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, Bruno 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.