1. How to meet a prince
Monaco
As the four-decker yacht, Ocean Princess, sailed gracefully to its moorings in the port of Monte Carlo so many onlookers gathered on the promenade that the flashes from their cameras made the air sparkle. Maybe I'll get lucky this time and finally see some celebrities, sighed the man with grey temples, squeezing through the crowd. If only I were there, was the thought that passed through the chubby woman's head as she elbowed her way closer to the yacht.
*****
The plane made a sharp turn and commenced its landing. Cannes, Antibes – the familiar profile of the coastline made Tash smile. She had missed it so much! Scotland had been so cold and boring . . . For a second, Tash was back on the set: long-haired fairies in translucent robes swirled barefoot in wild grass that was still wet from the rain; gnomes with thick ginger beards swept through them all like a herd of wild boar; and under the cliff, in the raging North Sea, naked sirens with silver, scaly tails awaited exhausted mariners . . . A week of movie magic had flown by so quickly. Now Tash was ready for a well-deserved holiday. Maybe the time for magic wasn't over?
The plane was still on its glide path when she impatiently turned her phone on. "Damn, the payment for the film work still hasn't come through." She took another look at her overdrawn bank account. "Not even enough for a taxi."
The car turned left off the A8 autoroute towards La Turbie. It was a while before Tash registered some slight disquiet at this unexpected detour, so relieved was she that Vivien had very kindly sent a car to pick her up from the airport. The driver, who was seemingly in tune with her thoughts, explained in French, "A lot of traffic, Madame. We would be stuck, otherwise. Grand Prix, you know, everywhere is blocked."
He was right. When the Formula One circus was in town, Monte Carlo turned into one huge traffic jam. Locals fled the chaos, and crowds of annoyingly noisy tourists filled the entire district. All this bustle disrupted the usual slow-paced village-like routine, overwhelming it like the Great Flood. The winding streets where the race took place were transformed into narrow tunnels by the addition of metal barriers along their sides. Around the port, multi-tiered stands grew like honeycombs in a hive. The city was paralysed, and getting from one part of it to another became a mission impossible. On Avenue Princesse Grace Tash opened the window. A warm breeze burst into the car, filling it with morning humidity. With the rush of moist air came familiar smells and a huge black fly that made a complete circuit of Tash's head before landing expertly on her nose. "Just when I was thinking it would all be different this time . . ."
The heavy glass door was jammed. The concierge had to push hard to get the three-meter-high boulder to budge. He cursed as he checked the marble steps, which were wet from the recent rain, and reluctantly made his way down to the Mercedes parked at the entrance.
"Madame, my colleague will be along right away to help you with your suitcases." He could not carry them personally: his obvious sense of self-worth did not allow him to subordinate his rank to a task that was beneath it. Tash decided to hide from the scorching sun. She stood in the shade of the canopy while the driver unloaded the suitcases from the boot. Her phone tweeted incessantly, sending one after another of Anna's photos from yesterday's party in Cannes. "Is this Julien MacDonald?" Tash looked at Bella Hadid's transparent sequin-strewn outfit, which tomorrow every fashion magazine will shamelessly call a 'dress'. "And why on earth did I wear heels for the flight?" Still studying Bella Hadid's outfit on her phone, as she slowly placed her black lace-up boot on to the step, she suddenly felt that she was losing her balance . . .
YOU ARE READING
Luxury
Romance"At the heart of Irina Kova's novel is a love story that follows the romantic journey of a Russian model, Natasha (or Tash), and an English aristocrat, Ben Spencer, as they struggle to bridge the social divide that separates them. The broader canvas...
