“Oui, bien sûr,” replied the waiter as he scribbled down the order on his pad and left.
Jeremy turned to Eloise. “Been enjoying the sun?” he asked, smiling at her.
“Yes, in the afternoons. As you know, they don’t work here between twelve and four, so nothing can be done then. I think it’s a great way of doing things. It means you can enjoy the beach and the sea every day if you want to. And what’s the point of being in the South of France if you can’t go to the beach and sunbathe?”
Eloise outlined to Jeremy the arrangements for the conference and, although she was satisfied with her work, she was anxious to ensure that nothing went wrong. When they had finished their drinks, she took both Jeremy and Anna through to the conference rooms and showed them everything. By the time they had finished, it was nearly eleven o’clock.
“How about a nightcap?” suggested Jeremy.
“Not for me thanks,” said Eloise. “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow so I think I should get some sleep. Goodnight.” She waved her hand as she headed for the lifts.
CHAPTER 7
Two days after Jeremy and Anna had joined Eloise in Sainte Maxime, Jacques awoke on the morning of his first charter with feelings of excitement intermingled with apprehension. He hoped that all would go well and that he would get further business from his new and, for the moment, only client. Gilles had told him to have the boat tied up and ready in the harbour at Sainte Maxime by ten o’clock. There he would be met by Jeremy Baines who would want to inspect the boat and check all the arrangements before his guests boarded at ten-thirty. To achieve this, Jacques knew that he would have to leave Port Grimaud no later than nine forty five, and he still had to collect Yvonne and the buffet lunch which she had agreed to prepare for him.
“Jacques! Are you awake?” he heard his mother calling.
“Oui, Maman,” he called back, “I’ll be up in a minute.”
Although Jacques fully intended to live on the Esprit, he had not yet taken the step of leaving home completely. Sometimes he slept on board and sometimes he stayed with his mother; she was always pleased to have him at home.
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A few miles up the coast, in her bedroom at the hotel in Sainte Maxime, Eloise answered the early morning call she had booked and turned over to face the window. She rose from her bed, dressed only in the long tee-shirt which was her normal night attire, and drew back the curtains allowing the sun to burst into the room. It was a beautiful sunny day, as indeed every day had been since she had flown in to Nice airport. There was a knock at the door and she opened it to find a trolley bearing her breakfast waiting outside. She pulled it into the room and poured herself a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice before returning to the bed.
She recalled with satisfaction that the conference had gone well. A minor problem with one of the projectors had given her a few moments of panic but the hotel’s technician had arrived almost as soon as she had put the phone down and the fault had been corrected in moments. Many of the delegates had taken the trouble to tell her how much they had enjoyed the day and, all in all, the event had been a success. There only remained the boat trip to Monte Carlo and her first major assignment for Baines Automotive would be over. There was another knock at the door.
“Un message pour mademoiselle,” stammered the bell-boy as he thrust the silver salver bearing a small envelope under her nose.
The note was from Jeremy and thanked her for arranging the conference so well. She put the note on the table before stripping off her tee-shirt and going into the bathroom to shower.
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At the same time that Eloise was enjoying a leisurely shower, Jacques drove from Port Grimaud to Sainte Pierre des Maures with his usual total disregard for his own safety and that of any other driver who happened to be on the road at the same time although, on this occasion, there was some justification for it. When he arrived, Yvonne answered his knock at the door of the gallery and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, standing on the tips of her toes to reach him.
“Bonjour, Jacques.”
“Is everything ready?” Jacques asked, following her up the stairs to the apartment above the gallery.
“But of course,” she replied, “Didn’t I say it would be? What’s the time?”
Jacques looked at his watch. “Nine-thirty,” he said. “We’re going to be late.”
“Then we’d better get going.”
As they drove back to Port Grimaud, the rear seat of the car was piled high with that part of the buffet lunch which would not fit in the boot. Jacques again drove dangerously fast and Yvonne cursed him when he drove over a pot-hole in the road, forcing her to put her hand out behind her to steady the boxes containing the carefully prepared food.
When they reached the seaward entrance to Port Grimaud, Jacques waited impatiently for the guard to raise the barrier which prevents unauthorised cars from entering the narrow streets of the town. The sun was beating down on the car and he was hot and sticky; the back of his shirt was wet with sweat. As soon as the barrier was up, Jacques shot through the archway into the Place des Six Canons, along the Rue Grande past the hotel and across the helipad at the Capitainerie. He screeched to a halt behind the Esprit and leapt out to run onto the boat and open the sliding door. Then he helped Yvonne unload the buffet which was no longer quite so tidily laid out in the boxes. When they had finished, the Capitaine, who was the person responsible for the smooth running of the port, was standing beside the car.
“Vous ne pouvez pas le laisser ici, vous savez?” he barked at Jacques.
“Oui, oui, deux minutes!” shouted Jacques in response before calling over his shoulder, “Yvonne, Adolf says you must move the car.”
Yvonne threw up her hands in despair, jumped into the little Peugeot and drove away from the boats, back along the Rue Grande, across the Place des Six Canons, and out through the archway.
Five minutes later she returned, having put the car in the car park and sprinted all the way back. She was holding her sandals in her hands as she ran and every now and then she hopped along on one foot as she brushed a sharp piece of grit from one of her feet. Jacques laughed loudly at her from the fly bridge of the Esprit. He had already started the boat’s engines and raised the anchor and was ready to move off once Yvonne had untied the stern mooring warps. This she did as soon as she reached the Esprit, even though she was still puffing and panting from the run.
As the Esprit emerged from Port Grimaud into the bay, Yvonne climbed the steps and joined Jacques on the fly bridge.
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Fifteen minutes later, when the Esprit arrived in the harbour at Sainte Maxime, Eloise, with Jeremy and Anna on either side of her, was waiting at the quayside. Although Jacques was only a few minutes late, Anna was tapping her foot impatiently as she watched the boat approach slowly and then turn away from them before dropping anchor and reversing into the berth. Yvonne, already quite accomplished in her duties as a member of the crew despite only having had a few days’ practice, had dropped the boat’s fenders over the sides and the stern and was standing with her bare feet braced apart waiting for the boat to come close to the quay. She looked very professional as she jumped down from the partially lowered gangway onto the quay dressed in her white shorts and a white tee-shirt with ‘Esprit de Jacques’ emblazoned across the front of it. Quickly, she wrapped the port side mooring warp twice round the nearest bollard and then, putting one of her feet on top of the bollard, she leaned back on the rope and pulled it in as the Esprit drew ever nearer to the quay. At the same time, Jacques put the engines into forward gear and revved them briefly to stop the backward motion of the boat. When the Esprit had stopped, Yvonne jumped back on board to fetch the starboard mooring warp and attached that to another bollard. Then she stood back and surveyed her handiwork. Jacques came down the steps from the fly bridge, lowered the gangway fully onto the quayside and strode across it to stand beside Yvonne
in front of his clients.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Baines,” he said holding out his hand to Jeremy, “I am Jacques Armand. The Esprit is my boat and I will be taking you to Monte Carlo today.”
“Bonjour, Jacques,” answered Jeremy, shaking his hand.
“You’re late!” piped up Anna, “You were supposed to be here at ten o’clock and it’s ten past now.” She tapped the Cartier watch on her wrist with one of her long fingernails to emphasise the point and looked expectantly at Jacques.
“Oui, Madame,” said Jacques, cocking his head on one side and looking her straight in the eye, “But we have plenty of time to be ready for your guests.” Turning his attention to Jeremy, he said, “I would like to introduce Yvonne who will be looking after your guests during the voyage.”
“Bonjour, Yvonne,” said Jeremy politely before turning back to Jacques, “This is my wife Anna and this is Eloise, who is responsible for organising our conferences.”
“Bonjour Madame,” said Jacques coldly to Anna as he shook her perfectly manicured hand. Then he turned to Eloise whose honey blonde hair shone as it reflected the rays of the sun. He took her hand in his and bowed slightly before lifting it to his mouth and kissing it. “Bonjour, mademoiselle. I hope you will enjoy the day.” He let go of her hand and stood back, unable to take his eyes off her.
Eloise smiled shyly. “I’m sure I will. And that our guests will too. Perhaps we can inspect the arrangements now?”
“But of course.” Jacques swept his arm back directing Eloise and the others on board the Esprit just as the port manager arrived to collect his fee from Jacques.
A couple of minutes later, with the port manager paid, Jacques followed Yvonne back on board the boat and into the saloon. Eloise turned to Yvonne as she came in. “This is excellent!” she said, indicating the buffet Yvonne had prepared. “Much better than I had expected. Thank you.”
Jacques heard and smiled at Eloise as he walked past her on his way to Jeremy who was looking out of the front window of the boat. Yvonne, who had spent two days preparing the food, relaxed and her face brightened at the compliment from Eloise.
“Merci,” she responded, “I have tried to cater for all tastes and there should be enough for fourteen people. I was told there would be eleven guests plus the three of you. Is that correct?”
“Yes, that’s right,” said Eloise.
While Jacques was talking to Jeremy, he kept an eye on Eloise and noticed that she was also casting glances at him. Over Jeremy’s shoulder, he tracked her with his eyes as she came over to join them at the helm station.
“Jacques, could I go through the programme for the day with you?” she said.
“Of course.” Jacques smiled and indicated to Eloise that they should leave the saloon. “Let’s go up to the fly bridge,” he suggested as they came out onto the aft deck.
Sitting beside Eloise, on the luxuriously upholstered L-shaped bench seat at the back of the fly bridge, Jacques outlined the itinerary for the day to her. While he spoke, he examined her closely. He was trying not to be too obvious about this but it was clear that he found her very attractive.
“That all sounds great. I’m really looking forward to the day,” said Eloise when he had finished. “Oh, one more thing, Jeremy has asked me to invite you and Yvonne to join us for dinner at our hotel afterwards, if you can?”
Jacques was surprised by the invitation but he hid it well. “Yes, I would like that very much,” he said, “but Yvonne will not be able to come as she will have to return home to close the gallery.”
“The gallery?”
“Yvonne runs a gallery in Sainte Pierre, where she lives. It’s a little village up in the mountains. There is a woman, her cousin, who looks after the place when she’s not there but she likes to close up herself and lock the day’s takings away in the evening. But I will be able to accept your invitation.”
“But…” Eloise paused and Jacques waited for her to go on, “doesn’t Yvonne work for you? Isn’t she your crew?”
Jacques laughed. “No, no. Yvonne is my sister. She doesn’t work for me. She does this for me as a favour.”
A flicker of excitement crossed Eloise’s face as she spoke. “Oh, I see. I thought maybe she was your girlfriend.”
Eloise smiled and gazed into Jacques’ eyes as he gazed into hers. The narrowing space between their faces was alive with unspoken messages, ones they both understood perfectly.
The spell was broken by Jeremy’s voice as he climbed the steps to the fly bridge. “What are you two doing all alone up here?” he said as his head appeared.
Jacques and Eloise pulled away from each other sharply and it was Eloise who spoke first, after clearing her throat.
“We’ve just been going through the plans for the day,” she said, “Everything is fine. It’s going to be a super day.” Eloise and Jacques rose simultaneously from the seat.
“Good,” said Jeremy, “Our guests should be arriving soon. Could you greet them for me as they come on board?”
“Yes, of course,” replied Eloise.
Followed by Jacques, Eloise went down the steps to the aft deck where Yvonne and Anna were talking about the recipes for some of the canapés.
Before long the guests started to arrive and by a quarter to eleven the Esprit was under way, leaving the harbour of Sainte Maxime behind her. Although there had been nearly a hundred people at the conference the day before, only eleven carefully selected customers and potential customers had been invited on the boat trip. The eleven guests who now milled around on the aft deck were a disparate bunch ranging from a quite attractive and vivacious woman in her early thirties to a grossly overweight middle aged man who would spend most of the trip leering at both Yvonne and Eloise.
Once clear of the harbour, Jacques opened up the throttles and the Esprit began to plane over the sea at her full cruising speed. Several of the guests made their way up to the fly bridge to make the most of the view, while others remained on the aft deck and a few went into the saloon.
After two hours of cruising along the French coast and during which the guests and their hosts enjoyed Yvonne’s sumptuous buffet and several bottles of good French wine, the Esprit de Jacques rounded a headland and Monte Carlo came into view. It was a beautiful sight with the palace high up on the promontory and boats of all shapes and sizes moored in the harbour. Behind the boats, skyscrapers rose up, silhouetted against the majestic dark form of the mountains.
With the assistance of Yvonne, Jacques moored the Esprit on the west side of the harbour, near the pink apartment blocks which line the road at that point. The little party would need to walk halfway round the harbour in order to reach the bars and cafés which overlook the boats and face out towards the harbour entrance.
As they ambled towards the cafés, following on behind their guests, Jacques and his three clients stopped at the first café they came to and sat at a table under a straw parasol. Jacques made sure that he sat next to Eloise, almost pushing Anna out of the way to achieve his objective.
When Jeremy had finished his first glass of wine, he summoned a passing waiter and was about to order another round when Jacques suddenly stood up.
“I think I might go for a walk round the town,” he said, rising from his seat, “Does anyone want to come with me?”
Eloise rose from her seat quickly, almost too quickly. “Yes, I’d like to do that,” she said and Jacques smiled as Jeremy and Anna looked on. “You two don’t mind, do you, if Jacques and I leave you to it?”
Jeremy and Anna were not given the opportunity to object as Jacques and Eloise walked off quickly together. As they went, Anna waved them cheerily on their way and smiled knowingly at her husband.
Jacques and Eloise strolled towards the ‘centre ville’ and soon came to a quiet café, away from the main tourist areas. Jacques suggested they stop for a coffee and Eloise readily agreed. They found a table near the back and sat opposite each other. After the waiter had brought them their coffee, Jacques op
ened the conversation.
“So, tell me, why does a beautiful English girl like you have a French name?” he asked.
Eloise smiled a shy smile before responding. “Simple. My mother is French.”
“No! Which part of France is she from?”
“You won’t believe this,” said Eloise, still smiling at him as she took a sip from her coffee. Jacques narrowed his eyes and stared intently at her as he waited for her to continue. “My mother grew up in Sainte Maxime. But her father, my grandfather, now lives in Port Grimaud.”
Jacques was surprised at this revelation and he eyed Eloise carefully as he drank from his cup before responding. “So, who is he then, your grandfather? Maybe I know him.”
“I expect you do. He’s quite well known, a prominent citizen, you might say.”
Jacques was intrigued. Leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table, he cupped his chin in his hands and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Eloise sipped her coffee again and looked coquettishly over her cup at him, the expression on her face tantalising and teasing him.
“His name is Philippe Lacoste,” she said eventually. “Have you heard of him?”
Jacques’ face dropped. He sat back in his chair and rested his hands on the table in front of him as he spoke. “Of course. Everyone has heard of Monsieur Lacoste,” he said a little disappointedly.
“Is that a problem for you?” she said quietly, her smile fading slightly as she noticed the change in his attitude but he soon recovered his good spirits.
“No!” he said emphatically, “Definitely not! Philippe Lacoste is just the richest and most powerful man in Port Grimaud. Why should that be a problem? I just need to be careful what I say to you, that’s all.” Jacques reached into his pocket and slapped some coins on the table before jumping up from his seat.
“Come on, little rich girl! Let me show you the sights of Monte Carlo.”
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