She shifted in her hammock, trying to shut out the jungle’s night-time noises of howler monkeys and raucous insects. What other animals were out there, unheard, going about their nocturnal lives close to the encampment?
She shivered apprehensively. While they were getting ready for this first night in their hammocks, Ralph had told her about his decision to bring their departure from this camp forward by a day. In twenty-four hours, she wouldn’t even have the comfort of the hut in an eco-camp between her and the jungle inhabitants.
‘Harry and Nick have everything organised, so no point in hanging around in this pseudo environment,’ he’d said disparagingly, waving his hand around the campsite. ‘I know it is helping to remedy years of destruction to the jungle, but I want to get to where the real jungle is. Join some natives living in the traditional way.’
So tomorrow they would leave the comforts of the eco-camp behind them and then, ‘Our adventure really will begin,’ Ralph had said excitedly, as they’d kissed each other goodnight.
Vanessa glanced across at Ralph gently snoring in his hammock. With no real idea of what the next few months might bring, she simply had to trust the man she loved enough to marry and have faith it would be an adventure she’d never forget – for all the right reasons.
9
Nanette switched off the radio alarm on her bedside table and lay in bed for a few moments, thinking and planning the day ahead. Once she’d walked the twins to school, she was going shopping for a dress to wear to the evening’s cocktail party with Jean-Claude. All her posh frocks were hanging in the wardrobe in her room at Blackberry Farm. She hadn’t bothered to pack any, not anticipating joining the social scene while she was here. Early that afternoon, she had an appointment at the hairdressers, so fingers crossed she’d quickly find a dress she loved, leaving her plenty of time to get back for that.
Knowing how immaculate the women who attended these parties always looked, Nanette wanted to make an effort, not just for herself, but also for Jean-Claude’s sake. She didn’t want to let him down with his business acquaintances. Slipping her feet into her slippers, she stood up, stretching her arms above her head as she did so, only to freeze in mid-action as she glanced out of the window.
Several yachts were about to enter the harbour and one of them looked uncomfortably familiar. Pulling her dressing gown tight, Nanette stepped out on to her balcony and watched as the boats motored in.
The crew of Pole Position worked quickly and efficiently and it was only a matter of minutes before the yacht was secured in her berth – directly opposite the block of apartments. Once the boat was tied up and the gangway lowered to the quay, Nanette held her breath, waiting to see if Zac would appear.
A lone crew member ran down the gangway and disappeared along the embankment in the direction of the supermarket, reappearing minutes later with several baguettes and a bag bulging with what Nanette guessed were croissants for the crew’s breakfast.
She stood watching for a few moments before turning away and heading for the shower. If she didn’t get a move on, the twins would be late walking to school and she’d miss the train connection to take her to Cap 3000 at Saint-Laurent-du-Var – the largest shopping centre in the area. Not only would she get more choice there, but a new dress wouldn’t hurt her credit card like it would if she shopped in one of the trendy Monaco boutiques.
An hour later, she was sitting on the train as it sped westwards along the coast on the half-hour journey, debating with herself about the kind of dress she needed to buy. Too glitzy and it would only end up hanging in her wardrobe for months before she wore it again as cocktail parties really weren’t on her radar these days. On the other hand, she didn’t want to play too safe by opting for a boring little black dress.
She knew the moment she slipped on the royal blue dress with its three-quarter-length sleeves, round neckline and a fitted midi skirt with a fluted ruffle hem at the front that it was the one. As she looked at her reflection in the changing-room mirror, for the first time in months, years, she felt a small burst of confidence returning to both her abused body and mind. The dress was glamorous in an understated way and suited her to perfection.
At the thought of the evening ahead of her with Jean-Claude, a frisson of excitement sneaked into Nanette’s mind and she realised she was looking forward to it. And to dinner afterwards, just the two of them.
But the excitement was instantly doused by worry. The cocktail party was an important business get-together for Jean-Claude and she prayed she wouldn’t let him down. It was so long since she’d had to make small talk with strangers that she wasn’t sure she remembered how.
Once back in Monaco, Nanette hung the dress in the wardrobe and got on with the rest of her day before nervously leaving the apartment for her afternoon hairdresser’s appointment in nearby Rue Princess Caroline. She’d deliberately not booked a rendezvous in the salon near the Casino, where years ago she’d been a regular client, in case anyone remembered her. Thankfully, a quick glance around as she entered reassured her that she didn’t recognise any of the stylists or customers and soon her head was being gently massaged as her hair was washed by an un-named efficient teenager.
Minutes later, as the stylist – Adam, according to the badge pinned to his pristine designer-label shirt – was carefully blow-drying her hair, Nanette stiffened. The mirror she was sat in front of not only reflected her head and shoulders and Adam working away but also the coming and goings of the busy salon behind her. Quickly, Nanette looked down at her hands in her lap and half closed her eyes, hoping to avoid catching the gaze of the woman who had just entered, Frances Scott.
The one and only time Nanette had met Frances had been the night of the accident. As the current girlfriend of one of Zac’s fellow racing drivers, she’d been his ‘plus-one’ for Nanette’s birthday dinner at the Mougins restaurant. Nanette, who normally didn’t judge anyone on their appearance, had been stunned by the woman’s over-the-top appearance and, later, her behaviour. She remembered whispering to Zac at some stage of the evening, ‘Is she on something?’ Zac had shrugged and grinned at her.
Peering at the reflection in the mirror as Frances sashayed across the salon, following one of the receptionists towards a washing unit, Nanette could see that the woman, unlike herself, hadn’t changed. She still dressed in the skimpy clothes that drew attention to her surgically enhanced figure. Nanette knew that while she had no difficulty in recognising Frances after three years, Frances was unlikely to recognise her. The long hair, highlighted with streaks of blonde on the night of the party, was no more. Brutally cut short in the aftermath of the accident, Nanette had kept it short ever since. Memories of that birthday party had been soured by the way the evening had ended. Long hair had had no place in Nanette’s new life.
She released the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding as she saw Frances submit to the ministrations of the same teenager who had washed her own hair.
Nanette knew it would be impossible for her to make even the smallest of small talk about the evening when her life had changed forever with a woman she barely knew if she was recognised. Adam was tweaking her hair now with the final touches after her blow-dry. With luck, she’d have paid and be long gone before Frances Scott was able to cast her eyes around the salon in search of any new or old acquaintances.