You Had Me At Bonjour

by Jennifer Bohnet

  30th April.

  O.M.G. Katie’s disappeared. Ben phoned me this morning. Wanting to talk to her! Apparently she left the house as usual for college on Friday and no one has seen her since. For some reason, Ben was convinced she’d come to see me. Thought I was lying when I said she wasn’t here.

  ‘Just put her on the phone,’ he said. ‘No point in stopping her talking to me.’

  ‘Believe me, Ben – she isn’t here. What the hell happened to make her run away?’

  There was an uncomfortable pause. ‘She was rude to Samantha and I insisted she had to apologise. She refused and stormed off to her room. Twelve hours later she upped and left.’

  ‘Nice one Ben. Have you tried her friends?’

  ‘No one knows anything – if they do, they’re not telling me. You might have more luck.’

  I promised to try and hung up. I’ve spent hours today ringing around Katie’s friends, the ones I had numbers for anyway. No luck until Margaret, mum of Jane (who was frankly my last hope as she and Katie aren’t that close these days), answered the phone.

  Jane had told her Katie said she couldn’t stay at home any longer and was going to move in with… ‘I’m sorry Jessica, but I can’t remember the name. I’ll ask Jane when she gets home. Ring me later.’

  So I spent the afternoon waiting and worrying. When I rang back at seven o’clock, Jane answered.

  ‘I’m sorry but I promised Katie I wouldn’t tell you where she is. She wants some space. She’ll be cross with me when she finds out. Mum shouldn’t have told you I knew.’

  ‘Just tell me one thing then – is she ok?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thank you. Give her a message from me? Tell her that I’m worried sick about her so perhaps she could just text me. I promise I won’t hassle her.’

  ‘OK. Bye then,’ and the phone disconnected.

  It was gone eleven o’clock French time before I sent Ben a brief text message. ‘Dnt knw whr K8 is bt is sfe’. To be honest I wanted to make him sweat for as long as possible, seeing as how he was totally responsible for Katie running off.

  I switched the phone off immediately after sending it. I couldn’t cope with talking to him tonight. I’d have lost my temper and ended up hurling abuse down the line like some coarse fishwife.

  Deep deep sigh. At least I know Katie is well physically. All the hurt is inside her – and there’s not a lot I can do about that. Especially from this distance. Am seriously thinking of flying home.

  MAY

  Shaping up to be a busy month down here.

  No new developments on the Katie front, unfortunately. She did send me a brief text saying she was fine and she’d be in touch when she’d “sorted” things. God knows what that means. Still feel I should go home and do “something” but after one very terse conversation with Ben, I’ve put that idea on hold for the moment.

  Spoke to Bella last night about Katie too, but she didn’t have any suggestions to make. In fact, I got the feeling she didn’t want to talk about the situation. Several times she said, ‘Jess, it will sort itself. You know Katie is safe, so stop worrying. She’ll come round in her own time.’ It was almost as if she wasn’t interested.

  In the end she changed the conversation by talking about Jacques. Felt a bit disgruntled when we finally hung up. She is Katie’s godmother after all and supposed to be available for support. Don’t understand it.

  Anyway, old boss (henceforth known as OB) likes my feature on St. Paul de Vence and has promised to run it in the weekend section of the newspaper asap. He’s also applied for a Press Pass for the festival for me. Says they’re like gold dust at this late hour so fingers crossed I get one. Should hear in the next couple of days.

  Even if I don’t, I’m planning on spending several days in Cannes seeing what I can glean. OB is interested in something about the festival from an onlooker’s point of view. Might ring Nino to see if he meant what he said about having some contacts who could help me. Now I know he’s married and definitely off limits to me, it’s easier somehow to speak to him – nobody can accuse me of lusting after his body.

  2nd May.

  Spent a couple of hours with Lotta yesterday. She’d mentioned the other day she was looking to buy a passion flower to cover the wall at the back of her garden and was planning a visit to her favourite garden centre out by Nice airport soon, so I hitched a lift.

  This place was so much more than a garden centre. It was huge. The only thing it lacked was a tea room for a restorative cake and coffee after we’d walked a couple of kilometres around the place. Lotta found her passion flower and some ground covering plants while I fell in love with a potted lemon tree which is absolutely perfect for my terrace. A four seasons variety, it has several lemons ready to pick and lots of developing fruit. Shouldn’t need to buy lemons ever again.

  7th May.

  Right, I’m off out for a walk with my camera. Been spending a lot of time on the laptop researching some ideas for features – now I need to take some photos of various buildings and local landmarks. Note to self: must stop this obsession with photographing blue doors and shutters. I find them so evocative and can’t resist snapping them. To date I have a hundred on file, which is way over the top.

  10th May.

  OB e-mailed me to say there was a Press Pass for me at the Palais des Festivals. So I hared over to Cannes today to collect it. What an experience. Over four thousand journalists attend the festival so you can imagine the queues – and the security!

  The place was buzzing, although it doesn’t all kick off officially until tomorrow. Lots of trade marquees around the Palais des Festivals, barriers along the Croisette, huge placards everywhere, over-sized pantechnicons unloading stuff and a general air of frenzy. Lots of helicopters flitting across the sky to and from Nice or the local Mandelieu-la Napoule airport carrying goodness knows who.

  Once my official pass was hanging around my neck, I set off to try and absorb the atmosphere and capture some of the scenes on my camera.

  Every nationality you can think of is here – and a few you probably never knew even existed. Avoiding the crowds strolling along the Croisette was a case of two steps forward and three to the side. Repeated ad nauseam. I gave up in the end and made for the marina.

  The atmosphere down by the yachts was quieter but there was still a sense of excitement in the air. TV crews were everywhere – filming onboard boats, interviewing starlets artfully poised against masts.

  I turned back before I reached Nino’s yacht. Could see him talking to a group of people onboard and decided against casually strolling past in case he thought I was angling for an invite. Instead, I crossed the road and made for one of the pavement cafes and did some people-watching while enjoying a coffee. Every other person who went by seemed to be sporting an identity tag hanging around their neck.

  I plan on spending the opening day there, and then going over again on Friday and Saturday evening. Hopefully I’ll get to see some stars then.

  Before catching my train back to Antibes I took a selfie standing on the famous red-carpeted steps. Sent it to Katie with a “wish you were here” message. Not expecting a response.

  12th May.

  Ben rang this evening wanting to know if I’d heard from Katie. When I said no, he started accusing me of withholding information from him, saying I must know where she was. Idiot. Can’t believe I was married to the selfish prick for so long. I hung up in the end. I’m as worried about Katie as he is, but we both have to accept for the moment that she’s doing her own thing without us.

  13th May.

  Jamie rang this evening – Bella must have given him my number as I know he didn’t ask me for it. Having lunch with him next week in Antibes.

  Popped across to see Eliosa earlier. Sat out on her terrace with a glass of rosé watching the sunset and talking about families. Apparently there’s a huge family crisis kicking off in Italy with her brother’s immediate family. She didn’t go into details and I didn�
��t like to probe, but it’s obviously upsetting her.

  ‘My brother, he interfere too much. He’s grown into our father which is not good. I try to tell him this. To remember the fights I had with Papa before he threw me out.’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘To try to control others is bad. Better to let go then welcome back with love.’

  Couldn’t help wondering when I’d get the chance to welcome Katie back.

  May 18th.

  Cannes Film Festival is amazing. So full of hype and sheer energy. I discovered my pass didn’t give me access to everything – apparently there are various levels of passes for journalists to the high profile events with the biggest stars. My pass was the basic one but it was enough, though it did mean I couldn’t get within touching distance of George Clooney.

  Seen lots of other stars close up though, got lots of photos and even been to a party thrown by a film production company in a private villa.

  Nino rang yesterday to ask if I would like to go to a party on board the yacht. ‘Bruno always hosts a couple during the festival. One is very much a networking do for his business associates and this one is just a party. Tante Eliosa always comes to this party, perhaps you share a taxi?’

  Didn’t need asking twice! To say I’m really looking forward to it is an understatement.

  20th May.

  Have to say Eliosa looked very glam tonight in her flapper style silver sequin dress. She’s so slim it’s sickening, especially as I seem to have put on weight recently. Was a real struggle to get into my favourite maxi party dress. Will have to cut down on the cheese and red wine.

  Nino’s yacht was a mass of lights when we arrived and heaving with people. I hid my shoes in the bottom of the pile of red soled Louboutins and Jimmy Choos and hoped nobody would notice them. Eliosa simply kicked off her Prada sandals and abandoned them without a second thought.

  Until that evening I’d never even seen a jeroboam bottle of champagne let alone had a drink from one. I reckon there were at least twelve of them opened on board that night. I’ve never drunk so much champagne in my life.

  Nino introduced me to lots of people including the owner, Bruno, who turned out to be a suave Russian with a fierce looking wife. Wonder how he came to be called Bruno? Initially I was worried about my lack of French but English turned out to be the main language of the evening.

  Spent a long time chatting with a Swiss couple who have a villa up in the hills behind Monaco on the Italian border. Both are artists, successful ones judging by the amount of bling they were both wearing. The woman, Serena, started off illustrating children’s books. Might do a feature on her some time. She gave me her card and said to get in touch during the summer.

  At one stage I saw Eliosa and Nino hidden behind the large Lalique screen in the salon, deep in conversation, oblivious to everything going on around them. Think maybe Eliosa was filling Nino in on family news.

  We’d ordered the taxi for one o’clock and the party was still going strong when we said our goodbyes.

  ‘I ‘ope you enjoyed your evening,’ Nino said to me, as he kissed my cheek.

  ‘I did. Thank you for inviting me.’ I returned his cheek kiss, fleetingly feeling the stubbly roughness of skin that needed shaving.

  He shrugged. ‘My pleasure.’ He turned to Eliosa and said something in rapid Italian before hugging her and striding back up the gangplank onto the yacht.

  Despite the hour, Cannes was busy as we drove through. Cafes and bars were still open – decorative lights and neon signs flashing, people drinking and eating. There was even an impromptu dance happening in the gardens near the Hotel de Ville, where an accordion player was busking.

  Honestly, people’s lives down here seem so much more fun and far removed from the normal day-to-day existence of the one I lived back home. And I’m sure it’s not just because it’s Film Festival time.

  21st May.

  Have the hangover from hell.

  23rd May.

  The weather has turned this last week of the festival. Lots of wind and rain. I decided I had enough pictures and scribbled notes for features without going back to Cannes. Didn’t have any invites or press conferences I wanted to go to so I watched the TV coverage, feeling sorry for everyone having to battle the conditions. All those beautiful dresses trailing their skirts in rain puddles.

  Really enjoyed writing up the festival features for OB. Am waiting to hear back from him now about a couple more suggestions I made. If he takes stuff regularly it will make a huge difference to my bank balance.

  24th May.

  If Ben rings me once more demanding that I tell him as soon as I know where Katie is, I swear I’ll block him on my phone! I know it’s three weeks since she disappeared. It’s not my fault she’s disappeared, for god’s sake, it’s his and bloody Samantha’s. I’m as worried as he is but there is nothing I can do. Just have to sit it out and wait until she’s ready to get in touch. Expect it’ll be when she wants something.

  25th May.

  Braved the weather yesterday to meet Jamie for lunch in Antibes. He’d booked a table at a restaurant hidden down one of the side streets off the tourist trail, which turned out to be an authentic French bistro. Have to admit I was dubious when I first saw the peeling window frames and the general rustic ambience of the building.

  ‘I hope you like this place,’ Jamie said. ‘It’s popular with the locals, which is always a good sign.’

  Our table for two was the only unoccupied table when we arrived at midday. The fifteen or so other tables were full of people busy chatting, drinking the red house wine from carafes and tucking into the bowls of olives placed on every table.

  Seeing the steaming plates of lamb couscous, the plat du jour, being placed in front of diners, we both decided we’d also go for the set menu.

  ‘Has your house sale gone through now?’ I asked Jamie as he poured us both a glass of the red wine the waiter placed on the table along with the bread basket and olives.

  ‘Yes. I’m now officially an expat and a resident of France.’

  ‘Congratulations. It’s a big step. How does it feel in reality?’

  ‘Wonderful. It’s a great place to live. Always something going on. Take this weekend – it’s the Monaco Grand Prix.’

  ‘Didn’t have you down as a petrol head,’ I said.

  ‘Afraid so. Can’t resist fast cars.’

  Our starters arrived just then, melon and parma ham for me – one of my favourites – and tomato and carrot soup for Jamie.

  Jamie was a great raconteur and had me laughing all the way through lunch. Not once did he mention his late wife. I think he assumed Bella would have told me. It wasn’t all about him though, he did seem interested in learning about me, asking questions about my life back in England.

  ‘Went along on an even keel for years,’ I said. ‘Then went pear-shaped in a big way. To be honest, I’m not sure what life will be like when I go back at the end of the year. For starters, I’ll have to find somewhere to live, get a job and…’ I hesitated, not sure about unloading my worries about Katie on to him. ‘… and try to sort Katie out. The whole thing – divorce, new woman in her dad’s life, and a half-sibling due to arrive in a couple of months – has knocked her sideways. And of course, she blames me.’

  ‘I doubt, though, it would have made any difference to her if you’d stayed there – except of course it would have been easier for her to keep kicking you when you were down. Metaphorically speaking,’ he hastened to add. ‘I didn’t mean Katie would really kick you.’

  I laughed. ‘I got the feeling a couple of times she’d have enjoyed kicking me for real.’ I shook my head. ‘I just wish she hadn’t taken it into her head to disappear. Hearing via texts she’s OK is, well, OK. But speaking to her personally would be a tad more reassuring.’

  I glanced at him. ‘D’you have any children?’

  ‘Matthew, who’s just about to qualify as a doctor. Another few weeks and he’ll be down here for summer before he starts a
s a junior doctor later in the year.’

  By the time we’d finished lunch and left the restaurant the sun was shining. Jamie offered to give me a lift home and we walked down through Antibes to the port carpark where he’d left his car.

  When he pressed his remote electronic car key and the lights on a low-slung black sports car started to flash, I looked at him in surprise.

  ‘Told you I liked fast cars,’ he grinned, opening the passenger door for me. ‘This is my new toy.’

  ‘There’s fast cars and then there’s this,’ I said, glancing at the steering wheel. Even I can recognise a Porsche motif when I see one.

  ‘Quick route home or scenic via Cap d’Antibes?’ Jamie asked.

  ‘Oh scenic please,’ I said, fastening my seat belt and settling back in the comfortable leather seat. I’d never been in such a luxurious car. Definitely had to make the most of the journey.

  ‘This so different to my mini,’ I said, laughing. ’Ten years old and showing its age all round.’

  ‘Raced minis in another life,’ Jamie said. ‘They’re great little cars.’

  I’m beginning to suspect there are hidden depths to this man.

  ‘Don’t know about racing but I’ve been known to have applied a bit of a heavy wellie on the accelerator pedal when late for work in the past,’ I said.

  I was quiet as Jamie concentrated on edging out into the traffic. Driving up and around the one way system on the ramparts, the throaty exhaust warning people of our approach, the car drew a few admiring glances as we drove past. Along the coast there was very little traffic and Jamie kept the car going right on the edge of the speed limit.