‘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.

5

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?’