You Had Me At Bonjour. Jennifer BohnetЧитать онлайн книгу.

       APRIL

      April is turning into a busy month. It’s Easter this week and Bella has arrived. She’s managed to wangle a couple of extra days so will be here for over a week, which is great. We’ve both been surprised by how different Easter is here in France.

      For a start, Easter Monday is the only official holiday – they don’t celebrate Good Friday at all. Which I find strange. But they still manage to make an extra long weekend out of the holiday.

      I decided in the end not to tell Jacques about Bella coming, and his face when she walked into the bar on Thursday evening was worth it. He was cross with me though for not telling him Bella was coming. Said if he’d known he’d have arranged to have a day off to take her places. Didn’t mention me tagging along. Mmm, well sorry about that Jacques, but she’s my friend here to see me.

      I did ask Bella if she wanted to spend time alone with him. She said ‘No, it’s too soon. Maybe in the summer.’ So I’ll tell him before Bella’s next visit, to see if he’s still keen. Think he will be. Kept making excuses to come over and talk to her.

      We spent most of Thursday mooching around Cannes. Bella was desperate to see the Croisette and Rue d’Antibes – my god, that’s a long street! The shops though are amazing and far too enticing. Bella spent a fortune on clothes.

      ‘In my job I need them, Jess, and these are different to things I can find at home.’ Well that was her excuse anyway.

      I bought some designer sunglasses and a pair of strappy sandals. Unlike Bella, I don’t have any excuse – other than I liked the sandals, and the sun seems to shine every day down here so shades come under the heading of necessities.

      Had lunch in a small bistro tucked away in one of the back streets – moules and frites washed down with a bottle of rosé. Ran the idea of me freelancing and writing features for various magazines and newspapers past Bella. She’s all for it and has promised to pass the word around her contacts that I’m available. And of course I have a few myself in the magazine world.

      When I said ‘So long as I can come up with enough ideas,’ Bella laughed.

      ‘You still writing your angsty diary?’

      I nodded, ‘Yes. It’s definitely helping.’

      ‘Well there you go then, that’s as good a starting point as anything. You could always turn it into a proper blog and send it out into cyberspace. And Jessie? You are in the south of France. Look around you. I bet I can come up with at least ten ideas sitting here. For a start, anything to do with wine and food is always popular. French markets, out of the way places for tourists to discover, the architecture, the churches, the harbours, local ski resorts, the Film Festival, Monaco Grand Prix…’

      I laughed. ‘OK I get the idea. Come on, let’s go and lust over the yachts.’

      The yacht quay in Cannes, while nothing like the International Quay in Antibes – known to the locals as Millionaires’ Quay – still has some pretty impressive boats tied up to it, including the one Nino skippers.

      We were walking along one of the walkways when we saw him sitting in the aft sundeck of a gleaming fibreglass motor cruiser. He raised a hand in greeting and called out, ‘You like to come on board? Have a look around?’

      I was surprised he recognised me to be honest, but we were up the gangplank in seconds. A prominent notice hanging from the “Private. No Entry.” chain Nino lowered at the head of the gangplank instructed us to leave our shoes in the basket provided. We duly kicked them off and we were onboard.

      ‘Are we allowed?’ I asked anxiously. ‘What about your owner.’

      ‘Relax. There’s only me and two crew on board at the moment. Bruno the owner flies in tomorrow. Want to take a look around?’

      We didn’t need asking twice and followed Nino into the main salon. All I can say is, whoever Bruno is, he certainly knows how to spend his money.

      The yacht was a luxurious understatement of good taste. Cream carpet throughout and light coloured paneled walls. Original paintings were hung throughout the yacht – including a couple by Picasso and Georges Braque. In the salon, a glass topped dining table surrounded by twelve chairs held a large arrangement of lilies in a huge silver gourd shaped vase. As for the three bathrooms, all marble and gold, they were to die for.

      By the time we were admiring the exquisite Lalique screen in the main salon we were both – for want of a better word – somewhat gobsmacked at the sheer opulence of it all.

      When we returned to the aft deck there was an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne nestling in it, three glasses and a tray of bite-sized nibbles.

      ‘Sit,’ Nino instructed. ‘I open the champagne. Help yourselves to the food.’

      I couldn’t stop myself asking, ‘Nino, are you sure this is ok? What if your owner turns up early?’

      ‘It’s not a problem Jessica. As capitane, when he is not here I have freedom to welcome certain people on board. Who knows, maybe one day you may wish to charter the yacht.’

      Expertly he twisted the cork out of the bottle with a satisfyingly loud pop, before pouring the pale amber liquid into the glasses.

      ‘If you’re sure,’ I murmured, accepting the glass he handed me. ‘But I shouldn’t hold your breath about us ever chartering the yacht.’

      Nino shrugged. ‘No worries.’

      Sitting out there on the aft deck in the sunshine, savouring the champagne and laughing with Bella and Nino, the real world faded away. I mean, I know people with real money live a life a world away from the rest of us – but I’d never before appreciated just how different it could be. Fancy being able to take that kind of lifestyle for granted. Not something that is likely to happen for me.

      Nino told us how he spent the summer months motoring up and down the Med. ‘Bruno likes to visit Corsica and Sardinia. We see a lot of Italy