Page 32 of One Summer in Monte Carlo
Down in the harbour, yacht crews on the luxury boats, moored so close to each other their fenders were barely able to keep the gleaming hulls apart, were busy serving strong coffee and croissants to guests who had partied the night away on board.
Nanette, glancing towardsPole Position, knew that Zac would have been up early to prepare for the day and wasn’t surprised to see just the crew moving around the boat’s foredeck. It had always been one of Zac’s unwritten rules – no guests on board the Saturday night before the Grand Prix – even if, like last night, he would have been celebrating pole position on the grid. Maybe the F1 experts and pundits were right and this year would see Zac crowned world champion. She knew, though, that his thoughts this morning would be focused on today’s race. He’d certainly have the crowd behind him this afternoon, if the cheers that had greeted his pole position yesterday were anything to go by.
She turned as she heard the apartment door open and close. Mathieu.
‘That’s Olivia sorted for the day,’ he said, joining Nanette on the balcony. ‘A day at the Aqua Splash Park with friends is much more to her liking than watching a boring car race.’
He leant on the balcony rail and surveyed the crowds and the activity down below him.
‘Make you nostalgic for your old life?’ he asked, glancing at her. ‘All those VIP parties and events you and Zac used to go to.’
‘No, not really,’ Nanette answered. ‘It seems a lifetime away, so much has happened. It was fun at the time, but things change – I’ve changed.’
‘Things certainly do change,’ Mathieu said, so quietly that Nanette barely heard him. He was silent for a few moments, simply staring down into the pits area.
‘Mathieu, is everything all right?’ Nanette eventually dared to asked. ‘Is there anything I can help with?’ She realised the answer was likely to be no, but having spent the last couple of days since he and Jean-Claude had rowed worrying about what was going on, she wanted Mathieu to know that if she could help, she would.
‘Thanks,’ Mathieu said. ‘Things are a bit difficult at the moment, but everything is under control.’ He smiled at her before changing the subject, effectively stopping her from asking any questions. ‘Should be a good race today. Zac did well, qualifying for pole yesterday – let’s hope he can stay out in front for the race. Monaco is one circuit he hasn’t won.’
‘A win today would be put him well in the lead for the championship too,’ Nanette said. ‘We all know he’s desperate to be world champion,’ she added drily. She hesitated before continuing. ‘Mathieu, I have to ask, are you sure it’s okay with Boris that I stay today?’
Mathieu looked at her, surprised. ‘Why on earth wouldn’t it be?’
Nanette shrugged. ‘It’s just that I thought Boris wanted the place for him and his cronies. The plan originally was for Olivia and me to go to Jean-Claude’s, if you remember.’
‘It’s fine for both you and Pierre to be here. Papa is coming down too,’ Mathieu said. ‘So relax and enjoy the day.’
Nanette thought it best not to tell Mathieu that it was Jean-Claude who had decided to change their plans, wanting to keep an eye on his son and try to suss out how involved he was with Boris.
The apartment bell rang at that moment and Mathieu turned to greet the first of his guests.
Boris acknowledged Nanette with a ‘Bonjour, mademoiselle’ and a tilt of his head before roughly ruffling Pierre’s hair – an action that had the boy dodging out of his way. Within minutes, the rest of Boris’s party had arrived and Nanette and Pierre were ignored for the next hour.
To Nanette’s relief, Jean-Claude arrived just as lunch was being served and together they sat at one of the small round tables that Florence had set up at the far end of the long balcony. Pierre, more interested in watching the scenes below than eating his lunch, had the binoculars trained on the pit lane.
The atmosphere on the balcony appeared to be one of genial conviviality. Florence was handing food around and Mathieu was busy organising drinks for everyone.
‘Mathieu seems in good spirits today,’ Jean-Claude said, glancing across at him.
‘Yes,’ Nanette agreed. ‘Although something is definitely worrying him, he’s very stressed.’
Jean-Claude raised his eyebrows questioningly.
‘I don’t know what, JC, but his repeated “everything is under control” earlier this morning seemed to be a mantra he was repeating to reassure himself as much as anything,’ Nanette said quietly, with an anxious glance at Pierre.
‘Any news from Vanessa and Ralph?’ Jean-Claude asked, taking the hint and deftly changing the subject.
‘We had a letter from Mum yesterday,’ Pierre said, without removing his gaze from the cars lining up on the grid. ‘She’d given it to someone in the first eco-camp they stayed in to post when they went back to civilisation. It’s takenagesto get here. Wish we could email her, but the village they are in doesn’t have electricity and the solar charger for the satellite phone doesn’t work that well in the jungle.’
‘Did she say how things were going?’ Jean-Claude asked.
‘Just that she was seeing some amazing things and would write again and phone when possible.’
The cars took off for their formation lap at that moment and Pierre pulled the official ear-protectors Zac had given him over his ears. By the time the warm-up lap was completed and the cars were back on the grid ready for the off, Boris and his guests were crowded on the balcony, waiting for the start. Nanette, a F1 fan long before she’d worked for Zac, felt the first stirrings of a rush of excitement that she’d always experienced at the beginning of a race. Not watching any races since her accident, she’d forgotten how exciting it always was watching the cars speed away.
Everyone gazed as, one by one, the red starting lights went out and then the ear-shattering sound of high-performance cars making for the Sainte-Dévote bend at high speed before disappearing up the hill towards the Casino blasted through the apartment.
A loud cheer went up as Zac, making a perfect start, kept his lead, and within seconds had disappeared from view, leaving the cars behind him to juggle for better positions as best they could.
