‘Well, I’ve told her she’s not being my birthing partner as I’ve already lined you up for that job.’
‘I bet that went down well.’
‘She still insisted I name her in my notes in case you’re unavoidably delayed, as she put it. Enough. How’s life over there in the sun? It’s raining here by the way.’
‘Life here in the sun is, um, let’s say interesting,’ Nanette said. ‘Mathieu’s business seems to be going through a decidedly “dodgy” phase, Zac is in town and knows that I’m here but hasn’t made contact, thank goodness. And JC took me to a do at the Hôtel de Paris, which ended in a bit of a disaster.’ Nanette quickly told Patsy about the photographer recognising her. ‘I’ve been psyching myself up to bumping into people who knew me years ago during Grand Prix time, but there’s still a couple of weeks to go before then. I simply wasn’t expecting it that evening.’
‘Did you hurt yourself?’ Patsy asked anxiously.
‘Just my pride really.’
‘The next week or two is going to throw up all sorts of memories and people,’ Patsy said gently. ‘Are you sure you can cope?’
‘There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?’ It was Nanette who gave a deep sigh this time. ‘It was my decision to come and I’m determined not to let Vanessa down. If it all gets too much, I can always take JC up on his offer of hiding away in his villa.’
‘Maybe that’s the answer,’ Patsy said thoughtfully.
‘In the meantime, Mathieu wants me to spend a day with him, the twins and friends up in the back country. If the friends are who I suspect they are, he’s not going to be happy when I refuse to go.’
‘Talking of the twins, how are they? Have they heard from their mum?’ Patsy asked.
‘Vanessa sent them an email and FaceTimed them the day they left Brazil for the jungle. There’s been just one satellite phone call since, which the twins were excited about. Vanessa promised she’d try and phone once a week, but it would depend on where exactly they are in the jungle.’
‘I’ve got to go,’ Patsy said suddenly. ‘She who must be obeyed has arrived. Sorry about my rant earlier. Talk soon,’ and Patsy ended the call.
Nanette smiled to herself. Helen might currently be driving Patsy mad, but she only wanted what was the best for her close family.
Slipping her phone into her bag, Nanette made her way back to the apartment, hoping that Mathieu would still be there.
Florence was busy vacuuming as Nanette let herself into the apartment. Because Nanette now had the bedroom Mathieu would normally have used as his office, he’d moved his computer, desk and a two-drawer filing cabinet into a tiny windowless area at the back of the sitting room that housed a small fridge and a drinks cabinet for when he was entertaining friends on the balcony.
She walked straight through the sitting room, and found Mathieu in his office watching the printer, waiting for the last piece of paper to join a freshly printed batch, whilst mumbling into his phone. He jumped visibly at the sound of Nanette’s voice as she said, ‘Hi’ and he hurriedly switched the phone off before turning to face her.
‘Please don’t sneak up on me like that in future.’
Nanette stepped back from Mathieu. Now was clearly not the best moment to bring the subject up, but she’d say it anyway.
‘I’m sorry if I interrupted your phone call, but I wanted to talk to you about this day trip to Entrevaux you’re planning for the twins. Is it the de Oliviers’ farm you’re visiting?’
‘Yes.’
‘In that case, I’d rather not go with you.’
‘Why on earth not?’
Nanette looked at him quizzically. ‘Why do you think? They were Zac’s friends and we used to visit them regularly when they lived up at Eze. I’m sure they—’
‘Would be very pleased to see you again,’ Mathieu interrupted.
Nanette shook her head. ‘I’d still rather not go.’
Mathieu looked at her before saying stonily, ‘You are here to look after the twins. It’s not really for you to decide whether you go or not. I could insist you accompany us or return to the UK.’
‘I do look after the twins – when they are not at school, I organise their lives,’ Nanette said, taking a deep breath. ‘I’ve actually seen more of them than you have in the last few weeks – you’re always dashing off somewhere or other for “business”. You certainly weren’t around for Pierre’s after-school football match, or Olivia’s music exam,’ she added crossly. ‘Olivia has already told me how much they are both looking forward to having you to themselves on Monday.’ She paused, before adding slowly, ‘Mathieu, if you don’t think I’m doing enough for the twins, you can always take over the job yourself. I’d be quite happy to go home – I came for Vanessa and the twins’ sake, not yours. Personally, I had no intention of ever returning to Monaco.’ Nanette looked him straight in the eyes before concluding, ‘I’m not sure how Vanessa would react to you sending me home though.’ And then she turned and left him standing there.
12
‘You sure you won’t change your mind and come with us?’ Mathieu asked, before he and the twins left for their day out in the country. ‘It will be quiet here on your own all day.’
The outing hadn’t been mentioned since their argument a few days before and Nanette was relieved that Mathieu had allowed the subject to drop. This morning, he seemed to have forgotten his earlier accusations and was happy to be going with the twins on his own after all.
Nanette shook her head. ‘Quite sure, thanks. Besides, I won’t be on my own all day – I’m meeting Jean-Claude later. Enjoy yourselves.’
She was just closing the door behind them when Mathieu called out, ‘Nanette, there’s a package for you in my office. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you yesterday when it came. It’s on my desk.’
Nanette recognised Patsy’s handwriting on the large envelope. Taking a paperknife out of the desk tidy, she carefully slit open the envelope.
Replacing the paperknife, a crumpled piece of paper beside the wastepaper basket caught her attention. Picking it up, she saw it was a detailed map of the Amazon, clearly torn out of an atlas.
The twins were hoping to follow Vanessa and Ralph’s progress, so there was nothing unusual in Mathieu having a map of the trip – in fact, there was a large-scale one pinned to the wall – but this one had some of the place names circled in red and haphazardly linked with numbers written against them.
Puzzled, Nanette tried to work out what they could possibly represent, before deciding that it was probably a piece of scrap paper that Mathieu had been doodling on and thrown at the wastepaper basket, where he’d obviously intended it to go.
Going to her own room, Nanette carefully pulled out the contents of the envelope. A short note from Patsy was sellotaped around a sealed brown official envelope. Pensively, Nanette placed both in the drawer of her dressing table. Even without opening it, she knew exactly what the official envelope contained. Pushing the drawer closed, she went through to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.
Because it was a fête day, Florence had the day off and for the first time since she’d arrived, Nanette was completely alone in the apartment. Coffee cup in hand, she wandered around, enjoying the solitude.
Pausing outside Mathieu’s closed bedroom door, she realised she’d only ever had glimpses of that particular room – the door was always closed. Curiously, and smothering her guilty feelings, Nanette turned the handle, only to find the door was locked.
Nanette mused, as she sipped her coffee, was Mathieu just keen on privacy, or simply wanted to keep the twins from messing up his room? Or did he have something to hide in there?
Deep in thought, she returned to Mathieu’s temporary office. The computer was switched off. The desk, apart from the desk tidy, was empty. Not even a diary. The filing cabinet was locked. The only discordant thing in the room was the crumpled atlas page in the wastepaper basket. She retrieved it and, smoothing it out, wandered back into the sitt
ing room. Maybe it was only a piece of waste paper, but somehow she had a feeling it was more than that. Perhaps she’d show it to Jean-Claude later and see if he had any ideas.
Standing by the sitting-room window, she glanced out at the harbour and froze as she saw a figure sitting at a table on the stern deck of Pole Position. Even from her viewpoint nine floors up, she had no difficulty in recognising Zac – or the man he was now standing up to welcome on board – the Russian, Boris.
Hoping she was shielded from view by the tall lemon tree in its pot on the balcony, Nanette watched as the two men were served coffee by a stewardess, before Boris handed Zac what looked like a large packet.
Ten minutes later, both men stood up, shook hands and Boris took his leave of Zac, making his way slowly along the gangway back to a large black car waiting for him on the harbour road.
On board Pole Position, Nanette could see Zac punching a number into his mobile phone before holding it up to his ear, and moving his head so that it was obvious he was looking directly up at the apartment.
Nanette stepped slowly away from the window. Had he seen her after all? Realised she’d been watching him and Boris?
The shrill buzz of the apartment doorbell made her jump and she hurried to open it.
‘Bonjour, Nanette. Happy May Day.’ Jean-Claude lightly kissed her on both cheeks before handing her a pot of lilies of the valley.
‘Thank you, JC,’ Nanette said, surprised. She’d forgotten all about the tradition of giving the highly scented flowers on the first of May as a sign of friendship – and love.
‘You look a little flustered,’ Jean-Claude said, looking at her anxiously. ‘Nothing wrong, is there?’
‘Zac is in town. I’ve just been watching him and his friend, Boris, meeting on Pole Position,’ she explained.
‘Is this Boris still there? I would be interested in seeing what he looks like,’ Jean-Claude said, walking out quickly on to the balcony.
‘No. He left a few minutes ago. Zac is still on board.’
Joining him out on the balcony, Nanette could see Zac now in the cockpit, gesticulating at one of his crew. As they watched, Zac turned and glanced upwards, raising his hand in greeting as he saw Jean-Claude and Nanette standing on the balcony.
Rather than acknowledge him, Nanette turned and went back into the sitting room.
‘I thought we’d have lunch at the Automobile Club,’ Jean-Claude said, following her. ‘Or anywhere you like,’ he added quickly, seeing the look on her face.
‘It’s just that with Zac in town,’ Nanette apologised, ‘I know it’s his favourite place for lunch and I’m not quite ready to meet him socially yet. Could we go somewhere else, please?’
‘Why don’t we walk up to Saint Nicholas Square?’ Jean-Claude said, unfazed at her request. ‘It’s a bit touristy, but, on the plus side, I doubt that Zac will venture up that way on a fête day.’
Nanette looked at him gratefully. ‘I’ll just get my bag.’
To Nanette’s relief, and by mutual unspoken agreement, they left the apartment block by the quieter exit on to a back street so she didn’t have to set foot on the quay with the possibility of bumping into Zac.
The weather for the May Day holiday was perfect – blue sky, a gentle breeze and warm sunshine. Joining the throngs of tourists, they began making their way up towards the Palace.
Saint Nicholas Square was in the labyrinth of busy narrow streets that clustered around the cathedral in the old town. Choosing an outside table at one of the restaurants, they sat down under a gaily striped umbrella. Snatched conversations in French, English, Italian, Japanese and Chinese floated in the air around them.
An attentive waiter handed them a menu and took their aperitif order. A glass of cool rosé for both of them.
‘Avez-vous décidéz… Ah, pardon, Nanette. I forget. I will speak English,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘Have you decided what you’d like to eat?’
‘JC, please speak in French,’ Nanette answered. ‘Not using it for three years, mine’s a bit rusty, but I do still understand. I need to start speaking it again too.’ She glanced at the menu. ‘I think I’ll have the plat du jour, s’il vous plait.’
Sipping her glass of ice-cold rosé, Nanette looked at Jean-Claude.
‘Something else I haven’t used for three years arrived today,’ she said quietly.
Jean-Claude gave her a puzzled look.
Nanette pictured the envelope in the drawer before saying quietly, ‘My driving licence has been returned. My driving ban is finished.’
‘That is good, isn’t it?’ Jean-Claude said. ‘Now you can truly put the past behind you and start driving again.’
‘I’m not sure that I have the confidence to get behind the wheel of a car again.’ Nanette fiddled with her wine glass.
‘If you are nervous, I come with you for the first few times,’ Jean-Claude offered.
‘I don’t know that it’s that simple, JC.’ Nanette hesitated. ‘What if—’
Jean-Claude stopped her in mid-sentence. ‘Non. No what ifs, Nanette. You’ve been punished for the accident. Now you put it behind you and get on with your life. I forbid you to let it blight the future.’
In spite of herself, Nanette smiled at the stern look on Jean-Claude’s face. ‘I know you’re right, but I don’t have a car at the moment anyway, so…’ she shrugged. ‘I shall avoid the issue for at least a few more weeks. Maybe when I go home.’
After an exasperated ‘Tch’, Jean-Claude changed the subject. ‘I hope Mathieu has invited you to the lunch he’s hosting on Vintage Grand Prix weekend?’
‘I’m looking forward to it. Will you be there?’
‘Yes, and no. I’ve been persuaded to get my Lotus out of mothballs and give it an outing, so I shall be spending most of the weekend in the pit lane with the mechanics before the race on Sunday. Be interesting to drive in a race again after so long. Especially here in Monaco, my home circuit.’
‘I didn’t know you’d been a racing driver,’ Nanette said, surprised. ‘You kept that very quiet.’ Although there was a lot she didn’t know about Jean-Claude, she realised.
‘Only very briefly. It was at the time the sport was changing rapidly into big business with the manufacturers taking over. It simply became too expensive without a sponsor; I found myself priced out of the market.’ He shrugged. ‘If I’m honest, I lacked the competitive edge that all successful F1 drivers need. But I kept the car, which has been under wraps for a good few years. I’ve got the next few days or so to finish checking it over mechanically and prepare it. Of course, I don’t expect to be placed, but I admit I look forward to driving in a race again.’
‘Who have you got supporting you on the day?’ Nanette asked. ‘You’ll need someone in the pits to help.’
‘Not a problem. There are always young lads wanting to get involved and I’ve got a mechanic called David coming over from Le Cannet to help. He used to work the circuit, so he knows the ropes.’ He glanced at her. ‘Zac, he also offer me the expertise of one of his mechanics if I need it. The Formula 1 circus will be arriving in town by then, with only a week to go to the Grand Prix proper. Looks as though it might be Zac’s year,’ he added casually. ‘I see he’s leading the championship and is favourite to win next week in Germany.’
Nanette nodded. Despite herself, she’d been keeping an eye on the results since early in the season when the drivers had arrived back in Europe after the first few races.
‘My offer still stands by the way,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘You’re more than welcome to use the villa as a hideaway anytime – not just on race day. After the Spanish race, Zac is certain to be in town in the run-up to the Grand Prix.’
‘I know,’ Nanette said diffidently, remembering previous years when Zac had used the run-up to the Monaco Grand Prix to do a lot of socialising. She sighed inwardly. The inevitable meeting was getting closer.
‘You will have to meet him face to face one day, Nanette. What will you do then?’ Jean-Claude as
ked gently.
Nanette shook her head before looking at him and saying slowly, ‘I honestly have no idea, JC.’
‘Perhaps it would be better for you to make the arrangement to meet him first,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘That way it will be easier, I think, for you to cope.’
Nanette bit her lip as she looked at him. Maybe Jean-Claude was right, but the mere thought of having to contact Zac to arrange a meeting made her feel ill.
13
Vanessa stumbled over some exposed roots of an immense tree that towered above her as she followed their machete-wielding guide along the muddy track, taking them deeper and deeper into the forest with its dense undergrowth. After that one night in the eco-camp they’d left the relative comforts it offered behind and set off for the remote village in the jungle that was to be the focal point of Ralph’s documentary.
All day, they had hacked their way into the depths of the steamy, lush forest. Now their destination, a native village, was only an hour away. Trudging in single file behind Ralph and the others, Vanessa felt both tired and exhilarated.
The clean, oxygen-filled air, heavy with moisture, had initially somehow bestowed a feeling of euphoria and excitement on her, but now her clothes were beginning to smell and feel damp from all the humidity. Her skin was itching where unknown insects had feasted on her. Her head was sweaty from the wide-brimmed hat she was wearing to deflect the sun and to stop the legions of creepy-crawlies above her in the rainforest’s canopy from falling into her hair. She longed for the day to end.
Their trek had taken them between columns of trees so tall their tops disappeared from view, with long liana vines hanging down and wrapping themselves around the trunks. Vast spiderwebs had spanned the green vegetation, where some leaves were as huge as the parasol Vanessa dreamily imagined sitting under and relaxing.
One Summer in Monte Carlo Page 7