In their hammocks at night before they settled down to sleep, Ralph talked to Vanessa about his worries for the village.
That night, he said, ‘They seem to think this dam we’re building to help with the gold panning is going to be their path to untold riches. Now some sleaze from Rio has appeared on the scene telling them his boss will help to fund enlarging the mine and sell the gold on for them – all for a big fat rake-off, of course.’ He shook his head. ‘They know the mercury he’s going to provide for separating the gold is poisonous and so bad for the forest, but they hear of other villages prospering and they want to do the same. The fact that they’ll probably end up polluting their water supply, poisoning the fish and eroding the forest even more doesn’t seem to be an issue for them.’
‘Can’t you persuade them to stick to just panning for gold without the mercury?’ Vanessa asked.
‘I’ve tried, but they’re desperate and see this as the only way to survive. I wish I could think of some other way they could make the money to buy the essentials like stock and seeds so they can carry on farming in the traditional way.’
‘Eco-tourism like the first village we stayed in?’ Vanessa suggested.
‘The villagers aren’t that keen on the idea of too many strangers in the village. Besides, they’re so poor they don’t have the money to even improve their own basic living conditions. Being so deep in the jungle here too, it wouldn’t be easy to organise. I know, I had a few problems getting us here. Most of those eco-camps are within two hours of the Amazon River. Nowhere as deep in the jungle as we are.’ Ralph sighed. ‘The trouble is we’re here for such a short time, there’s not a lot we can do. The dam should be finished tomorrow, maybe I’ll get a chance to talk to the head shaman then.’ He leant across and gave Vanessa a kiss. ‘Nearly forget to tell you: Luigi, the guide, has offered to take us to see the young dolphins in a couple of days. It’s a long trek to get to where they’re being born, but should be well worth it.’ Ralph smiled happily at his wife.
‘That’s good of Luigi,’ Vanessa said, smiling at Ralph. ‘Something to look forward to.’
The next morning, Ralph left as usual and Vanessa joined Angela and the other women for the daily chores. Today, besides the normal cooking and husbandry of the small animals that roamed around the village, they were planning to plant seedlings.
As ever, the humidity in the jungle was high and Vanessa struggled to keep pace with Angela and the others as they went to collect the seedlings from the large government-controlled farm where they’d been grown. It proved to be a long, hard day as they planted the small trees on cleared forestland previously grazed by cattle. From time to time, thunderstorms rolled across the sky and torrential rain forced them to stop work and seek shelter. During one of these breaks, Vanessa noticed that a couple of the women were muttering unhappily together.
‘They have nothing,’ Angela explained. ‘Life is getting harder and all they hear is how we must take care of the forest. Who is going to take care of us? We have to survive too.’ She shook her head. ‘We have a school now, but what work is there going to be for the children? What kind of future do Maya and the other children face?’
Vanessa was silent. How could she possibly answer that question?
‘Will a bigger gold mine help?’ she said finally. ‘Ralph says it’s not the answer, but what do you think?’
Angela bit her bottom lip before replying, ‘If it was a legal gold mine it would help more, but, as usual, the wrong people will benefit from it.’
Vanessa gazed at her, horrified. Did Ralph know he was building a dam to help an illegal gold mine operate?
Before she could ask any more, the rain stopped and the women began to move back out on to the wetland.
‘If we are to survive living off the land, we need more legitimate help,’ Angela added quietly, as she handed over a trowel and another box of seedlings.
Thoughtfully, Vanessa began the rhythmic business of planting the tiny trees – dig hole, drop seedling in, cover and press, on to the next – while trying to work out how Ralph would respond to the news about the mine.
It was late afternoon when Vanessa removed her hat and pushed her damp hair back from her face. Her clothes were wet and sticking to her body and she remembered longingly the delights of a cool shower. At least it would soon be time to return to the village and help prepare the evening meal in the shade of the trees surrounding the encampment.
As the women were gathering their things, one of the young native boys returning from the day’s work on the dam, ran up to Angela and said something to her urgently. Vanessa felt a tremor of fear pass through her body as Angela glanced across at her, a look of concern on her face, before walking towards her.
‘What’s happened? Something has happened to Ralph, hasn’t it?’ Fear made her voice sound shrill even to her own ears.
‘Ralph has been taken ill,’ Angela said quietly. ‘The men are bringing him back to the village.’
‘I must go to him,’ Vanessa said, panic-stricken, and went to run towards the huddle of men approaching the village.
Angela placed a restraining hand on her. ‘Wait here,’ she said gently. ‘Let the men deal with it.’
Vanessa’s heart was in her mouth as she watched the group approaching. She forced herself to stay still as two of the village men carried an unconscious Ralph on a makeshift stretcher into the compound before carefully placing him in the medicine man’s hut.
16
Early Sunday morning on Vintage Grand Prix weekend, Mathieu handed the pit-lane passes that Jean-Claude had obtained to Nanette and suggested she took the twins out of the way.
Mathieu had practically pushed them all out of the apartment, despite Olivia protesting she’d rather stay in her room. ‘Papa Jean-Claude’s down there getting ready. Go and wish him good luck. He’d love to see you all. Florence and I need to get the apartment ready for the lunch party.’
With the pit-lane passes hanging around their necks on ribbons, Nanette and the twins crossed the Boulevard Albert 1er at a designated crossing place between the barriers, and made their way down the pit lane to the garage, where Jean-Claude was fine-tuning his Lotus before the race.
Along the pit lane, the cars with their curiously old-fashioned looks were the star attractions. Pierre was fascinated to see a car that had raced in the very first Monaco Grand Prix over sixty years ago on display at the end of the pit-lane enclosure. Even Olivia was impressed when Jean-Claude told them how well his qualifying laps had gone.
‘Can’t believe the old girl went so well. Fourth on the grid. Just have to hope she keeps going now.’ Jean-Claude patted the dark green bonnet of the car gently. ‘Imagine – I’m alongside Damon Hill on the second row,’ he said, looking at Nanette.
Nanette smiled at his boyish enthusiasm. ‘Good luck,’ she said. ‘We’ll be cheering you on from the balcony.’ And the three of them left Jean-Claude and his mechanic to finish their last-minute adjustments to the car.
Strolling along the pit lane with the twins, Nanette remembered the countless times she’d been involved in preparations for Grand Prix races with Zac all over the world, but there was something different about this pit lane. It took her several minutes to realise exactly what it was.
There were crowds of people milling around and there was the usual frenzy of mechanics preparing cars for racing, but it was all rather subdued and, like the cars, old-fashioned. The razzamatazz atmosphere of a modern Formula 1 grand prix was missing.
Next week, Monaco would be in the grip of twenty-first-century racing-car fever as the modern Formula 1 roadshow took over and Monaco turned itself into the most glamorous racetrack in the world, but this Sunday morning, it was all about nostalgia.
Knowing that once the racing started they wouldn’t be able to leave the pit lane, Nanette ushered the twins across the road and they made their way slowly home.
Back in the apartment, Pierre grabbed Mathieu’s binoculars and took up his po
sition on the balcony, where he had a good view of both the starting grid and the pit-lane exit. Guests were starting to arrive. Olivia took one look at one of them, a tall, lanky teenager, and gasped.
‘Dad didn’t say he was coming,’ she said.
Nanette laughed at the expression on her face. ‘Who is he?’ she asked.
Olivia looked at her in disbelief. ‘You must recognise him. It’s Foxey. He’s the lead singer with a really, really cool band. Les Grenouilles.’
‘Oh,’ Nanette said, watching as Olivia ran to her room to change into her ‘best’ jeans – the ones with the tear in the knee – and to fetch her autograph book.
‘Be really cool if he’d sign it for me,’ she said. ‘Do you think he will?’
‘I don’t see why not,’ Nanette said. ‘Go and ask him nicely before anyone else arrives.’
She watched as Olivia shyly approached the young singer, held out her autograph book and politely asked in perfect French. ‘Would you please sign it for me?’
Nanette held her breath in case the boy refused, but she needn’t have worried, He smiled at Olivia as he asked her name before writing in her treasured book.
Nanette was less than thrilled to see the next person who arrived – Boris. Accompanied by a group of six men and the blonde woman Nanette had seen with him in the restaurant, he walked confidently into the apartment. After a cursory glance in her direction and a polite ‘Bonjour,’ he went through to join Foxey and the other guests on the balcony.
Nanette stood undecided. She didn’t fancy going out there and being ignored by Boris and his cronies. She’d wait until all the guests had arrived.
When the doorbell rang, she quickly called out to Florence, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get it,’ and opened the door to find Evie and her boss, Luc, standing there.
‘Evie. What a lovely surprise to see you again,’ Nanette said as Luc went through to join Boris on the balcony, leaving Evie with Nanette.
Together they went into the sitting room, where Mathieu was now supervising pre-lunch nibbles and drinks with Florence. Accepting a glass and taking a plate of hors d’oeuvres, Nanette and Evie edged their way outside towards Pierre and Olivia on the balcony.
Several of the cars were already on the grid, having driven round the circuit to get to their starting positions, and their mechanics were thronging around, giving them final checks in the last twenty minutes before the formation lap.
‘It’s Papa Jean-Claude’s race next,’ Pierre said. ‘Look, here he comes out of the pits,’ and he trained the binoculars down on the pit-lane exit.
‘Gosh, from up here they look like the Dinky toys my kid brother used to play with,’ Evie said, leaning over to get a better look.
Huge TV screens had been positioned around the circuit, including one at the tight first corner, Sainte-Dévote, where the cars would still be jostling for position after the start.
Nanette watched as Jean-Claude began his drive round the circuit to get to his place on the starting grid ready for the formation lap. For some reason, her stomach was a mass of knots, much like it had been whenever she watched Zac race. Knowing how much the opportunity to race his Lotus again meant to him, she so wanted Jean-Claude to have a good, safe, race.
By the time he emerged from the tunnel and was negotiating the bends by the swimming pool in front of them, all of Mathieu’s guests had arrived and the balcony was buzzing.
Nanette, looking out across the harbour, saw Zac on the deck of Pole Position. Thankfully, he was obviously not planning to join them for lunch. Since the morning of his surprise appearance in the apartment, talking about forgiving and forgetting and expressing the desire that they should be civil to each in public, Nanette had been wondering where and when their next encounter would be.
Evie saw her looking at the yachts. ‘Is that Pole Position? I’ve been invited to a party on board tomorrow. Do you know Zac Ewart?’
Nanette smiled. Evie was exactly the kind of girl Zac liked to surround himself with. She nodded. ‘I’ve known Zac for years.’
She glanced at Evie as she said this. Evie clearly had no idea of her past relationship with Zac.
Nanette, knowing the way the Monaco grapevine worked, knew it wouldn’t be long before someone told Evie all the gory details. She hesitated, perhaps she should get in first with her version – the details she could remember, anyway.
‘Oh great, you’ll be going to the party then,’ Evie said, and the opportunity was gone.
‘Not sure,’ Nanette said evasively.
A party on board the boat on which she had organised many a party in the past, full of people who hadn’t given her a single thought after the accident, wasn’t a scenario she fancied. Could she really face it? Did she want to put herself through what would undoubtedly be an ordeal? Even if there was an outside chance that it could help to revive her memory and fill in the blanks for her.
‘The race is about to start,’ Pierre said excitedly. ‘The lights are on.’
Watching the old cars take off, Nanette hoped Jean-Claude would do well – or at least finish the race and not break down. She held her breath every time the Lotus passed below them on the way to the first corner of the next lap, willing him on with every vibe. In the event, he held on to his grid position right to the end and came in fourth. As he took the chequered flag, Nanette joined the twins in cheering loudly, relieved that he’d finished without any problems but sad that he’d just missed out on a podium position.
It was mid-afternoon before a happy Jean-Claude joined them up in the apartment, going straight to the kitchen, where Nanette had retreated to give Florence a hand.
‘Congratulations, JC,’ Nanette said, turning to him with a smile on her face, before surprising both herself and Jean-Claude when she kissed him on the cheek before pouring and handing him a glass of champagne.
‘Merci.’
Nanette smiled at him again, not sure whether he was thanking her for the champagne or the kiss.
‘Any food left? I’m starving,’ he asked.
‘Of course. Why don’t you join the others on the balcony while I plate you up some?’
Jean-Claude shook his head. ‘Not in the mood for meeting Boris and company. I stay here with you.’
As Nanette quickly made up a plate of food for him, Mathieu appeared in the doorway.
‘Congratulations, Papa. You had a good race there,’ before he turned to Nanette. ‘Are you still planning to spend next Sunday up at the villa rather than stay here in the apartment? Now that you and Zac have kissed and made up, I thought you might watch the race from the back of his garage in the pit lane?’
Nanette looked at him, shocked. ‘Mathieu, I don’t know what Zac has told you, but we certainly haven’t kissed and made up. I’ve still got a lot of questions I’d like him to answer before that happens – if it ever does,’ Nanette said sharply. ‘Does it matter where I spend next Sunday?’
‘I’ve just agreed that Boris can use the apartment to watch the race,’ Mathieu said. ‘Apparently the apartment he was hoping to use is no longer available. I’ve told him Pierre and I will be here and possibly you and Olivia, which isn’t a problem for him.’
‘Pierre definitely wants to watch the race and Olivia would prefer not to,’ Nanette said. ‘So, I’ll take her up to the villa for the day and leave Pierre here with you, if that’s OK with you, JC?’
‘Fine by me,’ Jean-Claude assured her. He glanced at Mathieu. ‘Are you going to Zac’s party tomorrow night?’
‘Of course, and I’m hoping Nanette is coming as my partner,’ Mathieu answered, looking at her.
Nanette looked at him, surprised. He hadn’t mentioned that possibility to her. ’Thanks, Mathieu, Zac invited me, but I’ve decided not to go.’
Mathieu looked disappointed but merely said. ‘That’s a shame, but if you change your mind, I’ll be leaving here about nine thirty. You’ll remember how Zac’s parties never take off until late.’
17
T
he night she spent sitting in the shaman’s hut beside a delirious Ralph was one of the longest of Vanessa’s life. For two hours after the native bearers had placed him in the hut, Vanessa had paced up and down outside. Refused admittance by the chief shaman, she could do nothing but pray for her husband and wonder what was going on in there.
Nick and Harry, the cameramen, gave her a brief account of what had happened out by the mine.
‘Ralph didn’t feel well all morning, said his stomach was hurting. He ate very little lunch before he was sick.’
‘Why on earth didn’t he return to camp?’ Vanessa said.
‘Thought he’d be better working through it,’ Harry answered. ‘Said he must have eaten a grub or some other local delicacy last night that didn’t agree with him. Once he’d been sick, he did seem a bit brighter. We managed to persuade him to have a short snooze before work started again and he seemed better for it.’
Vanessa listened, horrified, as Nick then told her about the large boulder that had slipped as the men had tried to manoeuvre it into position for the dam. Breaking the wooden stakes they were using to guide it into position, it had fallen, giving Ralph’s head a glancing blow and knocking him unconscious into the stream.
Listening to Nick’s matter-of-fact account of what had happened, Vanessa remembered the words of the tourist in the eco-camp. ‘All the money in the world won’t get you out of the jungle in a hurry.’
What if Ralph didn’t respond to whatever mumbo jumbo they were saying and administering to him in there? How was she going to get him to a proper hospital?
As if reading her thoughts, Harry said, ‘If he hasn’t regained consciousness by tomorrow, we’ll get him carried down to the tributary and hire a canoe to take him to the Amazon River itself. Then hopefully we can get him to a hospital in one of the large towns.’
Vanessa looked at him in despair. ‘That will take days.’
One Summer in Monte Carlo Page 9