‘I wouldn’t be very stealthy if I told you, now would I?’
We head down Avenue de la Porte Neuve. She leans back against the headrest and closes her eyes, the picture of calm. The idea that I can help in some small way spreads warmth through me like a perfectly heated bath. I can’t imagine how bad today was, and even though I’m itching to know what happened, I don’t want her to relive it so decide not to bring it up.
The peace is disturbed the second she opens her eyes. ‘Where the hellareyou taking me?’
‘You’ll see.’
‘I don’t recognise this area, which is crazy since Monaco’s smaller than Central Park. There are only about five streets to recognise.’
‘Have a little faith.’
‘But—’
‘We’re almost there. You can hold on for another two minutes.’
We shore up on an empty street, the only light coming from a hole-in-the-wall eatery with a medieval font on its sign saying they sell pizza and crêpes. EvenmyFrench extends that far.
She looks at it, then looks at me. ‘Is this supposed to be a date?’
I recoil against the door. ‘What? No! Of course not.’ Why the hell would she think that? Because there’s food involved?Are friends not allowed to eat together now? ‘I’m hungry; you’re hungry. They can hear your tummy all the way in Villefranche.’
Her hand finds her stomach. ‘That’s very… thoughtful of you?’
‘Don’t give me too much credit,’ I say, getting out, ‘I’m ravenous too. Haven’t eaten since eleven.’
We walk side by side along the narrow street, sealed in by beige buildings that stretch up towards the sky.
‘This place is one of Monaco’s hidden wonders, and I want it to stay that way. Tourists don’t know about it so you can still get pizza and a drink for eight euros. I’m trusting you, Roberts.’
‘Why are you quibbling over a few euros? You couldbuythe restaurant if you care so much.’
I hold the door open for her. ‘Hey, you’re talking to a Fiat driver. Hard times, remember?’
She chuckles. ‘Not your usual chicken and steamed vegetables.’
I scratch the back of my head. ‘Yeah, don’t tell Georgie.’
As we wait for our orders, I can see the cogs in her head turning.
I nudge her with my elbow. ‘What you thinking?’
She looks at me for a moment, then turns and picks up some napkins from the rack. ‘Nothing.’
If there’s a sure-fire way to drive me crazy, it’s exactly that. ‘You sure?’
‘You’re not…’ she fiddles with the napkins, ‘nervous someone will see us?’
Where didthatcome from? ‘Like who, paparazzi?’
‘No, I know they’re banned in the Principality. Fans, crew, people who’d recognise you.’
‘So? What are you worried they’ll say? We’re nottogether. There’s nothing interesting to see.’
‘But we are together. They don’t know nothing’s going on. You know what assumptions they make.’
I shrug. ‘It’s cool. No one knows about this place.’
That seems to placate her.
