Anna saw Daisy glance at the dashboard clock before saying, ‘At this rate it’s going to take us ages to get to the villa.’
‘Have you got things lined up to do this evening?’ Anna asked, guiltily aware her plane being so late had probably created a few problems for Daisy.
Daisy nodded. ‘I’ve got to finish and file my first report for the newspaper, do a spot of internet research on this big director who’s just died, take a look at tonight’s stars on the red carpet and then I get to go to a party later.’ She glanced at Anna.
‘Don’t suppose you knew this Philippe Cambone did you? Work with him even? Any info – personal anecdotes or anything – would be gratefully received.’
‘No I never worked with Philippe Cambone so unfortunately I can’t help you with any anecdotes that you won’t find on the internet.’ Anna turned to look out of her passenger window, effectively finishing the conversation.
‘That’s a shame,’ Daisy said disappointed. ‘There’s not a lot of info out there. Seems Mr Cambone was a very private person. Oh good the traffic is clearing, we’re on the move again.’
‘Are we going via the Croisette?’ Anna asked.
‘Only so far. The police will have barricaded the road before we reach The Bunker, ready for the evening screening.’
‘The Bunker?’
‘Local name for the Festival des Palais,’ Daisy explained. ‘We’ll have to take a right and go round the back streets. Hopefully it won’t add too much time to the journey.’
With a silent Anna beside her Daisy concentrated on her driving and a few minutes later turned into the villa drive. Poppy, hearing the electric gates opening, was waiting by the front door to greet them.
Daisy turned to Anna. ‘Poppy will look after you now. Hope you don’t think me terribly rude but I must dash and try and catch up with a few things before I walk down to Cannes. I expect we’ll bump into each other over the next few days, either here or in town. Enjoy the festival.’
‘Thanks for meeting me, Daisy. Do come and have glass of wine with me when you’re not so frantic.’
‘I’d like that,’ Daisy said. ‘Ciao.’ And Daisy ran down the path to the cottage leaving Anna with Poppy.
‘This way,’ Poppy said, taking Anna’s suitcase and leading the way into the Villa Floral.
‘I’ve never rented the villa out before,’ Poppy said. ‘I hope everything is okay for you,’ she added anxiously as she showed Anna around.
‘Please don’t worry,’ Anna said. ‘I’m sure you’ve thought of everything. It looks fantastic.’
Long buttercup yellow curtains hung either side of the French doors and windows. A bookcase lined the wall alongside the fireplace and a small glass table holding some glossy magazines and candles was placed between a couple of inviting cream sofas with deep feather cushions. A large terracotta pot filled with lavender stood in the fireplace infusing the whole villa with its perfume.
‘There’s a welcome box in the kitchen with a few basics: cheese, eggs, baguette, tomatoes, milk, butter. And there’s a bottle of rosé in the fridge,’ Poppy said, going into the kitchen with its views out over the patio towards the swimming pool.
Just then Tom ran into the kitchen. ‘Mummy, can I have one last swim before Mrs Carson gets here? Oh, you’re here all ready,’ he added seeing Anna.
‘Tom, please say how do you do to Ms Carson,’ Poppy said. ‘And then go back to the cottage. I’ll be there in a moment to get your supper.’
Anna held her hand out for Tom to shake. ‘How do you do, Tom? My name is Anna.’
‘How do you do, Anna,’ Tom said seriously. ‘Do you like swimming?’
‘I do indeed and I guess you do too.’
Tom nodded. ‘Only now I can’t. Mummy says the pool is yours while you’re here and nobody else can use it ’cause you’re paying for it.’
‘Tom!’ Poppy exclaimed.
Anna bent down to talk to Tom. ‘Ah. Well I expect my friends will be coming for a swim, so if you’re my friend I can invite you and Mummy won’t mind then.’
‘Now?’ Tom asked hopefully.
‘No.’ Poppy answered before Anna could say anything. ‘Anna has to settle in this evening. Besides it’s almost your bedtime. Cottage,’ and she held the kitchen door open for a reluctant to leave Tom.
‘I’m sorry,’ Poppy said, embarrassed. ‘I’ll keep him out of your way while you’re here. I’ll take him to the beach so he can swim.’
‘Poppy, it’s not a problem. Please let him come for a swim. I like having children around.’
‘If you’re sure. Now, I think I’d better leave you in peace to settle in. If you want anything, just come over to the cottage. Bye for now.’
Closing the door behind Poppy, Anna went upstairs and pulled her swimming costume out of her case. The pool was too tempting to resist. The unpacking could wait.
The water was warm and inviting and Anna swam ten lengths before turning over and floating lazily on her back, allowing her mind to wander over the upcoming days.
So far her diary contained just four definite appointments: The gala screening of Future Promises at the weekend; a meeting with her company’s French representative; dinner with the American producer who was keen to come on board for the Agnes Marshall film. The fourth date was the party here at the villa she was planning to hold during the second week of the festival – when Leo had arrived. She’d need to talk to Poppy about the catering for it. The fifth appointment ‘Ring Philippe’ would never be made now.
A moon was rising in the darkening sky as she made her way indoors to shower and finish unpacking. Hanging the evening gown she intended wearing for the weekend premier in the spacious wardrobe, her attention was caught by a series of postcard size photographs grouped together on the bedroom wall.
Moving closer she saw that some were sepia in colour and showed the beach and harbour before the Croisette was built. Another showed the old casino on the edge of the harbour with figures in Edwardian costume stiffly posing outside.
The one that caught Anna’s attention was more recent; a black and white photo of a large building with square flat columns and a short flight of steps leading up to the entrance. Even as she bent closer to read the faded lettering at the base of the card, Anna had already recognized it as the old ‘Festival des Palais, Cannes’.
It had been a lovely building, she thought affectionately. So different to the concrete ‘Bunker’ she’d glimpsed before Daisy had turned off the Croisette. Her mobile phone rang as she finished arranging the rest of her clothes in the closet. Pressing the answer button with shaking fingers she said, ‘Hello Leo,’ as she ran downstairs to the kitchen.
‘Anna my darling. How was the flight?’
‘Terrible,’ Anna answered. ‘But I’m here now. Villa Flora is delightful. A real find. You’re going to love it.’
‘Are you going out for dinner tonight?’
‘No. I’ve just had a swim and I’m about to indulge in a baguette and some cheese with a glass of rosé that Poppy very kindly left for me, before having an early night. Tomorrow I’ll wander down to Cannes and show my face. The office is doing all the major stuff – I just have to show up a couple of times and do as I’m told.’
‘Haven’t done any sightseeing yet then?’
Anna laughed. ‘Leo, I’ve barely got here. I’ll probably have a bit of a mooch around tomorrow, if the crowds aren’t too large. I’ve got to do some food shopping anyway. How are things at your end?’ she asked, knowing that Leo was spending the night with his daughter and her new husband. ‘How’s Alison?’
‘She’s blooming,’ Leo laughed down the line. ‘Literally. Told me tonight she’s making me a grandfather before Christmas!’
‘Oh Leo, how wonderful. Do give her my love.’
‘I will. Speak tomorrow. Goodnight, my darling.’
Thoughtfully Anna prepared herself a supper tray with the goodies from the welcome basket, poured herself a glass of wine and carried it
out to a small pool-side table. Sonar garden lights placed randomly around were illuminating the terrace and garden.
Sitting there, absently fingering her gold locket Anna allowed herself to dream about her future with Leo. What would life be like as a married woman? Having a ready made family?
Carefully she slipped the locket with its chain over her head and pressed the catch. Two photographs, a few strands of hair, were nestling together in the interior. Anna gently stroked the hair as she looked at the photos. For years she’d kept the photos, both as a memento and as a link to her past, always hopeful that maybe one day her secret dream would come true. Then, she planned to replace the photos with new, modern versions. Tonight though, brushing a tear away, Anna realized she had to accept the facts. Too much time had passed. She’d left it too late.
CHAPTER 3
After collecting Anna, Daisy had no time to do more than a quick internet search for information on Philippe Cambone – which yielded very little of interest. Mainly the titles of the major films he’d been involved with. Not a hint of any scandal which was what Daisy had secretly been hoping for. As Marcus said, he’d obviously liked the ladies as there were lots of publicity shots taken over the years at various festivals and film premiers though rarely with the same companion hanging from his arm.
No real gossip anywhere about his private life, other than he was a keen sailor and kept a boat in his home port of Cannes. Maybe she could locate that and get Marcus to take a photo. She sighed as she shut down her laptop. She’d have another go tomorrow; there had to be something out there about him.
A quick shower and Daisy dithered over what to wear that was practical for the first part of the evening but would look dressy enough for Bruno’s party later, which she knew would almost certainly be full of skinny women dressed to impress. Her normal jeans and tee-shirt definitely wouldn’t do. In the end she decided on her black velvet trouser suit with a silver spaghetti strap glittery top under the jacket.
‘You look great,’ Poppy assured her. ‘Have fun.’
‘Don’t know what time I’ll be back. I promise to creep in as quietly as I can.’
Daisy took a short cut down through Le Suquet hoping to miss the crowds. A ploy that worked until she reached the top of rue Saint Antoine. From there on the place was buzzing with people out intent on enjoying themselves. Although still early, the restaurants were beginning to fill with the first diners of the evening, and Daisy caught tantalizing whiffs of food being cooked as she passed the various eateries.
What Daisy privately nicknamed the ‘men in suits’ with their official Festival passes hanging around their necks, and their loud important voices, were out in force busy networking on their BlackBerrys and laptops setting up deals to be finalized later in the week.
Gendarmes and security men were everywhere, nonchalantly watching the proceedings but alert to any possible trouble erupting. The paparazzi, ten deep around the Palais des Festivals steps, were busy photographing the stars arriving for the evening screening.
Daisy squeezed into a space next to a step ladder that had been positioned on the middle of the road island separating the Croisette from the bord de mer. The woman sitting on top of it looked down and said, ‘You’re welcome to stand on the bottom for a better view.’
‘Great. Thanks.’ Daisy said.
‘First Festival? I’ve been every year for the past ten,’ the woman continued not waiting for an answer. ‘Can’t stay away. Know now to bring this and get here early for the best view. Oooh look there’s my favourite, George Clooney. Fancy a coffee, George?’
By the time all the stars had arrived and gone up the red carpet, it was dusk and all the lights were on. Declining her new friend’s offer of going for a drink, Daisy opted instead to have a wander around the Village International while she waited to meet up with Marcus.
It proved to be a long wait. The evening screening had run on late and then Marcus had wanted to get some shots of the celebrities being whisked off to a private yacht for a champagne party. It was almost midnight before they began to make their way through the crowds still milling around on the Croisette to the party that Marcus had invites for.
There was no mistaking their own party venue as they turned into a narrow street off rue d’Antibes: blazing lights and pounding music and a crush of people queuing to enter the building.
‘I’m not sure I’m up for this,’ Daisy said, stifling a yawn as they joined the tail-end of the queue. ‘It’s been a long day. Might just call a taxi and go home.’
‘Come on Daisy, don’t be a wimp, it’s only the first day of the festival,’ Marcus said. ‘I did warn you about the late nights. Bruno’s a good contact for you, he knows lots of people – you never know who might be inside.’
‘OK. But it’s your fault if I fall down asleep.’
‘Not a chance with this racket going on,’ Marcus said taking her by the hand and leading her into the building as the security men took their tickets. ‘Now let’s mingle and see if we can find our host.’
Bruno, when they eventually located him holding court on a first floor balcony, welcomed Marcus enthusiastically and kissed Daisy on the cheek when Marcus introduced her.
‘Bruno, you knew Philippe Cambone well, didn’t you?’ Marcus asked. ‘Daisy’s writing a piece for the paper.’
Bruno nodded. ‘We go way back. He was best man at my wedding. He’s my son’s godfather. Such a shock.’ Bruno bit his lip, clearly upset.
‘He was supposed to be here tonight helping me host this bash. Instead I have to help arrange a tribute but his family are being difficult.’
‘How?’ Daisy asked.
‘They say it’s a private matter and Philippe wouldn’t have wanted a fuss,’ Bruno sighed. ‘But what they don’t seem to realize is how big a name he is, was, in the industry. We can’t just ignore his passing. It’s not possible.’
Bruno took a sip of champagne from the glass he was holding. ‘His brother, Jacques, says it’s complicated. That there are other people to be considered – presumably he means Agnes, their mother. At nearly one hundred the news has made her ill. So everything has to be low key to avoid upsetting her further. All Jacques will tell me so far is that the body will be back in France by the end of this week and an announcement will be made then about a memorial service.’
‘Do you think anyone in the family would talk to me about Philippe for a feature for the paper?’ Daisy asked.
Bruno shook his head. ‘Doubt it. The whole Cambone family appear to have closed ranks. They’re not even talking to the French press.’
‘Talk down at the Palais this afternoon was that there’s some sort of scandal about to blow up,’ Marcus said. ‘That Mr Nice Guy Cambone wasn’t all he seemed.’
Bruno glanced at him sharply. ‘Philippe was the original Mr Nice Guy I can assure you.’ Bruno sighed. ‘Of course he’s got this playboy reputation because he loved women – he was French after all. And women adored him. He stayed friends with his ex-lovers.’
Bruno stared into his champagne glass thoughtfully. ‘Still can’t believe he’s gone.’
A loud burst of music drowned out his next remark and he smiled apologetically at Daisy. As the noise abated he handed her a business card.
‘Nice to meet you. Ring me sometime if you want to talk about Philippe,’ and he turned to greet another guest.
Daisy looked around the crowded room trying to see if she recognized anyone famous. Unlike Poppy she did read the gossip magazines, purely in the name of research of course, and knew the faces of most of the ‘A list’ celebrities.
‘Just spotted an old mate over by the bar,’ Marcus shouted in her ear. ‘Didn’t expect to see him down here this year, he’s had a few problems. Come and meet him,’ and catching hold of her hand he led her across the room.
As Marcus tapped a tall man on his shoulder saying, ‘Nat, how you doing?’ Daisy recognized him. Cindy’s minder.
They both smiled at each. ‘You!’ th
ey said in unison.
‘You two know each other?’ Marcus asked.
‘We’ve just seen each other around,’ Nat said.
‘Sorted your problem yet?’ Marcus asked.
Nat shook his head. ‘Still working on it. Hope to get it sorted during the festival.’
Marcus turned to Daisy. ‘This guy is a brilliant writer but insists on working as a nanny.’
‘A fellow’s got to eat,’ Nat protested, smiling at Daisy. ‘And while the rogues in this business insist on pinching my ideas,’ he shrugged. ‘At least I’ve got a roof over my head. Besides, I like children. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m hoping there’s a taxi waiting for me downstairs. I’ll see you around.’
Impulsively Daisy said. ‘I’m staying in the same direction as you – could I share your taxi?’
‘Sure,’ Nat replied easily.
Daisy looked at Marcus apologetically. ‘I’m sorry but I am about to drop from exhaustion.’
Marcus placed a kiss on her cheek. ‘Go home. I’ll ring you tomorrow.’
Daisy looked at him. Now, why had he done that? Still being French or trying to stake a claim?
‘I’ll see her home safely for you, Marcus,’ Nat said.
Daisy bit her lip. Nat had obviously got the idea from the kiss that she and Marcus were an item. Was that deliberate on Marcus’s part?
The taxi was waiting when they got downstairs and Nat held the door open for Daisy before climbing in himself.
‘Where are you staying?’
Daisy gave him the address and took a ten euro note out of her bag and offered it to Nat who shook his head. ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s almost on my doorstep.’
‘Thanks,’ Daisy said. ‘The little girl you’re looking after, Cindy?’ she said. ‘Are her parents famous?’
‘Verity Raymond and Teddy Wickham the director.’
‘Verity Raymond as in actress?’
Nat nodded. ‘Cindy’s a sweet kid. Bit lonely at the moment. Misses her friends. But at least her father is here now. She adores him.’
‘Maybe she’d like to meet up with Tom my nephew? They’re about the same age.’
Rendezvous in Cannes Page 3