Page 14 of A Riviera Retreat
Leaving the cathedral twenty minutes later, they were all quiet, lost in their own memories. The dazzling sunlight that hit their eyes as they walked down the steps had them all searching their bags for sunglasses. Amy led them back towards Palace Square, past the dark bronze figure of Francis Grimaldi near the arch, and on to the pathway that led down to the port via a series of steps and slopes. The sunshine, along with the laughter and chatter of tourists, banished the sober feelings the atmosphere in the cathedral had imbued in each of them.
By the time they reached the port, Amy could see that Matilda was leaning heavily on her stick and rang for a taxi to take her to the top of the town. Once they’d waved Matilda off, promising they’d see her within the hour for a coffee in the Café de Paris, the other three started to walk along the front and then up the hill, past the Princess Grace Theatre, towards the casino.
Passing the theatre, Amy caught her breath as she saw a poster advertising the opening night of a ballet. She quickened her pace until she was almost running in her anxiety to put the theatre as far behind her as possible. The poster had brought back painful memories of the past and the thought that she’d be accosted at any moment by the one person she dreaded seeing. The sensible part of her brain tried to tell her it was unlikely they’d bump into each other once she got away from the theatre area, but she didn’t want to take the risk.
‘Whoa,’ Vicky puffed. ‘I can’t keep up this pace. Why the rush?’
Amy slowed down. ‘Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Let’s have a wander along rue de Monte Carlo before we meet up again with Matilda? Some of the poshest shops in Monaco are there.’
Vicky glanced at her curiously before saying, ‘Sounds fun, but please don’t let me get my credit card out.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Chelsea said. ‘I’m definitely only window shopping. We’ll hold each other back.’
By the time the three of them had oohed and aahed their way past the posh shops and were admiring the jewellers’ window near the Casino, Amy’s breathing had returned to normal.
Outside the Casino, there was the usual crush of tourists all vying with each other to have their photographs taken alongside the various luxury cars parked in front of the entrance steps.
Vicky held her phone out. ‘Would one of you please take a photo of me posing against… against that one,’ and she pointed to a white Aston Martin convertible. ‘I know it’s an incredibly naff thing to do, but,’ she laughed, ‘it’s Anthony’s dream car.’
Chelsea took the phone. ‘You can take one of me afterwards. I fancy the red Ferrari.’
‘I’m going to join Matilda,’ Amy said. ‘I’ve just spotted her over there,’ and she waved to Matilda sitting at one of the tables on the pavement outside the Café de Paris.
Quarter of an hour later, the four of them were enjoying chatting and people watching when Amy saw her worst fear coming down the Casino steps, hand in hand with a woman. How could she have forgotten how high the chances were here in Monaco of bumping into the one man she’d been avoiding for the past five years? He always spent a lot of the summer there, in his small studio in one of the modern apartment blocks down by the heliport in Fontvieille. She hadn’t forgotten really. Simply pushed the possibility to the back of her mind in her eagerness to give the others a day out.
The knot in her stomach tightened and, too late, she tried to shrink out of sight. His glance across the crowds caught hers, and she saw him start before saying something to the woman and leaving her as he ran down the rest of the steps, making his way over to Amy.
‘Hello, Amy. This is an unexpected surprise.’ The smile he gave her failed to reach his eyes.
‘Hello.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I’m on holiday with my friends,’ Amy gestured towards the others, praying that they wouldn’t interrupt and tell him the truth.
‘You could have rung the theatre. Left a message to say you were in town. We could have had lunch. We need to talk.’ He stared at her before brusquely demanding.
‘Where are you staying?’
‘Not in Monaco,’ Amy said quickly. ‘Further along the coast. Your friend is waiting.’ Pointedly, Amy looked at the woman now opening the door of the white Aston Martin. ‘Goodbye.’
He sighed and shook his head as he looked at her. ‘You can’t run away forever, Amy. There are things that need sorting. You should have answered my calls. But right now is not a good time. I have to go. Just make sure you reply to the next letter.’ He turned and strode purposefully to his car and slid into the driving seat.
They all watched as he edged the car out into the traffic and, with a wave of his hand in Amy’s direction, drove off.
Vicky looked at Amy. ‘Are you going to tell us who that was – or shall we all be terribly polite and British and talk about other things?’
Amy smothered a deep sigh and looked at the other three. ‘That was my husband. Kevin Peake.’
‘You mean your ex-husband?’ Vicky said.
Amy shook her head. ‘No. We’re still married. And he’s right. I did run away.’
Day Four Of The Holiday – June 9
9
Vicky carried a coffee and her laptop up to the little summer house and sighed happily as she sat in one of the comfortable wicker chairs admiring the view and drinking her coffee before she started work.
