Another long yowl suggested to Fran that Red wasn’t bothered, so long as there was plenty of whatever she brought for him. Chuckling to herself, Fran headed for one of the chateau’s staff entrances, door wide open to allow some air flow through the staff corridors, she assumed.
With one foot on the flagstones of the interior, Fran caught a flash of movement, and Red streaked past her, heading towards the cellar. At the corner the cat paused, turning to observe her reaction. Fran held a finger to her lips.
‘I won’t tell if you don’t,’ she whispered, smiling again when the cat gave a flick of his tail and disappeared down the cellar steps.
By the time Johnny had patched up his hand and located the others by the pool, it became clear that multiple cocktails had already been consumed, and that Noel and Ed were locked in an arm-wrestling contest on the occasional table between a couple of sun loungers.
‘Thought it was your leg you broke, not your arm,’ Noel said, his volume further up the decibel reader than the other guests might have appreciated. ‘Weak as a flaming kitten.’
With a desperate yank, Ed tried to overturn Noel’s arm. When that failed, Ed raised eyebrows in defeat and Noel, smelling victory, crushed Ed’s fist against the slatted surface of the table with such force the whole thing tipped and smacked against the poolside tiling.
Ricky, watching on with interest, fist-pumped the air as they all began to laugh and congratulate Noel.
‘Three from three,’ Noel said, as Ed righted the table.
It was a relief to see someone had had the forethought to remove anything breakable from the table before the contest had begun. Johnny pulled in a breath and glanced at the rest of the poolside users. Most were doing their best to ignore the group, and Johnny wondered if he could do the same, whether he could back-track before they spotted him. Perhaps he could take the Mercedes out for a drive instead of being drawn into a drinking contest – or for that matter, an arm-wrestling match.
Apart from the mess of broken skin on his right hand, Johnny already knew he would lose out to Noel. Shorter he might be, but Noel was strong. He spent loads of time in the gym. When they’d been much younger, and Johnny had enjoyed antagonising his brother more than he did now, he’d given Noel a nickname. Called him Mini-me Schwarzenegger, or if he really wanted to wind Noel up, ‘the guy holding Schwarzenegger’s towel’. That one was always guaranteed to get a big reaction, and sometimes they’d end up brawling.
Johnny quickly learnt he didn’t much enjoy being thumped, wouldn’t have made a very successful boxer. And once they started Taylor Made Wine, Johnny had decided discretion was the better part of valour, doing his best to dial down Noel’s big reactions, rather than stoking the flame. They’d come to rely on one another, learning as a pair how to take a business from fledgling to fully flown. They’d made plenty of mistakes along the way but had remained resolute in their support for one another. After all, there hadn’t been anyone else around to help, and there was no disputing that they’d done well to find their niche in the food and beverage industry, which worked in a very competitive market. Because of the demands and challenges of setting up a small business, they had to act professional and couldn’t waste time antagonising each other or squabbling over petty things.
The only other time they’d seriously fallen out was when he realised his relationship with Natalie was getting serious and had confided in Noel that he was planning to ask her to marry him. It wasn’t as though being married was going to have a detrimental effect on the business, but for some reason Noel went off on one.
Well, Noel had got his way with that, too – even if it had taken eight years for Johnny to return to something approaching single status. He supposed Noel would expect him to reinstate his sole focus onto Taylor Made Wine once again, but things wouldn’t ever go back to the way they were before, not for Johnny. They couldn’t. And even though he and Natalie were done, there was still Estelle to consider.
Maybe that was what was at the root of Noel’s shifting attitude, the realisation that Johnny’s priorities had changed forever. He was struggling to understand what else could have caused the change in his relationship with his brother.
Ed caught sight of him, waving him over to join the group.
‘I’ll get some drinks, shall I?’ Johnny said, taking note of their orders before heading for the poolside bar. Anything for a few more minutes of peace.
Curiosity was burning a hole in Penny’s conscious thought. Fran had disappeared again, presumably searching for that damned cat. Penny supposed it wasn’t up to her to decide how the chateau’s newest employee should behave, but if Fran was at the hotel for the reasons she’d said she was there, to earn some money before carrying on travelling, then why bother to cosy up with a stray cat? It wasn’t as though she could take the moggy with her when she moved on, was it?
Maybe Penny didn’t get it because she didn’t particularly feel affection towards animals. If Fran thought she could make adifference to the cat’s life for a few months, Penny supposed it couldn’t do any harm to feed him the scraps from the kitchen.
She knew Harry wouldn’t blab to anyone about the food, and nor would she. But still, something didn’t sit quite right for Penny. There was more to Fran than met the eye, Penny remained convinced by her gut reaction.
Everyone had secrets, there was nothing wrong with not wanting to be a totally open book. Penny knew well enough that there were aspects of her own life she didn’t necessarily want people to know about. Plus, she wasn’t naive enough to think people’s lives spooled out following a prearranged path that everyone was happy with. There was no need to look further than the differences between herself and her older sister for an obvious example. She and Ruth couldn’t have been more different if they’d tried. Ruth worked hard at school while Penny found it difficult to concentrate, mucked around and then messed up her formal exams. Ruth was the first member of the Scott family to go to university and was already talking about getting engaged to someone she’d met there. In comparison, Penny had bumbled her way from one dead-end job to another, and one dead-beat bloke to the next. Her parents were proud of Ruth. Her parents were embarrassed by Penny. They’d never said as much, but she could see it in their eyes, saw the relief when she said she wanted to go travelling. Wondered what it would be like if she never went home.
Maybe whatever vibe she was getting from Fran was nothing but her imagination, but Penny didn’t think so. She tended to trust her instincts, found herself wanting to be there in case it turned out Fran was running, too.
Telling herself she was simply looking to see if Fran had returned from her break, Penny headed for the staff quarters and knocked on Fran’s door. When there wasn’t any reply,Penny wiggled the door handle, fully expecting the room to be locked.
When Fran’s door popped open, Penny knew she shouldn’t go in, that she should pull the door closed and walk away. But her curiosity gained the upper hand. Stepping into the room and spinning a circle in what small amount of floorspace was on offer, she could see nothing out of the ordinary. The arm of a shirt poked from the wardrobe and Penny opened the cupboard, fully intending to do nothing more than push the material back inside before she closed the door. But Fran had some lovely clothes in that wardrobe and Penny couldn’t help herself, fingering her way through them. Flimsy blouses, smart trousers, a beautiful peacock blue kaftan laced with silver thread and sequins, strappy sandals. It all seemed far too impractical for someone who was travelling. Penny stopped short of picking up Fran’s handbag from the bottom of the wardrobe, although the itch to look inside was hard to ignore.
A buzzing noise made Penny startle, and as she shoved closed the wardrobe door, she saw Fran’s phone on her bedside table. It lit up and Penny couldn’t help but look at the screen, reading the heading of an incoming email before the screen plunged itself back into darkness.
Penny frowned, poking at the phone to see if she could reactivate it. Fingerprint protection meant she had no luck, but what she’d seen on Fran’s phone had been enough to reinforce Penny’s suspicions.
With almost poetic timing, Fran entered the room, a look of confusion engulfing her face when she saw Penny.
‘What are you doing in here?’ Fran said.
‘Looking for you,’ Penny said. ‘Door wasn’t locked.’
‘Yes, it was.’ Fran faltered. ‘At least, I thought it was.’
‘Anyway,’ Penny said, scooping the mobile and squaring up to Fran. ‘What’s more important is how you’re going to explain this.’
