Watching the screen and seeing him again was not helpful. I started to think about the things that had happened a few hours ago. I didn’t understand how I had managed to find myself in his embrace. How had I let him kiss me? Why hadn’t I reacted, as I should? Why hadn’t I slapped his handsome face? I leaned my head on the table before me. One thing was as sure to me as the sun rising in the East; I just couldn’t slap him. And I felt stupid.
But the feeling that whatever had happened had not been planned didn’t leave me. Somehow I knew it had surprised him almost as much as it did me. But I didn’t want to think of him this way; the normal way. I preferred to see him as one arrogant, full-of-himself, famous, rich and handsome guy who did everything he needed to do to reach his goals. That was the picture reporters and paparazzi painted of him. And I wanted to picture him as the womaniser who had set out to get my fragrance for one of his many ‘Paddock bimbos’. That thought was more comfortable for me and my featherbrained mind.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw that another Skype member was online and quickly I checked who it was. I was pretty sure it wasn’t Dame. Seeing the blackbird image, I almost squealed with anticipation. Three months had passed since I last got anything from him. Not even a greeting, let alone any information. Something must have happened.
“Where the hell have you been? News?!” I forcefully typed on the keyboard. Some minutes passed before I received a reply.
“Yes,” was all that came back.
“Tell me!” Another few moments passed. I was afraid that whoever he or she was would disconnect.
“The subject you are looking for is very near.” I hated it when my lost and stolen son was called ‘a subject’; nevertheless, I understood that for the informer he was nothing more. Anyway, he was near. My hands trembled so much I couldn’t type a response.
“Miss?!” I saw a new message on Skype. I shook my head. I needed a clear mind.
“Where?”
“Monte Carlo.” I felt my heart stop beating. Fear of a new disappointment completely paralysed me. Too many times I had jumped up and down and when the trail was lost in yet another dead end, I always fell deep down in the reality that I might never ever see him again. Instead of finally ending the search, I found myself at the beginning of it again. I was tired.
“I want to see him.” I finally managed to answer.
“Impossible,” was the reply. “Too soon. I need to check some information I have. I will get back to you in few days. Expecting the payment as agreed.”
Before I could answer, the connection was lost again. I was never able to make first contact. I was left to the mercy of ‘Blackbird’ to decide when the next connection would be made.
I was angry, so angry I swept all the papers from my desk.
I’d hired him through the internet three years ago, after the authorities gave up the search. He gave me a few hot trails, which eventually led to nothing. Three months ago I told him he would not get paid anymore unless the trails and tips were the right ones. Dame forced me to write that down. I hadn’t heard from him again, until today.
Somehow I’d managed to get through those months with no news. No false hope. I never became used to it, but I had no other choice. I leaned on my palms again and the tears I held back on a daily basis came running through my fingers.
It wasn’t fair to keep me in ignorance. Although Monte Carlo was small, there were just too many people—I would never find him on my own.
I’d had enough. I needed to escape—out of the perfumery, out of the hotel, back to my house. Too many things had happened in too short a time. And I thought I’d finally managed to find peace.
I left the office as it was—a mess. This was out of character. I knew I would have to come in early on Monday to clean it. Michelle and Lucille wouldn’t understand what had happened in there. I changed my outfit quickly and left.
Leaving the hotel, I wasn’t prepared for the bumblebee roar of the race cars and the crowd so close to the hotel. I almost jumped with surprise.
Marcel’s colleague smiled at me and pointed at his earplugs. I smiled back at him, gave him a thumbs up and then finally left.
By the time a second and third race car passed me by, I had become accustomed to the sound. I loved everything associated with the race. I missed the high-pitched sound of the cars from previous years, but had got used to the bumblebee sound nevertheless. But I didn’t slow my pace. I knew I must leave the Principality to gather my thoughts and gain some peace again.
Walking behind the barriers, I had turned the corner when I heard the squealing of car brakes. I didn’t want to stop and turn around to see what had happened on the race track. I hoped whoever it was had managed to quickly gain control of the car.
At home, lunch was already waiting for me. I took it from the terrace table and went inside.
Changing my clothes, I went straight to bed. I didn’t want to see or hear anyone. This day had been too exhausting, both physically and emotionally.
I slept right through until the next morning and woke up feeling great.
Although I had intended to have a quick shower, it ended up being a long and leisurely one. Afterwards, I went searching for something to eat. I needed to eat and, most of all, I needed a large cup of coffee.
Coming down the stairs to the kitchen, I saw that breakfast was on the table. A little note was also there. I loved Anne-Marie’s care for me.
When Dame rented the house for me I was left alone as I had wished. At that time I was not really sociable and I basically locked myself away from the rest of the world. I played my role as a kind shop assistant in the perfumery and that exhausted me every day. To start my own business had been my psychologist’s idea. He saw I was destroying myself by doing nothing but waiting for some news about my lost son.
After a month, Anne-Marie realised I wasn’t in contact with anyone on the street, not even her, and she decided to take matters into her hands. She was not to be chased away. Slowly, but with persistence, she crawled under my skin. She never asked any questions, just waited for what I was ready to share.
She was a stay-at-home mum of three children, all of who were as adorable as their mother. Although she was fully occupied with her children, she cooked for me too.
“It makes no difference if I cook for five or for six. So stop arguing about it. I don’t want to hear anything about it,” was her statement after I thanked her for her kindness during those first weeks.
Although I had thought she would have enough of it eventually, she didn’t. She took me under her wing, like a stray dog from the street.
After breakfast, I locked myself in my laboratory. I needed distraction and this was the perfect way to forget everything for a while.
Whenever I was in my laboratory, I lost track of time. I was involved with my work; new fragrances were put together easily and I was satisfied.
A knock on the laboratory door brought me back to reality. I froze. Only two people had a key to the house; Anne-Marie, obviously, and Dame. I hoped it wasn’t him.
Slowly I went to the door. I sighed out loud with relief. It was Anne-Marie; she had a big smile on her face.
“Are you done?” she asked. I looked back to the room and saw the mess I was creating. I knew lots of dishwashing and cleaning waited for me. Nevertheless, seeing the light on the laboratory burner was out and everything was done, I decided to take a break.
“Yes, I am.”
She stepped aside as she knew this room was off limits.
“Then it’s time for you to go out,” she said and moved to allow me to lock the door. When I looked at her, she smiled.
“You’re so secretive about this room. I just hope you aren’t ‘cooking’ a bomb in there.”
I had to laugh.
“I don’t think bombs are being
cooked
. Anyway I just might be mistaken.” She took my hand and led me away.
“This answer has calmed me down,” she replied. Anyway, it’s already past noon and I bet you ate only half of your breakfast.”
She stopped in front of the kitchen table.
“I was right.”
I was silent. I didn’t want to explain.
“So what are your plans for the afternoon?”
“I thought I’d go to see the qualifying—” I began but she interrupted me.
“It’s almost the end of the qualifying. Two or three minutes…”
I ran to the living room. Finding the remote, I turned on the television and sat on the arm of a chair. The qualifying was over and at the finishing line the chequered flag was waving as the cars drove by. On the top left corner of the screen were the results and I was shocked.
Lorcan Shore hadn’t got pole position. He was placed third.
I was anxious for the press conference. I needed to know what had happened. Only a year ago he had had such a fantastic result in the race that he had been the envy of everyone. Now, he was third and everybody knew that overtaking in Monte Carlo was nearly impossible.
“I see you don’t listen to me,” I heard Anne-Marie say. “I’m going home to change and then we’re going shopping.”
I heard only half of what she said, as my eyes were still locked onto the screen. The three top drivers were giving a press conference.
I heard the front door closing but I remained engrossed in the television, not listening to what the first and second placed drivers had to say, just waiting for Lorcan’s turn. But surprisingly, the reporters didn’t ask him why he’d come third. The questions they were asking were about something that happened the day before.
My curiosity grew from minute to minute. As he didn’t want to answer their questions about the incident, the television released the video of what the reporters were talking about. I caught my breath when I saw what had almost happened to him. He’d been only inches away from crashing in the turn near the hotel. I remembered the sound of squealing breaks from the previous day. Had that just been my imagination?
Seeing that he would not escape until their questions were answered, he said shortly,
“I thought I saw someone I’ve been looking for the last few days. I was just distracted and that’s the reason for today’s result too. I could blame the car or the team, but it would be unfair. They did everything right. I need to get my concentration back. Thank you.”
The conference room went deadly silent when he stood up and walked out of the room.
“Are you ready?” I heard suddenly and I jumped from the armchair with surprise. Anne-Marie was back.
“Not really,” I answered. “I’ll change quickly. Where are we going?”
I ran upstairs. Leaving my bedroom door open as I changed, we continued our conversation.
“I know you don’t want to go back to Monaco, so we’re going to Cannes.”
Brushing my hair, I stopped and looked at myself in the mirror. Torn jeans (long gone out of fashion) white top and white espadrilles were far away from what one would wear in Cannes but I didn’t care.
Coming back down, I waited for her comment about my outfit and I wasn’t disappointed. She looked at me from head to toe and sighed.
“I see I came just in time. You need salvation.”
I laughed out loud.
“And just what do you mean by that?” I teased her.
She passed me my handbag.
“You’ll see,” was all she said.
Although Anne-Marie knew how to drive, she asked me to take us where she decided we needed to go. I loved to drive so it was not a burden for me. The towns were only twenty miles apart, yet because of the traffic it took us an hour to get there. As always I took the coast road.
“You love the sea, don’t you?
“Yes I do,” I answered quietly. “It helps me forget…” I bit my tongue. However, she didn’t seem to have heard me. Anne-Marie started talking about her own family and problems. I had never realised that she was so unhappy with her marriage. It seemed that all that kept her with her husband were their three children.
I wondered if I would have stayed with someone for the sake of the children. But I didn’t have to face that problem. I had a completely different one. I still felt anger and desperation. The father of my son had vanished with him more than five years ago and all traces of them were lost.
Finally, we came to Cannes and Anne-Marie gave me directions for the best parking lot. We left the car there and she took my arm and led me down the boulevard where the best boutiques where situated.
Seeing the place she brought me to, I started to laugh and she stopped a few steps ahead and looked back at me.
“What?” she asked.
I finally managed to stop laughing.
“Do you want to make a ‘Pretty Woman’ out of me? Wrong town, country, not to mention my profession and…” I looked at her with suspicion in my eyes.
What?” she said.
“I’m sorry but you don’t look anything remotely like Richard Gere.”
From the expression on her face I knew she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or to be angry with me.
“Whose idea was this Anne-Marie? Yours or Harry’s?”
She suddenly became serious.
“Mine. Dame doesn’t know anything about this. You know I don’t tell him anything. I needed to get out of the house. Philippe took the children to his parents. I couldn’t do anything.” She looked honest.