LITMIR.BIZ

      8

      As agreed at dinner the previous evening, everyone congregated in the kitchen for breakfast the next morning, ready for Pierre to run them down to the station at nine to catch the train to Monaco. Matilda, although still unsure about her ankle, had decided to join them and had her stick firmly to hand as they boarded the train for the ride along the coast.

      ‘So many tunnels,’ Chelsea said as the train whooshed through another one.

      ‘The long one as we leave Cap d’Ail will take us into the heart of Monaco,’ Amy said. ‘We’ll grab a taxi and go straight up to the Palace. We should just about be in time for the changing of the guard at midday.’

      ‘It’s no Buckingham Palace, is it?’ Vicky whispered to Matilda an hour or so later as they joined the crowd already in Palace Square in front of the main entrance to the Palace. ‘It’s so tiny in comparison. I know it’s a silly allusion, but it makes me think of a decoration for the top of a wedding cake!’ she laughed. ‘I love it.’

      Watching the guards in their full dress white summer uniforms marching past, Vicky snapped a picture on her phone and sent it to Anthony.

      ✉︎ Guess where I am today? Hoping for a glimpse of Princess Charlene with the twins.

      The short ceremony was over quickly, not much longer than five minutes Vicky estimated, before the crowd started to disperse. Amy led them over to where cannons were placed overlooking the harbour at Fontvieille and the huge arches of the entrance to the Stade Louis II football stadium in the distance.

      Turning her back on the view and looking at the Palace and the other buildings, Vicky sensed there was definitely something special about this place perched on The Rock high above the Mediterranean. There was just something in the air that was glamorous and exciting, not to mention the sense of history underlying everything. Not even the large number of tourists milling around managed to disperse that feeling for her.

      ‘Right, lunchtime,’ Amy said. ‘Follow me.’

      She led them down one of the narrow ancient streets and ushered them through a narrow doorway into a restaurant already filling up with customers. A waiter showed them to a table set in the corner of an unexpected, small courtyard filled with tubs of lavender and lemon trees, handed them menus and promised to return in ‘cinq minutes’ for their orders.

      Over lunch, Amy outlined the plans for the afternoon. A stroll around the streets, a visit to the cathedral and then a walk down to the harbour before making their way to the Café de Paris for a spot of people watching around the Monte Carlo Casino before catching a train home.

      She glanced anxiously at Matilda. ‘How’s the ankle? You can take a taxi from here if you prefer and we’ll meet up with you at the Café de Paris.’

      ‘I’ll walk down with you,’ Matilda said. ‘But I think taking a taxi to the top of town is a good idea.’

      It was gone two o’clock before the four of them left the restaurant to start exploring the shops lining the narrow lanes on their way to the cathedral. Once in the cathedral, Matilda was the first of them to light a candle, Amy and Vicky followed, only Chelsea hung back.

      ‘This is a catholic cathedral, isn’t it? I’m not catholic,’ she said sotto voce to Amy.

      ‘Your religion is irrelevant. Think of it simply as a candle to remember someone you’ve lost and whom you miss,’ Amy said quietly. ‘Mine is in memory of my Aunt Tasha.’

      ‘My mum. I miss her a lot,’ Chelsea said. ‘I’ll light one for her.’

      Leaving the cathedral twenty minutes later, they were all quiet, lost in their own memories. The dazzling sunlight that hit their eyes as they walked down the steps had them all searching their bags for sunglasses. Amy led them back towards Palace Square, past the dark bronze figure of Francis Grimaldi near the arch, and on to the pathway that led down to the port via a series of steps and slopes. The sunshine, along with the laughter and chatter of tourists, banished the sober feelings the atmosphere in the cathedral had imbued in each of them.

      By the time they reached the port, Amy could see that Matilda was leaning heavily on her stick and rang for a taxi to take her to the top of the town. Once they’d waved Matilda off, promising they’d see her within the hour for a coffee in the Café de Paris, the other three started to walk along the front and then up the hill, past the Princess Grace Theatre, towards the casino.

      Passing the theatre, Amy caught her breath as she saw a poster advertising the opening night of a ballet. She quickened her pace until she was almost running in her anxiety to put the theatre as far behind her as possible. The poster had brought back painful memories of the past and the thought that she’d be accosted at any moment by the one person she dreaded seeing. The sensible part of her brain tried to tell her it was unlikely they’d bump into each other once she got away from the theatre area, but she didn’t want to take the risk.

      ‘Whoa,’ Vicky puffed. ‘I can’t keep up this pace. Why the rush?’

      Amy slowed down. ‘Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Let’s have a wander along rue de Monte Carlo before we meet up again with Matilda? Some of the poshest shops in Monaco are there.’

      Vicky glanced at her curiously before saying, ‘Sounds fun, but please don’t let me get my credit card out.’

      ‘Don’t worry,’ Chelsea said. ‘I’m definitely only window shopping. We’ll hold each other back.’

      By the time the three of them had oohed and aahed their way past the posh shops and were admiring the jewellers’ window near the Casino, Amy’s breathing had returned to normal.

      Outside the Casino, there was the usual crush of tourists all vying with each other to have their photographs taken alongside the various luxury cars parked in front of the entrance steps.

      Vicky held her phone out. ‘Would one of you please take a photo of me posing against… against that one,’ and she pointed to a white Aston Martin convertible. ‘I know it’s an incredibly naff thing to do, but,’ she laughed, ‘it’s Anthony’s dream car.’

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