Chapter Thirteen
As Daisy cut through the back streets of Cannes and made her way down to the old port, she thought about Nat. How nice he was. How kind he was. How different he was to Ben. As for those blue eyes of his ... they were simply spellbinding, she decided. It would be fun getting to know him better.
Several of the yachts moored alongside the quay were hosting parties and Daisy caught snippets of conversations in French, Italian and what she took to be Russian as she walked past a white hulled sailing yacht where a television crew were on board busily filming a bikini clad actress.
Dodging the crowds that were still swarming around the tents of the Village International, Daisy made her way to the front of the Palais des Festivals hoping to find Marcus there. He might have heard some more gossip regarding the rumours that were circulating about Philippe Cambone.
There was the usual scrum of paparazzi that Daisy had come to expect hanging around the red carpet entrance to the Palais. It was several moments before she finally spotted Marcus busy snapping a blonde girl getting into a red Ferrari parked near the red carpet.
‘You get my text?’ he asked turning to greet Daisy, as the Ferrari engine revved noisily before taking off down the Croisette with its passenger, at an enforced sedate pace. ‘Dinner tomorrow night?’
Daisy shook her head. ‘Sorry. Nat’s already asked me to go to the beach cinema with him.’
‘Okay. We’ll make it next Tuesday evening.’ Marcus sighed when Daisy shook her head again.
‘It’s Anna’s party at the villa and I’ve been invited.’
‘Can I come?’
‘I’ll ask Anna,’ Daisy promised. ‘We could have that dinner Bill is treating us to, this evening if you like?’ she suggested tentatively. ‘I’m not dressed for anywhere too posh but—’
‘Bruno’s got me an invite to a swish party,’ Marcus interrupted. ‘In fact it’s time I showered and got into my evening suit. I’ll see you around,’ and he was gone.
Pensively Daisy crossed the Croisette. Surely Marcus could have wangled an invite for her too?
Daisy wandered slowly along looking at the expensive boutiques. It was impossible to see much because of the crowds and in the end she gave up and made for a seat under a palm tree in the nearby gardens of the Hotel de Ville.
Fishing in her bag she found her tape recorder and quietly started to record some notes for her next report.
‘As the sun sets, flashing lights and neon signs take over in the twilight, indicating that the glamorous nightlife of Cannes, which will continue into the early hours, is once again starting. The “Welcome to the Cannes Film Festival” illuminated sign strung across the road reminds you, in case you forget, you’re on the Cote d’Azur at the world famous event. Out in the bay I can see lights on Roberto Cavalli’s large purple yacht where the crew are preparing for a big party on board; among other celebrities, Naomi Campbell is rumoured to be a guest.
Limousines are beginning to discharge their VIP passengers at the foot of the Palais steps to face a barrage of flashlights and shouts of admiration from the waiting crowds. Fans push each other aside in a desperate attempt to obtain the autograph of their favourite star.
‘Music is pounding from cars as they move slowly along the Croisette, under the censorious gaze of stern-faced gendarmes. The weather tonight is perfect for the cinema on the beach. People are hurrying past me to claim a seat on the sand under the stars, ready to watch a movie in a truly romantic setting with the Mediterranean gently lapping at the shoreline and a balmy breeze providing the best air conditioning.’
Daisy switched off the recorder, slipped it back into her bag and sat for a few moments people watching before getting up and walking back to the villa.
Poppy was sitting reading under the loggia. ‘Wasn’t expecting you until later. Everything all right? Wine’s in the fridge. I guess it’s busy down town?’ she added.
‘Mayhem. Poppy, can we talk? I had a letter from Ben before I flew out here.’
Poppy closed her book. ‘Oh. What did he have to say for himself?’
Daisy took the letter out of her bag and handed it to her sister. ‘Read it. I’m going to have a shower.’
A bottle of wine, glasses and a plate of sliced baguette and ham with melon was on the table when she returned.
‘Honestly Poppy, I’m going to be so fat by the end of the festival. Everything seems to revolve around drink and food down here.’
‘Because it’s France. It’s the way they are – besides, food helps me concentrate,’ Poppy said, helping herself to a slice of melon. ‘So what are you going to do about Ben? Are you going to fly halfway around the world and run back into his arms as he suggests?’
‘Don’t know,’ Daisy said pouring two glasses of wine. ‘Was hoping you’d help me decide.’ When Poppy didn’t answer she continued. ‘Part of me thinks no but then another part says yes.’
‘Big decision. I know he says he misses you and “thinks” he’s made a mistake but really Daisy, he could just be homesick. You could pack everything in at home, get out there and find it’s you who’s made the mistake.’
Daisy nodded. ‘I know.’ She took a sip of wine. ‘I could go for a holiday, say three weeks. I’d surely know by the end of it whether I wanted to stay or not. Wouldn’t I?’
‘How much do you really miss Ben these days? I mean, really really miss? You said you were enjoying being single.’
‘I am. But you know how it is. It’s lovely to have someone special in your life. Someone who really cares.’
‘Which Ben clearly didn’t, otherwise he wouldn’t have buggered off to Australia in the first place, would he?’ Poppy demanded.
Daisy looked at her sister. Poppy so rarely swore she knew the whole idea of her sister jetting off to Australia and taking up with Ben again had upset her.
‘Only you can decide, Daisy,’ Poppy said. ‘Personally I think you’d be making a huge mistake in running after Ben. Unless of course it’s true love on both your parts. I have to say, I somehow doubt that.’
Chapter Fourteen
Anna put the finishing touches to her makeup before making her way downstairs to wait for Rick and the taxi. She was already regretting agreeing to go to this party. These events were simply not her scene but she supposed it was too late to back out now. She glanced at her watch. Just time to give Leo a quick ring before she left.
‘Not sure what time I’ll get back here from this party,’ she said when he answered. ‘So I thought I’d ring you first. How are you? And Alison?’
‘Everything is fine this end. Can’t wait for tomorrow,’ Leo answered. ‘Hope to be with you about four. Have you booked us somewhere exotic for dinner?’
Before Anna could tell him her plans a, car horn sounded outside the villa.
‘Got to go. Rick’s here early. Love you. See you tomorrow.’
The taxi took Anna and Rick quickly up through town and into the affluent area of Super Californie where they caught glimpses of imposing villas hidden away behind large iron gates and towering cypress hedges.
‘Have we had many acceptances yet for our party on Tuesday?’ Anna asked.
‘Twenty definites, eight refusals so far and fifteen still to answer,’ Rick said.
‘So we’ll probably end up with about forty people?’ Anna said thoughtfully. ‘Including us, Leo, Daisy and Poppy.’
The taxi slowed and joined a queue of vehicles edging their way between open intricate wrought iron gates on to a gravelled driveway that finally stopped in front of an impressive flight of steps leading to a grand column-dominated entrance.
‘This place is something else isn’t it?’ Rick said as they walked into the huge marbled entrance hall, with its four over-head chandeliers casting their palatial glow over everything.
An elaborately carved four foot high gold fountain, decorated with naked nymphs and grapes, was gently tinkling water into its two basins, from where it flowed over into a marble lined base where goldfish could be seen swimming under water lily leaves.
Liveried footmen holding silver trays full of crystal flutes filled with pink champagne moved effortlessly through the crowd, dispensing the drinks. Rick took two, handed one to Anna and said, ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers,’ Anna replied, looking around at the paintings and tapestries hanging on the walls under elaborate gold friezes.
‘I’ve been in some luxurious places,’ she said. ‘But this is amazing. Are those original Picassos and Renoirs? Who does this place belong to?’
Rick shrugged. ‘Some Arab prince or other. The main event is in the marquee on the terrace. Shall we?’
Anna followed him as he made his way out through open French doors leading on to the terrace and acres of landscaped gardens.
‘Just spotted Rosa Cruft. Come on, I’ll introduce you,’ Rick said.
Rosa, talking animatedly to a man who had his back to them as they approached, smiled in welcome.
‘Hi there Ricky. Great to meet you at last, Anna. You guys know Bruno?’
As the American made the introductions and Bruno shook her hand, Anna found herself face to face with the man she’d seen earlier in the day with Jacques Cambone.
‘Anna? Haven’t we’ve met before? Are you in the business?’
Anna didn’t answer his first question, saying ‘Yes I am in the film industry. Rick and I are business partners. You?’
‘I’m in finance. You sure we haven’t met? Something very familiar about your face. We must get together sometime and discuss our pasts,’ Bruno said, smiling at her.
‘Maybe,’ Anna said lightly, before turning to face Rosa.
‘Rosa, I’m looking forward to our lunch next week. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to find the cloakroom. Back in a few moments,’ and Anna made her way back into the mansion.
One of the liveried footmen pointed her in the direction of the ladies’ cloakroom. To her relief it was empty and Anna stood in front of the large gilded mirror above a marble sink with gold taps and tried to re-apply her lipstick with a shaking hand. She’d finally remembered who Bruno was.
So why hadn’t she admitted to him that yes he did indeed know her? That he had known her when she was with Philippe. Because in those days he had been plain Brian, Philippe’s best friend, and she wasn’t sure what his reaction would be when he learnt her true identity.
She glanced at her watch. How soon before she could decently leave? Quarter of an hour - or longer? She sighed before resolutely returning to the marquee and regarding the party scene.
Disco music with a loud beat was filling the air and people were dancing. Anna saw Rick and Rosa Cruft in the middle of a large crowd to one side of the tent. Bruno was listening attentively to something a younger man at his side, his arm around the shoulders of a blonde girl, was saying.
As she watched, Bruno turned his head and looked directly at her and Anna knew that he had finally recognised her. Following his gaze the other man too turned and looked across at her, before leaning and muttering something to Bruno.
Smiling, Bruno slowly raised his arm in greeting and beckoned her to join them. In a daze, Anna acknowledged the greeting before turning away to make for the exit. To her relief a doorman was able to immediately summon her a taxi and she sank down gratefully on to its upholstered seats. She would go home and dream about Leo and her future – not dwell on the past.
Chapter Fifteen
Anna was having a leisurely breakfast on the terrace the next morning when her mobile rang. Rick.
‘How are you this morning?’ he asked.
‘Fine. I’m sorry I ran out on you last night,’ Anna said apologetically.
‘Not a problem,’ Rick answered. ‘I know those sort of do’s aren’t your thing. Anyway, it’s not what I’m ringing about. Thing is, a courier has just arrived here with a package for you marked ‘Private and Confidential’. Shall I send him up to the villa or do you want to come into the office and collect it?’
‘Any idea who it’s from?’ Anna asked.
‘No. There isn’t a company name or anything on the envelope. It is marked urgent though.’
‘You’d better send it up here then,’ Anna said. ‘I hadn’t planned to come down to the office today. Thanks.’
By the time the motorbike courier arrived fifteen minutes later, Anna had given up trying to second guess who the package was from and what it contained.
Wandering back into the villa, she stood in the sitting room examining the envelope for clues before slowly opening it. Inside, a sheet of writing paper was folded around a photocopy of a black and white photograph.
Two young people, arms entwined around each other smiled happily at the camera. Anna bit her lip, recognising herself and Philippe in the photograph. In the white space at the bottom Anna could just read the words that had been scrawled across the bottom of the original photograph: ‘One Life. One love.’
Standing there holding the old photograph of herself and Philippe, Anna felt all the emotions of her teenage love flooding through her body. She remembered being so happy the evening this photograph was taken.
They’d taken a boat across to Saint-Marguerite with a group of Philippe’s friends and spent the day lazing on the beach and swimming. She and Philippe had slipped away from the group for an hour or two and Philippe had taken her to see an empty cottage with wonderful views across the bay.
‘It belongs to my family,’ he said. ‘I shall restore it and we will live the simple life here,’ he’d said. ‘Our children will have a childhood to remember.’
Laughingly Anna had protested, ‘We’ve only known each other three days and you’ve already got us married.’
Philippe had taken her in his arms then. ‘But already, I know you’re the only one for me. I want to spend the rest of my life making love to you.’
A barbecue on the beach later that evening had been the perfect end to a wonderful day for Anna. As they sat side by side in the boat on the return journey, Philippe, his arm around her shoulders holding her tight, had whispered repeatedly, ‘Je t’aime. I love you,’ and Anna had thought she would explode with happiness.
Now, as she stared blurry-eyed at the photograph, the question was, who had sent her the print?
Apprehensively as the tears finally began to flow down her cheeks, Anna unfolded the writing paper and read the message it contained.
‘Please, I beg you, have lunch with me today – 1.p.m. The Auberge, Cannes. I need to talk to you about Philippe Cambone.’ The message was signed simply, ‘Bruno’.
Sinking down on to the settee, Anna gazed unseeingly out of the window, questions spinning around in her head. How had Bruno come by the photo?
Thoughtfully Anna brushed the tears away. She’d come to Cannes this year determined to talk to Philippe Camborne and put the past to rest, only to have his unexpected death put paid to her plans in that respect. Could Bruno answer some of the questions she’d planned to ask Philippe? Could she talk to him as she’d planned to talk with Philippe?
Resolutely she stood up. She would have lunch with Bruno and listen to what he had to say. Then when Leo got here that afternoon, she’d talk to him truthfully about the past and they would decide together how to deal with it as she finally put it behind her.
Picking up the phone, she booked a taxi to collect her at quarter to one. She’d spend the rest of the morning swimming and relaxing by the pool, and try not to think about the past too much.