselle Weston, with the news and offer her my services.’

  ‘But three years ago.…’ Nanette’s voice trailed off.

  ‘I believe you had a bad car accident about that time,’ the lawyer said. ‘Monsieur Ewart was concerned for you.’

  He stood up and held out his business card. ‘I will leave you to read Monsieur Ewart’s will. If you have any questions this is my number. These things take time, but you will need to come to my office to sign papers – perhaps next month.’

  Nanette stayed in the sitting-room while Jean-Claude saw the lawyer out, her thoughts in turmoil. Why hadn’t Zac changed his will? Was it his way of trying to make amends? Or was it just a mistake on his part? Whatever the reason, it was too late now.

  Her fingers were shaking as she unfolded the heavy document. There was no mistaking her name in bold letters six or seven lines down the page identifying her as the beneficiary of Zac Ewart’s estate. Silently she handed the paper to Jean-Claude when he returned.

  Pole Position, the apartment in Fontvieille – those were the keys the lawyer had thoughtfully put in the envelope – and a bank account were now hers.

  ‘You’re going to be a wealthy woman,’ Jean-Claude said.

  ‘I don’t deserve this,’ she said, looking up at Jean-Claude. ‘I certainly don’t want it.’

  ‘I do
n’t think you can refuse,’ Jean-Claude said gently. ‘But once you’ve signed all the legal documents you can do what you like with it.’

  ‘I’ll give it away then.’

  John-Claude regarded her thoughtfully.

  ‘The package you put in the safe – I think we should take a look and see if it’s still there. I don’t want you implicated in Zac’s criminal activities simply because you now own the yacht.’

  ‘I need some fresh air – shall we go now?’ Nanette asked. ‘Get it over with. I’ll just get my bag.’

  Nanette’s mobile phone rang as they were leaving the villa. It was Vanessa.

  ‘I just wanted you to know that I’m coming down for the funeral tomorrow. Mathieu is meeting me at Nice tonight and I’ve booked a room at the Columbus.’

  ‘Are the twins coming too?’

  ‘No. Ralph is taking them down to his parents in the country for a couple of days. I thought they were a bit young – although Pierre in particular is terribly upset about Zac. I think he was looking forward to boasting that the Formula One World Champion was a friend.’

  There was a pause before Vanessa said, ‘You coping? We’ll have a long talk tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes,’ Nanette answered. ‘I’m coping and there’s a lot to talk about when you get here.’

  The harbour was busy as Nanette and Jean-Claude made their way to the yacht. As they walked, they saw Mediterranean Wanderer negotiating its way to a quayside berth, scores of cruise passengers lining her decks for their first look at Monaco.

  Several police cars were parked along the embankment road effectively blocking a lane of traffic. Aloud blaring of car horns from exasperated drivers forced into gridlock competed with the noisy siren from the liner as it warned smaller craft to get out of its way.

  Nanette nudged Jean-Claude. ‘Isn’t that Boris sitting at that café? Oh, and there’s Mathieu.’

  Jean-Claude followed her gaze. ‘Wasn’t Mediterranean Wanderer on Zac’s list? Maybe Boris is waiting to meet someone. As long as Mathieu isn’t doing his dirty work for him.’ Jean-Claude gave an anxious look in his son’s direction.

  ‘Shall we wait and see?’

  Jean-Claude shook his head. ‘No. I have to do as Mathieu says and trust him. Let’s look at the safe.’

  Phil, the skipper, was alone on board and eager to offer his condolences to Nanette.

  ‘It’s hard to believe. Such a tragedy. Away from the race track too,’ he said. ‘Have you heard anything about what happens next?’

  ‘The funeral is tomorrow – very low-key. We’re planning a memorial service in October,’ Nanette answered, unwilling to tell Phil yet that she was the new owner. He’d find out soon enough.

  ‘Remember those things I had to put in Zac’s private safe? I need to see if they are still there. We won’t be five minutes,’ Nanette said, taking Jean-Claude’s hand, compelling him to follow her into the master cabin, where she closed the door.

  ‘The time for secrets is over.’

  Kneeling in front of the cupboard in the bathroom she took out the towels and the shelf. Carefully she punched the number into the combination lock and pulled the door open. The package and the gun were still there.

  Amuttered ‘Blast’ escaped from Jean-Claude. ‘Désolé. I was hoping that Zac had already moved the stuff by now. OK, the gun isn’t too big a problem – we can simply hand it in to the authorities. It’s not illegal to own a gun. The package though does give us a problem. We certainly can’t leave it here.’

  ‘I’ll put it in my bag, shall I?’ Nanette asked. ‘Take it back to the villa and talk to Mathieu. He may be able to suggest something.’

  ‘D’accord,’ Jean-Claude said, picking up the gun and making sure the safety catch was on before he slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

  Phil was waiting for them in the stern. ‘Safe empty then?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Nanette said. He wasn’t to know that it was empty because the main contents were now nestling in her bag.

  Passengers from the cruise liner were thronging the pavements as Nanette and Jean-Claude stepped ashore. Traffic along the harbour road was still at a virtual standstill and a large crowd were watching the gendarmes frog-march somebody off the Mediterranean Wanderer.

  Passing the pavement café where they’d seen Boris earlier, Nanette glanced around in time to see him disappearing into the crowd, with a thoughtful Mathieu watching him go.

  Mathieu raised a languid hand in greeting as he saw them and walked towards them.

  ‘Cruz has been arrested. I expect things to start happening now,’ he said. ‘You’re looking very serious, Nanette. Has something happened?’

  ‘We need you to come up to the villa,’ Jean-Claude answered before Nanette could. ‘We have something to discuss with you urgently.’

  Zac’s funeral service was as private as Nanette had hoped it would be. Altogether there were just nine people in the congregation to hear the vicar’s eulogy of Zac’s life and the brave actions that had taken it away from him.

  The Oliviers had travelled down and were seated with the woman whose baby and life Zac had saved. Phil was there and Monsieur Mille slipped into a seat at the back. Mathieu and Vanessa sat behind Nanette and Jean-Claude.

  Listening to the words of praise for a man who had been a part of her life for several years and who would continue to be a never forgotten presence by virtue of his legacy to her, Nanette found herself fighting back the tears. Silently Jean-Claude handed her a handkerchief.

  After the short service Jean-Claude invited everybody back to the villa. The Oliviers, Monsieur Mille and the rescued woman all declined, citing various reasons but Phil accepted.

  ‘So, if the rumours are to be believed,’ he said, awkwardly, as Nanette offered him a drink, ‘you’re my new boss. Are you going to keep Pole Position?’

  ‘Phil, I’m sorry, but it’s too soon to know. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do about a lot of things, Pole Position included. As soon as I do, I promise I’ll keep you informed. In the meantime, you’re still her skipper.’

  Across the room she could see Mathieu in earnest conversation with Jean-Claude and Vanessa, but it wasn’t until after Phil had left and the four of them were alone that Nanette heard what they were talking about.

  ‘Boris has had his bail revoked,’ Jean-Claude told her.

  ‘Once the police got Cruz into custody yesterday he sang like a bird,’ Mathieu explained. ‘Apparently he was more than just a courier. He was able to supply missing contact names, routes and some other information the police needed. They didn’t wait for Boris to do his daily sign-in – they rearrested him last night and got a judge to revoke his bail.’

  ‘Did Cruz implicate Zac in any way?’ Nanette asked quietly.

  Mathieu shook his head. ‘No.’

  Nanette breathed a sigh of relief before asking, ‘What did you do with the shampoo?’

  ‘Told the police where it had come from and handed it over. Don’t worry,’ he continued, seeing her anxious look. ‘It won’t be used as evidence. And, seeing there are enough people willing to testify against Boris, now he’s in custody and can’t threaten them anymore, I’ve “lost” my dossier on Zac’s activities. I can’t see the police bothering with a dead hero. I shall have to give evidence against Boris, of course.’

  ‘Does he know yet that you were double-crossing him?’ Jean-Claude asked.

  ‘No. The police are keeping that little bit of information for the trial. I’m just glad it’s all over and I can get back to a normal life,’ he said, looking at his father. ‘I really hated deceiving you.’

  ‘Now I know the truth I have to say I’m proud of you,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘You did the right thing.’

  There was a short pause before Jean-Claude spoke again.

  ‘Does getting back to a normal life mean getting more involved in my business as well as your own? I was hoping that we could combine them both, with me taking a sabbatical for a few mo
nths.’

  ‘Shall we have a business meeting tomorrow morning and start to sort things out?’ Mathieu said.

  Jean-Claude hesitated. ‘I was going to suggest I took Nanette down to Zac’s apartment but when we get back would be fine.’

  ‘JC, don’t worry about that,’ Nanette said. ‘I’ll drive myself down. Leave you free to discuss business with Mathieu. Vanessa will come with me, won’t you?’ Nanette turned to her friend.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Jean-Claude asked.

  ‘Definitely. My convertible has been sitting in your garage far too long. It’s time I got mobile again.’

  Nanette parked in one of the underground car-parks near the circus tent in Fontvielle.

  ‘Do you mind walking to the apartment from here?’ she asked Vanessa. ‘You can tell me how the plans for the cooperative are coming on as we go.’

  She winced as a particularly noisy helicopter came in over the Mediterranean to land at the shoreline heliport, just yards away from where they were standing.

  ‘I’m still looking for sponsors for the first year. Flying down here for Zac’s funeral was the main reason I’m here but it isn’t the only reason. I need to talk to you about Fruits of the Forest.’

  Nanette looked at Vanessa and waited.

  ‘I know you said you didn’t want to be involved because you were going to be spending more and more time down here and I planned to run Fruits from the UK. Well, I’ve changed my mind. Ralph and I are going to relocate here. He can work from anywhere, the twins like their school and seeing more of Mathieu – and, of course, the co-operative will benefit from the tax breaks Monaco can give. So, will you change your mind?’

  ‘Oh Vanessa,’ Nanette said. ‘I’m sorry the answer is still no, but I do know someone who needs a job and who would be perfect. Evie. Her boss got caught up in all this smuggling business and she lost her job recently.’

  ‘This Boris Takyanov certainly spread his business tentacles widely, didn’t he?’ Vanessa said. ‘Unbelievable that so deep in the jungle, we should cross the same criminal organization that Mathieu was investigating. Apart from Ralph’s accident, the only time I was truly scared, was when the villagers accused us of putting the evil eye on them because of Maksim Takyanov’s failure to honour their deal.’