Питер Джеймс - Wish You Were Dead [story]

‘If we’re still alive,’ Bruno hissed, overhearing them.

Roy, carrying two suitcases, and Cleo, holding Noah, hurried through the rain and up the steps, into the shelter of the porch, followed by Bruno.

‘ Bonjour , Madame, we are Monsieur and Madame Grace,’ Roy said, pretty much using up all he could remember of his schoolboy French. ‘We have a booking with you, I think.’

‘I am sorry, my English is not so good. You speak French?’

Roy looked at Cleo, then back at the woman. ‘My wife — ma femme — can speak French.’

Ignoring this, the woman said, a little frostily, ‘I am Monique, the Vicomtesse. My husband and I are your hosts. You are very late.’ She looked at them all, almost glaring at them. Then in French she added, ‘ Nous avons préparé la déjeuner comme vous l’avez demandé .’

Before her job in the mortuary, Cleo had spent a year teaching English as a foreign language to students in Paris. Translating for everyone now, she said, ‘The Vicomtesse says she had prepared lunch for us, as we had requested.’

She turned back to the woman and said to her, in French, ‘We called you several times, Madame la Vicomtesse.’

The woman replied tartly, also in French.

Cleo translated for Roy, Noah and Kaitlynn. ‘She says no one called.’

Roy frowned at Cleo. What?

He noticed the woman’s unusually thick eyebrows. They were like two furry caterpillars, and again reminded him of someone, but he could not remember who.

Cleo spoke to the woman in French again, her tone pleasant. Then she quickly translated. ‘I just told her we got through several times but kept getting cut off.’

The woman seemed to thaw a little. ‘Ah, zis was you? We have problems with the phones today — from the weather.’

‘Say we also texted Jack Alexander to tell her,’ Roy said.

Cleo spoke to her again in French.

The Vicomtesse’s eyebrows crossed, as if the two caterpillars were now in a life-or-death fight. ‘Jack who?’

‘Jack Alexander ,’ she replied.

The woman shook her head. ‘He is not arrived.’

Cleo opened her handbag and pulled out the email confirmation of their booking and showed the woman.

She took it and studied it for some moments. ‘ Oui , zis is correct. I have booking for three rooms: Monsieur and Madame Grace, Monsieur Bruno Lohmann, Monsieur Alexander and Mademoiselle Kaitlynn Defelice, and a cot for Noah. Oui — yes?’

‘That’s right!’ Roy said. ‘But Monsieur Alexander is not here?’

Cleo asked the question in French.

The woman shook her head. ‘ Non .’

‘Not here?’ Kaitlynn said, anxiously.

Roy turned to their nanny. ‘I’m sure he will be soon.’

Cleo asked the woman, again in French, ‘Is it possible to have a little snack?’

As the woman replied, Roy saw a strange look on Cleo’s face a couple of times. When she had finished, again Cleo translated. ‘Madame says her husband is a sick man, and they cannot wait for guests who arrive so late. She also says she has set the cot up, as we requested, in the nanny’s room.’

‘I thought it was going to be in our room,’ Roy said, noticing the look on Kaitlynn’s face. Her romantic week with Jack had just been ruined.

‘Actually, we wanted the cot in our room,’ Cleo said in French to Madame.

‘I’m fine with him being with me — us — Jack and I — for tonight,’ Kaitlynn said.

‘Jack must have been stuck in bad traffic,’ Cleo said to Roy. ‘I’m sure he’ll be here soon.’

‘God, I hope so,’ Kaitlynn said. ‘I’m getting really worried.’

‘Darling,’ Roy said to Cleo, ‘can you explain to her the ferry was delayed, then we got very lost. If we’re too late for anything to eat, could she tell us if there’s somewhere close where we can get something? Explain that we’re all very hungry.’

Cleo spoke to her again.

Madame replied with a reluctant nod, her voice sounding a tad more positive.

‘She says she will sort out a platter of cold meats and cheeses,’ Cleo said.

‘ Merci — thank you, Madame,’ Roy said.

‘ Merci , Madame,’ Cleo added.

‘Could someone give us a hand with our bags?’ Roy asked.

The woman looked at him, blankly.

He tapped a suitcase. ‘ Assistance? ’ Then he said to Cleo, ‘Darling, can you ask her if someone could give us a hand with our stuff?’

Cleo turned and spoke to the woman. The woman shook her head as she replied.

Cleo frowned for a moment, as if something wasn’t right. Then she translated, ‘Madame la Vicomtesse says that sadly her husband is in a wheelchair and there is no one else.’

‘I do not carry bags,’ the woman added, in broken English. ‘You must to understand, zis is not hotel.’

You can say that again , Roy thought, smiling inwardly.

‘ A hotel,’ Bruno corrected, but the woman didn’t hear him.

Madame held the door open for them and spoke again in French, looking a tiny bit more friendly as she did so. When she had finished, Cleo translated.

‘Madame says the Vicomte — Viscount — and herself would like to welcome us to their home. They hope we will have a pleasant stay. She suggests — as we are hungry and the weather is bad — that she gives us a tour either later or in the morning.’

‘Yes, good idea,’ Roy said and nodded at the woman with a smile. She didn’t smile back.

They entered a huge, poorly lit, oak-panelled hallway, which was lined on both sides by rows of suits of armour. Some were holding shields, some lances. All had their visors down.

‘God, they look menacing!’ Cleo whispered to Roy.

‘They look a lot more friendly than her!’ he whispered back.

Bruno looked around excitedly. ‘Cool!’ he said.

Madame pointed to a grand, ornate staircase, with animal heads on wooden plinths mounted on the wall, all the way up. On the landing at the top stood a whole stuffed stag, the size of a horse, with huge antlers. It was holding its head up proudly.

‘I hate people who shoot beautiful creatures like that,’ Cleo murmured to Roy.

Roy nodded. ‘Me too,’ he said. ‘It’s one thing if they’re going to eat them. But to just have it stuffed as a trophy. How brave is that to shoot a defenceless animal?’

‘ La chambre — room — for the boy — is the first and for your nanny and the baby is second.’ Then she spoke in French again. Cleo translated when she had finished.

‘Madame says that we have been given the honeymoon suite and it has a wonderful view. She’s going to sort some snacks out for us now,’ Cleo said, but with a slight frown.

‘Madame — Monique — can you let me have the Wi-Fi code?’ Roy called after the woman.

She turned and gave him a strange look. ‘The Wi-Fi is not working. You are on vacances — holiday — why you need Wi-Fi?’

She had a point, Roy agreed, privately. But all the same, he didn’t like being out of touch with his team.

Leaving Cleo with Noah, he hurried back out to the car, through the rain which had started falling again, to fetch the rest of the luggage they would need for tonight. Then, followed by Bruno with his rucksack, and Kaitlynn holding her bag, they went up the grand staircase, past the stuffed stag at the top, and turned left onto the landing.

‘Is that stag real?’ Bruno asked.

‘It was,’ Cleo said.

‘Cool!’

The entire landing wall was lined with more animal heads, mostly stags and boars, all on plinths and mounted high up. They struggled along it, as they had been told, until they reached the first room on the right, which was for Bruno.