Page 22 of Summer on the French Riviera
‘I’m fine. In fact, I’m more than fine. I came to a decision yesterday. I need to paint. I’ve set up my easel at the villa and today I need to buy some canvas, paper, brushes, pastels, watercolours and a few oils. Do I get staff discount?’ She smiled up at him cheekily.
‘Twenty-five per cent,’ Hugo said. ‘You’re finally going to paint again?’
Harriet nodded. ‘Try anyway. That’s a very generous discount.’
Hugo shrugged and waved the comment away with his hands.
It was close to lunchtime before the gallery was quiet enough for Harriet to start gathering a few things together under the counter ready for Hugo to add it all up and tell her how much she owed.
Harriet went to collect their lunches from the cafe while he did that and the two of them then settled companionably at the table in the courtyard. Hugo’s phone pinged with a text message, which he read quickly before picking up his cheese and ham baguette.
‘Are you itching to start painting tonight?’ he asked.
‘Well, it’s Saturday night and my social diary is empty to say the least, so why not?’
‘That text a moment ago was from an old mate who keeps his boat in Monaco with a last-minute invitation. It’s Grand Prix weekend and he’s having a party tonight. Should be a lot of fun. Please come with me.’ Hugo looked at her expectantly.
Harriet hesitated. She’d done her best to avoid parties for a long time. She didn’t do small talk easily and she’d rapidly learnt it was better to stay silent and to watch what she said around her husband if she did speak to anyone. Todd had always complained she killed any enjoyment he might have by being ‘so uncommunicative and silent’. Once home everything was dissected and judgement passed on her behaviour, good or bad. For the last few years, it had inevitably been bad, never good. And, of course, he assured her, he only did it for her own good, to help her to improve her social skills, when, in reality, he’d been effectively killing them off, although she hadn’t realised that until it was too late.
‘I’m not good at small talk,’ she said. ‘Or meeting a lot of strangers en masse. Todd always maintained I gave out an aura of not being approachable and it put people off. I wouldn’t want to spoil the party for you.’
Hugo looked at her in astonishment. ‘Harriet Rogers, I have never heard such absolute bullshit.’ He shook his head in despair. ‘I’m sorry, I rarely swear, but that is absolute tosh. What is it you think you’re doing with the customers here? You’re making small talk all day.’
‘That’s different,’ Harriet protested. ‘Most times, I simply take their money and ring it into the till. Sometimes they talk about how much they love Antibes Juan-les-Pins, or mention how hot it is and I agree. I’m just practicing my French really.’ She stopped and looked at Hugo. He was shaking his head from side to side and smiling at her.
‘And what pray is that but small talk? I can promise you much more interesting small talk tonight. It’s decided. I’ll pick you up at 7.30, okay? Wear comfortable shoes, Monaco will be heaving and we’re probably going to have to park some way from the harbour.’ Hugo put down his half-finished baguette and sighed as he gave Harriet a serious look. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like a bully there. I’d really love you to come to the party with me, but if you don’t want to, you don’t have to.’ Hugo gave her an anxious look.
‘You didn’t sound anything like a bully, and, believe me, I know what one sounds like. I’d love to come to the party with you,’ Harriet said quietly. ‘I’ll be waiting for you at 7.30, comfortable shoes at the ready.’
* * *
When Harriet came downstairs to wait for Hugo, Gabby and Philippe were out by the pool enjoying a glass of wine before going out for dinner later that evening. Watching the two of them for a few seconds before Gabby saw her, Harriet smiled. There was an ease around their body language as they chatted and laughed that showed how close the two of them had become already, like a couple who had known each other for years rather than the comparatively newish friendship it was. Her mother deserved every happiness at this stage of her life.
‘I’m not sure how late I’ll be,’ Harriet said as Gabby looked across and saw her. ‘I’ve no idea how long boat parties in Monaco go on for.’
‘I’ve been to a few and they vary,’ Philippe said. ‘But parties in Grand Prix week always have a special atmosphere. Don’t expect to see many F1 drivers tonight though. Most of them will be up in their motor homes, or hotel suites, psyching themselves up for tomorrow’s race.’
The gate intercom buzzed at that moment. ‘I’ll see you in the morning, Mum. Enjoy your dinner.’
‘Have fun,’ Gabby called as Harriet left.
Hugo, standing waiting by the car holding the passenger door open for her, smiled and gave her a cheek kiss before she got in.
Within moments, they were on the road approaching the A8 and its first toll booths with queues of traffic in almost every lane. Hugo barely slowed the car as he chose an empty lane on the left and drove towards the barrier, which, to a suddenly apprehensive Harriet, lifted just as she thought they were about to hit it, and they drove through without stopping to pay. She glanced at Hugo, who had a big grin on his face.
‘That was scary to say the least. Do you do that with all your passengers?’
‘No, especially not with my mother.’
’How does it work anyway?’
Hugo grinned and pointed to a card placed high on the windscreen behind the rear-view mirror. ‘The money’s probably already out of my account,’ he said.
Hugo was a good driver who clearly enjoyed driving and the car ate up the miles. There were several more payages before they reached the exit for Monaco, and Hugo went through them all in the same way, a big grin on his face. Harriet, now that she knew, shook her head at him each time. ‘You’re a big kid. I keep expecting the gendarmes to give chase.’
Once in Monaco, it was twenty minutes or so before Hugo found a place in one of the car parks up near the casino. Walking back down to the port, Harriet had her first proper view of the harbour crammed with luxury yachts, the numerous temporary F1 team garages with all their technical paraphernalia along the pit lane and the starting grid marked out on the main road. As they walked, Hugo explained about the barriers that were everywhere. How it took over a month to get Monaco ready for the Grand Prix every year just in terms of the street furniture that needed to be put in place. Being a road race, it was crucial to ensure not only the drivers were safe but also the watching public.
They passed several big TV screens, one at St Devote, the first corner in the race close to the starting grid that in some years in the rain had seen several drivers come to grief. And there was Grand Prix regalia everywhere. Scarlet Ferrari flags were out in force. Charles Le Clerc, a born-and-bred Monegasque driving for Ferrari, smiled out from posters pinned up in windows and from the T-shirts that teenage girls were wearing. Restaurants were heaving, people were wandering around nonchalantly in designer clothes and priceless jewellery, enjoying the unique party atmosphere that the Monaco Grand Prix generated.
