I’d flown in for a meeting with John, to discuss the first draft of Dead Red – after him closing the atelier it was to be our last meeting before Orla’s murder – but as usual I was staying in Beausoleil, which meant opportunities for a drink or dinner were limited, and while the Columbus is expensive it’s not as extortionate as a lot of other places in Monaco. Just as importantly, the Columbus serves the best fish and chips on the Côte d’Azur and is a welcome antidote to anything the Hôtel Capitole has to offer. In Beausoleil nightlife is a contradiction in terms, although sometimes there is a certain kind of entertainment to be had when the French police and tax authorities operate night-time spot checks on cars with Monaco licence plates passing through on their way to the clubs in Antibes and Cannes, looking for people who are cheating on their 182 days. You take your pleasures when and where you can. It had been a long day and all I wanted was to eat a quiet meal and to read, but leaving the Capitole I’d mistakenly brought one of Houston’s books instead of the one I’d been hoping to finish.
