As the road begins to narrow, the area becomes more built up. Eventually we pull up outside a plush apartment block and drive down to a basement where there is parking. Paulo leads us upstairs, where security watches us.
‘Bonsoir,’ says the security man sitting behind a large desk. I can’t help but admire the beautiful flower arrangement to the side of him which is filled with birds of paradise. They are the perfect exotic flower for this marble-filled lobby. It’s certainly not the kind of place you’d see a few limp carnations. Everything here signifies elegance, from the large white vase to the portraits of posh people that hang on the walls. Meanwhile, the white marble floor sparkles like a diamond of the highest clarity. This is going to be some pad, if the entrance is anything to go by.
Paulo says something in French to us, and we head off in a private lift.
‘It’s posh here, innit?’ says Carol.
I wink at her. ‘Shh. We have to pretend we’re used to this sort of thing.’
Gianni’s Monaco apartment is absolutely stunning. The hallway has navy wooden panelling, and the most enormous crystal chandelier greets us as we open the door. Hanging on the panelling are artworks that look as though they cost millions. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a Van Gogh hidden amongst the collection.
The only problem is that we seem to be missing the housekeeper. Paulo hands over the key as the three of us sneeze simultaneously. We look around, unable to tell what is beneath the white sheets that are covering most of the furniture.
‘How long has Gianni been away?’ I ask Soraya.
‘Oh, I don’t know. He’s always somewhere. He spends most of his time in Dubai. Maybe he hasn’t been back for a while. Perhaps he gave the staff some time off. At least Paulo is here.’
Paulo hasn’t been much help, but I am just glad he was at the airport waiting for us. Our French isn’t good enough to converse with him, and when we mention the name Paulo, he just keeps sayingd’accord. At least I know there won’t be any risk of me regretfully snogging the chauffeur on this trip.
‘It’s fine. We can clean this place up. At least the jacuzzi isn’t neglected,’ says Carol, looking towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that lead out onto the huge balcony.
‘What a shame the apartment hasn’t been cleaned. I’m allergic to dust mites,’ says Soraya. Her eyes are already going a little red, although I can’t decide whether this is the effect of the dust mites or the champagne hangover kicking in.
‘Let’s get some fresh air,’ I say.
Since Paulo has already left us to our own devices, we open the large glass patio doors that give us views over Monaco. Yachts are moored for the night in the marina below and buildings crowd around with a dramatic backdrop of a rocky outcrop. Flags on board some of the boats, bearing the Monaco livery, sway gently in the light wind. I’m not surprised they call this the playground of the rich and famous.
‘Well, this is stunning. You know me, I’m never speechless, but I have no words,’ says Carol.
‘Yeah, I know. It’s so gorgeous, isn’t it? Ooh, look! Down there… Is that where they do the Grand Prix? Are those the roads you see on the telly?’ I ask.
Michael was always watching the Monaco Grand Prix when it was on, and the view is very recognisable, although thinking of him while I am here is annoying me.
‘Amazing, isn’t it? I knew it would be fabulous. I’m just sorry that the housekeeper seems to be missing. I thought it would be spick and span. Oh, well, at least the temperature of the jacuzzi is perfect,’ says Soraya, as she dips her hand into the jacuzzi.
We soon come to the conclusion that Gianni must have special chemicals in there to keep it clean since the housekeeper is nowhere to be seen. Unless Paulo takes care of the jacuzzi and the driving.
‘It’s a waste of electricity, though. Leaving that on when nobody’s here. Imagine the bills this Gianni guy gets,’ says Carol.
‘I don’t think he’s bothered about his bills if he can leave a place like this empty for months on end,’ I say.
As the lights of Monaco twinkle below us, I can’t get over how close we are to the centre. This place must have cost millions. A view like this would command zillions alone, without the grandeur of the apartment.
‘You know, I might sleep out here tonight. Stop me sneezing,’ says Soraya.
‘You can’t sleep on the balcony.’
‘Well, those sunbeds look comfy.’
‘Don’t be silly. I’ll clean up inside, after all, it’s your birthday trip. You stay outside and enjoy the views. We’ll pull off all the dust sheets and arrange everything. It can be a thank you for giving us a free holiday,’ I say.
‘Yeah, I’ll help you. Let the birthday girl relax out here and we’ll sort it all out,’ agrees Carol.
‘Aww, are you sure? It’s just my eyes will be puffy for days.’
‘Of course. Now put your feet up on one of those sun loungers.’
Soraya sits down and makes herself comfortable on one of the oversized rattan wicker beds.
