The Connoisseur

Chapter 26 - E-Types and Rivas

For their next date Sophia had no desire to leave the 60s, and Alexander agreed.

“I think I know the place,” he had said.  “There’s a friend of mine I’d like you to meet.”

They drove along the coast road between Saint-Tropez and Monte Carlo in the summer of 1963, stopping for lunch at Cannes.  It was a glorious day: the roof of the Jaguar E-Type was down and Sophia took pictures of the glittering Mediterranean on a vintage camera as Alexander drove.

They soon cruised into Monaco.  As they sat down on a terrace overlooking the harbour, Sophia took off her headscarf, lifted her oversized sunglasses to her forehead, and watched the world go by.

“If we had to stay somewhere, permanently, I think this would be it,” she said, taking in the classic cars, the yachts and the perfect blue sky, just at the magical point when a summer evening begins.

“Really?” said Alexander.

“Really.”

“Not your own time?”

Sophia thought for a moment.  “Well of course I’d stay there, but you know what I mean.  It’s so...there’s not really the word.  It’s just an image, isn’t it?  Like something from a film.  Oh, and this seals it.”

A waiter had just arrived bearing cocktails.  “The mojito for madame, and your martini, monsieur.”

“When did you order these?” said Sophia once the waiter had departed.

“The moment we came in.”

“Smooth.  What made you pick a mojito for me?”

“Because it’s a classic, elegant, refined, and entirely safe.”

Sophia giggled, sipping at the drink.  It was gorgeously refreshing.  “And you ordered a martini because you want to look suave.”

“Isn’t that the point of cocktails?”

“You’ve clearly not been Crossham’s finest nightclubs.  I’ll take you one day.  See how suave you are then.”

“I look forward to it.  Though I’m also slightly nervous.”

“You should be.”

Alexander raised an eyebrow.  “I definitely am now.”

Sophia popped her sunglasses back on and giggled again.  She drank a little more of her cocktail and stared out to sea.  She became aware that Alexander was watching her.

“What?” she said.

“When you said you could stay here – did you mean it?  Have you ever thought about living in the past?  Not any era in particular, though.”

Sophia shifted in her seat.  “That depends on what ‘living’ means.”

“Not just travelling.  Living, day-to-day.  Here and there and everywhere, all the time.”

“With you?”

“I meant hypothetically.”

Sophia was glad she had her sunglasses back on.  “What I want to do,” she said, “Is keep dreaming.”

Alexander held her gaze for a moment, but then, to her relief, a delicious smile crept onto his face.

“You’re going to enjoy the evening, then.”

When they had finished their cocktails they walked down the streets, hand in hand, to the harbour.  They had dinner at a waterfront restaurant overlooking a particularly grand private jetty, carpeted in red and covered with an awning.  Every so often a Bentley, Mercedes or an enormous Cadillac pulled up at the jetty and the passengers, invariably dressed in the latest summer fashion, were shown to a tender and ferried out to sea.