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 appointment 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?