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eight o’clock.’
    ‘Look forward to it. Thanks for this afternoon,’ and Nat followed Cindy into the landscaped villa gardens.

Chapter Thirteen
    As Daisy cut through the back streets of Cannes and made her way down to the old port, she thought about Nat. How nice he was. How kind he was. How different he was to Ben. As for those blue eyes of his ... they were simply spellbinding, she decided. It would be fun getting to know him better.
    Several of the yachts moored alongside the quay were hosting parties and Daisy caught snippets of conversations in French, Italian and what she took to be Russian as she walked past a white hulled sailing yacht where a television crew were on board busily filming a bikini clad actress.
    Dodging the crowds that were still swarming around the tents of the Village International, Daisy made her way to the front of the Palais des Festivals hoping to find Marcus there. He might have heard some more gossip regarding the rumours that were circulating about Philippe Cambone.
    There was the usual scrum of paparazzi that Daisy had come to expect hanging around the red carpet entrance to the Palais. It was several moments before she finally spotted Marcus busy snapping a blonde girl getting into a red Ferrari parked near the red carpet.
    ‘You get my text?’ he asked turning to greet Daisy, as the Ferrari engine revved noisily before taking off down the Croisette with its passenger, at an enforced sedate pace. ‘Dinner tomorrow night?’
    Daisy shook her head. ‘Sorry. Nat’s already asked me to go to the beach cinema with him.’
    ‘Okay. We’ll make it next Tuesday evening.’ Marcus sighed when Daisy shook her head again.
    ‘It’s Anna’s party at the villa and I’ve been invited.’
    ‘Can I come?’
    ‘I’ll ask Anna,’ Daisy promised. ‘We could have that dinner Bill is treating us to, this evening if you like?’ she suggested tentatively. ‘I’m not dressed for anywhere too posh but—’
    ‘Bruno’s got me an invite to a swish party,’ Marcus interrupted. ‘In fact it’s time I showered and got into my evening suit. I’ll see you around,’ and he was gone.
    Pensively Daisy crossed the Croisette. Surely Marcus could have wangled an invite for her too?
    Daisy wandered slowly along looking at the expensive boutiques. It was impossible to see much because of the crowds and in the end she gave up and made for a seat under a palm tree in the nearby gardens of the Hotel de Ville.
    Fishing in her bag she found her tape recorder and quietly started to record some notes for her next report.
    ‘As the sun sets, flashing lights and neon signs take over in the twilight, indicating that the glamorous nightlife of Cannes, which will continue into the early hours, is once again starting. The “Welcome to the Cannes Film Festival” illuminated sign strung across the road reminds you, in case you forget, you’re on the Cote d’Azur at the world famous event. Out in the bay I can see lights on Roberto Cavalli’s large purple yacht where the crew are preparing for a big party on board; among other celebrities, Naomi Campbell is rumoured to be a guest.
    Limousines are beginning to discharge their VIP passengers at the foot of the Palais steps to face a barrage of flashlights and shouts of admiration from the waiting crowds. Fans push each other aside in a desperate attempt to obtain the autograph of their favourite star.
    ‘Music is pounding from cars as they move slowly along the Croisette, under the censorious gaze of stern-faced gendarmes. The weather tonight is perfect for the cinema on the beach. People are hurrying past me to claim a seat on the sand under the stars, ready to watch a movie in a truly romantic setting with the Mediterranean gently lapping at the shoreline and a balmy breeze providing the best air conditioning.’
    Daisy switched off the recorder, slipped it back into her bag and sat for a few moments people watching before getting up and walking back to the