‘This is madness, Johnny. And I’m so not wearing the right footwear for heroism.’
His words fell on deaf ears, Johnny’s focus remaining squarely on the chateau.
‘What about your family?’ Noel said, desperation clinging to the edges of his words. ‘Will you stop for a second and think about them?’
That caught Johnny up short, and he turned abruptly.
‘What the hell did you just say?’ Johnny said, his lips curled in anger. ‘Youwantmeto considermyfamily?’
‘Yes.’ Noel eked out the word, his expression dipping with embarrassment. But Johnny wasn’t having that.
‘Like you did, you mean?’ The vitriol in Johnny’s voice was unmistakeable, as he shoved at Noel, sending him reeling. ‘If you don’t want to come, that’s fine. But you’re not stopping me.’
Members of chateau staff had reached the pair of them, which was probably just as well. Johnny needed to concentrate on Fran, not allow the anger he felt towards Noel to muddy his focus. Noel hopped around on the gravel, looking around for the stray slider he’d lost when Johnny shoved him as Madame Beaufoy placed an authoritative hand on his arm and asked him what the problem was, and where he thought he was going.
‘Fran’s missing,’ Johnny said. ‘She must still be inside the chateau.’
The manager did her best to reason with Johnny, the two of them veering off into animated French as he reiterated the information he had about Fran, that he was sure she was still inside. She nodded, her demeanour changing as she called for members of staff willing to help with the search and they prepared to head back to the chateau. Towards the smoke, and the destructive power of the wildfire.
Johnny had been ready to leave Chateau les Champs d’Or only a short time ago, ready to leave the Loire, Fran, the whole situation behind him and head home – whatever home now meant. He’d been moments away from checking out when the fire alarm sounded, had carried his belongings down with himfrom the turret room, half expecting the alarm to be cancelled at any moment. He’d been fully expecting the guy on reception to tell him it was a false alarm, or a test, and once the bill had been settled that he hoped Johnny had abon voyage.
A safe onward journey. Wasn’t that what they said on the landing of every flight he’d ever taken? But to where? To what? Johnny had been considering the questions as he traversed the main staircase, when realisation slowly dawned on him that there were loads of people doing the same as him.
As they drew closer to the building now, Johnny’s nerve began to fail him, and he began to wonder if his brother might be right. The smoke swirled in loose curls on this side of the hotel – not yet thick, but still acrid enough to catch at the back of the throat. But the thought of Fran being lost in the smoke propelled him on. Whatever they were going to try to do, they needed to get on and do it. The fire wasn’t losing any of its purpose, and they had no idea if it had already managed to find a way inside.
In the foyer, it became easier to navigate their way. There wasn’t any smoke in here yet, and as they were joined by more members of the hotel staff, they split into small groups, shouting for Fran and heading through the downstairs with purpose. Johnny headed into the dining room, Noel slapping along behind him. They weaved their way through the space, calling out as they went. On into the kitchen, Johnny rounding the huge stainless-steel workstations expecting – no, hoping – to find Fran at each turn. Even if she was hurt, at least she would no longer be lost.
Each time he peered somewhere new, each corner he rounded, each time she wasn’t there, Johnny felt fear twist itself around his guts with increasing conviction. What if they never found her?
Waiting forles pompiersand all their equipment might have been the sensible, logical approach, but sense and logic had taken flight the moment Johnny had realised he couldn’t locate Fran. Speed was the only card they had left to play.
They were in a narrow corridor, now, lit only by a few high bulbs and the vague outline of an open door set some way away. The strange light emanating through that space flickered smoke feeling its way through the opening like the tendrils of a tentative sci-fi monster. Feeling, then retracting, then coming again with more determination.
They needed to close that door. Keep the fire outside for as long as possible.
‘You keep looking,’ Johnny shouted at Noel. ‘I’m going to close that door.’
‘OK.’ Way past the questioning of Johnny’s handling of the situation, Noel capitulated at once, taking the first door handle he came across and poking his head into what looked like a storage cupboard as Johnny shot past.
Nearing the open doorway, Johnny could hear Noel shouting for Fran, and he picked up the chant as well. Outside, the smoke hung thick, swirling and pulsing in the unrelenting strength of the wind, even in a relatively sheltered area to one side of the chateau.
Johnny took hold of the door, swinging it towards himself and taking a quick look around – as best he could in the grey fog of the smoke – before he intended to pull it closed. He called again, sucking in smoke and coughing, the reflex action strong enough to have him doubling over, eyes forced closed.
As he swung the door the final forty-five degrees to seal the smoke out, he caught a final glance outside from his prone position. Before the door clicked shut, Johnny paused, frowning.
Pushing the door open, he peered into the gloom again. There was something out there. Something that looked out of place. A lump of a shape against what otherwise appeared to be a gravelled service area.
Shouting for Noel, Johnny pulled at his sleeve, holding the fabric against his face as he stepped out, smoke swirling around him almost immediately.
‘Johnny … Where did you go?’
‘Out here. I can see something.’ Johnny pushed on, the movement of the smoke and the way it was attacking his eyes, making it a challenge to keep them open, had him disorientated within seconds. He kept his focus on the shape, the burgeoning fear intensifying as he drew closer, the realisation of what it looked like was beginning to scream its way up from his solar plexus.
‘Oh Christ, no …’ he whispered.
It was a body.
Chapter 28
