Page 15 of Rendez-Vous in Cannes
‘Poppy, look at this,’ Daisy said, holding her mobile out so Poppy could see the picture. ‘Is that who I think it is about to place a single rose with the other tributes to Philippe Cambone at the family restaurant?’
‘Think so,’ Poppy said, looking at the screen intently. ‘The soft focus has given it a certain ethereal look, but, yes, that’s Anna.’
They both looked across the garden and returned Anna’s last goodnight wave as she disappeared into the villa.
‘I wonder why she was leaving flowers for someone she says she didn’t know?’ Daisy said curiously, looking at Poppy. ‘I wish I’d looked at this before she said goodnight.’
Poppy sighed. ‘She was probably simply laying a tribute to a fellow film-maker. Somebody in the same business. You know, like people do when someone famous dies – a mark of respect even if they didn’t know them.’
8
Friday morning and Poppy was in the kitchen urging Tom to hurry up and eat his breakfast when Daisy joined them.
‘You’re going to be late for school at this rate,’ Poppy said, before turning to her sister. ‘Croissant? Coffee’
Daisy shook her head. ‘No thanks. I’m running late for a screening. I’ll grab something in Cannes after it finishes. See you both later,’ and Daisy ruffled Tom’s hair as she passed him.
It was a couple of hours later before she made her way across to one of the many cafés on the square opposite the Palais des Festivals and ordered a couple of croissants to go with the coffee she now felt desperate for.
She was sitting there eavesdropping on the conversations going on around her and trying to get some coherent thoughts about the film she’d just seen onto her laptop when Marcus briefly kissed her cheek and sat down beside her. She really was going to have to have a word about all this kissing. He was English not French.
‘Hi. How’s it going?’
‘Fine. You? Caught any celebrities in flagrante?’ Daisy asked.
Marcus shook his head. ‘Not yet, but I live in hope. Uncovered any interesting titbits for Bill?’
‘No. Thanks for the photo by the way. Was…’ she went to say Anna but realised in time that Marcus didn’t know her name, ‘the woman alone? Did you speak to her?’ Daisy asked.
‘Didn’t see anyone else. And no, I didn’t speak to her,’ Marcus said slowly. ‘Why? D’you know who she is?’
Daisy nodded. ‘Yes. It’s… the woman who’s rented my sister’s villa for the festival.’
‘I’m surprised you recognised her. I deliberately went for a slightly out-of-focus shot because I wanted the poignancy of a mourner laying a tribute without identification. Who is she, anyway?’
‘Anna runs a production company and she’s really nice but…’ Daisy hesitated. ‘Very private,’ she said finally, wondering how Anna would react if she ever saw the photograph.
‘You talked to her about Cambone?’
‘I tried. She’s not very forthcoming about him. Says she never worked with him,’ Daisy said.
Marcus yawned. ‘Sorry. Didn’t get to bed until three this morning. See if you can get her to open up a bit more. Whatever Bernard says, there is something bubbling behind the Cambone family’s silence. The fact they won’t talk to anyone is suspicious.’
‘They might just want their privacy at a sad time?’ Daisy suggested tentatively.
Marcus shrugged. ‘Privacy is rarely an option in the film business. Did you get to the press conference this morning?’
Daisy shook her head. ‘No, the screening ran over and I missed it.’
‘There was a rumour flying about that the American actor, Sean Hamill, is somehow connected to Cambone. Nobody is saying yet what the connection is though. Right, I’m off to take some pics of the celebs on the beach. You want to come too?’
‘No thanks. I’m going to have a wander around, see if I can pick up some gossip in the shopping mall before I have lunch with a PR from one of the film agencies. Thought I might go and take a look at the floral tributes too,’ Daisy said.
* * *
The windows of the shopping mall that linked the Croisette with the rue d’Antibes were filled with expensive clothes, jewellery and the latest must-have handbags. As Daisy wandered around, advertising flyer after flyer was pressed into her hand by young girls and boys keen to publicise their talents and catch the eye of anybody who could turn them into the stars they dreamed of being. Or at the very least give them fifteen minutes of fame. Daisy stuffed the flyers into her bag. She’d look at them later – there might be an interesting story in there somewhere.
A couple were entertaining the crowd with a juggling act. Near the mall exit doorway, a violinist was setting up his music as the gendarmes moved a couple of beggars and their dogs on. Outside, the streets in the centre of town were teeming with hawkers, buskers and human statues. It was all very colourful and noisy.
