Escape to the French Riviera

Chapter Ten

For our last day in Monaco, Soraya decides we should do something cultural, rather than more shopping, champagne and casinos. I am quite impressed by her decision and wonder if she is becoming more sophisticated in her older years.

With a bit of a sore head after the combination of the finest champagne, cocktails and French wine, we set off early for our last day of sightseeing. We start off with the Prince’s Palace of Monaco to try and catch the changing of the guards. We had hoped we could go inside the palace. Carol loves nosing around people’s homes, but sadly, we are here too early in the season. So, we can only look at it from the outside. We admire the palace from under the shade of the trees that protect us from the sun, which is already glaring down on us. It is going to be a hot one today, and I am glad we got the sunbathing out of the way yesterday.

I look up at one of the palace balconies where pretty lavender-coloured flowers cascade down. If it wasn’t for the turrets and cannons, I’d have thought it was a beautiful mansion in the centre of Monaco. The three of us look up to the windows, desperately hoping to spot someone of importance. Sadly, it seems there is no sign of any royalty today.

Crowds of tourists line up outside the palace as the time approaches for the changing of the guards. The guards stand tall and upright in their pristine uniforms, and they strut about as we watch them from the Palace Square.

‘It’s like Buckingham Palace really, isn’t it?’ says Carol.

‘Only warmer. Don’t know how those guards stand around in uniform all day in this heat,’ says Soraya, wiping away a bead of sweat from her face.

As soon as they finish handing over to the new guards on duty, the crowds disperse, and we consider where we should go next. I’m hoping it’s somewhere air-conditioned.

‘Do you think we should have a look at the Grand Prix track?’ says Carol.

‘Don’t know. I’m not that bothered myself, but I suppose I could get some photos for Andrew. How about we head there next, then?’

We walk around Monaco, and all agree these are the views we have seen on the Grand Prix.

‘You know, I think this is it. It’s just a normal road. I’ll take a pic for Andrew, and then let’s move on.’

Next on the itinerary is the white stone Roman-Byzantine cathedral in the old town of Monaco. Soraya reads up on it before we arrive and tells us that this is where Princess Grace and her husband Prince Rainier are buried.

‘Did you know this is where they married back in the Fifties?’ she tells us, clearly relishing her role as tour guide. This impresses Carol and me immensely.

It’s so fortunate that the church is open to visitors, unlike the palace at this time of year. We pass the pews, walk along the aisle, and then towards the altar with its tall white candles on silver candlesticks. I imagine Grace Kelly in the beautiful wedding dress she wore as she walked along here and into the arms of her prince.

‘I can’t believe we are walking down the same aisle as Grace Kelly. This is seriously cool,’ says Carol.

‘Unbelievable, isn’t it?’

It surprises me that the cathedral is quite small – nowhere near as big as I would have imagined for somewhere a prince and princess would get married. However, it is classy and quite modern, although some parts of the cathedral have obviously been renovated, such as the pipe organ that is visible way up high on a balcony.

‘I’ll have to show you the photos in my guidebook of that when it’s lit up,’ says Soraya pointing at the organ. ‘It’s all blue and quite the sight.’

‘Goodness, yes. That is some organ,’ I say.

‘And I bet I know someone who has a fabulous organ too,’ says Carol, looking at me. She starts laughing so hard that someone shushes her.

‘Oh my god. Carol!’

‘Can’t take her anywhere,’ says Soraya, stifling a giggle.

‘Well, I’m only saying what Lucy is really thinking.’

‘No, I’m not. I wasn’t even thinking of Elias.’

‘Well, if you weren’t thinking of Elias, then why do you think I’m talking about him ?’

‘I don’t know what you’re on about, but I’m getting peckish. Anyone else?’

‘Do you know, I wouldn’t mind going back to that place we ate on the first day for an early dinner. Shall we go there?’ says Soraya.

‘Well, I suppose it is our last day and sometimes it’s better to stick with what you know,’ says Carol.

Even though the prices there make my eyes water, I still have some of the casino win left, so we all agree to finish the holiday off in style.

The waiter shows us to a table at the front, and we move our chairs to make sure we have some shade under the big umbrellas.

‘I love this place. We’ll have to come back again,’ says Carol.

‘Yeah. Next time, maybe we can stay in Nice and come for longer. We haven’t seen half of what’s around us. I’d have loved to stop at that place we passed… What was it called, Eze, or something? It was so quaint with all those old medieval buildings, and the sea was so clear there,’ says Soraya.

‘Oh, yeah. That looked gorgeous. I suppose it would’ve been nice to have a hire car, really. Shame Paulo buggered off,’ says Carol.

‘Perhaps he isn’t paid enough to take us around,’ I suggest.

‘Well, Gianni is very generous. I don’t know what happened. I suppose we’ll just have to arrange a taxi to get to the airport.’

‘Yeah, that’s fair enough,’ I agree.

‘So, have you managed to get any inspiration for your book now?’ asks Carol.

‘Well, a little, but I could have done with a bit more time. I don’t want to go back now, do you?’

‘I could stay here forever,’ says Carol.

‘Oh, me too. But, to be fair, you haven’t had much chance to think about things when we’ve all been partying together and shopping. You know what you should do?’ says Soraya.

‘What? I’ll take anything you suggest because I really want to write this book. I’ve done nothing so far.’

‘Right. In that case, why don’t I see if you can stay on? I am sure Gianni wouldn’t mind. In fact, he’d probably prefer someone to be here, since his housekeeper seems to be away. He’s not due back for another couple of weeks. It would make no difference.’

‘Goodness, I can’t do that. He doesn’t even know me.’

‘I know him, and he’s a lovely guy. He won’t mind, I promise. You’ll be doing him a favour. Like house-sitting. He may even pay you for it. I’ll ask Andrew to give him a ring now.’

‘You can’t! He’s done enough for us already.’

‘He won’t mind. I told you… He’s so generous, he’s a great guy. I’m messaging Andrew now. He’ll sort it out. Just you wait. You’ll be helping him as a house-sitter. I mean, I wouldn’t want to leave a home like that empty, would you?’

‘No, I agree. Anything could happen. House-sitting, eh? Hmm.’ Now Soraya puts it that way, house-sitting a lavish apartment in Monaco sounds like it could be too good an opportunity to miss.

‘Yeah, you can sit on the balcony in the morning with that gorgeous fresh orange juice we get from the supermarket, a warm croissant, laptop open and write your book,’ says Soraya.

‘Well, see what he says. He might not like the idea of a house-sitter.’

‘Oh, he will.’

By the time we have finished our early dinner, I find myself hoping that Gianni agrees.

I don’t want to count my chickens, though, and as we head along the front and take in the last of the views of Monaco, I try to lock the beautiful images in my head. Some of the shops are starting to close, and when we turn the corner, I hear a voice I would recognise anywhere.

‘Just for one, thanks,’ he’s saying.

‘Oh my god, look. It’s Elias!’ shouts Carol.

‘Sshhh,’ I say.

I want to turn the other way as I see Elias grabbing a stool at the bar around the corner from our favourite restaurant.

‘Let’s say hello,’ says Carol.

‘Let’s not.’

‘Oh, come on. Don’t be miserable,’ says Soraya.

The two of them barge up to Elias’s bar stool before I can say anything. But just before they reach him, he looks around and spots me, and if I am not mistaken, his eyes light up as though he has seen an old friend.

He immediately jumps off his bar stool to greet the three of us and kisses our cheeks in an informal French way. I try to ignore my goosebumps.

‘Well, how nice to see you all again,’ he says.

‘You too. It’s our last day. We’re making the most of it. We thought we’d go for a quick walk before heading back to pack and all that stuff,’ says Carol.

‘Your last day already? Time flies.’ Elias looks at Soraya and smiles. ‘I trust you had a wonderful birthday.’

‘Oh yes, I did, thank you.’

‘It was so funny as this bottle of champagne turned up and we thought you had—’

I look at Carol and give her the eyes that tell her not to dare continue.

‘I had what?’ he asks.

‘No. Nothing. We had a lovely evening. It was great. Yeah.’

‘Yes, so, anyway, we’re back to the rain tomorrow. Do you know, it hasn’t stopped raining at home since last September?’ I say.

‘Yeah, the wettest year on record apparently,’ says Soraya.

There is nothing like talking about the UK weather to get someone to change the subject. The four of us talk about what a miserable winter we had, and then the conversation turns to us leaving early in the morning.

‘I was just telling Lucy she should stay on a while and see if she can get some inspiration for the book she’s trying to write. So far, she’s done nothing.’

‘Oh dear. Too busy partying around this playground, perhaps,’ says Elias, with a teasing smile.

‘Yeah, definitely. That’s why I’ve told her she needs to stay on. The apartment we’ve got is vacant for ages. It’s not a problem. Don’t you agree, Elias?’ says Soraya.

‘I think that sounds like a great idea. If you stay on, maybe I could take you on a day trip somewhere on the boat. If the wind in your hair and the sea air don’t give you inspiration, then I don’t know what will. How about it? I could take you somewhere tomorrow if you like?’

‘What about your boss?’

‘Oh, yeah. I’ll check, but I think the Andalusia trip is a bit delayed. It shouldn’t be a problem.’

‘I’ve asked Andrew to see if it’s okay with Gianni, who lent us the flat, which it will be, and you, Mrs, are getting your flight changed. What have you got to rush home for?’

‘Well, Poppy and Jasmine. They’ll be wanting me back in case they need something.’

‘Tough. They’re old enough to manage. This is your time now. How often does an offer like this come along? They’ll still be whinging at you when you get back,’ says Soraya.

‘Yeah, I love them to bits, but they do take me for granted sometimes.’

‘Grown-up kids can do that. I know the feeling well. Sounds like someone needs to change their flight,’ says Elias.

Carol, Soraya and Elias stare at me. I have never been a spur-of-the-moment type of person. I have to meticulously plan any holiday, and even a trip in the car must be carefully prepared by checking my tyres and ensuring I have my warning triangle in the boot. I never say yes to anything immediately. I have to mull things over. I can’t believe I have been so easily swayed.

‘If Gianni agrees, then, yes, I’d love to. Thank you, Soraya.’

‘I think I still have your number, so shall I message you later and see what’s happening?’ says Elias.

‘Yeah, sure. That sounds great.’

The bartender puts down an ice-cold beer in front of Elias, and it feels like the right time to move along.

We say our goodbyes and make our way further along the street.

‘Can you believe we bumped into him? That was meant to be, definitely. I might get the tarot cards out when I get back. Have a look if he comes up,’ says Carol.

‘Don’t you dare. I don’t believe in all of that. Stop it.’

‘Well, they’re usually right.’

‘No, they’re not. Remember when you were convinced Steven was the one because your tarot cards told you so? Only one date you went on, and you couldn’t stand each other.’

‘Well, most of the time they’re right. Maybe I didn’t shuffle the cards properly. Anyway, that was a long time ago. So, where are we off to next?’ says Carol.

‘I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted after all the sightseeing. How about we pick up a final bottle of that nice French wine and watch the world go by from Gianni’s balcony?’ says Soraya.

‘Do you know what? I must be getting old, but that sounds amazing,’ I say.

We pop into the supermarket and head back to the comfort of our apartment, where we open another bottle of French wine, kick our shoes off and lounge around on the balcony, putting the world to rights.

The evening is every bit as wonderful as being in the casino, looking at the palaces, or exploring the yacht, because what is important is the friendship we share, no matter what we are doing.