‘How about on the terrace?’
There was plenty of comfortable seating out there, and by ten o’clock it should be cooler. Not that they would need long, aquick chat would be enough to establish whether Johnny had news.
‘Perfect. See you there at ten,’ he said, a lightning grin searing its way across his face before he looked past her, towards the group at his table. The smile faded just as quickly, replaced by a gentle wrinkling of the skin between his eyes. ‘Better get back to my starter,’ he added.
Did the fact he hadn’t used those few minutes to tell her what he’d found mean that he had proper information about the cat? Or was he embarrassed to be seen chatting to a member of chateau staff? Somehow Fran couldn’t believe that of him. Compared to most of the guests she’d come across so far at Chateau les Champs d’Or, he seemed very grounded.
No time to worry about the subtext, with plates to clear from table two and table three beginning to fidget about the gap between their main courses and desserts. While the diamond-encrusted wife tapped her elegantly manicured nails on the tablecloth, Fran reassured Mister Savile Row they wouldn’t be waiting much longer, biting her tongue as she quashed her desire to suggest being in a rush to finish their meal and ordering the most complex dessert from the menu hadn’t made for a winning combination.
When the final cup of coffee had been poured, and the dining room fell blissfully quiet, Fran checked her watch. Ten to ten. She was going to have to motor to be out on the terrace for ten o’clock. All hopes that she might have been able to change into something more comfortable evaporated as Penny managed to drop a pile of plates and precious minutes were spent cleaning up the mess.
‘I’ll see you in a bit,’ Fran said. Penny had told her she usually liked to hang out in the kitchens at the end of an evening service, chatting with Harry while the chefs and the rest of the kitchenstaff cleaned down, and the previous evening Fran had done the same.
Penny tilted her head. ‘Why, where are you going?’
‘Oh, nowhere important.’ Fran smiled. ‘Just going to get some fresh air, that’s all.’
‘Day two and you’re already keeping secrets. You’re one mysterious lady.’
Fran’s smile faded as a sudden wave of insecurity rolled over her. What did Penny know? Had she worked out who Fran really was? How did she know?
Penny laughed. ‘I bet you’re going to look for that moggy again, aren’t you? Bonkers, if you ask me.’
Fran’s shoulders relaxed and she grinned in return. ‘Can’t help myself. Catch you later?’
‘You’ll know where I’ll be. This place is like a prison camp – no escape for us convicts.’
Penny had a point. Without transport, this place did feel isolated. Surrounded immediately by gardens and pockets of woodland, countryside stretched away from the chateau in all directions – a mix of lavender fields and vineyards as far as the eye could see. At least, as far as the eye could see from the windows of the higher rooms. At ground level, the landscape was flat, there were none of the rolling downs of the countryside near Fran’s hometown of Lyme Regis. None of the Jurassic folds in the earth’s crust which had formed the characteristic cliffs she’d grown up with.
Most of the public areas of the hotel were falling quiet, the low rumbling of chattering in the bar the only real hub of activity left at this time of the evening. The terrace wrapped itself around the building, from outside the sliding doors at the far end of the bar, towards the swimming pool area, all the way around towards the formal area of the gardens. Fran was pleasedJohnny had chosen to take a drink around to the quieter end of the paving, that he was no longer with his group of friends. Less opportunity for embarrassment. Seated on one of the many pieces of garden furniture, he looked relaxed and peaceful with long legs stretched out and one foot crossed over the other as he considered the contents of his glass by what was left of the fleeing daylight.
‘Hi,’ she said, surprised when the sound of her voice had him concertinaing his body, brogues scraping across the rough stone of the paving as he slid his glass onto an occasional table and stood.
‘Hi.’ He gestured for her to take a seat. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘No, I’m fine.’ In reality, the glass of whisky looked appealing. It had been a long day, and Fran would have loved a sip or two, something to help her wind down. ‘Thanks, though.’
Glancing around, Fran felt oddly uneasy about sitting down in a guest area. Which was mad, really, as she should have been here as a guest. After a few moments more of indecision, and with Johnny waiting for her to sit first, she eased herself into a chair. It was comfortable, and she recognised the design from other hotel stays. Elegant and practical but lacking much in the way of individuality. Corporate and bland was an alternative, maybe less flattering, description.
Johnny reclaimed his seat and his glass. ‘It’s a beautiful evening,’ he said.
‘It is. Are you enjoying your stay?’ Fran asked.
‘This place is incredible, no question. Any complaints I have are of my own making, so there’s nothing to lay at your door.’
Was he being purposefully cryptic? Without turning to stare at him, to try and get a more accurate feel for his mood through his expression, Fran decided to let his words go.
‘So,’ she said, with an air of decisiveness. ‘Did you find any sign of the cat?’
‘I didn’t, I’m afraid. Although it occurred to me as I was upside-down in a hebe bush that perhaps we’re going about this wrong.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, as a rule cats are nocturnal creatures, aren’t they?’
‘I guess.’
‘And although you’ve seen Red during daylight hours so far, perhaps we’d have more luck finding him at night. When he’s more likely to be out and about.’
