Chapters (47)
- Cover
- PROLOGUE
- PROLOGUE
- PART I
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- PART II
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- PART III
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- PART IV
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- PART V
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Chapter Thirty-Seven
- Chapter Thirty-Eight
- EPILOGUE
“To begin with,” he declared, gazing round the damp, steaming cabin of the Sparrowhawk, “you cannot stay here.”
And he took himself off to La Belle Ecluse, the little hotel by the lock, where he booked three bedrooms—one for himself, one for Clara, and one for Ben and Lotti, with stalls full of fresh straw in the stables for the dogs.
Lotti and Ben tried to resist, but it was impossible.
“Federico will be lonely,” protested Lotti. “Elsie’s not really talking to him now she that has the puppies, and what about the horses?”
“There are no horses,” Henri replied. “They were all requisitioned by the government for the war. Madame Royère has bought a car instead. And dogs are not permitted in the bedrooms.”
“But what if the Sparrowhawk gets stolen?” Ben worried.
“She will not get stolen,” Henri promised. “But she is damp, and that is not good for humans or for little dogs. Also, the blankets on which Elsie had her puppies must be washed, no?”
This was undeniably true.
“Madame Royère will see to the washing,” Henri continued. “And she will not charge for your mooring. She is very admiring of your exploits crossing the Channel. I told her, Ben, that you have come to France to look for your brother, and she regards you as a sort of hero.”
“Great,” grumbled Lotti. “The whole world knows about us.”
“The chambermaid, who was in love with an English soldier, has also offered to clean the Sparrowhawk for free.”
“No.” Here Ben put his foot down. “The Sparrowhawk is my boat. I don’t want anyone meddling with her.”
Henri, ever the naval man, said that this he could understand, and he would cancel the maid, but that he had arranged for dinner to be served in the hotel dining room at half past seven.
“And don’t tell me you would rather eat on your boat,” he said, anticipating Ben’s next objection. “The smell of Madame Royère’s cooking is a thing to make you weep for joy. I have looked in your pantry and all you have is soup. Please, you are my guests. This is your first night in France. It is to be properly celebrated.”