One Summer in Monte Carlo

by Jennifer Bohnet

  ‘Good. I’ll confirm the tickets before I go away next week.’

  ‘Business trip, or pleasure?’ she’d asked.

  ‘A trip to Switzerland on business,’ he had said quietly. ‘So long as the authorities don’t prevent me leaving.’

  ‘Are they likely to?’ Nanette had looked at him, trying not to show her worry but not wanting to pry.

  Mathieu had shrugged. ‘I’m hoping they’ll realise they’ve made a mistake in the next couple of days and everything will be sorted out. I’m not the man they want.’

  ‘Do you know who is?’ Nanette had asked quietly.

  Mathieu had nodded. ‘Oh yes.’ But he’d said no more and the subject had been dropped.

  As they had finished their meal and prepared to leave, the restaurant door opened and a couple entered. The man, a burly figure in an expensive black coat and wearing a trilby, immediately came over to Mathieu. The two shook hands and chatted briefly, but it wasn’t until the man said, ‘Mathieu, who is your charming companion?’ in a foreign accent that Nanette recognised as Russian, that Mathieu, reluctantly it seemed to Nanette, had introduced her.

  ‘Boris, this is my children’s nanny. Netty, this is Boris, a business acquaintance.’

  ‘Aw, come now, Mathieu, more than a business acquaintance since last week. Remember how I help you with your little difficulty?’ Boris had turned to Nanette, briefly acknowledged her with an abrupt ‘Bonjour, mademoiselle,' and turned his attention back to Mathieu. Nanette couldn’t help but overhear Boris’s next words. ‘Tell Zac I need to talk to him urgently.’

  Mathieu had nodded in reply before placing his hand in the small of her back and gently pushing her towards the door, saying goodbye to Boris.

  Knowing the way society in Monaco worked, Nanette was not surprised that once he’d learnt she was a mere nanny, Boris had ignored her. As far as he was concerned, she was just a servant and not important enough for him to bother with.

  The question, though, was, why had Mathieu introduced her as the nanny, complete with the childish name the twins called her, when earlier he’d intimated he wanted them to get to know each other better. He must have realised he’d effectively precluded her from mixing with him and this particular business associate in the future.

  Now, as she watched the morning’s market activity around her and drank her coffee, she couldn’t help wondering about that message for Zac. What was the connection between Zac and Boris? How long had Mathieu known Boris? The oft-quoted phrase about Monaco being ‘a sunny place for shady people’ came into her mind. What were Zac and Mathieu up to, associating with a Russian, whom, on first impressions, she personally wouldn’t trust an inch?

  Thoughtfully, Nanette finished her coffee, left enough euros in the saucer to cover the bill and began to make her way down to the old port. So much had changed since she lived here and yet some things were still reassuringly familiar.

  From her bedroom balcony, she’d struggled to remember the lines of the old port. To her eyes, the new harbour extension, already crowded with the floating gin palaces belonging to the rich and famous, had blended in seamlessly.

  Walking slowly along the quay, Nanette recognised some of the yachts, but to her relief there was no sign of Pole Position – the boat Zac had treated himself to after winning the US Grand Prix in Indianapolis several years ago. Knowing that he liked to have the yacht moored in Monaco and use it for parties both before and after the Grand Prix, Nanette knew that once Pole Position reappeared in the harbour, it wouldn’t be long before Zac too, was back in town.

  Glancing up to the familiar skyline behind the Hotel de Paris as she walked up the hill, something jarred in her memory. It was a second or two before Nanette realised that the nineteenth-century villa where she’d had a tiny two-room apartment had been replaced by a large ultra-modern concrete building.

  Shame; the building, one of the few old villas left, had lent a certain charm to the skyline and had emitted a belle époque atmosphere of the Riviera in its heyday, which she’d loved. Zac, though, had always complained about its lack of modern conveniences and had rarely stayed there with her.

  His own large apartment had been in one of those ultra-modern blocks a street or two away from Casino Square. Idly, Nanette wondered if he still lived there or whether, like Mathieu, he had moved on to an even grander place. Whatever, she had no intention of walking anywhere near that particular area this morning.

  Instead, she took the Avenue Monte Carlo turning and strolled along, happily indulging in a spot of wishful window shopping in the expensive boutiques that lined the small street. Once, in the past, she’d happily indulged herself buying a leather handbag in one of them. A handbag that was currently languishing in the wardrobe in her room in Blackberry Farm. Another time, another life.

  Dodging a string of excitable Japanese tourists, Nanette crossed the road and ran down a flight of steps into the immaculately tended Casino gardens. Last night, Mathieu had mentioned an exhibition of sculpture being shown there by a little-known Frenchwoman and she was looking forward to an hour or two wandering around the exhibits.

  6

  Sitting on the bed in her air-conditioned hotel bedroom, Vanessa pressed the ‘save’ key on Ralph’s laptop which they had to share because of transport issues. Their honeymoon period was over and today their real married life together would begin. A life that for the next few months would be unlike any she had ever known. She’d promised the twins that she would take lots of photos and keep a diary for them to read when she returned. Ralph had said the deeper they went into the jungle, living with the native tribes, there was unlikely to be any hope of a regular satellite connection.

  Knowing that last night’s Skype connection with the twins was probably the last time she’d be able to talk to them for several weeks was hard. She could tell, though, that both of them, whilst missing her, were happy and settled in Monaco with Mathieu and Nanette. Olivia had been excited about a new friend she’d made at the International School and Pierre couldn’t wait for Grand Prix weekend. Jean-Claude had figured in the conversation a lot too, Vanessa had noted. The twins were definitely growing closer to their grandfather now they were living in Monaco which was good. She’d always got on well with Jean-Claude and after divorcing Mathieu she’d felt more than a twinge of guilt that they were missing out on a relationship with their grandfather.

  With the twins hogging the computer, Vanessa had only managed a fleeting conversation with Nanette at the end. Her friend had reassured her that everything was good and she was to stop worrying about them and enjoy her adventure in the jungle. Vanessa remembered how torn she’d been when Ralph had asked her to accompany him on this trip. While she loved his enthusiasm and passion for the project and supported his decision to make a documentary about the jungle, the thought of joining him and leaving the twins for so long, scared her. And guilt had, of course, reared its head. Nanette agreeing to look after the twins with Mathieu while she was away had been the deciding factor. She’d be leaving them in the safest possible hands with two people they knew and adored. Vanessa knew it had been a big ask of Nanette to put the past behind her and return to the Principality and she’d worried about it, but hopefully it would prove to be a step forward for Nanette. It certainly seemed as though it was working out currently.

  Resolutely, Vanessa pushed all thoughts of the twins and home away as she picked up the laptop and slid it into the travel bag. In a few minutes, they would be on their way to the airport and the adventure would really begin. The last week had been wonderful, but now she had to focus all her energies on spending the next few months with her new husband in one of the world’s most exotic, dangerous and inaccessible places.

  They would no longer be alone but part of a team. She hadn’t yet met Harry and Nick, the cameramen, but Ralph had assured her they’d all get on. He’d worked with both of them before on previous documentaries.

  ‘They’re both as passionate about the environment as I am a
nd I know they’ll do all they possibly can to make sure the film shows the jungle in its current desperate state.’

  When the idea of making the documentary had first surfaced, Ralph had talked to her about how the world’s most important ecosystem was being destroyed. How he wanted to do something to help stop the environmental contamination.

  ‘If the world doesn’t do something about deforestation and forest degradation, sixty-five per cent of the forest is in danger of disappearing in the next fifty years. And that’s before we talk about the loss of the indigenous population and their traditional way of life and the species that will die out as their habitat is destroyed.’

  Vanessa knew Ralph was determined his documentary was going to record the lives of the ‘real’ native Amazonians they struggled to survive in a changing forest and it was one of the reasons he’d refused a sponsorship offer from a large multinational company.

  ‘Staying independent, I can show the truth,’ he’d said to Vanessa when he was outlining his plans. ‘Nobody can tell me what to film or say. I can talk to whoever I want in an effort to uncover the real truth. The budget is going to be tight, but it’s the only way.’

  Deciding she had time for one last cool shower before Ralph returned and they left for the airport, Vanessa quickly undressed and stepped under the lukewarm water. Wrapping herself in the hotel’s large bath towel afterwards, she crossed to the window and glanced out at the bustling street scene below. A burst of apprehensive excitement kicked into her thoughts. Tomorrow this room would be a memory, and the chaotic scenes outside would have been replaced by forest and vegetation inhabited by strange-sounding animals.

  Their first few days in the Amazon jungle were going to be spent in the comfort of an ‘eco-tourist’ camp before they and the crew moved off to explore and stay in a more remote area, with the help of a native guide. Harry and Nick had flown up earlier with all their equipment and would have organised the next stage of the journey by the time she and Ralph arrived.

  Vanessa turned to smile at Ralph as he closed the door behind him.

  ‘Everything packed? Good,’ Ralph said as she nodded. ‘Ten minutes and we’re off. Think I’ll have a quick shower too. Might be sometime before we get the luxury of unlimited water again.’

  Once they were both dressed, they picked up the backpacks Ralph had insisted were far more practical than suitcases in the jungle, and went to find their taxi for the trip out to the airport.

  The office of the company that operated the small Cessna plane Ralph had chartered to fly them up to an outpost on the Amazon River, was situated at the edge of the airfield. Only internal flights operated from this run-down airstrip and, walking towards the shabby hut where they had to check-in, Vanessa found herself worrying about the safety of the plane she was about to board.

  ‘They do have regular maintenance and safety checks, don’t they?’ she asked Ralph.

  ‘Of course. Don’t worry. José and Carlos are very proud of their planes. Carlos told me they are the best in Brazil. Ah, here’s José,’

  ‘Senhor Ralph and senhora. We are ready for you. We go and—’ The shrill ring of a telephone interrupted him and he glanced towards the desk. ‘Bom-dia,’ he answered before immediately falling silent. When, after several moments he replaced the receiver, his eyes were bright with tears as he turned to face Ralph and Vanessa. ‘That was another pilot telling me that a mutual friend has been shot down near Manaus.’ José swore angrily. ‘The authorities apparently mistake it for a drug-running plane. The fools! This time it is a big mistake – an American missionary and her family were on board. Now we shall have an investigation.’

  Vanessa gazed at him, horror-struck. Manaus was a place on Ralph’s itinerary. They were due to arrive near there in a few weeks. She moved closer to Ralph, who placed a comforting arm around her shoulders.

  ‘Do they often shoot planes out of the sky?’ she asked.

  José nodded vehemently. ‘It happens,’ he said shortly.

  Vanessa shivered. Of course, she’d known they were going into a drug-smuggling area, but she didn’t do drugs, nobody she knew did drugs and she hadn’t envisaged the drug trade would impinge on her life.

  Images of the twins came into her mind. What if she and Ralph were… No! She couldn’t, wouldn’t, follow that thought. Ralph had warned her about the dangers of this trip, from mosquitoes to alligators, but the shooting down of planes had never been mentioned.

  Ralph glanced at José. ‘I need to have a private word with my wife. Give us a couple of minutes, will you, please?’

  José nodded. ‘I’ll wait by the plane. We need to take off in the next quarter of an hour, so don’t take too long.’

  As José strolled off to prepare the plane and do the last-minute checks, Ralph took Vanessa gently in his arms.

  ‘Are you sure you want to go through with this? I know you’re thinking about the consequences for the twins if we’d been on that plane. After this flight into the jungle, I promise our exploring will be done on foot, or by water. So, after today, the next plane you get on will be the one taking us home.’ He gently kissed her on the forehead. ‘On the other hand, if you’d rather I continued on my own and you want to return home now, I’ll understand.’

  Standing in the circle of Ralph’s arms, Vanessa took several deep breaths. Did he really understand how she was feeling? How torn she felt right now? Should she tell Ralph she couldn’t go with him after all and instead of flying deep into the jungle with José, catch the next available flight back to England and her children. The decision was hers alone to make.

  7

  ‘Do you know what time we can expect Mathieu back from Switzerland?’ Jean-Claude asked. ‘If at all?’

  ‘No,’ Nanette said. ‘I think he was hoping to be back before the twins went to bed tonight.’

  It was Sunday morning and Jean-Claude had invited Nanette and the twins for a swim and to have lunch. Nanette and Jean-Claude were sitting on the terrace of his villa, set in the hills at the back of Monte Carlo, with a wonderful view out over the Mediterranean. Down below the terrace, the blue water of the swimming pool shimmered in the heat of the sun and the twins were happily playing with the water toys they’d found in the pool house.

  ‘Does he say anything to you about his recent trouble?’ Jean-Claude asked.

  Nanette shook her head. ‘Seems to have blown over. He was worried that the authorities wouldn’t let him leave but…’ She shrugged. ‘That doesn’t seem to have happened.’

  ‘He refuses to talk to me about it at all,’ Jean-Claude said, shaking his head. ‘All he say is for me not to worry. Everything is under control and is being sorted out. I just wish I knew what was going on. Friends tell me he’s mixing with some bad company.’

  Nanette was silent, not knowing what to say. The last time Mathieu had been home, he’d been in a very upbeat mood, saying that life and business was good, but, like Jean-Claude, she was concerned about who he was doing business with. What sort of business was he dealing in anyway? She still worried too about the connection between him, Zac and this man, Boris.

  ‘I’m a go-between,’ Mathieu had said, when she’d casually asked him about his business before he left on this latest trip. ‘A broker, if you like. I find what people need, who’s got it and put them together. I keep most of the info in my head, so very little paperwork.’

  Which is conveniently untraceable, Nanette couldn’t help thinking.

  Looking at Jean-Claude, Nanette asked, ‘Do you know a man called Boris?’

  ‘Only by reputation. I’ve never met him,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘Why?’

  Nanette hesitated before answering. ‘I think he was the business acquaintance who paid Mathieu’s bail. He has some sort of connection with Zac, too.’

  Before Jean-Claude could respond, his housekeeper appeared to say that lunch would be ready in fifteen minutes.

  ‘Thank you, Anneka. We need to round up the twins,’ Jean-Claude said.

 
They both stood up and, leaving the terrace, began making their way downstairs through the villa to the garden and the pool. As they passed the open door of Jean-Claude’s office, Nanette was amazed to see piles of papers and folders littering the desk and spilling on to the floor. Nanette knew he ran a hugely successful wine export business, but Jean-Claude clearly didn’t follow his son’s business philosophy of keeping paperwork to a minimum.

  Jean-Claude saw her looking and said, ‘My PA left a few weeks ago and I haven’t had a chance to find a replacement.’ He hesitated. ‘You wouldn’t have time to help me sort out my bureau, would you? Mathieu, he say in the past that Zac was lucky to have you as his PA. You are très efficient.’

  ‘Of course, I’ll help,’ Nanette said, ignoring the mention of Zac. ‘I’d like to. Florence takes care of everything at the apartment and politely refuses all my offers of help. I’ll come up tomorrow after I’ve taken the twins to school and make a start.’ Work always helped to take her mind off things and now the twins were at school for most of the day, finding something to occupy herself with had proved difficult. There was a limit to how many coffees she could drink sitting at a pavement table at the Café de Paris.

  ‘There is another favour I ask,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘I have to go to a business cocktail party at the Hôtel de Paris in the week and I need a partner. Perhaps I can persuade you to accompany me? It’s just a couple of hours. We could go for dinner somewhere afterwards if you like.’

  Nanette hesitated, not sure she wanted to get involved in the Monte Carlo social scene again. She hadn’t particularly enjoyed it in the days she’d accompanied Zac to various parties organised by friends and the sponsors of F1. She’d never felt she had much in common with the high-maintenance women hanging off the arms of the wealthy men who were invariably there.