Page 18 of One Summer in Monte Carlo
‘I thought we’d have lunch at the Automobile Club,’ Jean-Claude said, following her. ‘Or anywhere you like,’ he added quickly, seeing the look on her face.
‘It’s just that with Zac in town,’ Nanette apologised, ‘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, unfazed at her request. ‘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 set foot on the quay with the possibility of bumping into Zac.
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 striped umbrella. Snatched conversations in French, English, Italian, Japanese and Chinese floated in the air around them.
An attentive waiter handed them a menu and took their aperitif order. A glass of cool rosé for both of them.
‘Avez-vous décidéz… Ah, pardon, Nanette. I forget. 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 gave her a puzzled look.
Nanette pictured the envelope in the drawer before saying quietly, ‘My driving licence has been returned. My driving ban is finished.’
‘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.’ Nanette fiddled with her wine glass.
‘If you are nervous, I come with you for the first few times,’ Jean-Claude offered.
‘I don’t know that it’s that simple, JC.’ Nanette hesitated. ‘What if—’
Jean-Claude stopped her in mid-sentence. ‘Non. No what ifs, Nanette. You’ve been punished for the accident. Now you 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. Maybe when I go home.’
After an exasperated ‘Tch’, Jean-Claude changed the subject. ‘I hope Mathieu has invited you to the lunch he’s hosting on Vintage Grand Prix weekend?’
‘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 the weekend in the pit lane with the mechanics before the race on Sunday. Be interesting to drive in a race again after so long. Especially here in Monaco, my home circuit.’
‘I didn’t know you’d been a racing driver,’ Nanette said, surprised. ‘You kept that very quiet.’ Although there was a lot she didn’t know about Jean-Claude, she realised.
‘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. ‘If I’m honest, I lacked the competitive edge that all successful F1 drivers need. But I kept the car, which has been under wraps for a good few years. I’ve got the next few days or so to finish checking it over mechanically and prepare it. Of course, I don’t expect to be placed, but I admit I look forward to driving in a race again.’
‘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. ‘Zac, he also offer me the expertise of one of his mechanics if I need it. The Formula 1 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 early in the season when the drivers had arrived back in Europe after the first few races.
‘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 in the run-up to 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 socialising. She sighed inwardly. The inevitable meeting was getting closer.
