Follow Your Star (4 page)

As José strolled off to prepare the plane, Ralph took Vanessa gently in his arms.

‘Are you sure you want to go through with this? I know you’re thinking about the consequences for the twins if we’d been on that plane. After this flight into the jungle, I promise our exploring will be done on foot, or by water. So, after today the next plane you get on will be the one taking us home.’

He gently kissed her on the forehead.

‘But on the other hand, if you’d rather I continued on my own and you go home now, I’ll understand.’

‘Do you know what time we can expect Mathieu?’ Jean-Claude asked, as he and Nanette sat on the terrace overlooking the swimming pool of his villa. ‘If at all?’

‘No,’ Nanette said. ‘I think he was hoping to be back before the twins went to bed tonight.’

‘Has he said anything to you about his spot of 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. ‘Just tells me not to worry. Everything has been 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. And what sort of business was he dealing in anyway?

‘I’m a go between,’ he 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.’

And 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 was ready.

‘Five minutes, Anneke. We need to round up the twins,’ Jean-Claude said.

The games room where Pierre and Olivia were playing a noisy game of table tennis was next to Jean-Claude’s office. Nanette knew he ran a hugely successful corporate hospitality business, but she was amazed to see piles of papers and folders littering the desk and spilling on to the floor as she walked past. He obviously didn’t follow his son’s
business philosophy of keeping paperwork to a minimum.

Jean-Claude saw her looking and said, ‘My secretary left a few months ago and I haven’t had a chance to find a replacement. Wouldn’t have time to give me hand sorting things out, would you?’

‘Of course,’ Nanette said. ‘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.’

‘I also have another favour to ask,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘I have to go to a business cocktail party at the Hotel de Paris in the week and I need a partner. 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. But it was only a cocktail party, not the Red Cross Ball, one of the major social events of the season’s calendar. And with over a month to go to the Monaco GP it was extremely unlikely that there would be anyone from the motor-racing world at the party.

She smiled at Jean-Claude. ‘I’d love to come with you.’

‘
Très bien
. Now let’s have lunch.’

Nanette had 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, can I watch the San Marino Grand Prix please? Zac is on pole position.’

Olivia gave an exaggerated groan.

‘Sure you can, and I’ll keep you company for a while,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘But if you want to watch the introduction and driver interviews you’d better hurry up and finish your
crème bruleé
. The programme starts in five minutes,’ he added,
looking at his watch.

‘Can I go swimming?’ 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 walked out on her. Silly really, when it was what 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. ‘And 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 moneyspinner of the year. She also knew that the chances of her avoiding people from her past were slim.

She turned as 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 cope with being in town for the Grand Prix? You know, better than most people I suspect, how invasive the whole Formula 1 thing is. The way it takes over completely. There’ll be no escaping certain’ – he paused – ‘people.’

Nanette sipped her coffee as he continued, ‘Vanessa tells me you have the nightmares. You also have no memory of what happened to you before the accident. Perhaps you should not be in town for the Grand Prix. If you want to stay up here with Olivia – or even go back to the UK for a few days – I can take care of Pierre if Mathieu happens to be away.’ Jean-Claude regarded Nanette anxiously.

‘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. 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.’

‘Oh, I don’t know, Nanette,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘But if you ever need a … I think you English call it a shoulder to cry on? Then I’m here.’

‘Thank you,’ she said gratefully. ‘Olivia and I may well take you up on the offer of spending the actual race day up here though.’

Switching off her radio alarm Nanette lay in bed for a few
moments, thinking and planning the day ahead. Once she’d got the twins to school she was going shopping for a dress to wear to this evening’s cocktail party and then she had an appointment at the hairdressers.

Knowing how immaculate the women who attended these parties always looked she knew she had to make an effort for Jean-Claude’s sake. She didn’t want to let him down with his business acquaintances.

Slipping her feet into her slippers, she stood up stretching her arms above her head as she did so, only to freeze in
mid-action
as she glanced out of the window.

Several yachts were about to enter the harbour and one of them looked uncomfortably familiar. Pulling her
dressing-gown
tight, Nanette stepped out on to her balcony and watched as the boats motored in.

The crew of
Pole Position
worked quickly and efficiently and it was only a matter of minutes before the yacht was secured on her mooring – directly opposite the block of apartments. Once the boat was tied up and the gangway lowered to the quay, Nanette held her breath waiting to see if Zac would appear.

But a lone crew member was the only person to run down and disappear along the embankment in the direction of the
supermarché
, reappearing minutes later with several baguettes and a bag of croissants for the crew’s breakfast.

Thoughtfully Nanette ran the water for her bath, adding a generous amount of rose essence. With his yacht back in the harbour, it could only be a matter of time now before Zac, the Heel, appeared in Monaco. Fleetingly she wondered what his reaction to her being in town would be.

Stepping into the tub and sinking into the hot, scented
water, Nanette tried to drown out all thoughts of the past and Zac from her mind. Just because his yacht was here didn’t mean he was likely to turn up tonight.

‘Mmm, you smell nice,’ Olivia said, when Nanette entered the sitting-room that evening. ‘And your dress is cool.’

‘Thank you. I hope it’s the sort of thing people wear to cocktail parties. I’m a bit out of touch these days,’ she said, glancing anxiously at Jean-Claude for reassurance.

‘You look fine,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘The taxi is waiting, so shall we go? Is Mathieu home for the twins?’

Nanette shook her head.

‘No. He rang earlier to say it will be late tonight before he gets back. Florence is here. I’ll just tell her we’re leaving.’

Early evening traffic was heavy and the taxi crawled up the hill towards Place du Casino.

‘You’re very quiet,’ Jean-Claude said glancing at her. ‘Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine. Just a bit nervous. Haven’t done much socializing recently.’

‘Don’t worry.
Pole Position
may be back on its mooring, but I happen to know Zac Ewart isn’t in town,’ Jean-Claude said quietly.

Nanette looked at him, surprised.

‘When I saw the yacht this morning, I knew you’d be worried, so I made enquiries. Zac is busy testing in Jerez with his team for the next two days.’

‘Oh, JC, thank you for that,’ Nanette said gratefully, feeling the tension drain from her body. ‘Now I can relax and help you with whatever you want me to do. Do you hope to promote your business tonight? Or is it a case of other businesses wanting you to use them…? What’s the matter?’
she asked anxiously, as Jean-Claude stared at her.

‘My late wife was the only person who ever called me JC,’ Jean-Claude said slowly.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. It sort of slipped out,’ Nanette said. ‘I’ll stick to your full name in future.’

‘No. It’s fine. It was just the shock of hearing you say it. Please, I’d like you to call me JC, only perhaps not in front of my business associates tonight,’ he said, smiling at her.

As the taxi drew up in front of the Hotel de Paris, the uniformed commissioner opened the door and ushered them up the steps into the opulent foyer with its chandeliers, deep carpets, marble stairs and enough fresh flowers to stock a florist’s shop.

Once inside, where the head commissioner greeted Jean-Claude personally, they made their way to the Salon Berlioz, already buzzing with people.

Accepting glasses of champagne from an attentive waitress, Jean-Claude said, ‘Right. Better start mixing. Let’s start by talking to Robert, one of the wine merchants I use.’

For the next hour Jean-Claude circulated, introducing Nanette to so many people she forgot their names instantly. There was only one person with whom she had any sort of rapport and that was Evie, personal assistant to Luc, a formidable bear-like man who, Evie assured her, ‘is a real sweetie.’

‘Been in Monte long?’ Evie asked, taking a smoked-salmon blini from a passing waiter and gesturing to Nanette to do the same.

‘Just a few weeks,’ Nanette said non-committally. ‘You?’

‘Six months. I love it. It’s all so glamorous. I can’t wait for the Grand Prix.’

Nanette smiled at her infectious enthusiasm, recognizing and remembering similar feelings when she’d first arrived.

‘Are you Jean-Claude’s assistant?’

‘Sort of. Officially I’m his grandchildren’s nanny.’

‘Really? Gosh he doesn’t look old enough to have grandkids,’ Evie said, looking across at Jean-Claude who was saying an animated goodbye to Luc.

‘Fancy meeting up for a coffee sometime?’ Nanette said impulsively. ‘I’m quite missing my girlfriends from back home and could do with some girly chat.’

‘Love to,’ Evie said. ‘Take my card and give me a ring next week. Better go, I think Luc wants me.
Ciao
.’

‘
Ciao
,’ Nanette answered smiling.

She was still smiling when Jean-Claude joined her a couple of minutes later.

‘Shall we go? I booked a table for eight o’clock at my favourite fish restaurant on Boulevard Grande Bretagne.’ He stopped suddenly and looked at her anxiously. You do like fish, don’t you? I didn’t think to ask!’

‘Yes, JC, I do,’ Nanette laughingly reassured him.

A crowd of paparazzi had gathered on the pavement outside the hotel and flashbulbs started to pop as they walked past. Nanette, glancing briefly across to see if she recognized the blonde celebrity posing in the Casino entrance, thought ‘rather her than me’ and failed to notice a lone photographer moving backwards.

Jean-Claude’s warning shout, ‘Hey, mind where you’re going,’ and his attempt to pull her out of the way, was too late. The man collided with her heavily and they both fell over the small hedge that separated the pavement from the parkland grass in the middle of the Place du Casino.

Dazed, Nanette sat on the ground taking deep breaths for several moments and trying in vain to ignore the cameras that were now aimed in her direction.