Johnny paused, dropping his bag onto the chips of granite as he, too, took a longer look at the impressive building. An old chateau, according to the website, utterly derelict until Wilding Holdings bought and completely renovated the property a decade previously, converting it into the dream destination hotel.
To his eye, the granite cornerstones, creamy plasterwork and turreted roof reminded him a little too much of Disney’s fairy-tale castle; it resembled the one on some of Estelle’s treasured DVDs. He remembered how he attempted to prise apart the discs she’d glued together with a stray pot of PVA. Her wails ashe’d tried to explain that the movies wouldn’t work with glue all over them. The look in Natalie’s eye when he’d gone out and bought replacement copies. Estelle was thrilled, but his wife had asked him when he was going to realise that throwing money at a problem didn’t always solve it.
With his back to the castle, Noel had his mobile pressed to an ear.
‘How far out are you, mate?’ Larger than life, as always, he was still shouting, this time at the phone. ‘We’re already here, been here for like, ten minutes? Put your foot down and get a bloody wiggle on, will you? It’s wine o’clock and my poor tongue’s drier than a nun’s—’
‘Noel, for Christ’s sake. We’re in public …’
Johnny had no idea whether his brother heard him or not, but thankfully Noel didn’t complete the punchline, instead he laughed at whatever was said at the other end of the call.
‘Yes. First round is on me. Too bloody right. This is a celebration as well as a holiday, mate. And what happens in the Dordogne stays in the Dordogne.’ Another laugh. ‘Yeah. See you in five.’ Noel glanced at Johnny as he pocketed his phone. ‘They’ll be here in five.’
‘Excellent.’ Johnny paused, then said, ‘We’re not actually in the Dordogne, Noel. You do realise that?’
‘Just sounds better than wherever the heck we actually are, don’t you think?’
‘What does that even mean? You chose this place; you were the one who wanted to visit the vineyards of the Loire Valley and “drink as much Sancerre as humanly possible”. Fantastic wine within a couple of hours of a decent airport – wasn’t that the brief?’
‘Lighten up, for Christ’s sake. I just like the sound of the word, that’s all. I googled it and it sounds like a ball bouncing ontarmac –Dordogne…’ Noel bounced up and down on the spot to emphasise his point, then grinned.
Johnny shook his head, then shouldered his bag and made for the curving stone steps up to reception. Noel might have sold this trip as a holiday, a way to celebrate fifteen years of their business – Taylor Made Wine – but they both knew he hadn’t taken any significant time off work in years. It wouldn’t surprise Johnny if Noel struggled to wind down. It would be more like his brother to spend this trip doing his best to establish new contacts, finding new wine producers to add to their ever-growing portfolio of suppliers. He was relentless, told everyone that’s what it took when you started with nothing, and he expected the same level of dedication from Johnny.
‘Where are you going?’ Noel said. ‘The others will be here in a few minutes.’
‘Unless they’re heading for the Dordogne,’ Johnny said, under his breath. He turned. ‘I’m sure even Ricardo and Ed can find their way from the driveway into the building on their own.’
Noel laughed, brushing aside Johnny’s irritation. ‘Ricky struggles to locate his own arse most of the time, I’m not so sure he’ll be able to manage stepsanda door.’
Truth be told, Johnny wanted a moment to himself. He had been under no illusion about what spending a week in a wine-producing region of France was going to be like with this group of blokes, had been in two minds about coming on this trip at all. But he couldn’t let Noel down. However messy this holiday became – and it was going to be messy, he’d spent enough time socialising with them to know that much – he wanted to be here for his brother like he always had been. Needed to be here for their business. After all, one good deed deserved another. And Noel had been there for him when his world fell apart,had offered the support he needed, even if it had been in Noel’s inimitable sledgehammer style.
Wandering back to the car, Johnny dropped his bag beside a low-profile tyre and smiled at his brother. He could grab a few minutes alone once he was in his suite. Stretching his back out, he scanned the driveway for any sign of Ricky and Ed. Waited for the arrival of the other grey Mercedes – an almost exact copy of the airport hire car they’d arrived in.
Johnny could do this. He could cope with a few drunken work colleagues, especially with Chateau les Champs d’Or boasting excellent cuisine and a massive swimming pool in which he could always wash away one too many from the night before.
After all, he had far worse things to deal with when he got home.
Chapter 2
Fran had been waiting for ages outside the door marked ‘Manager’. Perched on a small wooden chair in the corridor, with her case settled beside her like a well-trained dog, she’d watched the comings and goings with interest. Everything looked serious but smooth. Everyone was moving quickly, but nobody looked overly stressed. No obvious issues so far. Perhaps she should be taking notes as she waited.
Once the idea to pretend to be a casual summer worker had taken root, she’d become more and more convinced it was a great move. She would be able to see the innermost workings of the hotel, without the filter of viewing everything through the eyes of a guest. Without the rapid polishing everything would have been subjected to before she got to have a look.
Although, the longer she waited, the more doubts jostled alongside her shiny ‘going undercover’ idea. Fran wasn’t particularly worried about anyone recognising her, but she had a bigger problem to worry about – who was she going to pretend to be? They were expecting a new chambermaid, so what would happen when two of them turned up? And although she was aware of the agencies who supplied workers from the UK, Fran didn’t know the name of the actual new employee, so she couldn’t pretend to be her. Anyway, that wouldn’t work, not on any level. Identity fraud – not a good idea.
Not that she could use her real name, either. Surely it would only be a matter of time before someone worked out there was a room booked in the same name.
And what would happen about her passport, getting on payroll, work visas …
Perhaps this hadn’t been her finest idea after all.
If she hadn’t already been overheating in the stuffy corridor, she would have blamed the dryness in her mouth on the realisation that her scheme had fewer legs than a one-legged—well, a one-legged anything.
The door opposite her opened with a sudden flourish, an imposing woman beckoning at her with an elegant finger. ‘Yes, you. Come …’
Grabbing at her case, Fran followed the woman into the office, her wheelie sounding outlandishly noisy as it rattled over the uneven tiled floor.
‘Sit. There.’
