Page 31 of Rendez-Vous in Cannes
‘The press, as usual, have got hold of the wrong end of the stick, Anna. They’ve heard about the possibility of a claim against the estate and have jumped to conclusions. Philippe didnothave a family he kept secret. I told you, not having a family was the biggest regret of his life. He would have adored having children.’
‘Bernard?’ Anna hesitated. ‘Will you tell me the name of the person who wrote to Philippe please?’
There was a pause before Bernard answered.
‘Oh, Anna. I don’t think I can without getting permission from the Cambones. Not sure they’d want the name made public.’
‘Okay. If I put it another way, maybe you can answer me.’ Anna took a deep breath before continuing. ‘Does the signature on the letters contain the name Jean-Philippe? Is that name mentioned in the letter anywhere?’
‘I’m sorry, Anna, that name is not a part of the signature on the letters Jacques showed me. Neither is it in the letters,’ Bernard said gently. ‘I can tell you the letters were from a woman,’ he added quietly. ‘Not a man.’
Anna, unable to bear the message concealed behind his words, twisted her fingers round and round in her locket chain until it was cutting into her. As, sad and frustrated, she pulled at the chain trying to untangle it, the chain broke and the locket fell to the floor.
‘Thank you, Bernard,’ Anna managed to whisper as she pressed the off button on the phone before beginning to sob uncontrollably as she scrabbled on the floor to find and pick up her locket.
She was still crying when Leo found her ten minutes later, her face red and blotched, the locket and its broken chain clutched in her hand.
‘I’m sorry,’ she sobbed as Leo took her in his arms to comfort her. ‘I’d pinned my hopes on it being Jean-Philippe who had contacted Philippe. Bernard has just told me it’s a woman. Which means it’s not my son who wrote to him. And now I’ve broken my locket chain.’
17
‘Good morning, Poppy,’ Daisy said, running downstairs into the kitchen on Monday morning. ‘You look busy.’
Her sister was sat at the kitchen table surrounded by pieces of paper, recipe books and a cold mug of tea. Poppy groaned as she looked up from the shopping list she was writing.
‘You’ll definitely be around to help me tomorrow, won’t you? This party is getting out of hand. I’m terrified of forgetting something important and ruining things.’
‘I promised I’d help, didn’t I?’ Daisy said, helping herself to a banana from the fruit bowl on the table and glancing quickly at the various lists on the table. ‘What’s the problem anyway?’
‘Everything! I’m spending the rest of the morning cooking the savoury stuff I can’t buy in the market tomorrow – I’ll do the sweet stuff this afternoon. There’s still so much to organise, I’m beginning to panic. Oh, and Leo wants me to arrange a cake as well as an official photographer – at a day’s notice,’ her voiced faded away.
‘What kind of cake?’ Daisy asked curiously.
Poppy shrugged. ‘Just a good cream-filled gooey cake was all he said,’
‘Doesn’t sound like the normal finger food that festival parties offer,’ Daisy said thoughtfully. ‘Anyway, calm down. Finding a photographer is not a problem. Marcus has already asked if he can come, so now he can – officially. As for a cake, this is France, remember. Every patisserie on every street corner has wonderful cakes, not to mention the supermarkets. We’ll buy a cream-laden cake from one. Okay? I’m seeing Marcus this morning, so I’ll tell him he can come, and then I’m meeting up with Anna and Leo at midday. Anna has kindly agreed to help me with my “Then and Now” feature,’ she explained, sensing Polly’s unspoken question. ‘But I’ll definitely be back mid-afternoon and we’ll make a start on getting everything sorted. Okay? I’ll order the cake while I’m in town and then tomorrow morning I’ll come to the market with you for all the fresh stuff and we can collect the cake. Sorted,’ and Daisy threw her banana skin in the bin before smiling at her sister.
Later, walking down into Cannes, Daisy thought about the feature she planned to write with the help of Anna’s memories about the twenty-first festival. She’d already found a few archive photos of Cannes back in the 1960s to go alongside some of Marcus’s modern-day shots. Hopefully, Anna would have some nostalgic anecdotes about her first visit to the festival. If not, Daisy decided, she’d make it more of a photo feature, with just a few words comparing the old and new pictures.
Before starting to look for Marcus in the Village International on the quay, Daisy found an empty seat in the gardens near the Hotel de Ville, took her laptop out of her tote and began to type.
The rain clouds have gone and once again the sky is the usual clear azure blue. It’s hard to believe that it’s Monday already and the festival is entering its final week. The days have simply flown by, but people are still busy partying and networking in the cafés and bars. Along the Croisette people are desperately strutting their stuff knowing that time is running out.
The presenting of the Palme d’Or on Sunday is looming closer, but still the hype continues. Will it be like the year when the very last film to be premiered won the coveted award? Maybe we’ve already seen the winner?
Daisy glanced up as she heard clapping and watched a fire-eater entertain a small crowd for a few moments before returning her attention to the laptop.
Today is the private funeral of Philippe Cambone, the famous film director, born in Cannes, who died suddenly last week. Flags are expected to fly at half mast this morning, but industry VIPs and the public will have to wait to pay their respects at a memorial service to be held after the festival ends.’
Thoughtfully, Daisy saved her notes and switched off her laptop.
She’d get another report emailed to the paper today, write up her ‘Then and Now’ feature tonight and then tomorrow she’d help Poppy all day and enjoy the party in the evening. Now to find Marcus. She needed to make sure he still wanted to come to Anna’s party tomorrow and that he was available – didn’t have a hot date with a blonde.
‘Great. I’ll definitely be there,’ he said, when Daisy tracked him down in the American marquee in the Village International.
‘Enjoy your dinner at the Palm Beach the other night?’ Daisy enquired casually.
‘Yes, thank you. You and Nat have a good evening?’ Marcus returned equally casually.
