Alice-Miranda in the Alps (2 page)

The doorbell buzzed sharply just as Delphine Doerflinger had climbed into bed.

‘Otto, you nincompoop,' she grumbled, jamming her feet into her slippers. She grabbed the satin robe that was draped across the chaise lounge.

The bell buzzed again.

‘I'm coming!' she shouted, scurrying down the wide corridor. ‘Why didn't you get a spare key from reception? We live in a hotel, for heaven's sake!'

Delphine wrenched open the front door. ‘You
will forget your brain one of these …' She stopped, realising that she was speaking to thin air. Delphine peered into the hallway at their private lift. ‘Otto, I am not amused,' she called into the half-light. ‘It is far too late in the evening for your silly games.'

But there was no reply.

Delphine huffed and turned to walk back inside when she kicked an envelope on the floor. She bent down to pick it up and saw her name written on it in floaty script. Delphine looked into the hallway again, her nerves jangled. She quickly closed the door and hurried to her study. She flicked on the lamp and reached across for the silver letter opener, slicing open the top and pulling out a single piece of paper.

Delphine began to shake. She could feel the fury rising within her like a dormant volcano shuddering back to life.

‘How dare they?' she seethed. ‘I am a woman of my word.'

‘Delphine, my lovely, are you there?' Otto's voice echoed through the palatial suite, accompanied by
the sound of claws tripping along the parquetry floor. ‘Where are you, my little munchkin?'

A low, rumbling growl exploded into a series of high-pitched barks as Gertie, Otto's beloved Maltese terrier, nudged her way into the room and stood there yapping. The dog's perfectly coiffed hair skimmed the ground, and Delphine wondered if a more indulged animal had ever walked the earth. She only had her hair blow-dried once a week, while Gertie had a ten-o'clock appointment every other day.

‘Get lost,' she hissed. But Delphine's words just served to further aggravate the animal. The creature rushed to her side and yapped ever more urgently.

Delphine hurriedly stuffed the letter under a pile of papers in the top drawer of her desk and quickly closed it.

‘There you are, my dear. I thought you would be in bed by now.' Otto Fanger appeared in the doorway, his round silhouette taking up the width of its frame. As always, he was immaculately dressed in a three-piece suit. His wiry hair, despite an abundance of product, resembled a steel scouring pad sprouting from the front of his head. At least it gave him some much-needed height, Delphine supposed. ‘Gertie, come to Papa,' he instructed.

The little dog danced around her master's legs before he scooped her into his arms, cooing and cuddling the creature as if she were a baby. Gertie's tongue shot out and licked Otto's rosy cheek.

Delphine rolled her eyes. ‘Life does not stop just because you take the evening off to play silly card games.'

‘You work much too hard, my petal,' Otto simpered.

‘And one day you will thank me.' Delphine stood up and switched off the desk lamp, putting an end to the conversation. She knew what she had to do. Losing the hotel was never going to happen as long as there was still breath in her body.

Otto Fanger looked up from his newspaper. ‘Good morning, my darling heart,' he said happily.

‘Why is it so good?' Delphine asked as a waiter in a crisp black suit rushed to pull out the chair for her.

‘Every morning is a good morning with you, my love,' Otto replied with a smile. He folded his newspaper and set it aside. Gertie lay on a plump
velvet cushion on the chair to his right, her head resting on the arm.

‘Stop that,' Delphine snapped as the waiter attempted to shake a starched napkin onto her lap. ‘I can do it.'

The man gulped and scurried away.

Otto gazed out at the glistening white peaks and the frozen lake beyond the snow-covered roof of the building. ‘The sun is shining, the lake is sparkling and the hotel is full,' he continued dreamily.

Delphine rolled her eyes.

The ornate dining room was indeed busy with families and couples, many of them dressed in their ski gear, ready to head up onto the mountain straight after breakfast. On a podium at the end of the room, a harpist with flowing blonde hair serenaded the diners with the melodious plunking of strings, the tune instantly recognisable as Pachelbel's Canon.

Another waiter walked up to their table and placed a large plate of bacon, fried eggs, hash browns, tomatoes and sausages in front of Otto.

The hotelier patted his stomach with glee. ‘Thank you. This looks delicious.'

A dour woman with pinched cheeks and a nose like a needlefish, Delphine eyed the plate with
disgust. ‘You eat too much bacon, Otto. It is no wonder I am having to arrange for your suits to be let out again.'

Otto waved a hand in her direction and concentrated on his breakfast. Every now and then he passed a titbit to Gertie, who, despite her genteel appearance, wolfed it down like a starved hyena.

Yet another waiter descended upon the table, depositing a latte and a plate of buttered toast in front of Delphine. ‘I took the liberty of having some toast made for you, Frau Doerflinger.' The young man smiled tightly.

‘That toast is burned and you have overfilled my coffee,' Delphine spat, her tongue clearly as sharp as her nose. When the young man went to remove the offending items, she swatted his hand away. ‘What do you think you are doing now?' she barked.

‘Getting you some more toast and coffee?' The fellow's voice had risen from an alto to a soprano and he looked to be on the verge of tears.

‘Leave them, you numbskull.' Delphine turned her attention to the red folder she had brought with her. She flipped it open and ran her finger down the list of names. It was a ritual she performed every morning, making sure that she was familiar with any
VIPs or celebrities. ‘Interesting,' she said, taking a sip of her coffee.

Otto paused for a moment and picked up the salt shaker. ‘What is interesting?'

‘We have some very important guests about to arrive,' Delphine replied. ‘They have unfortunately chosen to bring young ones too. Urgh, how ghastly.'

‘
All
of our guests are important. That is why Fanger's Palace Hotel is the best in the whole of Switzerland,' Otto said. ‘I do love having children in the hotel. It makes me feel young again, and Gertie just adores them.'

‘Yes, yes,' Delphine muttered. Otto was a fool. She knew the value of ensuring that their very special guests were taken care of. The others, well, there would always be people with delusions of grandeur willing to part with their hard-earned money. But there were far weightier matters on her mind than the guest register. Delphine closed the file and looked at her husband. ‘Otto, I have been thinking about expansion,' she said.

‘Stop talking about my waistline, woman,' Otto huffed, shovelling another forkful of food into his mouth. ‘I promise you I will go for a walk this afternoon.'

‘I wasn't talking about your gut this time,' Delphine replied, arching a generously plucked eyebrow.

‘Then you must have whatever you want, my dear. There is the plot of land to the side of the hotel. What are you thinking?' he asked. ‘A helipad, perhaps?'

‘Something a little more than that,' she began.

‘I don't think we will be allowed to go up any higher,' Otto said, shaking his head. ‘Besides, it would destroy the beautiful roofline of the building, and if we consider anything further down the hill we will have to supply our guests with canoes to get to their rooms.'

‘I want to buy another hotel,' Delphine said impatiently.

‘Another hotel?' Otto looked at her. ‘But you have enough to do just running this one and the chocolate factory. And you know there is only one other hotel in Switzerland that I have ever coveted and he will never sell.'

A smug smile perched on Delphine's lips. ‘What if I heard that he might?'

Otto almost spat out his food. ‘Are you toying with me?'

‘I am deadly serious,' Delphine replied. ‘He is broke.'

‘Then we must buy it at once. I will be the King of the Alps!' Otto puffed out his chest and sat up ramrod straight in his chair. ‘Or perhaps just the Baron.'

Delphine smiled. ‘I do not think the title comes with the hotel, but I am sure we could buy you one if your heart so desires.'

Otto put his cutlery down on the plate and reached over to take Delphine's hand into his own. He raised it to his lips and kissed it gently. ‘You are so clever, my love,' he gushed.

‘And you are clever to know it,' Delphine replied. ‘I take it that I have your blessing?'

‘My beautiful wife, you have my blessing to do whatever makes you happy.' Otto released her hand and resumed eating.

Delphine rolled her eyes. She was a lot of things but beautiful was not one of them. Otto hadn't married her for her looks. He had married her for her brains, and while her husband liked to think that Fanger's Palace Hotel was thriving as a result of his years of hard work, that was far from the truth. He had no idea how much it cost to keep the hotel
running let alone that ridiculous chocolate factory, which was bleeding money like cherry kirsch. If it wasn't for Delphine and her connections, things would have turned out very differently indeed.

Fortunately, when Otto's ancestors had built the hotel many years before, they had the foresight to install a vault. It had steel walls three-feet thick and a patented security system the world's best safecrackers could not penetrate. People paid handsomely to have their most precious possessions securely stored there, and Delphine had recently attracted some serious deposits, although the increasing demands of one client was giving her indigestion. Delphine drained the last drop of her coffee and stood up.

‘Where are you going?' Otto asked. He was just beginning to butter his fourth slice of toast.

‘There is work to be done,' Delphine said. ‘I will see you at the drinks party this evening. Don't forget to collect your suit. I will not have you wear that other one with the buttons bursting off the front.'

‘I can fit into my other suit just fine,' Otto sulked.

Gertie growled.

‘No, you can't.' Delphine leaned across and kissed her husband's forehead, then picked up her folder and strode off.

Otto sat there for another hour, gobbling down the rest of his toast, which was followed by a large plate of pastries, a second cup of coffee and then two pancakes for good measure. He couldn't think of a more perfect way to spend the day as his guests stopped to say hello and chat about their planned activities. He was the self-proclaimed King of St Moritz and now there was a chance he could be King of Zermatt as well. Life was indeed very good for Herr Fanger.

The passengers erupted into rapturous applause as the plane slowed to a standstill on the runway at Samedan Airport. Hugh Kennington-Jones's voice came over the intercom from where he was sitting beside the pilot in the cockpit. The man was in the process of gaining his pilot's licence and was co-piloting the jet for the first time. ‘Well done, Cyril. That's the hairiest landing we've had in ages.'

Alice-Miranda turned to Millie, whose face was the colour of her mint-green cardigan. ‘Are you all right?' she asked.

The girl breathed a huge sigh of relief. ‘I didn't think we were going to make it.'

Dolly Oliver looked over at her friend, who gradually released her from a vice-like grip. ‘May I have my hand back now, Shilly?'

‘I told you we should have stayed home,' the woman said, her face blanched. ‘I'd rather clean the entrance-hall chandeliers on stilts than face another flight like that.'

‘No offence, anyone, but I'd rather catch a bigger plane next time,' Jacinta squeaked.

The Highton-Smith-Kennington-Joneses' private jet was a luxurious affair but it was true that, in poor conditions, passengers were well aware of every shudder and shake. The jet had bumped and bounced all over the place as it had made its approach through the Alps.

Sloane Sykes looked at them as if they were mad. ‘I don't know what you're all whingeing about. It was fantastic. And that view! Those mountains are stunning and the lake shimmered as if it were covered in diamonds.'

Alice-Miranda grinned across the aisle at the girl. ‘I'm glad you got to see it, Sloane. I think everyone else had their eyes closed.'

‘I know I did,' Hamish McNoughton-McGill agreed. His wife, Pippa, bit her lip and nodded.

Sep and Lucas were busy discussing how they could pass themselves off as eighteen-year-olds so they could do the famous Olympia Bob Run. It was all the boys had thought about since Hugh had informed them that the bobsleigh course was open to the public. They'd both been horribly disappointed when he'd told them there was an age limit.

‘Sorry about the rough treatment, everyone – we hit some clear air turbulence up there,' Cyril said over the intercom. ‘Samedan is renowned for being a bit tricky. Hopefully it won't be nearly so bad when we fly out.'

‘I think I'll walk home,' Millie whispered.

‘Me too,' her father said, and everyone laughed.

Millie hadn't realised they'd all heard her, and blushed.

‘Now that we're back on solid ground,' Cyril continued, ‘welcome to St Moritz, where the current temperature is minus five degrees centigrade with a stiff breeze coming in from the north.'

‘If that's what Cyril calls a stiff breeze, I'd hate to see what he makes of a hurricane,' Lucas said to Sep.

‘We're here safe and sound and that's the main thing.' Cecelia smiled thinly at the children. For the first time in many flights, she'd been worried too, but she wasn't keen to pass on her concerns lest the children be any more terrified than they already were.

As the plane came to a halt and the engines powered down, Hugh emerged from the cockpit. ‘Right then, let's head over to the hotel, shall we?'

‘Hats and coats on, kids,' Cecelia instructed.

Everyone stood up and began to gather their belongings.

Sloane turned to her brother, who had suddenly taken on the appearance of a polar bear. ‘What
are
you wearing?'

‘It's my hat. Cool, isn't it?' Sep said.

Sloane rolled her eyes and pulled on a stylish pink beanie. ‘If you're four, maybe.'

Cecelia ushered the children down the steps and onto the freezing tarmac, where they were greeted by an immigration official. The man in a navy puffer jacket and beanie checked the pile of passports Cecelia had gathered together.

‘Enjoy your stay,' he said once he was done, nodding at the group politely.

Cyril filled out the necessary paperwork while Hugh and Hamish helped to unload the luggage. It was swiftly collected by three men dressed in red overcoats with gold buttons and navy trim. They all wore peaked caps with the words ‘Fanger's Palace Hotel' emblazoned on the brim and quickly deposited the bags into the back of two black mini-vans parked close by.

Cecelia shivered. ‘Hop in, everyone. It doesn't matter which van you pick; they're both headed to the same place.'

Soon enough the vehicles were hurtling along the main road towards the famous resort town of St Moritz. It was only a short journey to the hotel, which was positioned right above the frozen lake. Everyone gazed out of the van windows at the picture-postcard views as the sun disappeared over the mountain.

Sloane gasped. ‘It's so pretty.'

‘People always say that Switzerland has the best scenery,' Millie added, whipping out a guidebook from her jacket pocket. She flipped it open to a dog-eared page. ‘Switzerland is famous for its watches,
chocolates, alpine pursuits and banks,' she read aloud.

Sloane wrinkled her nose. ‘Banks?'

Alice-Miranda nodded. ‘Did you know the Swiss didn't fight in either of the world wars? Switzerland is what's called a neutral country. They don't take sides.'

‘So they've never had a fight with anyone?' Jacinta asked.

Alice-Miranda shook her head. ‘Not for a very long time.'

‘Boring,' Sloane quipped. ‘What's everyone's favourite colour here? Beige?'

‘Does that look beige to you?' Alice-Miranda pointed out the window as they rounded a corner, revealing a backdrop of a glistening lake and soaring mountain peaks.

‘Guess not,' Sloane said. ‘What's the event your mother's sponsoring again?'

‘Alice-Miranda told us at school,' Jacinta interjected.

‘Yes, but I wasn't listening properly,' Sloane replied.

Jacinta rolled her eyes. ‘How unusual.'

‘It's called White Turf,' Alice-Miranda said.

‘But how can turf be white?' Sloane asked.

‘Well, this time it is,' Millie said mysteriously.

Jacinta shook her head. ‘You really didn't listen, did you?'

Sloane thought for a moment. ‘Oh, it's the horse-racing in the snow. I remember now.'

‘Not the snow – the lake,' Alice-Miranda replied.

‘The lake?' Sloane pulled a face. ‘But they'll drown!'

‘The lake's frozen, you nong,' Jacinta said. ‘But I still wonder how they stay upright. I'm bad enough on ice skates with two legs, let alone four.'

Alice-Miranda giggled. ‘The horses don't wear skates. They have spikes on their shoes so they can grip onto the ice.'

‘That sounds ridiculous,' Sloane said. ‘I bet they still fall over.'

‘Apparently they've been doing it for a hundred years. There are races with riders and other races where skiers are towed behind the horses,' Alice-Miranda explained. ‘It all sounds very exciting.'

‘Can you imagine Chops doing that? He'd probably rather build a snowman.' Millie grinned, her eyes on stalks as she drank in the view. ‘Look up there!' she exclaimed, pointing to a cable car that was making its way slowly up the mountain.

Sloane's stomach twisted. ‘When are we going skiing?' she asked.

Sadly, the girl's alpine ability was a little bit like her horseriding prowess. She'd talked it up a lot but was in actual fact utterly hopeless. Or at least she was on the couple of occasions her parents had taken her and Sep to the snow.

‘If I know Hugh, he'll have you children fitted out with your skis this evening and you'll be on the slopes tomorrow morning,' Dolly piped up.

‘You know, I'm sure Daddy would be happy to arrange some lessons,' Alice-Miranda said, noticing Sloane's discomfort. ‘My parallel turns are abysmal, so I could do with a couple.'

Sloane gave her a nervous smile.

‘What about you, Mrs Oliver? Are you going to come up the mountain with us?' Millie asked.

‘I don't know, dear. I don't want to risk breaking anything,' the woman replied.

Alice-Miranda peered through the gap in the seats. ‘Will you ski, Shilly?'

The old woman nodded and smiled. ‘I think I might.'

‘Really?' Dolly turned to her friend in surprise. ‘I had no idea that was one of your talents.'

Shilly grinned. ‘Well, when I was a lot younger I was actually quite good at it and being here has made me wonder, just a little bit.'

Dolly clicked her tongue. ‘Oh, well, perhaps I will take a few steady runs then.'

‘That's the spirit, ladies,' Millie said as the van pulled into the front of the beautiful Fanger's Palace Hotel.