One Summer in Monte Carlo

by Jennifer Bohnet

  At ground level, everything appeared to be in a state of flux. Strange smells wafted up from where plants were growing, decaying, dying, surrounded by bugs, snakes and other things that Vanessa just knew were waiting to take a bite out of her.

  As the day wore on, the sounds of the jungle had become familiar. Sloths shaking the treetops looking for a resting spot, the echoing cries of the howler monkeys as they swung through the trees and the ever-present noise of the cicadas mingling with birdsong became background noises to the group as they hacked their way through the rainforest.

  The village clearing appeared unexpectedly. One minute, the guide was leading them along a muddy track beneath the jungle canopy, the next, they came to an abrupt standstill as their way was barred by a group of native Amazonians holding their hunting spears at arm’s-length.

  For one heart-stopping moment, Vanessa thought they were about to be attacked, but it was simply the welcoming party come to escort them into the village.

  The primitive palm-thatched huts on their stilts stood around the edge of the clearing, where the village animals, including a fat pig and several roosters, were roaming freely, scouring the ground for scraps.

  Walking to the centre of the encampment with curious villagers eyeing them from a distance, Vanessa noticed a small child standing close to her mother watching the strangers with wide brown eyes.

  Vanessa smiled at her and the little girl rewarded her with a shy smile in return as she turned to run after a piglet, before settling down in the dust to stroke and play with it. A memory came to Vanessa of Olivia at a similar age on a visit to a small animals farm, where she’d fallen in love with a baby goat and begged and begged for one. Looking at the child now in front of her, naked and beautifully brown, with her bare feet planted firmly on the earth, the phrase `being at one with nature’ came into Vanessa’s mind. This little girl was definitely in harmony with the natural world that she lived in.

  Briefly, Vanessa envied her the simplicity of her childhood – and her life to come. A sudden longing to throw her arms around Pierre and Olivia and hold them tight engulfed her and she had to take several deep breaths to steady herself. Hugging her children close again wouldn’t happen for nearly five months. Hopefully, once they were settled in this village, the solar charger for the satellite phone would work and she’d be able to phone and at least hear their voices.

  The chief shaman came forward to welcome them and showed them to the hut reserved for visitors. They’d barely had time to sling their hammocks between the beams and change their damp clothes before a young woman appeared, inviting them to come and eat the special meal the villagers had prepared in their honour.

  There were bowls of yucca soup, rice, fish, fruit and, to Vanessa’s horror, large white live grubs and what was clearly organ meat from various animals, all laid out before them. She looked at Ralph in dismay.

  ‘I don’t want to upset anyone, but I can’t eat those things,’ she whispered, pointing to the wriggling white grubs and the meat.

  ‘Stick to the rice and fish,’ Ralph advised quietly. ‘Have some fruit.’

  As Vanessa began to peel a banana, a small monkey, who had been wandering around scratching the earth, suddenly ran up, snatching the banana from her, before jumping on to her lap and settling down to eat it. The little girl she’d seen earlier giggled as Vanessa looked at the monkey in amazement. She must remember to tell the twins about this.

  Listening to fragments of the conversation around her as she watched the monkey, Vanessa realised the village was struggling to survive. Angela, the mother of the little girl, was shaking her head sadly as she spoke to Ralph in fragmented Spanish.

  ‘It is terrible with the forest – so much destruction. People need to find a way of surviving, of helping the jungle to grow back. Much is being done, but the bandits, they still spoil things.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘The drugs and the gold smuggling is taking over our culture even here in this tiny village. We have a school now, but the children – what future do they have? The government want our people to report anyone who abuses the forest, but we’re not going to risk our lives, are we?’ Angela looked at Ralph in distress. ‘How will my daughter, Maya, survive if I end up with a rifle barrel in my mouth?’

  Vanessa almost choked on the exclamation of horror that she tried desperately to stop escaping. Suddenly she was glad her own children were thousands of miles away. How could any mother live with the knowledge that not only was her own life in danger but that of her children as well?

  14

  Half a world away, Monaco continued to gear itself up for the busiest, noisiest and most extravagant event of its year. The needs of the vintage Grand Prix held the weekend before the main event complicated things, as everything had to be ready a week early, which added a manic frenzy to the normal annual busy preparations.

  Walking to school every day, Nanette and the twins got used to dodging around obstacles on the pavement, lorries parked unloading yet more essential street furniture and the inevitable crowds of tourists being disembarked into the Principality for the day from the cruise ships moored in the harbour.

  Every street had an army of workmen busy hammering and fixing things into place. Terraces of stands had taken over the hillside and the harbour, large television screens had appeared in strategic places and the barriers were in place around the length of the circuit. Fresh white paint detailed the starting grid on the road below Nanette’s balcony.

  The main players in the Formula 1 circus, the teams and their large motorhomes, had yet to arrive, but the supporting sideshow of trucks, traders and hangers-on were already making their presence felt. The harbour was jam-packed with luxury yachts whose owners were all determined to be a part of the glamorous scene.

  Nanette had so far managed to avoid walking directly past Pole Position, but this morning, returning from taking the twins to school, she had no choice but to walk along that side of the embankment, as the other side had been blocked. Looking straight ahead, she walked quickly, not looking at the boats until she was certain she had left Pole Position well behind.

  Mathieu had asked her to pick up some croissants for his breakfast on her way back. ‘Florence won’t be in this morning – dentist or something,’ Mathieu had said.

  With a deep breath of relief, Nanette found a gap in the barriers being erected and quickly crossed the road to make her way into the small supermarket. Resisting the urge to buy herself a pomme de tart for her own breakfast, she paid and left holding the still warm croissants carefully.

  Once back at the apartment, she switched on the coffee machine before laying a tray with cups and plates and the croissants.

  ‘Hi Mathieu. I’m back,’ she called. ‘Do you want your croissants and coffee on the balcony?’ The words died in her throat as a familiar figure appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  ‘The balcony sounds fine. Hello, Nanette.’

  Nanette, frozen into a shocked stillness, stared as her former fiancé, Zac Ewart, walked purposefully into the kitchen and back into her life, as if he’d never left.

  Dressed in his favoured black jeans and polo shirt, a suede jacket slung casually over his shoulders, sunglasses perched on top of his head, Zac regarded Nanette contemplatively, his eyes taking in everything about her appearance.

  Seconds passed before Nanette managed a strangled, ‘Hello, Zac.’

  ‘That’s not much of a greeting for an old friend,’ and Zac moved forward to kiss her cheek.

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ Nanette said, between clenched teeth.

  Zac stepped back, his hands in the air. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘How did you get in here anyway?’

  ‘Mathieu let me in – and then remembered he had an urgent appointment in Fontvieille.’ Zac gazed at her serenely. ‘So, we have the place to ourselves. We can catch up with all our news over breakfast.’ He picked up the breakfast tray. ‘I think we agreed on the balcony?’

  Nanette, knowing there was no urgent ap
pointment for Mathieu and determined to have words with him later, reluctantly followed Zac slowly out to the balcony. Every instinct told her this was a mistake and that she should either order him to leave or leave herself. But maybe she could finally get some answers to the questions she desperately wanted to ask him.

  ‘How are you?’ Zac asked, as he placed the tray on the table.

  ‘How am I? Why the hell do you care now? It’s been three years – three years, Zac – since the accident, without a word from you. Why the sudden interest?’ There was a fraction of a seconds pause before Zac answered her.

  ‘I was glad to hear you were back. I care about you – I’ve missed you.’

  Nanette gazed at him in disbelief. ‘If you missed me that much, why didn’t you get in touch? Visit me in England?’ Nanette took a deep breath. ‘I thought you more than cared for me – I thought you loved me. We were engaged. Disappearing out of my life without even officially breaking off our engagement was cruel, Zac.’

  Zac regarded her steadily. ‘I’m sorry, Nanette. It seemed the right thing to do at the time.’

  ‘Right for whom?’

  ‘Me. Selfish, I know, but there it is,’ and he shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

  Nanette turned away and leant on the balcony rail, her senses in disarray. She’d spent so much time with this man, had thought she was going to spend the rest of her life with him, but their three years apart had turned him into a stranger, and she didn’t know what to say to him.

  ‘Coffee?’ Zac handed her a cup. ‘Has Mathieu told you about my party next week? The Monday after the Vintage Grand Prix. I hope you’re coming.’

  Nanette shook her head, but before she could say anything, Zac continued.

  ‘I’d at least feel you were starting to forgive and forget the past, and my running out on you, if you’d come.’

  ‘I don’t know that I do forgive you,’ Nanette said sharply. ‘As for forgetting, well, my memory is still hazy about the actual accident, but I doubt that I’ll ever forget its consequences, or the hell of the last three years.’

  Zac, Nanette noted, had the grace to look upset at her outburst.

  ‘You still don’t remember any details of the accident then?’ he asked, stirring his coffee, not looking at her.

  ‘No. Other than it was only the second time I’d driven the car,’ Nanette said.

  She didn’t tell him she remembered vividly all the details of the afternoon when Zac had presented her with the racy convertible – an early birthday present.

  She’d loved it and had immediately jumped into it and driven Zac around Monaco, showing the car off to all their friends. Nine hours later, the car was a mangled wreck on the autoroute and she was in intensive care in the Princess Grace Hospital, fighting for her life.

  She pulled her thoughts back to the present and stared at Zac as he placed his spoon on the tray.

  ‘Nobody has ever explained why I was flown back to the UK within forty-eight hours of coming out of intensive care. Why wasn’t I just allowed to stay here and recover?’

  ‘Everyone thought you’d be better off recovering at home,’ Zac said evasively, finally glancing at her, an unfathomable look in his eyes.

  ‘This was my home at that time. Who’s this everyone?’ Nanette demanded.

  There was a brief silence as Zac pulled his croissant apart before turning to face her. ‘It was my decision,’ he said quietly. ‘I made all the arrangements.’

  Nanette nodded slowly. ‘I thought as much. Didn’t want the responsibility of caring for me, is that it? Scared I was going to be permanently scarred or disabled?’

  Zac shook his head. ‘I just thought you’d be better off where Patsy could administer some tender loving care. Nurse you back to health. Come on, Nanette, you know what my racing schedule is like from March to November, I’m never in town for more than two or three days at a time. There was no way I could play doctors and patient all summer.’

  ‘Nobody would have expected you to drop everything to look after me. But why didn’t you at least keep in touch?’

  Zac held up his hands. ‘Stop. Enough questions. All I can say is, I’m sorry I hurt you, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s history. I’m glad you’re back in Monaco looking so well and I hope we can be friends.’ As he said this, he looked at her quizzically before adding, ‘Or, at the very least, be civil to each other when we meet.’

  When she didn’t answer, he sighed before reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and taking out a brown envelope.

  ‘Pit-lane passes for Mathieu and the twins for the Grand Prix. If I don’t see you before, maybe I’ll see you over Vintage Grand Prix weekend – and please think about coming to my party next Monday. Pole Position has been refurbished recently – she’s looking really smart, I’d like you to see the changes. Right, thanks for breakfast. Stay there. I’ll see myself out. Ciao.’

  As the apartment door slammed behind him, Nanette sank down trembling on to a chair, relief that Zac had left flooding through her body. The meeting she’d been dreading was over and she could only be grateful that it had taken place privately, not in public. At least now that it had happened she wouldn’t have to skulk around Monaco worrying she was about to bump into him and wondering what his reaction would be. He was right, of course, they were bound to meet up from time to time and it would be far better all round if they were civil to each other.

  Not that she felt very civil towards him right now, after that casual remark about forgiving and forgetting the past. As if it was that easy. He still hadn’t explained why he had not been in touch once he’d shipped her back to Patsy.

  Sitting there, trying to analyse her true feelings about Zac Ewart, Nanette frowned. There were still questions about the accident to which she wanted answers and until her memory returned fully, Zac Ewart was the only person who could give them, which clearly he had no intention of doing. She needed to know too, why he’d abandoned her so cruelly when surely he must have known how much she needed him. Blaming his absence on the summer racing schedule was too convenient. There had to be another reason.

  Sighing, she returned the breakfast tray to the kitchen. Her fingers were shaking as she picked up her phone from the kitchen table. She needed to talk to Patsy.

  ‘Zac ambushed me in the apartment this morning,’ she burst out as soon as Patsy answered. ‘It was awful.’

  ‘What d’you mean “ambushed”?’ Patsy’s voice was full of concern.

  ’He made sure that I was alone – even Mathieu had agreed to leave – so that no-one could overhear his little “let’s be friends” speech. He seemed to think as the whole episode was three years ago…’ Nanette took a gulp of air. ‘That we should kiss and make up.’

  ‘Well, that clearly didn’t happen,’ Patsy said. ‘So what happens now?’

  Nanette shrugged in answer, before realising Patsy couldn’t see her. ‘No idea. How about I just shut myself away in the apartment until the Grand Prix is over?’

  ‘No,’ Patsy said. ‘You have the twins to look after. You can’t just stay indoors.’

  Nanette smothered a sigh. ‘I know. Okay. The last thing I want is to get caught up in a public scene, so if I bump into him anywhere, I’ll… I’ll just walk on by.’

  ‘That sounds very civilised.’ Patsy said. ‘What are you up to today?’

  ‘Working in JC’s office sorting it out,’ Nanette answered. ‘I’d better get going, he’ll be wondering where I am. Thank goodness I know the back streets! Patsy?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Thanks for listening.’

  For some reason, as she ended the call, Nanette saw Zac’s face again as he failed to meet her eyes when he’d asked about her non-returning memory. Almost as if he felt guilty asking her the question. Could he possibly be blaming himself for the accident because if he’d never given her the car in the first place, they’d still be together, maybe even married by now?

  15

  Life in the jungle
settled into a pattern for Vanessa as she and Ralph became absorbed into the routine of village life. Ralph, busy helping and recording the building of a small dam on a river near the village, disappeared early every morning with the men, leaving Vanessa to spend her days with Angela and the other women.

  Vanessa had known life in the jungle would be a whole new experience, something to take her out of her comfort zone, and she’d looked forward to it. Ralph had talked to her, shown her films, given her books to read, but now she was here the reality of day-to-day life was hard to take in. Looking after a family in the jungle was exhausting for the village women – her own life back in England, even with all its stresses and first-world problems, was nothing compared to what these women endured. Several times as she helped cook the evening meal and stirred something indescribable bubbling in the pot swinging on its tripod over an open fire, she thought of her high-tech kitchen at home. What would Angela and her friends make of her gleaming Aga and all the labour-saving gadgets her house contained?

  The lack of available communication with the outside world bothered Vanessa too. They might have satellite phones, but getting them charged via the solar panels wasn’t an exact science due to the dense nature of the forest. She’d also learnt that bad weather hundreds of miles away could affect the efficiency of the satellite. Ralph took the charging panel and the phone with him every morning, hoping to recharge the phone in a small space open to the skies near the river, but would inevitably return shaking his head in the evening. Vanessa longed to have a proper conversation with Pierre and Olivia rather than the one or two sentences they managed before the connection died. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, of course, admit to Ralph or even talk to Angela about how difficult she was finding it to adapt to her current lifestyle.

  She and Ralph spent their evenings in the large communal hut, where, as honoured guests, they were feted with the best the villagers could provide and entertained with traditional songs and music. Afterwards, in the small hut allocated to them, Vanessa wrote about the day’s experiences in her diary.