Follow Your Star (6 page)

Going to her own room, Nanette carefully pulled out the contents of the envelope. Along, newsy letter from Patsy was wrapped around another sealed brown official envelope. Pensively, Nanette placed the envelope in the drawer of her dressing-table. Even without opening it she knew exactly what it contained. Taking Patsy’s letter with her she went to make a cup of coffee.

Because it was a fête day, Florence had the day off and for the first time since she’d arrived Nanette was completely alone in the apartment. Coffee cup in hand she wandered around enjoying the solitude. Pausing outside Mathieu’s closed bedroom door she realized she’d only ever had glimpses of that particular room – the door was always closed. Curiously, and smothering her guilty feelings, Nanette turned the handle, only to find the door was locked.

Nanette mused, sipping her coffee, was Mathieu just keen on privacy, or did he have something to hide in there? Deep in thought, she returned to Mathieu’s temporary office. The computer was switched off. The desk, aside from the desk tidy was empty. Not even a diary. And the filing cabinet was locked. The only discordant thing in the room was the crumpled atlas page in the wastepaper basket. She retrieved it and, smoothing it out, wandered back into the sitting-room. Maybe it was only a piece of waste paper, but somehow she had a feeling it was more than that. Perhaps she’d show it to Jean-Claude later and see if he had any ideas.

Standing by the sitting-room window she glanced out at the harbour and froze as she saw a figure sitting at a table on the stern deck of
Pole Position
. Even from her viewpoint, nine floors up she had no difficulty in recognizing Zac. Or the man he was now standing up to welcome on board – Boris.

Hoping she was shielded from view by the lemon tree in its pot on the balcony, Nanette watched as the two men were served coffee by a stewardess before Boris handed Zac what looked like a large packet.

Ten minutes later, both men stood up, shook hands and Boris took his leave of Zac, making his way slowly along the gangway back to a large black car waiting for him on the harbour road.

On board
Pole Position
Nanette could see Zac punching a number into his mobile phone before holding it up to his ear, and moving his head so that it was obvious he was looking directly up at the apartment. Nanette stepped slowly away from the window. Had he seen her after all? Realized she’d been watching him and Boris?

The unexpected shrill buzz of the apartment doorbell made
her jump and she hurried to open it.

‘
Bonjour, Nanette
. Happy May Day.’ Jean-Claude lightly kissed her on both cheeks before handing her a pot of Lilies of the Valley.

‘Thank you, JC,’ Nanette said, surprised. She’d forgotten all about the tradition of giving the highly scented flowers on 1 May as a sign of friendship – and love.

‘You look a little flustered,’ Jean-Claude said, looking at her anxiously. ‘Nothing wrong is there?’

‘Zac is in town. I’ve just been watching him and his friend Boris meeting on
Pole Position
,’ she explained.

‘Is this Boris still there? I would be interested in seeing what he looks like,’ Jean-Claude said, walking out on to the balcony quickly.

‘No. He left a few minutes ago. But Zac is still on board.’

Joining him out on the balcony, Nanette could see Zac now in the cockpit gesticulating at one of his crew. As they watched, Zac turned and glanced upwards, raising his hand in greeting as he saw Jean-Claude. Rather than acknowledge him, Nanette turned and went back into the sitting-room.

‘I thought we’d have lunch at the Automobile Club,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘Or anywhere you like,’ he added quickly, seeing the look on her face.

‘It’s just that Zac’s in town,’ Nanette apologized. ‘I know it’s his favourite place for lunch. And I’m not quite ready to meet him socially yet. Could we go somewhere else please?’

‘Why don’t we walk up to Saint Nicholas Square?’ Jean-Claude said. ‘It’s a bit touristy, but on the plus side I doubt that Zac will venture up that way on a fête day.’

Nanette looked at him gratefully. ‘I’ll just get my bag.’

To Nanette’s relief, and by mutual unspoken agreement, they left the apartment block by the quieter exit on to a back street so she didn’t have to walk past
Pole Position
.

The weather for the May Day holiday was perfect – blue sky, a gentle breeze and warm sunshine. Joining the throngs of tourists they began making their way up towards the Palace.

Saint Nicholas Square was in the labyrinth of busy narrow streets that clustered around the cathedral in the old town. Choosing an outside table at one of the restaurants, they sat down under a gaily stripped umbrella. Snatched conversations in French, English, Italian and the inevitable Japanese floated in the air around them. An attentive waiter handed them a menu.

‘
Vous faites décider … ah, pardon
Nanette. I forgot. I will speak English.’ Jean-Claude said. ‘Have you decided what you’d like to eat?’

‘JC, please speak in French,’ Nanette answered. ‘Not using it for three years mine’s a bit rusty, but I do still understand. I need to start speaking it again too.’

She glanced at the menu. ‘I think I’ll have the
plat du jour, s’il vous plait
.’

Sipping her glass of ice-cold rosé Nanette looked at Jean-Claude.

‘Something else I haven’t used for three years arrived today,’ she said quietly.

Jean-Claude looked at her in puzzlement.

Nanette pictured the envelope in the drawer before saying quietly, ‘My driving licence has been returned. My driving ban is finished.’

‘But that is good, isn’t it?’ Jean-Claude said. ‘Now you can
truly put the past behind you and start driving again.’

‘I’m not sure that I have the confidence to get behind the wheel of a car again.’

‘If you are nervous I can come with you for the first few times,’ Jean-Claude offered.

‘I don’t know that it’s that simple, JC.’ Nanette fiddled with her cutlery. ‘What if—?’

Jean-Claude stopped her in mid sentence.

‘
Non
. No
what ifs
Nanette. You’ve been punished for the accident. Now you must put it behind you and get on with your life. I forbid you to let it blight the future.’

In spite of herself Nanette smiled at the stern look on Jean-Claude’s face.

‘I know you’re right, but I don’t have a car at the moment anyway, so’ – she shrugged – ‘I shall avoid the issue for at least a few more weeks.’

After an exasperated ‘Tch’ Jean-Claude changed the subject.

‘I hope Mathieu has invited you to the lunch he’s hosting Vintage Grand Prix weekend?’

‘Yes, I’m looking forward to it. Will you be there?’

‘Yes and no. I’ve been persuaded to get my Lotus out of mothballs and give it an outing, so I shall be spending most of my Sunday with the mechanics. Be interesting to drive on a circuit again after so long. Especially this one.’

‘I didn’t know you’d been a racing driver,’ Nanette said.

‘Only very briefly. It was at the time the sport was changing rapidly into big business with the manufacturers taking over. It simply became too expensive without a sponsor; I found myself priced out of the market.’ He shrugged. ‘And if I’m honest I lacked the competitive edge that people like Mansell
and Senna had. So, the car has been under wraps for the last few years. I’ve got the next couple of weeks to finish checking it over mechanically and prepare it. Of course, I don’t expect to be placed, but must admit I’m looking forward to the weekend.’

‘Who have you got supporting you on the day?’ Nanette asked. ‘You’ll need someone in the pits to help.’

‘Not a problem. There are always young lads wanting to get involved and I’ve got a mechanic called David coming over from Le Cannet to help. He used to work the circuit so he knows the ropes.’

He glanced at her. ‘And Zac has offered me the expertise of one of his mechanics if I need it. The Formula One circus will be arriving in town by then with only a week to go to the Grand Prix proper. Looks as though it might be Zac’s year,’ he added casually. ‘I see he’s leading the championship and is favourite to win next week in Germany.’

Nanette nodded. Despite herself she’d been keeping an eye on the results since the drivers had arrived back in Europe from Australia.

‘My offer still stands by the way,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘You’re more than welcome to use the villa as a hideaway anytime – not just on race day. After the Spanish race Zac is certain to be in town more or less permanently until the Grand Prix.’

‘I know,’ Nanette said diffidently, remembering previous years when Zac had used the run up to the Monaco Grand Prix to do a lot of socializing. She sighed inwardly. The inevitable meeting was getting closer.

‘You will have to meet him face to face one day, Nanette. What will you do then?’ Jean-Claude asked gently.

Nanette shook her head before saying slowly, ‘I don’t know.’

For the next couple of weeks Monaco continued to gear itself up for the busiest part of its year. The needs of the vintage Grand Prix weekend complicated things as everything had to be ready a week earlier, which had added a manic frenzy to the normal 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 around the route and the barriers were in place around the length of the circuit. Fresh white paint detailed the starting grid below Nanette’s balcony.

The main players in the Formula 1 circus 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 more and more 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.

With a deep breath of relief, she managed to cross the road
and make her way into the small supermarché. 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.

Resisting the urge to buy herself a
pomme de tart
for her own breakfast, Nanette held the still warm croissants carefully as she let herself into the quiet 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.’ As Nanette stood in total shock looking at him, Zac Ewart walked purposefully into the kitchen – and back into her life.

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.

Nanette, frozen into stillness, 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 Fontvielle.’ 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 full well there was no urgent appointment for Mathieu, followed Zac slowly out to the balcony.

‘How are you?’ Zac asked, as he placed the tray on the table.

‘How am I? Why should you care? It’s been three years – three years, Zac – since the accident, without a word from you. Why the sudden interest?’

‘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? And,’ Nanette took a deep breath, ‘I thought you more than
cared
for me – we were engaged. I thought you loved me. 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 a lot of 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? 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 her friends.

Nine hours later the car was a mangled wreck on the autoroute and she was in intensive care in the Princess Grace Hospital.

Nanette stared at him.

‘And no-one 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 at home,’ he said evasively.

‘This was my home. And 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.’

‘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 June to October, I’m never in town for more than two or three days at a time. There was no way I could play doctors and nurses all summer.’

‘But why—’

Zac held up his hands. ‘Stop. Enough questions. All I can say is, I’m sorry I hurt you in the past, 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. If I don’t see you before, I’ll see you on Sunday – and please think about coming to my party.
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 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 was 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 feelings about the meeting and for Zac Ewart, Nanette frowned. There were still questions to which she needed 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.

Smothering a sigh, she picked up the breakfast tray and returned it to the kitchen. For how much longer was the legacy of her past to haunt her future?

After Nanette had collected the twins from school on Wednesday afternoon they walked up to Jean-Claude’s villa where Mathieu had said he would join them in the swimming pool.

There was no sign of anyone when they arrived, but Nanette could hear raised voices coming from Jean-Claude’s study.

‘You two go on down to the pool room and get changed but do not get into the pool until I, or Daddy, get there. Understand? I’ll just go and tell Papa Jean-Claude we’re here and see where your father is.’

Nanette recognized Mathieu’s angry voice as she got close to the window of the ground-floor study.

‘Get off my back, Papa. I know what I’m doing and I don’t need your advice.’

‘The last time you shouted that at me you ended up needing me though – and my money, remember?’

‘Never going to let me forget that, are you? I was nineteen for god’s sake!’

‘Whether you want my advice or not, I’m telling you you’re getting involved in dangerous waters. These people you’re involved with will cast you aside when they have no further
use for you. They’ll throw you to the lions without a second thought.’

‘I don’t happen to agree with you, but if it happens – it’s my problem not yours.’

‘The fact that you’re my son and you’re besmirching the family name makes it my problem.’

Nanette could hear the tension in Jean-Claude’s voice as she edged nearer the study door.

‘Just remember the twins too. They need their father around. Not languishing in jail for some unrealistic get-rich-quick crime he was stupid enough to get involved with. And, Mathieu, never forget, you can be thrown out of the Principality. If the Grimaldis can do it to one of their own, then it can happen to anyone.’

To Nanette’s ears, the silence following Jean-Claude’s last remark seemed to last forever. She was just about to knock on the door and call out, when Mathieu spoke again. This time he appeared to be measuring his words carefully.

‘Papa, please trust me on this. I do actually know what I’m doing and in a couple of months you, and everyone else, will realize it too.’

‘I hope so, Mathieu. I sincerely hope so,’ Jean-Claude said quietly.

Both men turned as Nanette opened the study door.

‘Hi. The twins are waiting for you down by the pool, Mathieu,’ she said.

‘Sorry – I forgot the time. I’ll see you later, Dad,’ and Mathieu left.

Jean-Claude looked at her. ‘How much did you overhear?’

Nanette shrugged. ‘Enough to realize how worried you still are about Mathieu. Has something else happened?’

‘No – other than I have now met Boris and took an instant dislike to the man. Also’ – he hesitated – ‘there are rumours flying around about an illegal cartel involving several
high-profile
personalities.’

‘But you don’t know for sure that Mathieu is involved in that?’

Jean-Claude shook his head. ‘No. But I have reason to believe Zac Ewart is – and, as you and I both know, he and Mathieu are very close.’

Vanessa stumbled over some exposed roots of an immense tree that towered above her as she followed their
machete-wielding
guide along the muddy track, taking them deeper and deeper into the forest.

All day they had hacked their way into the depths of the steamy, lush forest. Now their destination, a native village, was only an hour away.

Trudging in single file behind Ralph and the others, Vanessa felt both tired and exhilarated. The clean
oxygen-filled
air, heavy with moisture, had initially somehow bestowed a feeling of euphoria and excitement on her, but now her clothes were beginning to smell and feel damp from all the humidity.

Her skin was itching where unknown insects had bitten her. Her head was sweaty from the wide brimmed hat she was wearing to deflect the sun and to stop the legions of creepy crawlies above her in the rain forest’s canopy, from falling into her hair. She longed for the day to end.

Their trek had taken them between columns of trees so tall their tops disappeared from view, with long liana vines hanging and wrapping themselves around the trunks. Vast
spider-webs had spanned the green vegetation, where some leaves were as huge as the parasol Vanessa dreamily imagined sitting under and relaxing.

At ground level everything appeared to be in a state of flux. Strange smells wafted up from where plants were growing, decaying, dying, surrounded by lots of bugs, snakes and other things that Vanessa just knew were waiting to take a bite out of her.

As the day wore on, the sounds of the jungle had become familiar. Sloths shaking the treetops looking for a resting spot, the echoing cries of the howler monkeys as they swung through the trees and the ever-present noise of the cicadas mingling with birdsong became background noises to the group as they hacked their way through the rain forest.

The village clearing appeared unexpectedly. One minute the guide was leading them along a muddy track beneath the jungle canopy, the next they came to an abrupt standstill as their way was barred by a group of native Indians holding their hunting spears at arm’s length.

For one heart-stopping moment, Vanessa thought they were about to be attacked, but it was simply the welcoming party come to escort them into the village.

The primitive palm thatched huts on their stilts stood around the edge of the clearing, where the village animals, including a fat pig and several roosters, were roaming freely scouring the land for scraps.

Walking to the centre of the encampment with curious villagers eyeing them from a distance, Vanessa noticed a small child standing close to her mother watching the strangers with wide brown eyes.

Vanessa smiled at her and was rewarded with a shy smile
in return before the little girl turned and ran after a baby pig, before settling down in the dust to stroke and play with it. Looking at her, naked and beautifully brown, with her bare feet planted firmly on the earth, the phrase ‘being at one with nature’ came into Vanessa’s mind. This little girl was definitely in harmony with the natural world that she lived in.

Briefly Vanessa envied her the simplicity of her childhood – and her life to come.

The chief shaman came forward to welcome them and showed them to the hut reserved for visitors.

They’d barely had time to sling their hammocks between the beams and change their damp clothes before a young woman appeared inviting them to come and eat the special meal the villagers had prepared in their honour.

There were bowls of yucca soup, rice, fish, fruit and, to Vanessa’s horror, large white live grubs and what was clearly organ meat from various animals, all laid out in their honour. She looked at Ralph in dismay.

‘I don’t want to upset anyone but I can’t eat those things,’ she whispered, pointing to the wriggling white grubs and the meat.

‘Stick to the rice and fish,’ Ralph advised quietly. ‘And have some fruit.’

As Vanessa began to peel a banana a small monkey who had been wandering around scratching the earth, suddenly ran up to her, snatching the banana from her, before jumping on to her lap and settling down to eat it. Vanessa looked at him in amazement. She must remember to tell the twins about this.

Listening to fragments of the conversation around her as
she watched the monkey, Vanessa realized the village was struggling to survive.

Angela, the mother of the little girl Vanessa had seen earlier, was shaking her head sadly as she spoke to Ralph in fragmented Spanish.

‘It is terrible with the forest – so much destruction. People need to find a way of surviving, of helping the jungle to grow back. Much is being done but the bandits, they still spoil things.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘The drugs and the gold smuggling is taking over our culture even here in this tiny village. We have a school now, but the children – what future do they have? The government want our people to report anyone who abuses the forest but we’re not going to risk our lives, are we?’