One Summer in Monte Carlo

by Jennifer Bohnet

  She released the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding as she saw Frances submit to the ministrations of the same teenager who had washed her own hair.

  Nanette knew it would be impossible for her to make even the smallest of small talk about the evening when her life had changed forever with a woman she barely knew if she was recognised. Adam was tweaking her hair now with the final touches after her blow-dry. With luck, she’d have paid and be long gone before Frances Scott was able to cast her eyes around the salon in search of any new or old acquaintances.

  Early evening and a thoughtful Nanette added a generous amount of rose essence oil to the bath as the water gushed out of the taps. With his yacht back in the harbour, it could only be a matter of time now before Zac appeared in Monaco. Fleetingly, she wondered what his reaction to her being in town would be. She didn’t for one moment imagine it would be unadulterated delight, which, thinking about it, would suit her fine. Letting Zac back into even the fringes of her life whilst she was here in Monaco was not in the plan. Ignoring each other’s presence would be ideal.

  Stepping into the tub and sinking into the hot, scented water, Nanette tried to drown out all thoughts of the past and Zac from her mind. Just because his yacht was here didn’t mean he was likely to be out and about this evening.

  ‘Mmm, you smell nice, Netty,’ Olivia said, when Nanette appeared in the sitting room an hour later, where Jean-Claude was waiting. ‘Your dress is cool.’

  ‘Thank you. I hope it’s the sort of thing people wear to cocktail parties. It’s years since I’ve been to one, so I’m a bit out of touch these days,’ she said, glancing anxiously at Jean-Claude for reassurance. ‘You’re looking extremely smart yourself.’ Nanette smiled. She’d forgotten how de rigueur the wearing of a bow tie was in Monaco. In his charcoal grey suit, crisp white shirt and black leather dress shoes, he looked the picture of the successful businessman she knew he was.

  ‘You look lovely,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘The taxi is waiting, so shall we go? Is Mathieu home for the twins?’

  Nanette shook her head. ‘No. He rang earlier to say it will be late tonight before he gets back. Florence is here. I’ll just tell her we’re leaving.’

  Early-evening traffic was heavy and the taxi crawled up the hill towards Place du Casino.

  ‘You’re very quiet,’ Jean-Claude said, glancing at her. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine. Just a bit nervous. I haven’t done much socialising recently.’ She didn’t like to admit to Jean-Claude that this event tonight would be the first time in years she’d ventured into any sort of social gathering not made up of family and known, personal, friends.

  ‘It’s not a particularly big gathering tonight,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘And if you’re worrying about Pole Position being back on its mooring, I happen to know Zac Ewart isn’t in town this evening,’ he added quietly.

  Nanette looked at him, surprised.

  ‘When I saw the yacht this morning, I knew you’d be worried, so I made enquiries. Zac is busy testing in Jerez with his team for the next two days.’

  ‘Oh, JC, thank you for that,’ Nanette said gratefully, feeling the tension drain from her body. ‘Now I can relax and help you with whatever you want me to do. Do you hope to promote your business tonight? Or is it a case of other businesses wanting you to use them? What’s the matter?’ she asked anxiously, as Jean-Claude stared at her, a strange look on his face.

  ‘My late wife was the only person who ever called me JC,’ Jean-Claude said slowly.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. It slipped out, without me even thinking about it,’ Nanette said, embarrassed at her first faux pas of the evening. She hadn’t even realised that she’d called him JC rather than Jean-Claude. ’I’ll stick to your full name in future.’

  ‘No. It’s fine. It was just the shock of hearing you say it. Please, I’d like you to call me JC, only perhaps not in front of my business associates tonight.’ He smiled at her. A smile Nanette returned, happy in the knowledge she hadn’t upset him, or brought back sad memories.

  As the taxi drew up in front of the Hotel de Paris, the uniformed doorman opened the door and ushered them up the steps into the opulent foyer with its chandeliers, deep carpets, marble stairs and enough fresh flowers to stock a florist’s. Once inside, where the head maître d’ greeted Jean-Claude personally, they made their way to the Salon Berlioz, already buzzing with people.

  Accepting glasses of champagne from an attentive waitress, Jean-Claude said, ‘Right. Better start mixing. Let’s start by talking to Robert, one of the vineyard owners I buy from. Normally I have to drive down to his chateau in the Var to meet him.’

  For the next hour, Jean-Claude circulated, introducing Nanette to so many people she forgot their names instantly. There was only one person with whom she had any sort of rapport and that was Evie, personal assistant to Luc, a formidable bear-like man who, Evie assured her, despite appearances, ‘is a real sweetie’.

  ‘Been in Monte long?’ Evie asked, taking a smoked-salmon blini from a passing waiter and gesturing to Nanette to do the same.

  ‘Just a few weeks,’ Nanette said non-committedly. ‘You?’

  ‘Six months. I love it. It’s all so glamorous. I can’t wait for the Grand Prix.’

  Nanette smiled at her infectious enthusiasm, recognising and remembering similar feelings when she’d first arrived.

  ‘Are you Jean-Claude’s new assistant?’

  ‘Sort of. Officially I’m his grandchildren’s nanny.’

  ‘Really? Gosh, he doesn’t look old enough to have grandkids,’ Evie said, looking across at Jean-Claude who was chatting and laughing with Luc. ‘You know that old black and white photo of Princess Grace and that popular actor she made a film with – Cary Grant? That’s who he reminds me of.’

  Nanette followed her gaze and nodded in agreement. ‘Definite resemblance. Fancy meeting up for a coffee sometime?’ she said impulsively. ‘I’m missing my sister and girlfriend from back home and could do with some girly chat.’

  ‘Love to,’ Evie said. ‘Take my card and give me a ring next week. Better go, I think Luc wants me. Ciao.’

  ‘Ciao,’ Nanette answered, smiling.

  She was still smiling when Jean-Claude joined her a couple of minutes later.

  ‘Shall we go? I booked a table for nine o’clock at my favourite fish restaurant on Boulevard Grande-Bretagne.’ He stopped suddenly and looked at her anxiously. ‘You do like fish, don’t you? I didn’t think to ask!’

  ‘Yes, JC, I do,’ Nanette laughingly reassured him.

  A crowd of paparazzi had gathered on the pavement outside the Casino and flashbulbs started to pop as they walked past. Nanette, glancing briefly across to see if she recognised the blonde celebrity posing in the Casino entrance, failed to notice a lone photographer moving backwards.

  Jean-Claude’s warning shout to the man, ‘Hey, mind where you’re going,’ and his attempt to pull her out of the way were both too late. The photographer collided with her heavily and they both fell over the small hedge that separated the pavement from the parkland grass in the middle of the Place du Casino.

  Dazed, Nanette sat on the ground, taking deep breaths for several moments and trying in vain to ignore the cameras that were now aimed in her direction.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked a concerned Jean-Claude. ‘Do you think you’ve broken anything?’

  Nanette shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine. I’m just winded. I could do with a hand to get up though.’

  Gently, Jean-Claude helped her to her feet.

  ‘Mademoiselle, I am so sorry,’ the photographer said.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Nanette replied. ‘I wasn’t looking where I was going either.’ She looked at Jean-Claude. ‘Could we just get to the restaurant please? I’d like some water.’

  ‘Hey!’ the photographer said suddenly. ‘I recognise you. Aren’t you the woman who nearly killed Zac Ewart?’

  10

  The words �
�Aren’t you the woman who nearly killed Zac Ewart?’ were destined to ring in Nanette’s head for days after the accident. She’d known it was inevitable that someone from the past would recognise her, but somehow she’d expected it to happen during Grand Prix week when people she’d worked with years ago were sure to be in town. Was she destined to always be remembered by complete strangers for an event she wished had never happened?

  As she’d stared at the photographer, shocked into silence by his words, Jean-Claude had stopped a passing taxi, helped her into it and taken her back to his villa. He had comforted her, telling her that it was an isolated incident.

  ‘You might have a certain notoriety for a few days now the press have realised you’re back. Especially,’ he hesitated before continuing, ‘when Zac Ewart arrives. I promise you it will pass.’

  He’d insisted she sat on the terrace and sipped the brandy he poured her while he phoned the restaurant and cancelled the table reservation. Once that was done, he cooked them a simple supper of pasta, served with a slice of walnut and onion tart and a green salad. They ate the meal sitting out on the terrace watching the lights of Monaco twinkle below them as dusk fell. Nanette brushed aside Jean-Claude’s apologies for it not being the dinner he’d planned to treat her to and promised they’d go another evening.

  ‘Honestly, JC, I’m perfectly happy with the meal. The setting too is perfect.’ She gestured out over the terrace to the view. ‘And it’s so peaceful – unlike the apartment.’ Nanette took a sip of the water that Jean-Claude had poured her. ‘Were you happy with tonight’s get-together from a business point of view?’ She didn’t like to voice the words she really wanted to say, ‘I hope I didn’t let you down,’ in case it made her sound needy, when really she just hoped she’d played her part of ‘plus-one’ for the evening to his satisfaction.

  Jean-Claude smiled. ‘Yes. As networking events go, it was good.’ He glanced at her. ‘Thank you for coming with me, and I hope it wasn’t too much of an ordeal?’

  Nanette shook her head. ‘No, I enjoyed it. I met someone new too – Evie.’

  ‘That’s good. Maybe we can do it again – only if you’d like to of course.’ Jean-Claude hesitated before adding, ‘These things are so much more enjoyable with a friend at my side,’

  ‘I’d love to come with you, JC,’ Nanette said. ‘Next time, I may know a little more about your business as I’m intending to come up and do some tidying up of your office this week.’

  ‘Thank you. Let me know which day and I’ll ask Anneka to make lunch for two.’

  Once they’d finished their impromptu supper, the two of them sat companionably chatting as darkness fell until Jean-Claude stood up.

  ‘I think it’s time I took you home,’ he said.

  Nanette glanced at her watch. ‘I hadn’t realised it was so late. I’m sorry about my silly accident. Dinner at the restaurant would have been good, I’m sure, but this has been a lovely end to the evening. Thank you.’ She didn’t dare put into words just how much she’d enjoyed Jean-Claude’s company for the last couple of hours in case he thought she was gushing. But it was a long time since she’d felt so comfortable and at ease with a man.

  Jean-Claude gave her a look she found impossible to interpret. ‘I’d suggest we walk down, but I think it better if I call a taxi.’

  Mathieu was in when they let themselves in to the apartment. Nanette wouldn’t have mentioned her fall, but Jean-Claude quickly told him about the evening’s incident before wishing Nanette. ‘Goodnight. I hope you are not too bruised in the morning.’

  As he left, Nanette went through the sitting room, opened the patio doors and stepped out onto the balcony. Standing there watching the lights and looking over the harbour, she was deep in thought when Mathieu joined her.

  ‘I see Pole Position is back,’ he said, looking down towards the yachts. There was a pause before he added, ‘Zac is planning a big party on board in a couple of weeks, I understand.’

  ‘Of course he is,’ Nanette said shortly, remembering when she’d done the organising for the on-board parties. ‘Knowing Zac, he won’t stop at the one.’

  Mathieu looked at her. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked gently.

  Nanette nodded. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just that photographer tonight…’ She sighed, shook her head and didn’t finish the sentence.

  ‘Don’t let it worry you,’ Mathieu said. ‘A couple more weeks when F1 is in town, the paparazzi will be busy chasing the scoop that will make their fortune.’

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ Nanette answered. She looked at him hesitantly before asking, ‘Are you in touch with Zac?’

  Mathieu nodded. ‘He’s getting some pit-lane passes for me.’

  ‘Does he know I’m here?’

  ‘Yes, I told him you were coming to look after the twins for me.’

  ‘How did he react?’

  Mathieu shrugged. ’He didn’t say anything, so I can’t tell you.’

  Mathieu was the first to speak again after a short silence.

  ‘Talking of parties. We’ve got the Vintage Grand Prix this year the weekend before the main one and I’m giving a lunch on the Sunday. Just friends and a few business contacts.’ He glanced at her. ‘I hope you’ll join us?’

  ‘Thanks. Of course, you’re directly above the start line here,’ Nanette said, leaning on the balcony, watching the cars moving along the Boulevard Albert 1er below. ‘You’ll have a great view. People will be begging to come.’

  ‘The sound effects are always pretty awesome too,’ Mathieu said. ‘Even from the old cars.’

  ‘What about the twins though?’ Nanette asked. ‘Pierre will be keen, but Olivia will find the whole thing terribly boring.’

  Mathieu smiled. ‘Maybe when she hears a certain pop star is on the guest list, she’ll come round.’ He paused. ‘Nanette, I meant what I said the other evening about us getting to know each other better – I’m aiming to be home more in the next few weeks, so I hope we can spend some time together. I’m sorry the offer of tickets for the tennis fell through, but I hope you won’t hold that against me.’

  ‘Of course not. I’ve been busy with the twins anyway.’ Although, in truth, she had been disappointed when Mathieu hadn’t mentioned the tennis tournament again after their night out.

  ‘I’ve promised the twins I’ll take them out next Monday as it’s a fête day. I’ve got some friends who have a place up in the country near Entrevaux who’ve invited us for the day. Olivia and Pierre love it up there. Will you come, too?’

  Before Nanette could reply, his mobile rang and, with an apologetic smile, Mathieu turned from her and answered it.

  Nanette closed the balcony doors, mouthed ‘goodnight’ to a distracted Mathieu and went to her room. As she undressed and hung her dress in the wardrobe, she heard the door of the apartment open and close, followed ten seconds later by the subdued noise of the private lift descending. Nanette finished getting ready for bed, wondering where Mathieu was off to so late in the day.

  11

  A dishevelled Mathieu appeared the next morning as Nanette was getting the twins ready to leave for school.

  ‘Morning,’ he said, helping himself to a cup of coffee and joining the twins as they ate their pain au chocolat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. ‘I’ve got to go away again this morning for a couple of days,’ he said to the twins.

  ‘What about our day out to Entrevaux?’ Pierre asked sulkily. ‘You promised you’d take us. We’re not going to have to cancel again, are we?’

  ‘Definitely not,’ Mathieu said. ‘I’ll be back for that, and the good news is that Netty is coming with us.’

  ‘Mathieu, I’ve been thinking about that and I need to talk to you about it,’ Nanette said.

  Mathieu glanced at her. ‘Talk later. Right now, there are one or two papers I need to find for my trip and you two had better get a move on or you’ll be late for school.’ With that, Mathieu disappeared into the sitting room. Seconds later,
he could be heard talking on his phone.

  Nanette stifled a sigh. ‘Come on, you two. Dad’s right. Let’s go.’

  Once she’d walked the twins to school and seen them into the grounds, Nanette took her time returning home. Walking through the small park behind the apartment block, she sat down on a bench overlooking a tiny fountain where the sparrows were enjoying the water and rang Patsy.

  ‘How are you?’ she asked when her sister answered.

  Patsy gave a deep sigh. ‘Promise me you’ll stand up for me and give evidence in court when I’m charged with Helen’s murder?’

  ‘What’s she done now?’

  ‘You know how some women become “Bridezillas” when they’re getting married? Well, Helen has turned into the “Grannyzilla” from hell. She’s buying every mothering, parenting, healthy-eating magazine she can lay her hands on. Keeps telling me she’s worried because I’m old to be having a first baby – practically geriatric according to her. She’s joined a Granny forum on Facebook and now knows the name of every designer brand of anything baby-related. She’s continually giving me advice – and then contradicts it by adding she can’t believe how so much has changed from her day when, of course, it was so much harder.’ Patsy gave another deeper sigh. ‘She wants to be involved in everything. And I mean everything!’

  ‘She’s excited for you both,’ Nanette said. ‘You’ll be glad she’s around in a few months when you’re desperate for some uninterrupted sleep and she looks after junior for you.’ For all her interfering ways, basically Helen meant well and Nanette hoped that Patsy would eventually come to realise and accept that.