The side door opened, and Yves beckoned them inside, his eyes darting as if he were granting them access to a secret criminal lair rather than the hotel kitchen. They walked through, ignoring the curious stares from the kitchen assistants, and made their way through the dining area to the main corridor.
‘And you’re sure Claudine isn’t here?’
Yves nodded. ‘She’s off sick. If anything changes, I’ll call.’ He looked at her. ‘I’m sorry for what I did with the fire extinguishers.’
‘Don’t be. You did the right thing. It could have been much worse than some ruined decor.’ She tried to smile.
‘And you think you might be able to… improve things?’ He glanced around him, as if still worried about being caught.
She shrugged. ‘I hope so? But you know, either way, if Claudine does find out, I won’t mention you… helped.’
Yves’s face relaxed. ‘Thank you.’
Feeling sick, Bella walked towards the Superior rooms, Brad, Odette and Kitty trailing in her wake. Henri had had something he had to do, so hadn’t been able to come with them, but in a way she was relieved. The fewer people, the less chance they’d be discovered.
When she opened the door to the first, then the second room, they all fell silent. The smell was the first thing to hit them – a singed, revolting stench, overwritten with something chemical. Then, once they adjusted enough to focus on other things, it was impossible to miss the streaked walls, the ruined artwork, the curtains, the mess.
‘Oh là là,’ Odette whispered to herself.
Brad gave a low whistle.
‘See!’ Bella said. ‘I told you it would be impossible.’
‘No,’ Brad said.
She turned to look at him.
‘It’s not impossible,’ he said. ‘Difficult, sure. But doable.’
‘You aren’t serious?’ She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or finally allow herself to hope a little. ‘You really think we can mend this?’
‘Well, maybe not make it exactly as it was,’ he said. ‘But yeah. I’ve got a painter contact who owes me a favour.’
‘Is there anyone in Paris who doesn’t owe you a favour?’
‘Probably not.’ He grinned.
‘And…’ Odette’s voice was quiet, she cleared her throat. ‘And if you want, I can— well. You can have a painting, if you want.’ She spoke in English for Kitty’s benefit, her accent making the language sound prettier than its reality.
‘Really? You’d do that?’
Odette nodded, her cheeks flushed.
‘Oh, my God! Thank you!’ Bella grabbed Odette and squeezed her in an enormous hug.
Odette was seemingly surprised either by her own offer or the tightness of Bella’s squeeze.
‘See!’ said Kitty. ‘And I’m sure we can clean up the worst of the mess. The carpet’s still OK, thank God.’
‘Yes, but that’s still not all of it! What about the curtains. They were beautiful! Hand-stitched. And what about the furniture?’
Kitty looked at her. ‘It hasn’t occurred to you?’
‘What? What hasn’t occurred to me?’
‘Well… if only you had a house full of beautiful furniture sitting somewhere, say, in the countryside, that you could borrow from.’
Bella’s mouth fell open. ‘The Peyrat house!’
