‘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.
Jean-Claude was looking at her anxiously, waiting for her answer. It was only a cocktail party after all, not the Red Cross Ball, one of the major social events of the season’s calendar. With still over a month to go to the Monaco GP, it was extremely unlikely that there would be anybody from the motor-racing world at the party.
She smiled at Jean-Claude. ‘I’d love to come with you.’
‘Très bien. Now we have lunch.’
Lunch, cooked and placed on the table by Anneka, was a delicious mixture of spicy fried chicken, ratatouille, a green salad and a bowl of crispy frites especially for the twins, although neither Jean-Claude or Nanette could resist helping themselves to some. Dessert was individual pots of raspberry mousse served with meringues.
‘That was a delicious meal, thank you,’ Nanette said. ‘I’d forgotten how seriously home-made food is taken down here.’ She’d also forgotten it was the first European Grand Prix of the season that afternoon until Pierre mentioned it as they were eating dessert.
‘Papa Jean-Claude, may I watch the San Marino Grand Prix, please? Zac is on pole position.’
At the mention of Zac, Nanette’s heart lurched and she inwardly chided herself. He was miles away in Italy and besides he didn’t mean anything to her these days.
Olivia gave an exaggerated groan.
‘Sure you can, and I’ll keep you company for a while,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘If you want to watch the introduction and driver interviews, hurry up and finish your mousse. The programme, it starts in five minutes,’ he added, looking at his watch.
‘Can I go in the pool again, please?’ Olivia said. ‘I don’t want to watch the stupid race.’
‘You can’t go swimming straight after lunch. You’ll have to wait for a bit,’ Nanette said.
‘That’s OK. I’ll read The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe until then.’
‘How about you, Nanette? Are you going to watch the race with us?’ Jean-Claude asked.
Nanette shook her head. It was years since she’d watched a Grand Prix, her interest in Formula 1 having hit an all-time low when Zac had abandoned her. Silly really, when it was her love of F1 and her PA job that had brought them together in the first place.
‘No thanks. I’ll go for a wander around the garden if that’s all right,’ she said. ‘Then maybe I’ll join Olivia in the pool.’
Strolling around the garden, Nanette found herself thinking about the race Zac had always called his home Grand Prix. Although there were two more races before the Formula 1 circus arrived in town for the most glamorous race on the calendar, Monaco streets were already in the process of being barricaded into a race circuit. During the next few weeks, the streets would be transformed with steel safety barriers and huge tiers of seating would appear around the racetrack.
Nanette knew that day-to-day living would become increasingly difficult as everything became geared to the smooth running of the biggest money-spinning event of the year. She also knew that the chances of her avoiding people from her past were slim when she went out and about during the week leading up to and including Grand Prix weekend. Returning to the terrace, she sank down onto one of the wicker chairs and tried to banish her negative thoughts about being in town for the Grand Prix.
Moments later Jean-Claude appeared on the terrace with cups of coffee for them both. ‘Thanks. How’s the race going?’
‘Usual procession,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘Need a few pit stops to start changing the order of cars and liven things up a bit.’ He glanced at her. ‘Nanette, I know it’s none of my business, but are you going to be okay being in town for the Grand Prix next month? You know, better than most people I suspect, how invasive the whole Formula 1 thing is. It takes the Principality over completely. Escaping certain people will be difficult.’
Nanette nodded, knowing that what he was saying was true. Hordes of people descended on the place, not just the drivers and their teams, but also the TV crews, the hospitality caravans, the photographers, journalists and, of course, tens of thousands of fans. She gave Jean-Claude a grateful smile, realising that he was looking out for her. He really was a lovely man. Before she could say anything, Jean-Claude continued.
‘Vanessa tells me you have the nightmares. You also still have no memory of how the accident happen. Perhaps you should not be in town for the Grand Prix. If you want to stay up here, or even go back to the UK for a few days, I can take care of the twins if Mathieu happens to be away.’ Jean-Claude regarded Nanette anxiously as she took a sip of her coffee
‘Thank you,’ Nanette said, ‘but I think I have to stay.’ She was silent for a few seconds before adding quietly. ‘It’s the third anniversary of my accident the week after the Grand Prix. I still have no clear recollection of what exactly happened that evening. Perhaps coming back to the scene of the crime will jerk my memory into action. Like the police doing reconstruction scenes in the hope of finding new witnesses.’ She hoped her words sounded optimistic and didn’t betray the fear she felt inwardly at the prospect.
‘Oh, I don’t know, Nanette,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘It could do more harm than good to put yourself through something like that. All I can say is, if you ever need a… I think the English say a shoulder to cry on? Then I’m here.’
‘Thank you,’ she said gratefully. He really was one of the kindest men and she knew instinctively that if she was ever in trouble, he would be the first to come to her aid.
‘Olivia and I may well take you up on the offer of spending the actual race day up here.’