Page 29 of One Summer in Monte Carlo
Slipping them on, she saw Jean-Claude move closer to Zac and place a hand on his shoulder before leaning towards him and saying something that was clearly intended for his ears alone.
Zac’s face darkened and he vehemently shrugged Jean-Claude’s hand off his shoulder before turning away and making for the bar in the main cabin.
Both Nanette and Jean-Claude were silent as they made their way along the embankment to the apartment, each lost in their own thoughts.
Jean-Claude took her arm as they prepared to cross the road. ‘Join me for a coffee, please, before I see you home,’ he said.
The pavement café at the bottom of Rue Princess Caroline was noisy with late-night revellers as they sat at a small table and ordered their cafés noisettes.
‘Try not to worry too much about Mathieu,’ Nanette said gently. ‘Didn’t he tell you that things were under control and everything would be sorted soon?’
Jean-Claude nodded.
‘So try to trust him for a bit longer. Difficult, I know.’
As Nanette looked at him sympathetically, he reached out and squeezed her hand.
‘I know you’re right,’ he said, shaking his head as he looked at her. ‘I just wish I didn’t have fear in the pit of my stomach.’
19
Mathieu wasn’t home when Nanette took the twins to school the next morning. Strolling back to the apartment, Nanette wondered where he was. When her mobile rang, she answered it quickly, half expecting it to be him, but it was Jean-Claude.
‘Have you seen Mathieu?’
‘No. According to Florence his bed hadn’t been slept in,’ Nanette said. ‘Have you heard anything more about the raid?’
‘Apparently the police did find something, but nobody knows what exactly – although rumour has it as a case full of money.’
‘Did they arrest anyone?’
‘A couple of the truck drivers have been spoken to, but the motorhomes and transporters were all allowed to park up without any problems. The Formula 1 circus keeps to a very tight schedule, as you know, and nothing must interfere with race week. The police are still up on site searching some of them.’ There was a short pause before Jean-Claude continued. ‘Will you let me know when Mathieu returns?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Replacing the phone in her bag, Nanette wandered slowly along a side street filled with various stalls selling Formula 1 racing paraphernalia and fast food. Even at this early hour there were fans strolling around, mixing with the locals trying to go about their normal lives despite the inconvenience of barriers and streets filled with seating stands. Tomorrow – a practice day – the road around town and along the harbour would be closed to traffic as the drivers began to get to grips with driving around the narrow winding street circuit at a crazy speed.
Although it was several years since Nanette had been in Monaco for the Grand Prix, it was still all so familiar. Walking past the souvenir stands and the touts already up and about trying to sell tickets for lunch on practice day at restaurants with views of the circuit, she even recognised one or two people and smiled briefly in their direction.
Ferrari red was the dominant colour of the bunting hanging from balconies and the smell of socca cooking on a mobile catering stall on the corner, competing with the usual breakfast smell of fresh croissants from the boulangerie, was hard to resist.
Nanette pushed open the glass door of the foyer to the apartment building and pressed the lift button. The two concierges behind the reception desk stopped in mid-conversation as she entered, but not before Nanette heard the words ‘Monsieur Mathieu’.
As she walked into the sitting room, Florence appeared and pointed to Mathieu’s bedroom.
‘Mathieu has returned. He is sleeping and asked not to be disturbed,’ she said quietly.
Quickly, Nanette rang Jean-Claude to tell him the news.
‘I’m on my way down,’ he said.
Nanette and Jean-Claude spent the morning drinking coffee and waiting for Mathieu to surface. A couple of times, when a frustrated Jean-Claude threatened to go and wake him, Nanette managed to persuade him it wasn’t a good idea.
At one o’clock, the two of them ate the salad lunch that Florence had prepared for them, sitting out on the balcony. Jean-Claude, Nanette could see, had a hard time eating anything.
It was another hour before Mathieu appeared and Jean-Claude was immediately firing questions at him about the raid. Nanette felt increasingly uncomfortable witnessing the mounting row between father and son and wondered if perhaps she should leave them to it. But if it did turn out that Mathieu was involved with something dodgy she needed to know the facts so that she could protect the twins.
‘So, they found a suitcase of money? It’s not a crime to keep your money in cash,’ Mathieu said, going to the fridge and pouring a glass of milk.
