The night of Zac’s party, Monaco Old Port was a mass of twinkling lights from the yachts and the restaurants that lined the harbour. Grand Prix fever was definitely in the air as Monaco slipped into party mode for the biggest week of its year.
Nanette had spent an hour or two during the day up at Jean-Claude’s villa finishing the sorting out of his office and making sure his diary was up to date. She’d found several invitations to various summer events along the Riviera, including one to the famous Red Cross Ball and another for the Monte Carlo Gala for the Global Ocean at the end of the summer season. When she asked about them, Jean-Claude had immediately told her to RSVP declining the Red Cross invitation but to put the date of the other one in the diary, while he responded and accepted the invitation.
‘I alternate between them,’ he’d explained. ‘This year I go to the Global Ocean event.’
When Nanette saw the size of the cheque he’d written to accompany his response and to reserve a table at the charity money raising event, she remembered how expensive it was to have a social life amongst the VIP residents of Monaco. Supporting a charity in Monte Carlo required deep pockets.
Now, a few hours later, standing on the balcony surveying the evening scene below her, Nanette took in the atmosphere. Whereas it had once been commonplace in her life, she was now so detached from the social scene that watching it had something of a surreal quality for her.
After the laid-back nostalgic atmosphere of the weekend, it was clear the big boys were now gathering in town ready to play. Music from several parties already in full swing on various boats floated up on the sultry air. Couples strolled nonchalantly past the luxury yachts, stopping occasionally to gaze on board, in the hope of seeing a famous face or two amongst all the glamorous people.
Nanette picked up her mobile and took a short video of the harbour down below: Pole Position lit from stem to stern, the music and the buzz of laughter drifting up on the air. She sent it to Patsy with the cryptic comment: ‘Guess who’s having an on-board party tonight?’
Her phone rang five seconds later.
‘Are you all right? Is it bringing back memories? Please don’t let them upset you,’ Patsy said.
‘I’m not,’ Nanette answered. ‘It’s surreal really, watching it going on from a distance, knowing the kind of thing that is happening on board. I definitely don’t miss it,’ she assured her sister, surprising herself with the truth. ‘How are things with you and the bump?’
‘Good. The sickness has gone, thank goodness. Putting on too much weight, according to Helen, but the midwife assures me I’m in the normal range for this trimester, so I’m listening to her and not Grannyzilla.’
‘Have you called her that to her face yet?’ Nanette laughed.
‘No, thankfully. It’s not funny,’ Patsy protested. ‘I’ve asked Bryan to have a word with her this Sunday when they do their weekly afternoon walk together. I’ve told him he has to make her listen, otherwise I’m going to book myself into a B&B down on the coast and get completely away. I need some space,’ she added quietly. ‘I wish Mum and Dad were still alive. I could do with one of Mum’s hugs at the moment.’
‘Oh, Patsy love,’ Nanette said, realising her unflappable big sister was close to tears. ‘I wish I wasn’t so far away right now. I promise you I’ll come and give you lots of hugs when I get back. And I’ll keep Helen off your back. Hang on in there.’
‘Talking to you has helped,’ Patsy said. ‘I’m going to bed to read now for a bit. Night.’
‘Night,’ Nanette echoed.
Scrolling through her contacts on the phone, she found the florist she always used and ordered a big bunch of flowers to be delivered to Patsy the next day. Hopefully that would cheer her up.
Mathieu appeared as she closed her phone and turned her attention back to the scenes on the quay in front.
‘I’m off. Sure you won’t change your mind and come to the party?’ Mathieu asked.
Nanette shook her head. ‘Enjoy yourself. You look very smart, by the way, in your tuxedo.’
‘Thanks.’ Mathieu hesitated for a second, as though about to say something else, changed his mind and left.
Nanette heard him open the door and was surprised to hear Jean-Claude’s voice saying hello.
‘What are you doing here, Papa?’ Mathieu asked. ‘Aren’t you coming to Zac’s party either?’
‘I keep Nanette company first,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘Enjoy the party. I’ll catch you later,’ and he closed the door behind Mathieu, cutting off any more questions from his son.
Joining Nanette on the balcony, Jean-Claude smiled at her. ‘Great atmosphere down there.’
Nanette nodded. ‘Mmm. Can I get you a drink or anything?’
‘Maybe in a minute, but first I would like to talk to you.’ Jean-Claude glanced at her before continuing quietly. ‘I think you go and make an appearance at Zac’s party tonight. If only for five minutes.’
‘Oh, JC,’ Nanette sighed.
‘I know you tell me how upsetting and difficult you found seeing Zac recently,’ Jean-Claude said, ‘but going tonight would be another step to getting the past behind you. Zac, he has expressed a desire to be friends, and his guests are unlikely to create a scene or be rude to you in front of him.’
There was silence as Nanette gazed out unseeingly over the harbour. Knowing that Jean-Claude was right didn’t help and she shrugged helplessly as she turned to face him.
‘Why don’t you go and put on a party dress and we go together?’ Jean-Claude said gently. ‘We don’t have to stay long and I promise not to leave your side.’ As Nanette bit her lip and looked at him, he added, ‘It will be fine. Go and change. I’ll have a word with Florence to keep an ear out for the twins, but I’m sure they’ll be fast asleep by now anyway.’
Nanette hesitated. Deep down she knew Jean-Claude was right. Going to the party and being civil to Zac would be a major step forward and meeting him with Jean-Claude at her side would make things so much easier. She gave him a tremulous smile before saying, ‘Okay.’
In her room, Nanette stood uncertainly in front of her wardrobe wondering which dress to wear. She rejected the one she’d worn to accompany Jean-Claude to the Hôtel de Paris as being too dressy and chose instead a summery white one with a lace bolero jacket over the shoulders.
‘Do I look OK?’ she asked Jean-Claude anxiously as she rejoined him in the sitting room.
‘Nanette, you always look lovely to me whatever you’re wearing,’ Jean-Claude said quietly.
Struck by the sincere intensity in his voice, Nanette looked at him in surprise before smiling at him shyly and leading the way out of the apartment. Now the decision to go to the party had been taken, she was determined to be strong and face things, people, head on.
Together they walked past yacht after yacht, each one positively humming with revellers. Everywhere, there was noise, laughter, music and glamorous women. As they approached Pole Position, dressed overall with lights from stern to bow, and moored between two boats busy with their own parties, Nanette felt her heart quicken and apprehension pushed all her new found determination aside. What had she been thinking?
The sudden strident noise of police sirens as several police cars streaked their way along the Boulevard Albert 1er frightened Nanette and she looked around quickly.
‘Probably heading for the autoroute,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘Hope it’s nothing too serious.’ He gestured to her to go ahead of him as a crew member waited at the head of the gangway to welcome them aboard.
Slipping her shoes off and placing them in the woven wicker basket provided, before stepping on to the teak deck of Pole Position, Nanette’s nerves almost got the better of her and she would have run back down to the embankment, if Jean-Claude hadn’t unexpectedly taken her hand at that moment, making escape impossible. It was as if he sensed her wanting to run as he squeezed her hand in a comforting, reassuring way, letting her know he was there for her.
The main cabin of the boat was bursting with people and, as they squeezed their way through the throng, Nanette saw several people she knew. She returned a quiet ‘hello’ to the ones who acknowledged her and did her best not to mind the ones who deliberately turned their backs.
Jean-Claude took two glasses of champagne from the steward at the small bar and handed her one.
Nanette looked around curiously as she sipped her drink. Over three years since she’d stepped foot on the yacht that had been her and Zac’s private bolt hole. In those days the interior had been a mixture of off-white furniture with Zac’s growing collection of original art on the wall spaces between the windows and a cream carpet on the floor. This evening she saw that while the fitted furniture was the same, the carpet had been replaced by wooden parquet flooring, several of the paintings had disappeared and a large Lalique glass panel depicting a F1 racing car had taken their place. Vaguely, Nanette wondered what had happened to the paintings.
‘What do you think of the makeover Zac had done earlier this year?’ Jean-Claude asked.
‘Umm, not sure,’ Nanette replied evasively. ‘I liked it the way it was. Wonder where Zac is?’ The sooner he realised she was on board and they could get over any awkwardness in their greeting and move on, the better.
‘Probably out on deck. Shall we go look?’
When Nanette nodded, Jean-Claude took her by the hand again and they made their way through one of the open doors out on to the side deck.
Outside, they could see Zac and Mathieu up in the bow talking to Boris. By mutual unspoken consent, Nanette and Jean-Claude stayed where they were. Neither of them wanted to have to make small talk with Boris.
As they stood sipping their drinks and watching the other party guests, Nanette slowly relaxed. Just as they were about to return to the main cabin, Evie joined them.
‘Hi. I thought it was you. Isn’t it a great party? I’ve been talking to one of the racing drivers, but now he’s looking for Zac. He’s got a message for him from his technical support team. Apparently, the police have stopped the Formula 1 car transporters up on the autoroute for a random search.’
‘Nothing unusual in that,’ Nanette said. ‘It happens quite a lot. Never found anything yet.’
‘Oh, but this time they reckon they’ve had a tip-off and they’re searching them all from top to bottom. They seem certain of finding something.’ Evie said. ‘My friend is telling Zac the news now.’
Nanette glanced across in time to catch the concerned look Zac exchanged with Boris and Mathieu. Mathieu moved away from the others and began to push his way towards the stern and the gangway.
Nanette felt a sudden knot of apprehension tighten in her stomach and she moved closer to Jean-Claude. Gently, she felt for his hand and together they watched Mathieu jump off Pole Position before being swallowed up by the crowds still thronging the harbourside and disappearing from view.
Standing on the deck in silence watching Mathieu running away into the night, Nanette felt Jean-Claude’s tension as she held his hand and hoped against hope that his worry was groundless.
Nanette glanced around. The party seemed to have come to a premature end with the news of the police raid on the Formula 1 transporters. The deck was still vibrating from the disco music playing in the main cabin, but people were leaving, including Boris and his entourage.
‘Shall we go?’ Nanette asked Jean-Claude quietly.
He nodded in answer and they turned to make their way back to the gangway Nanette, hoping that they would be able to leave unnoticed, was disconcerted to see Zac standing in the stern, saying goodnight to people.
‘Nanette, Jean-Claude, I’m sorry you’re leaving. Can’t you both stay longer? I haven’t even had a chance to dance with you yet, Nanette. Another glass of champagne perhaps?’
Nanette glanced at him sharply. The last thing she wanted was to dance with Zac.
‘Non,’ Jean-Claude said brusquely. ‘I need to find Mathieu. Perhaps you tell me where he’s gone?’ Jean-Claude glared at Zac.
‘How would I know?’ Zac said.
‘Because I believe you’ve involved my son in one of your suspect business enterprises,’ Jean-Claude said angrily.
Zac looked at him steadily. ‘Mathieu is a businessman – he makes his own decisions as to the deals he gets involved in. Nobody twists his arm.’
‘So, he is mixed up with you and the Russian in something then?’ Jean-Claude demanded.
Zac sighed. ‘Jean-Claude, if Mathieu has chosen not to confide in you about his business, I can’t help you. Now, are you sure I can’t persuade you to stay?’ and he looked at Nanette hopefully.
She shook her head and moved away to retrieve her high-heeled sandals from the jumble of footwear now in the basket at the head of the gangway.
Slipping them on, she saw Jean-Claude move closer to Zac and place a hand on his shoulder before leaning towards him and saying something that was clearly intended for his ears alone.
Zac’s face darkened and he vehemently shrugged Jean-Claude’s hand off his shoulder before turning away and making for the bar in the main cabin.
Both Nanette and Jean-Claude were silent as they made their way along the embankment to the apartment, each lost in their own thoughts.
Jean-Claude took her arm as they prepared to cross the road. ‘Join me for a coffee, please, before I see you home,’ he said.
The pavement café at the bottom of Rue Princess Caroline was noisy with late-night revellers as they sat at a small table and ordered their cafés noisettes.
‘Try not to worry too much about Mathieu,’ Nanette said gently. ‘Didn’t he tell you that things were under control and everything would be sorted soon?’
Jean-Claude nodded.
‘So try to trust him for a bit longer. Difficult, I know.’
As Nanette looked at him sympathetically, he reached out and squeezed her hand.
‘I know you’re right,’ he said, shaking his head as he looked at her. ‘I just wish I didn’t have fear in the pit of my stomach.’