All That the Heart Desires
All That the Heart Desires © 2016 by June Moonbridge
Published worldwide 2016 © June Moonbridge
Copyright © June Moonbridge
All rights reserved in all media. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means electronic or mechanical including but not limited to: the Internet, photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the author.
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The moral right of June Moonbridge to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988.
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The following story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Standing at the front door of the best hotel in Monaco, I thought how lucky I was to have my boutique perfumery,
Jasmine
, in one of the most prestigious hotels of the world, only a few metres away from the circuit and other important sites in Monte Carlo.
Although the
Principatu de Múnegu
is crowded throughout the whole year, the weekend of the Formula One Grand Prix de Monaco in late spring buzzes even more than usual. The race is the most desirable one in the whole FIA Formula One World Championship, from the racing drivers to the fans who follow the circus around the world, in person or in front of television screens.
Many things had changed during the past years: new regulations, new environmental demands, new motors, new racetracks were put on the race calendar. Some were taken out, but nevertheless the street race in Monte Carlo was unique. It was
The One
and it was now just one day away from the first try-out.
Everything was already prepared and anyone who was anyone in the world’s fastest sport was present, wanting to be seen. Photographers were all around and no one escaped their cameras. Police were also there but couldn’t do anything to protect people’s privacy or prevent photos from being taken, as long as they were taken on the streets.
The circuit was ready. The barriers were erected, protecting the buildings and spectators close to the roads, should an accident occur.
Final inspections were made around the 3,340-kilometre-long racetrack throughout the day and the circuit was already closed to the public. All the berths in the port had been reserved months ago and the last large yachts were coming in to take their places. Everything in Monaco was about money. That was the unspoken truth.
“Miss Desiree. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” said the porter standing in front of the hotel door. I looked at the older man dressed in hotel livery; I’d known him since the opening of the perfumery. His face always showed contentment. That was really the only thing I could actually say about him; he always looked the same every day.
I pushed my glasses back on my nose and quickly checked my appearance in the nearest window. Everything was in its place, as it should be. My red hair was still tied in a tight knot at the base of my neck, with no strands escaping at the sides of my face.
“Yes it is,
Monsieur
Pinot,” I answered. “And it will be a beautiful weekend too.”
“Miss Desiree, I’m no
Monsieur. Je suis Marcel.”
He said the same words every time we spoke. I smiled at his response. In three years, I had learned his words by heart.
“For me, you are
Monsieur
as long as you call me
Miss
. Simple as that.” I patted his shoulder and gave way to a group of new guests entering the hotel. Although I was not an employee of the hotel as Marcel Pinot was, I knew my place there. The success of my perfumery depended on how I behaved.
As the guests disappeared behind the doors, I followed them.
Stepping into the
Jasmine
was like going back in time: soft, classical music, the lights just right and the smell pure, even though this was a perfumery. Everything was decorated in crystal and mirrors. The outstanding look was entirely my brother’s idea and hard work. He knew the right people; people who were able to make my dreams come true. Well, at least some of them.
When I entered the perfumery, Lucille and Michelle were busy with customers. They had everything under control, so I went to the back office. I started on the paperwork that had been on my desk for several days now, and was still waiting to be sorted and resolved. I hated that type of work, but it had to be done on time.
I sighed with relief when Lucille came to the door and asked for my help. The perfumery had too many customers for only two pairs of hands. I left the office to help them in the boutique, only too glad to get away from the paperwork. We’d been on our feet from nine in the morning and finally, when the last customer left the place, it was six in the evening. The day passed too quickly to do all we had to do.
When Lucille locked the door, Michelle and I sighed, relieved.
“Thank God tomorrow’s Thursday,” said Michelle, pushing her blonde braid over her shoulder. Lucille ran her hand through her short black hair and leaned on the counter.
“Yes, and only four hours of work,” Lucille commented. I looked at the girls. They were a little bit younger than me and I had chosen them myself. They were both good looking but not too attractive. That was the key to keeping the female customers happy, and I knew that very well.
Suddenly they both looked at me.
“What?” I asked.
“How did you manage it?” Lucille looked incredulous.
“Manage what?” I asked. Michelle rolled her eyes.
“How did you manage to persuade Monsieur Dame, that we can close the boutique so early tomorrow and again on Friday?”
I smiled to myself. This was the billion Euro question every year.
“Well, you know the answer—”
“Yes, we do, but we don’t buy it,” she interrupted.
“Will you be able to come in tomorrow?” I said. They rolled their eyes in unison.
“You know that we will—”
I interrupted her, “The roads will be blocked!”
They exchanged a look.
“And today they aren’t? We’ll walk if we have to, but we’ll be here, as we were last year and the year before. Now, stop playing with us and tell us how you persuaded Monsieur Dame to let us close early and be closed on Saturday and Sunday.”
I sighed. I knew the game was up. I pushed my glasses back on my nose, trying to think of the most believable answer. Finally, I decided to tell them the truth.
“Well … that was my only demand. I like watching the race and I don’t want to miss it.” I saw the disbelief on their faces.
“You are real, aren’t you?” Michelle asked after few moments.
“Yes. I got this enthusiasm from my brother.”
“You have a brother?” Both girls’ eyes were large as saucers. I knew I had revealed too much. It’d slipped out of my mouth before I’d realised.
“Yes, and now it’s time to clean up and leave. It’s been a long day and I need to give my feet some rest.”
We checked everything was in place. Then, as I never went home dressed in the clothes I wore to work, I quickly went to the restroom and changed into casual short jeans and a white tee shirt, putting on a little more makeup. I had an arrangement with the hotel that allowed me to leave my suit there to get it dry cleaned.
I put my high heels into my bag and took out a pair of espadrilles. Now, I was ready. I left my glasses on, and kept my hair up in its knot.
The girls were waiting for me as I had the only key. The spare one was kept at the hotel reception to be used for emergencies or when I was unavailable.
Finally, we left the perfumery and the hotel. I checked my mobile and saw that it had taken us an hour to close the shop. Marcel had already been replaced by his colleague.
Having parked my car at the railway station, I turned right and was already on my way, when suddenly I heard Lucille.
“What do you hide in that bun of yours?” I stopped walking. I hadn’t been expecting that question. Somehow it seemed this was a day of revelations. I turned, lifted my hands and untied the knot I wore every day. I shook my head to release my hair completely and my tresses fell almost to the bottom of my back. They were longer than Michelle’s.
“Wow.” Neither of the girls had spoken. I turned around to see the new porter staring at me.
“Have fun, ladies.”
I laughed and continued my way to the car park. As with everything in Monaco, it was close to hand, and one of the cheapest places to park. It also allowed me to get out of town as quickly as possible.
When I got to my car, I took down the roof and threw my handbag onto the back seat. I took off my fake glasses and rubbed my nose. I had never got used to them, but they were part of my every day masquerade.
As everybody thought I was just the head saleswoman of the perfumery and not its rightful owner, I couldn’t afford to walk around looking as good as my customers. The majority of them were much too vain to shop in a boutique where the sales people looked too good. This was a lesson I had learned quickly during the opening of the perfumery. A young and rich customer demanded that I be replaced.
