Escape to the French Riviera

Chapter Five

Waking up dehydrated, I search for my water bottle to find there is only the teeniest drop left. I hold the bottle over my tongue and shake it for any drip I can get out of it. I really need tea this second.

Even though Soraya promised she would be first up, I tiptoe into the living room in case anyone is still sleeping, and I wake them with my banging about. However, there is no sign of either of them. For a moment, I wonder if perhaps Soraya has already gone to the supermarket, but I notice her handbag is in exactly the same place as she left it last night. There doesn’t appear to be any movement from either her or Carol.

In case I am mistaken, I open the fridge door with a glimmer of hope. I keep my fingers crossed that a pint of semi-skimmed milk has miraculously appeared on a shelf overnight. Alas, just as I had feared, the fridge is as empty as the last time I looked.

I don’t want to wait any longer for Soraya to get up, whenever that might be, so decide to get some milk myself. Quickly brushing through my hair and throwing on the first loose-fitting summer dress that I find in my suitcase, I grab the front door key from the console by the door and rush out.

The sun is already shining brightly, and I squint my eyes as I realise in my haste to get milk that I forgot to grab my sunglasses. I also realise that while people dash to the supermarket back home wearing whatever is closest to hand, here, everyone is super elegant. Their outfits look as though they were planned months in advance, although I suspect this isn’t true and they just happen to be casually put together at this early hour. How they can look this amazing before nine a.m. beats me. Whatever it is, I wish I knew their secret.

Ladies walk past me showing off their teeny waists in white jeans, with Chanel loafers finishing off the look. I almost want to curl up and hide myself. At least now I know I need to make more of an effort when I come back out later. I knew it would be glamorous here, but this place is trop chic . I stop for a moment as I see a shop selling designer clothes for dogs. The contrast between this and the pet food store I worked in is quite astonishing. We used to have a special food bank area for pet owners who struggled to afford food. I can’t imagine how much the navy and white sailor suit costume, complete with its coordinating hat, must cost. It seems it isn’t only the humans who lead an affluent life here. When I die, I want to come back as a pet in this place. I’m pretty sure they have a much better wardrobe than mine if this store is anything to go by.

Since I am dressed less stylishly than the local pet population, I try to stay invisible, keeping my head down as I continue my search for the nearest supermarket. I never look my best before three cuppas as it is, let alone somewhere so glam.

Finally, something resembling a corner store comes into view. A posh one, though, of course. I make a note of my surroundings so that I can remember where I am and so that we can all come down together later and fill the fridge properly. I am quite partial to French cheese and that is definitely on the shopping list for later. For now, though, milk is my priority.

Walking through the automatic door feels like a mirage in a desert at this point. I am so in need of caffeine. By the time I get to the milk fridge, I could hug it. Looking at the labels, I realise I have no idea which is semi-skimmed, but, at this point, I will take anything, even the organic, skimmed milk of a camel that has been crossed with a llama. Fortunately, though, I do find something that has a picture of a cow on it and head in the direction of the till. With the milk in my hand, I end up making a detour and look for a basket to hold everything since I get carried away when I spot some huge croissants that the girls will appreciate. I also throw in a family-sized bar of chocolate for us to share later. Finally, I pick up a small bottle of water on the way to the cashier to keep me going until I get back to the apartment and get the kettle on.

I notice a distinguished-looking man in navy shorts and a smart polo T-shirt who reaches the till at the same time as me. I am grateful that he politely lets me go ahead of him. I assume he’s a local, coming in for his freshly baked morning baguette and has all morning to kill before taking his spaniel for a walk.

When my items are rung through, I could kiss the cashier with relief. I finally have my milk. But then she tells me how much I owe, and I realise that it wasn’t only my sunglasses I forgot back at the apartment.

‘Fifteen euro, s’il vous plait.’

I feel in the baggy pockets of my sundress in the hope that I have a twenty euro note in there, but I know what the answer is.

‘Oh my, I’ve… umm… forgotten my purse. Oh no, I’ve never done anything like this before.’

I hear someone tutting and assume it’s the man behind me. Now I feel terrible that he let me go ahead. The cashier repeats the price, not listening to a word I have said. I feel my skin flush as a whole queue of annoyed people stare at me.

‘Look, I’ll put the basket back. But is there any chance I can take the milk and bring the money later?’ Stupid question, but I know Mavis in the Londis around the corner from me would always feel sorry for someone who had left their purse at home.

The thought of walking back up the hill to the apartment block empty-handed is too much to bear. Soraya and Carol will be wanting their cuppa too. It’s already getting hot out there and I am getting more and more dehydrated. However, the lady’s face says it all. There is no getting around her. This is not a local corner store in Wales.

‘You have no money, then put back.’

‘Oh, no, I’m so desperate for a cuppa.’

I have no choice but to pick up the items and turn around, until the man behind me speaks.

‘Put ’em back down. I’ll pay. We can’t have a Brit not having her morning cuppa, now, can we?’

His broad Manchester accent is such a welcome sound and I quickly realise that he is definitely not French.

‘I promise to pay you back,’ I smile.

‘Don’t worry about it. My treat, mate. Just pay it forward and do a good deed for someone else one day.’

His eyes crinkle as he smiles at me, and he is like some kind of Mancunian saviour in the middle of Monaco.

‘Cheers. Look, I’ll put everything else back, but if you could get the milk for me, I’d really appreciate it. Thank you so much. I can’t tell you how desperate I am for that caffeine hit.’

He offers to pay for the whole basket, but I tell him there is no need. The milk will be sufficient, that’s the most urgent item. In the end, we compromise, and I take the bottle of water too, as I can see the queue behind me is now stretching around the corner.

I take my goods and thank the Mancunian saviour once again.

Happily walking up the hill, taking a big swig of water, I smile as I think how kind the man was and how his eyes crinkled as he grinned. It might have been horrifying to stand there with no money, but what a lovely man to bump into and at just the right moment. Thank goodness for fellow Brits abroad!

By the time I open the door to the apartment, Soraya and Carol are up and about.

‘I was just going to go down to the shops. So sorry I slept in,’ says Soraya as she sees me carrying the milk.

I can’t help noticing how magnificent Soraya looks, even at this time in the morning, as her long dark curls swing loosely over her flowing pink kaftan.

‘It’s fine. It was a long day yesterday, and you drank quite a bit of the champers. You needed a lie-in. You wouldn’t believe what happened though.’

I tell them both about the man in the supermarket, and we all thank our lucky stars that I managed to bring home the milk.

We root through the cupboards and find a couple of fancy mugs with some kind of crest design on them and take our drinks outside to the balcony. The heat hits me once again. It’s going to be a warm day for sure.

The view from last night is clearer in the daylight, and I can see the yachts in more detail. The flags now barely move as the wind has died down, although the smell of Soraya’s fancy moisturiser still manages to waft across to me in the slight breeze.

‘I think this is the nicest cup of tea I’ve ever had,’ I say, taking a big sip.

‘Is that because a hunk from Manchester bought you the milk, or because you were desperate for a cuppa?’ teases Carol.

‘He was just a nice, normal guy who helped a fellow Brit in need. That’s all. It’s the best cup of tea ever because I was desperate for caffeine. Well, and these mugs are gorgeous.’

‘Do you think Gianni would notice if I took one home?’ asks Carol.

‘Don’t you dare,’ says Soraya, glaring at her.

‘You’re lucky Dave isn’t here. He’d have the lot.’

Carol had met Dave on a dodgy dating site after her divorce. I just seem to be surrounded by stories of men like Dave.

‘Has he ever tried to get in touch again after you caught him stealing your undies?’ asks Soraya.

‘No. I made sure I blocked him from everything. Weirdo. I’m done with dating.’

‘Oh, me too. I am so not interested.’

‘I know I’m so lucky with Andrew. We have our moments, of course, but he’s an amazing, hard-working, decent man.’

The three of us lift our cups in a salute to Andrew.

‘To men like the amazing Andrew who spoil their wives and let us tag along.’

We finish off our drinks, and Carol offers to make us another cup. As I wait for her to come back out, I look at the views of the Monaco marina in the daylight. It looks different from last night as I watch everyone hurry about.

‘Look at all those boats. Stunning.’

‘I know. I thought there were nice boats in Swansea Marina, but this is something else,’ says Soraya.

Andrew mentioned in the car on the way to the airport that Port Hercules is one of the bigger marinas in Monaco and it is obvious from the size of some of the boats.

‘Look at that one over there…’ Soraya points to what must be the largest yacht in the marina.

‘What you reckon? Must be around one hundred and twenty metres, maybe more,’ she says.

‘Don’t know. I’ve never been very good with measurements. It just looks enormous to me. It must be one of those superyacht things. I wonder who owns it?’ I say.

‘Some of them are chartered out, Andrew told me. Like those boats on Below Deck on TV.’

‘Oh, Poppy and Jasmine love that. I watch it for the food. Those chefs are amazing. I liked Chef Ben. Imagine having someone like that cooking for you.’

‘That reminds me. Where shall we eat tonight?’ says Soraya.

‘I’ve no clue what’s around here.’

‘What’s that now?’ says Carol, returning with our drinks.

‘We’re just talking about where to go tonight.’

‘Don’t ask me, babes. Did Andrew recommend anywhere?’

‘Well, there’s a yacht club. We could see if we can get in there. That’d be nice, wouldn’t it? It might be members only, though.’

Carol and I look at each other as we both wonder how much the food there might set us back.

‘I doubt they’d let non-members in. Why don’t we go for a walk and scope out some places?’ says Carol.

‘Sounds like a plan,’ I agree.

By the time we come to ourselves after more mugs of tea, I make sure I am better equipped for leaving the apartment for a wander. I put on my sunglasses and a panama hat I borrowed from Carol.

The three of us set off like we are something out of Thelma & Louise with an extra hanger-on.

No sooner have we turned the corner from the apartment when a woman on a Vespa with a small dog in the basket at the front passes us.

‘Did you see that little fluff ball?’ says Soraya.

‘What a life,’ says Carol.

It reminds me of the dog clothing store I passed, and I excitedly tell them how I’ll have to show it to them. We seem to be on a different road down to the centre this time, and instead, we pass expensive boutiques for humans. Soraya oohs and aahs over every shop window.

‘It’s a good job I’m starving, or I’d have the credit card out,’ she says.

We chat and laugh as we walk down to the marina, where we finally see the yachts from a closer angle.

‘These boats are huge, aren’t they?’ says Carol.

‘That’s what I was saying to Soraya earlier.’

When we pass a souvenir shop, Carol can’t resist stopping. She insists she wants to buy a magnet saying ‘Monaco’, claiming it will look posh on her fridge at home. However, Soraya has other ideas.

‘There’s no rush. We can come back here anytime. Isn’t anyone else hungry? We missed dinner last night after that delay. I can’t believe you’re not both complaining you’re starving. Do you realise it’s almost lunchtime?’

‘Yeah, I’m ravenous, but it’s the excitement of looking around that’s keeping me going,’ says Carol.

As we leave the souvenir shop, the smell of seafood grilled over charcoal wafts over to us and my mouth starts watering. The three of us look at the welcoming bistro by the marina, where the aroma is coming from. I suppose I can afford one nice meal here, but from tomorrow, I shall be on an economy drive. Although I realise we haven’t even had Soraya’s birthday meal yet!

Before I can think of the hefty price tag, a waiter ushers us to a table that overlooks the boats. I honestly thought they might shove us at the back if we weren’t glamorous enough, but it must be Soraya who swung it.

The young waiter passes us the menus, and I am grateful that Jasmine isn’t here. She would be swooning all over him.

‘This looks nice, doesn’t it? I might have half a lobster. Oh, they’ve got champagne too. Shall we get some to share?’ asks Soraya.

Carol’s eyes widen in panic as she looks at me. It is one thing having a bite to eat, but lobster and champagne will wipe out the budget for the week, if not the year.

Soraya looks at us as she awaits our response and then pulls out her purse.

‘Andrew’s credit card. I’ve got free rein. He’s insisted we enjoy ourselves.’

It doesn’t sit comfortably with me, but Soraya is grinning and calls the waiter over to order us a bottle of fizz.

‘This is far too generous. But after this, you must let me get some bits in the supermarket,’ I say.

‘Aww, is that so you can go back and see your knight in shining armour, or should I say, knight in shorts and T-shirt?’ teases Carol.

‘No. Will you give up about him, please? He felt sorry for me, that’s all.’

I turn to the waiter, who pours our champagne into proper glasses and not flutes like I have at home. Despite the restaurant being full of glamorous couples and ladies who lunch, it feels as though he is giving us his undivided attention. What a gorgeous place for our first lunch.

‘This is really incredible, Soraya. It’s a great way to celebrate your birthday,’ I say.

‘I know – but wait until tomorrow night! Andrew booked us somewhere he says we’ll love. I can’t remember the name now.’

As we all gaze out at the yachts, I can’t believe I am sat here drinking champagne after the horrendous time I have had with the loss of my job, Michael’s midlife crisis and then losing my sweet cat, Stella.

I take a sip of my bubbly to enjoy the moment, and I almost choke. The bubbles shoot out of my nose, and I start to cough as I hear a male voice.

‘Well, hello! All right there?’

Soraya and Carol sit with their mouths wide open.

I feel Carol’s sharp nudge in my ribs. They are both looking up at the man who is towering above us.

I take a swig of the water that is thankfully on the table beside the champagne and try to stop myself from choking further.

‘Hello,’ I wheeze out through my breaths.

‘Didn’t think I’d see you again this soon,’ he says.

‘No. Well, I did hear Monaco is quite a small place.’

‘It is indeed,’ says my knight in shorts and T-shirt.

‘Are you going to introduce us to your friend then?’ says Carol.

I look at my two friends with their cheesy grins and it takes me right back to secondary school. If I could get away with kicking them both under the table like I used to, then I would.

‘This is the kind gentleman who helped me this morning when I went out for the milk.’

‘Yeah, we guessed that. We’ve heard all about you. In fact, we were just talking about you.’

I shake my head at Carol, willing her to please shut up. If she continues, I am going to tell everyone here how her ex stole her knickers and put them on eBay!

‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Elias,’ he says to the three of us.

‘Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself to you this morning. I’m Lucy. This is Soraya and Carol.’

‘What a delight to meet you all,’ he says.

‘Anyway, look. I have my purse with me now. Please, let me give you the money I owe you from this morning. I can’t thank you enough for that.’

‘No. As I said, pay it forward. Help someone else in their moment of need.’

‘If you’re sure. Okay. I promise I’ll do that.’

‘Well, I’d better leave you ladies to enjoy your champagne.’

‘Oh, no, we’re eating.’ I don’t want him thinking I am here to drink all day.

‘Well, I’d better leave you to enjoy your lunch then, ladies. I’m sure I’ll bump into you again around here.’ Elias looks into my eyes and smiles.

‘Ooh, I’m sure we will see you again,’ giggles Carol. A pang of jealousy hits me. Does Carol fancy him? I thought she said she wasn’t looking for anyone. Oh well, no man is worth fighting with your friends over. If she likes him, she can have him. Anyway, I am not here for romance. I am here to celebrate my friend and hopefully get some writing inspiration.

‘See you around then, Elias.’ I smile, and by the time I look around, he is nowhere to be seen.

‘Now he is some catch,’ says Carol.