Episode 23 - A TailNice, France, 27 December
Unsuspecting, she walks along the beach, stopping occasionally to take a picture. As she reaches ‘Le Negresco Hotel’, she goes up the stairs to the promenade. I follow after her. But suddenly she stops and throws a hesitant look around. Standing just a few steps behind her I hold my breath. She hesitates for another second or two then makes a move towards the Old Town.
I go up, wait until she crosses Promenades des Anglais then continue my trailing. Domino attempts to break free from my arms but, though sympathising, I don't let him go. Right now, I have more important staff than his immediate comfort to attend to.
Following after her, I pray for her not to suddenly turn around. But she doesn’t, not a single time in fact. It makes my trailing much easier, for there is literally nowhere for me to hide, as at this hour there aren’t many people out on the streets and shops aren’t opened yet.
Finally, we reach the Old Town. She slows down, pulls her mobile out and takes some more pictures. Tired of holding Domino in my arms, I let him down but, just in case, have him on a short leash.
After an hour of walking she comes to the Cours Saleya [1]market, lined with colourful fruit and vegetables stalls and cluttered with huge buckets of fresh flowers. My stomach grumbles, reminding that I haven't eaten since six in the morning.
Manoeuvring between the stalls, I pretend to be looking at displays and at the same time try not to lose sight of her. But mesmerised as she is by the tempting displays, she seems in no hurry to leave the market. Having visited every stall and taken dozens of snapshots, she comes to a flower seller. I stop at a stall next to his. Picking through mandarins, I try to listen to their chat, but can make out very little of it except that the seller attempts to compliment her in his broken English.
'Monsieur, you've already picked through my whole box of mandarins! Are you looking for some special one?' an elderly market-woman at the mandarins stall addresses me.
'Oh, pardon me. I must have spaced out.' I mumble, turning red, and move away from the stall.
Meanwhile, having exchanged pleasantries with the flower seller, she buys a huge bouquet of chrysanthemums from him. Pressing the flowers against her chest, she leaves the market, strolls along the Quai des Etats Unis, and, reaching the entrance of the ‘Swiss Hotel’, walks in.
I wait then go in and walk up to the reception desk.
'Bonjour, I'm looking for Mademoiselle ... ' I begin but stop short.
‘Yes, Monsieur?’ the receptionist says.
I stare at her for a few seconds in bewilderment then finally utter the name. The receptionist types it in, studies something in her computer for a few seconds then replies:
'I'm sorry, Monsieur, but there must be some mistake. There are no clients under this name registered in our system.'
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[1] Cours Saleya hosts four different markets. The most well-known is the Marché aux Fleurs, or Flower Market. It’s actually a combination of the flower market and the fruit and vegetable market but the name, Marché aux Fleurs is commonly applied to the whole thing. The fruit and vegetable stands pack up by 13.30 in the afternoon but the flower stalls stay open until about 17.30.