my Lotus out of mothballs and give it an outing, so I shall be spending most of my Sunday with the mechanics. Be interesting to drive on a circuit again after so long. Especially this one.’
‘I didn’t know you’d been a racing driver,’ Nanette said.
‘Only very briefly. It was at the time the sport was changing rapidly into big business with the manufacturers taking over. It simply became too expensive without a sponsor; I found myself priced out of the market.’ He shrugged. ‘And if I’m honest I lacked the competitive edge that people like Manselland Senna had. So, the car has been under wraps for the last few years. I’ve got the next couple of weeks to finish checking it over mechanically and prepare it. Of course, I don’t expect to be placed, but must admit I’m looking forward to the weekend.’
‘Who have you got supporting you on the day?’ Nanette asked. ‘You’ll need someone in the pits to help.’
‘Not a problem. There are always young lads wanting to get involved and I’ve got a mechanic called David coming over from Le Cannet to help. He used to work the circuit so he knows the ropes.’
He glanced at her. ‘And Zac has offered me the expertise of one of his mechanics if I need it. The Formula One circus will be arriving in town by then with only a week to go to the Grand Prix proper. Looks as though it might be Zac’s year,’ he added casually. ‘I see he’s leading the championship and is favourite to win next week in Germany.’
Nanette nodded. Despite herself she’d been keeping an eye on the results since the drivers had arrived back in Europe from Australia.
‘My offer still stands by the way,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘You’re more than welcome to use the villa as a hideaway anytime – not just on race day. After the Spanish race Zac is certain to be in town more or less permanently until the Grand Prix.’
‘I know,’ Nanette said diffidently, remembering previous years when Zac had used the run up to the Monaco Grand Prix to do a lot of socializing. She sighed inwardly. The inevitable meeting was getting closer.
‘You will have to meet him face to face one day, Nanette. What will you do then?’ Jean-Claude asked gently.
Nanette shook her head before saying slowly, ‘I don’t know.’
*
For the next couple of weeks Monaco continued to gear itself up for the busiest part of its year. The needs of the vintage Grand Prix weekend complicated things as everything had to be ready a week earlier, which had added a manic frenzy to the normal busy preparations.
Walking to school every day, Nanette and the twins got used to dodging around obstacles on the pavement, lorries parked unloading yet more essential street furniture and the inevitable crowds of tourists being disembarked into the Principality for the day from the cruise ships moored in the harbour.
Every street had an army of workmen busy hammering and fixing things into place. Terraces of stands had taken over the hillside and the harbour, large television screens had appeared in strategic places around the route and the barriers were in place around the length of the circuit. Fresh white paint detailed the starting grid below Nanette’s balcony.
The main players in the Formula 1 circus had yet to arrive, but the supporting sideshow of trucks, traders and hangers-on , were already making their presence felt. The harbour was jam-packed with more and more luxury yachts whose owners were all determined to be a part of the glamorous scene.
Nanette had so far managed to avoid walking directly past Pole Position but this morning returning from taking the twins to school, she had no choice but to walk along that side of the embankment, as the other side had been blocked. Looking straight ahead she walked quickly, not looking at the boats until she was certain she had left Pole Position well behind.
With a deep breath of relief, she managed to cross the roadand make her way into the small supermarché.
‘I didn’t know you’d been a racing driver,’ Nanette said.
‘Only very briefly. It was at the time the sport was changing rapidly into big business with the manufacturers taking over. It simply became too expensive without a sponsor; I found myself priced out of the market.’ He shrugged. ‘And if I’m honest I lacked the competitive edge that people like Manselland Senna had. So, the car has been under wraps for the last few years. I’ve got the next couple of weeks to finish checking it over mechanically and prepare it. Of course, I don’t expect to be placed, but must admit I’m looking forward to the weekend.’
‘Who have you got supporting you on the day?’ Nanette asked. ‘You’ll need someone in the pits to help.’
‘Not a problem. There are always young lads wanting to get involved and I’ve got a mechanic called David coming over from Le Cannet to help. He used to work the circuit so he knows the ropes.’
He glanced at her. ‘And Zac has offered me the expertise of one of his mechanics if I need it. The Formula One circus will be arriving in town by then with only a week to go to the Grand Prix proper. Looks as though it might be Zac’s year,’ he added casually. ‘I see he’s leading the championship and is favourite to win next week in Germany.’
Nanette nodded. Despite herself she’d been keeping an eye on the results since the drivers had arrived back in Europe from Australia.
‘My offer still stands by the way,’ Jean-Claude said. ‘You’re more than welcome to use the villa as a hideaway anytime – not just on race day. After the Spanish race Zac is certain to be in town more or less permanently until the Grand Prix.’
‘I know,’ Nanette said diffidently, remembering previous years when Zac had used the run up to the Monaco Grand Prix to do a lot of socializing. She sighed inwardly. The inevitable meeting was getting closer.
‘You will have to meet him face to face one day, Nanette. What will you do then?’ Jean-Claude asked gently.
Nanette shook her head before saying slowly, ‘I don’t know.’
*
For the next couple of weeks Monaco continued to gear itself up for the busiest part of its year. The needs of the vintage Grand Prix weekend complicated things as everything had to be ready a week earlier, which had added a manic frenzy to the normal busy preparations.
Walking to school every day, Nanette and the twins got used to dodging around obstacles on the pavement, lorries parked unloading yet more essential street furniture and the inevitable crowds of tourists being disembarked into the Principality for the day from the cruise ships moored in the harbour.
Every street had an army of workmen busy hammering and fixing things into place. Terraces of stands had taken over the hillside and the harbour, large television screens had appeared in strategic places around the route and the barriers were in place around the length of the circuit. Fresh white paint detailed the starting grid below Nanette’s balcony.
The main players in the Formula 1 circus had yet to arrive, but the supporting sideshow of trucks, traders and hangers-on , were already making their presence felt. The harbour was jam-packed with more and more luxury yachts whose owners were all determined to be a part of the glamorous scene.
Nanette had so far managed to avoid walking directly past Pole Position but this morning returning from taking the twins to school, she had no choice but to walk along that side of the embankment, as the other side had been blocked. Looking straight ahead she walked quickly, not looking at the boats until she was certain she had left Pole Position well behind.
With a deep breath of relief, she managed to cross the roadand make her way into the small supermarché.
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