Chapter Six
‘Well, you’re a dark horse. You didn’t tell us quite how gorgeous your saviour was,’ says Soraya, as she tucks into the lobster that has arrived on the table.
‘I didn’t notice, to be honest. I didn’t get a good look at him this morning. I was too flustered, and I hadn’t had my tea.’
‘You’re fibbing. I can tell. How can you not notice someone like that? Did you see that face? That body, that… everything. I wonder what he’s doing here?’ says Carol.
‘He’s probably on holiday with his wife – and before you ask where she is, she is probably just resting back at their accommodation,’ I say.
‘I didn’t notice a wedding ring,’ says Carol.
‘Trust you to look,’ laughs Soraya.
‘Well, if Lucy isn’t interested, then I definitely am.’
‘Will you behave, both of you. Just because he was kind to me this morning doesn’t mean he’s some sort of eligible bachelor hanging around Monaco looking for someone like me.’
‘Someone like you? What on earth does that mean?’ asks Soraya.
‘I don’t know. I’m in my fifties, unemployed, with a bum that’s never been so wobbly and thighs that seem to expand just by looking at a custard slice.’
‘Come on now. That’s no way to talk about your beautiful body. You have strong legs that carry you, and young girls pay good money for a booty like yours nowadays,’ says Carol.
‘She’s right. You’re gorgeous, and you need to know it. I bet he couldn’t believe he bumped into such a beauty first thing in the morning like that,’ says Soraya.
‘Right. Let’s change the subject. Enough about my bum and the Mysterious Mancunian of Monaco.’
‘Ooh, I quite like the sound of that. “The Mysterious Mancunian of Monaco”! Sounds a bit like The Count of Monte Cristo , don’t you think Soraya.’
Carol and Soraya both laugh at my expense. I begin to wish I hadn’t bumped into him now. I’ll never hear the end of it.
‘I’m sure we won’t see him again. We’re not here that long, and he’ll be off on some day trip with his wife to Cap d’Antibes , or somewhere like that,’ I say in my best Welsh/French accent.
‘Yeah, but what if he’s a single man looking for love in Monaco,’ says Carol.
‘Look. Let’s just enjoy a girlie trip. No men allowed. I’m not looking for any relationship whatsoever, even if he is gorgeous,’ I say.
I lift my champagne glass up and repeat my mantra for this trip.
‘No men allowed!’ I remind Carol once again.
She scowls at me, but we somehow manage to agree on the pact.
‘Now, if he were a movie director with a million-pound budget to get the book I haven’t even written into Hollywood, I might bend the rules. Not in a funny way, you understand. Just, I mean… Oh no, that sounds awful, doesn’t it? Look, let’s change the subject. How’s the lobster?’
‘Simply scrumptious,’ says Soraya.
‘Yeah, so is the trout,’ says Carol.
‘The food is fabulous here. This was definitely the right choice,’ I say.
After a long boozy lunch, we head for a wander around the shops, which, on reflection, probably wasn’t the best idea if I am to stick to my strict holiday budget.
We walk past palm trees against the backdrop of high-rise apartment blocks and window-shop for the most part, almost bumping into each other as we admire the displays.
Soraya impulsively decides that we should go to the casino tonight and needs a fancy new frock, so we stop at one of the ubiquitous boutiques selling designer clothes. Despite having brought plenty of clothes with her, she insists she needs something new. I grimace as I think about what I will be wearing. I hope the dress code isn’t too lavish, or I won’t be allowed in.
Carol and I sit around waiting on the deep purple velvet sofa in the posh boutique as Soraya tries on a few dresses. We give our opinions, and when she comes out in the most beautiful black dress with diamante around the neckline, both Carol and I agree that this is the one for her. Soraya looks absolutely stunning. I can’t believe she will be fifty tomorrow. Neither can I believe how quickly we have all hit our half-century. When we were in school, we all wanted to be the eldest. But when I was the first to celebrate this milestone birthday, I quickly went to wishing I was the youngest.
After hitting the shops and with Soraya’s dress safely wrapped in a fancy bag, we head back to the apartment to get ready for tonight. If we are going to a world-famous casino, it’s going to take hours. At least there are so many bathrooms in the property that we won’t have to fight over whose turn it is.
Excitedly, we prepare for our glamorous evening, which takes me back to our teenage years. We blast out an Eighties radio station that Carol has managed to find on the state-of-the-art stereo in the living room, and it is just like being back in 1989 before the disco in our local church hall. Except now we sit around in Velcro curlers getting ready, instead of those bendy rag things we used to put in our hair and use normal hairspray instead of something that would make our hair abnormally rock hard for weeks.
By the time we are ready, I begin to feel as though I can mingle with the best of them and walk into the casino with my head held high. However, when we approach the casino and I am faced with columns and chandeliers so grand they would only be fit for the most extravagant of palaces, my imposter syndrome kicks in, and I am forced to realise that I am not part of the jet set whatsoever. I may have thought the long black and gold dress that I bought a few years back would be ideal when I was getting ready, but now I realise it just looks dated as I look at the elegant women playing blackjack in the latest collections. The material suddenly feels inferior: thin and cheap compared to these women in their fine silks that are probably made from the cocoons of rare types of silkworms that I haven’t even heard of. I am a polyester girl walking among this cashmere society. As for the men, they are equally swanky, and a group of them in tuxedos and bow ties cheers as they win on the roulette. Carol looks over, and I tell her to behave as the croupiers rake the chips back in and prepare to start a new game.
‘Oh, look at those guys on the roulette table,’ says Soraya.
‘Yeah, don’t worry. I already noticed. Actually, I’ve always fancied a go at proper roulette. I bought a little set in Argos once for when the boys turned eighteen, but it wasn’t quite the same as playing in a casino. I think we lost half the chips,’ says Carol. That sounds typical of Carol; she’s always the most disorganised out of the three of us.
Both Carol and Soraya are eager to play on the roulette. However, the thought of losing even the slightest bit of money scares me. Buying a scratch card seems like a luxury nowadays. I insist that I will stand next to my friends and watch as they place their bets.
‘Oh, go on. Have one go,’ says Carol.
‘What’s your lucky number?’ says Soraya.
‘No, I can’t.’
‘It’s almost my birthday. I can do whatever I want. Give me a number, and I’ll put a bet on for you.’
I tell her there is no way I am accepting anything more from her than I have already taken. Her generosity knows no bounds.
Soraya looks at the croupier and then at me.
‘Come on. Quick, she’s starting. Number?’
‘Seven then.’
‘Black or red?’
‘Umm, red.’
Soraya manages to place the bet just in time, and we watch as the wheel spins. It rumbles along the lower numbers, the higher numbers, and everything in between. Then we watch closely as the roulette wheel begins to slow down.
‘Come on. It’s got to be twenty-three,’ shouts Carol. But slowly the wheel passes her number and stops. It takes a moment to register, and it is only because Carol and Soraya are grabbing me and trying to high five me that it all computes. I watch as the croupier hands over a load of chips to me.
‘You won, my dear. It’s yours,’ says Soraya.
‘No. I’m not taking it. It’s your money. You paid for the bet.’
‘Stop it. When you are a massive bestselling author, you can treat me. But you can buy us a drink, and that won’t be cheap,’ says Soraya. Then she points towards the cashier’s glass compartment for me to exchange my chips for the real stuff.
‘No arguing. Just go and cash your chips in, will you.’
I give Soraya a stern look and shake my head. She is generous to a fault.
Trying not to drop any chips, I slide them through the window to the cashier. He takes them efficiently and then grabs a wad of euros.
I watch in disbelief as the man counts out five hundred. I will definitely be treating Soraya to a bottle of champagne here for that, and I’ll save the rest for a little extra spending money.
I almost bump into the man waiting behind me as I turn around.
I am still wearing the biggest grin on my face when I hear a distinctly recognisable voice.
‘It must be your lucky day.’
Umm, it is now , I think as I look at him dressed up in his suave black tie and tuxedo. He is quite the sight for sore eyes. If Carol thought he looked good in shorts, then she hasn’t seen anything yet. The sophisticated version of the Mystery Mancunian of Monaco is even more pleasing to the eye.
But before I respond with anything I might regret, I remind myself that it was me who made up the no men rule. There is no romance happening on this trip. Besides, he is off on that imaginary trip to Antibes with his wife tomorrow. So, I try to stop my thoughts from running away with me as he stares into my eyes, awaiting a response.
‘Well, hello. Fancy bumping into you here,’ I say.
‘We were only just saying how small Monaco is, weren’t we? Beautiful casino, isn’t it?’ says Elias.
I look around for a wife behind him, but all I see are two couples nearby.
‘Oh, it’s lovely here. So, umm, are you here with your friends… Or…?’
‘No, it’s just me.’
‘Ah, a holiday alone then. It’s nice to have time on your own sometimes.’
I feel flummoxed and don’t know what to say as I look at him standing there in front of me. This vision of godliness is making me tongue-tied!
‘I’m here with work, actually. I’m a skipper on a yacht.’
He is smiling that gorgeous grin again, and as our eyes meet, there is some kind of sparkly connection. I tell myself I mustn’t look into his eyes, so I avert my gaze to his black tie, which is tied so perfectly around his neck. All I can think of is how enticing it would be to pull it off. Oh god, I don’t know where to look that is not going to give me palpitations!
‘Yeah, so I’m just hanging around waiting to deliver the boat to wherever my boss wants me.’
Ah, so does this mean his wife is waiting for him back in Manchester?
‘Might head towards Andalusia next, I’m not really sure,’ he adds.
‘Gosh, that’s some life then.’
‘Yeah, it can get a bit lonely sometimes, though. That’s why it’s nice to meet a fellow Brit.’
Nice to meet me , or just because I’m a fellow Brit? I try not to analyse his words and tell myself to focus on the conversation. Do not look at his eyes, his bow tie, or any part of him that is attractive. I look down at his perfectly polished shoes.
‘Hmm. I can’t ever imagine it would be lonely when you have a yacht at your disposal, but I suppose it could be.’
‘Well, it’s not mine. As I say, I’m just the poor skipper. Luckily, my boss is a very good person.’
‘Right. Cool.’
Cool? Cool? I haven’t used that word since the Eighties. What am I saying? The girls would scold me for being full-on cringe if they heard me.
‘So, how long you here for?’ he asks.
‘We leave the day after tomorrow.’
‘Can I be direct and ask you something?’
‘Umm. Okay.’
My heart is beating so fast now that I have to cough to get over the fact that I have just had the hugest palpitation!
‘This is incredibly forward of me, but if you’re leaving soon, I don’t suppose you fancy going for dinner tomorrow?’
I don’t know if it’s the lights of the casino, but I swear he is blushing, and so I feel terrible for turning down his offer.
‘Ah, I can’t. I’m so sorry. It’s my best friend’s big birthday tomorrow. This is a girls’ holiday. That’s why we’re here. Then we leave the following day, as I said. I’m really sorry.’
‘No, of course. I totally understand. Well, it’s been lovely meeting you.’
‘You too, Elias.’
‘You remembered my name?’
‘Of course I did.’
We smile at each other, and a warm, tingly feeling comes over me. I tell myself to ignore it. That will just be the reminder that I need to increase my HRT.
‘Well, bye, Lucy. As I said, lovely meeting you.’ He remembered my name too!
I watch as Elias walks away for the second time today. Only this time, I know there’s no chance of seeing him as he will probably set sail before our paths can cross again. If things had only been different then I might well have been persuaded to join Elias for dinner. What bad timing.