Follow Your Star by Jennifer Bohnet (best romantic novels in english .txt) 📕

fish, fruit and, to Vanessa’s horror, large white live grubs and what was clearly organ meat from various animals, all laid out in their honour. She looked at Ralph in dismay.

‘I don’t want to upset anyone but I can’t eat those things,’ she whispered, pointing to the wriggling white grubs and the meat.

‘Stick to the rice and fish,’ Ralph advised quietly. ‘And have some fruit.’

As Vanessa began to peel a banana a small monkey who had been wandering around scratching the earth, suddenly ran up to her, snatching the banana from her, before jumping on to her lap and settling down to eat it. Vanessa looked at him in amazement. She must remember to tell the twins about this.

Listening to fragments of the conversation around her as she watched the monkey, Vanessa realized the village was struggling to survive.

Angela, the mother of the little girl Vanessa had seen earlier, was shaking her head sadly as she spoke to Ralph in fragmented Spanish.

‘It is terrible with the forest – so much destruction. People need to find a way of surviving, of helping the jungle to grow back. Much is being done but the bandits, they still spoil things.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘The drugs and the gold smuggling is taking over our culture even here in this tiny village. We have a school now, but the children – what future do they have? The government want our people to report anyone who abuses the forest but we’re not going to risk our lives, are we?’

Angela looked at Ralph in distress.

‘How would my children survive if I ended up with a rifle in my mouth?’

Early on Sunday morning, pit lane passes hanging around their necks, Nanette and the twins crossed the Boulevard Albert 1st at a designated crossing place between the barriers, and made their way to the area where Jean-Claude was fine-tuning his Lotus before the race.

Pierre was excited at seeing all the old cars close up, but Olivia was already bored. Mathieu and Florence were busy preparing the apartment for the lunch party and had gently suggested Nanette took the twins out of the way. Olivia had protested saying she’d rather stay in her room, but Mathieu had insisted.

‘Papa Jean-Claude’s down there getting ready. Go and wish him good luck. He’d love to see you all,’ and Mathieu had practically pushed them out of the apartment.

Along the pit lane the cars with their curiously old-fashioned looks were the star attractions. Pierre was fascinated to see a car that had raced in the very first Monaco Grand Prix over sixty years ago on display at the end of the pit lane enclosure.

And even Olivia was impressed when Jean-Claude told them how well his qualifying laps had gone.

‘Can’t believe the old girl went so well. Fourth on the grid. Just have to hope she keeps going now.’ He patted the dark green bonnet of the car gently. ‘Imagine I’m alongside Stirling on the third row,’ he said, looking at Nanette.

Nanette smiled at his boyish enthusiasm. ‘Good luck,’ she said, leaving Jean-Claude and his mechanic to finish their adjustments to the car.

Strolling along the pit lane with the twins, Nanette remembered the countless times she’d been involved in preparations for Grand Prix races with Zac all over the world, but there was something different about this pit lane. It took her several minutes to realize exactly what it was.

There were crowds of people milling around and there was the usual frenzy of mechanics preparing cars for racing but it was all rather subdued and, like the cars, old-fashioned. The razzamatazz atmosphere of a modern Formula 1 grand prix was missing. Next week Monaco would be in the grip of twenty-first-century racing car fever as the modern Formula 1 road-show took over and Monaco turned itself into the most glamorous race-track in the world, but this Sunday morning, it was all about nostalgia.

Knowing that once the racing started they wouldn’t be able to leave the pit lane, Nanette ushered the twins across the road and they made their way slowly home.

Back in the apartment, Pierre grabbed Mathieu’s binoculars and took up his position on the balcony where he had a good view of both the starting grid and the pit lane exit. Guests were starting to arrive, at one of whom, a tall lanky teenager, Olivia took one look and gasped.

‘Dad didn’t say he was coming,’ she said. Nanette laughed at the expression on her face.

‘Who is he?’

Olivia looked at her in disbelief. ‘You must recognize him. It’s Foxey. He’s the lead singer with a really, really cool band. Les Grenouille’s.’

‘Oh,’ Nanette said, watching as Olivia ran to her room to change into her ‘best’ jeans – the ones with the tear in the knee – and to fetch her autograph book.

‘Be really cool if he’d sign it for me,’ she said. ‘Do you think he will?’

‘Don’t see why not,’ Nanette said.

Nanette was less than thrilled to see the next person who arrived – Boris. Accompanied by a group of six men and the blonde woman Nanette had seen with him in the restaurant, he walked confidently into the apartment. After a cursory glance in her direction and a polite ‘Bonjour’, he went through to join Mathieu.

Nanette stood undecided. She didn’t fancy going out on to the balcony and making small talk to Boris and his cronies until other guests arrived. When the doorbell rang, she quickly called out to Florence, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get it,’ and opened the door to find Evie and her boss, Luc, standing