Page 10 of One Summer in Monte Carlo
‘Does he say anything to you about his 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. ‘All he say is for me not to worry. Everything is under control and is being 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. What sort of business was he dealing in anyway? She still worried too about the connection between him, Zac and this man, Boris.
‘I’m a go-between,’ Mathieu had 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.’
Which is 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 would be ready in fifteen minutes.
‘Thank you, Anneka. We need to round up the twins,’ Jean-Claude said.
They both stood up and, leaving the terrace, began making their way downstairs through the villa to the garden and the pool. As they passed the open door of Jean-Claude’s office, Nanette was amazed to see piles of papers and folders littering the desk and spilling on to the floor. Nanette knew he ran a hugely successful wine export business, but Jean-Claude clearly didn’t follow his son’s business philosophy of keeping paperwork to a minimum.
Jean-Claude saw her looking and said, ‘My PA left a few weeks ago and I haven’t had a chance to find a replacement.’ He hesitated. ‘You wouldn’t have time to help me sort out my bureau, would you? Mathieu, he say in the past that Zac was lucky to have you as his PA. You are très efficient.’
‘Of course, I’ll help,’ Nanette said, ignoring the mention of Zac. ‘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.’ Work always helped to take her mind off things and now the twins were at school for most of the day, finding something to occupy herself with had proved difficult. There was a limit to how many coffees she could drink sitting at a pavement table at the Café de Paris.
‘There is another favour I ask,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘I have to go to a business cocktail party at the Hôtel de Paris in the week and I need a partner. Perhaps I can persuade you to accompany me? 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. She hadn’t particularly enjoyed it in the days she’d accompanied Zac to various parties organised by friends and the sponsors of F1. She’d never felt she had much in common with the high-maintenance women hanging off the arms of the wealthy men who were invariably there.
Jean-Claude was looking at her anxiously, waiting for her answer. It was only a cocktail party after all, not the Red Cross Ball, one of the major social events of the season’s calendar. With still over a month to go to the Monaco GP, it was extremely unlikely that there would be anybody from the motor-racing world at the party.
She smiled at Jean-Claude. ‘I’d love to come with you.’
‘Très bien. Now we have lunch.’
Lunch, cooked and placed on the table by Anneka, was a delicious mixture of spicy fried chicken, ratatouille, a green salad and a bowl of crispy frites especially for the twins, although neither Jean-Claude or Nanette could resist helping themselves to some. Dessert was individual pots of raspberry mousse served with meringues.
‘That was a delicious meal, thank you,’ Nanette said. ‘I’d forgotten how seriously home-made food is taken down here.’ She’d also 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, may I watch the San Marino Grand Prix, please? Zac is on pole position.’
At the mention of Zac, Nanette’s heart lurched and she inwardly chided herself. He was miles away in Italy and besides he didn’t mean anything to her these days.
Olivia gave an exaggerated groan.
‘Sure you can, and I’ll keep you company for a while,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘If you want to watch the introduction and driver interviews, hurry up and finish your mousse. The programme, it starts in five minutes,’ he added, looking at his watch.
‘Can I go in the pool again, please?’ 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 readThe Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobeuntil 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 abandoned her. Silly really, when it was her love of F1 and her PA job that had brought them together in the first place.
