Familiar Rooms in Darkness (29 page)

Bella and her party reached Montresor late on Monday afternoon. They turned off the narrow road just past Sainte Levroux, and drove up a sloping lane winding past sunflower fields and into the shade of distant trees.

‘It's a long way off the beaten track,' said Derek.

‘Which is how I like it,' said Bella. ‘No one and nothing to disturb us. Just the village back there, and our neighbours over on the other side of that melon field.'

The girls had given up their Gameboys some time ago, and, to Bella's satisfaction, were taking an interest in their surroundings, exclaiming at the rows of sunflowers.

They rounded the bend, emerging from the shade of the trees, and pulled into a broad, sunlit area by the house. ‘Wow!' said Emma. ‘Is that it?'

‘That's it.' Bella parked the car in the shade of a wall.

‘It's fantastic,' said Leanne, as she and Emma got out of the car.

The house had once been a big, stone farmhouse, and in restoring it, Harry had incorporated two large barns to the rear of the house, so that the whole was now a large L-shape, with two storeys where the barns had been,
three in the main part of the house. The white window shutters looked very pretty against the worn grey stone, and the surrounding garden was filled with colour and scent from geraniums and roses.

‘It should be open,' said Bella, as Derek took bags from the boot. ‘Marianne should have done the shopping and made up the beds. Go on in,' she said to the girls. ‘That door leads straight into the kitchen.'

The girls sped off to the house.

‘Quite a place,' said Bruce, gazing around through his sunglasses.

‘How many rooms has it?' asked Frank.

‘Ten bedrooms,' said Bella. ‘Plus the annexe over there.' She pointed to a stone building at the end of the orchard stretching beyond the lawn. ‘Plenty of room for all. Let's get our bags inside and you can have a look around.'

The girls sped in and out in a state of excitement, exclaiming over everything. ‘Dad! Dad! It's got satellite telly! And the swimming pool is massive! Come and have a look!'

‘Calm down, you pair,' said Derek, but allowed himself to be dragged outside into the evening sunshine to survey the glories of the swimming pool, at the end of which stood a bar and a barbecue area.

Bella led Frank and Bruce upstairs with their bags. ‘You can have your pick of any of the rooms on this floor,' said Bella. ‘My room's down the end there.'

Bruce took a room which overlooked the orchard, pushed wide the shutters and leaned out, inhaling the air. ‘D'you like it?' asked Bella, following him in. She much
enjoyed sharing the pleasures of Montresor, and it gave her a pang to think this might be the last time she would stay here.

‘It's amazing,' said Bruce. ‘Just amazing.'

Bella smiled. ‘I'd better see how Frank's getting on.'

She wandered into the next room and found Frank sitting on the edge of his neatly made-up bed, looking doleful.

She sat down next to him. ‘Are you OK?'

Frank gave a sigh. ‘I had planned to take Jenny on holiday last year. It was going to be a surprise. Madeira. She'd always wanted to go. Then she got ill. So, of course, we never did go. I just feel so guilty, being on holiday without her.'

‘Oh, Frank – don't feel that way. I want you to enjoy yourself.'

Frank smiled and nodded sadly. He looked round the prettily furnished room, and at the fresh flowers in a vase on the bedside table. ‘I'm sure I will. Don't worry.'

‘Come down and have a glass of wine when you've unpacked. That'll cheer you up.' Bella rose from the bed. ‘By the way, there's something I should tell you. Bruce and I haven't really been going out together at all, you know.'

‘Oh. Oh?' Frank stared at her in surprise.

‘It was just a – well, a sort of stratagem. To get publicity. You know the kind of thing. Not that it did the play much good.'

Frank nodded. ‘What a pity. That's how Jenny and I met, you know. In rep. Oh, well. You made a nice couple.'

‘I thought I'd better tell you, since we're all going to
be under the same roof for a fortnight. Anyway… I'd better go and check that Marianne has got all the groceries I asked her to. I'll see you downstairs later.'

Megan and Adam came downstairs to breakfast in the hotel that morning to find Compton-King already there with Bruno, who looked in many ways worse awake than asleep. His pale-blue eyes were bleary and resentful, his dirty blond dreadlocks even more matted, his stubble denser and his face pastier, with grey shadows below his eyes. He nodded blearily and grunted at Adam and Megan through a mouthful of croissant, and left the table shortly thereafter, heading in the direction of his room.

‘Not very companionable,' said Compton-King, pouring coffee. ‘My apologies. He'll improve with time. Really quite a nice young man.'

‘He looks dreadful,' said Megan.

‘Mmm. Could do with a wash and brush-up, admittedly. Have to buy him some clothes at some point. He came with me straight from a gig in Hammersmith.' He looked at his watch. ‘Come on, chaps. Get that coffee down you. Time to hit the road.'

The day, like the previous one, was clear and fresh to begin with. Then the sun began to climb. Except for a few cotton-wool drifts on the horizon, the azure sky was untroubled by clouds. By eleven o'clock everyone was very much feeling the absence of air conditioning. The temperature had risen to the mid-twenties, the sun beat down relentlessly, and the air through the open windows as they sped southwards possessed all the refreshing qualities of a humid face flannel. With the absence of
conversation or music, everyone became bored and moody. It was an exquisite relief when they stopped off for petrol and were able to luxuriate for fifteen minutes in the air-conditioned interior of the service station. Even then, no one said very much. They were all thinking about the stuffy, tedious hours ahead.

When they went back to the car, the leather seats were unbearably, skin-stickingly hot. Everyone shifted around in discomfort.

‘Only another hour to Limoges,' said Compton-King, trying to perk things up, rubbing at his right forearm, which was pink and sunburnt from resting on the open sill. ‘And then we can have lunch and cool off properly.'

It was, in fact, another three hours to Limoges. Instead of cruising along at a steady eighty, which had just about made the air in the car bearable, they hit a roadworks tailback and slowed to a crawl. The car became an oven. The afternoon was much hotter than the morning. The long line of cars stretching endlessly ahead seemed to shimmer in the heat. Bruno, who hadn't washed or changed his clothes for forty-eight hours, was growing odoriferous. Maps were pulled out, alternatives considered, and after a futile discussion where things threatened to get snappy, they resigned themselves to sitting in the heat, creeping along with the traffic. Even though conversation was now possible, nobody was in the mood to say anything, except for Bruno, who became agitated and swore a lot, which didn't improve the atmosphere. Compton-King rebuked him, and they argued, while Adam and Megan suffered silently in the back.

By the time they reached Limoges, all the restaurants were closed. Spirits sank even lower. They drove on down the autoroute to the next service point and bought ham and salad baguettes and bottled water.

‘Should we pick up a few things for the evening?' suggested Megan to Adam, as they climbed back into the car.

‘No need,' said Adam. ‘Apparently the couple who look after the place are going to leave some things for us. Bread, milk, the makings of dinner, a few bottles of decent wine.' He glanced at Compton-King. ‘Where are you staying?'

‘I haven't booked anything yet.' He rummaged around, found a Logis guide and chucked it at Bruno. ‘Have a look in there – I've marked our area – and get on the mobile and book us something up.'

‘I've just had a thought,' said Adam. ‘We're probably going to get to Cahors too late for me to pick up our hire car.'

‘No problemo,' said Compton-King. ‘I'll drive you to wherever you're staying.'

‘I was hoping you'd say that. In which case, why don't you stay the night at the gite? It's got four beds. Saves everyone a lot of trouble.'

Compton-King paused, considering. ‘Good idea. Come on, let's get motoring.'

The delay outside Limoges meant that they didn't reach Cahors until early evening, and there they hit another patch of slow traffic. By now the air had cooled off, however, and as the journey's end seemed almost in
sight, everyone was in a better mood. Bruno sat next to Compton-King with the directions to the gite on his knee. He studied them closely, but failed to mention the first turn-off, so that half an hour later they had to turn back and retrace part of their route. The road was winding and slow. It grew dark, and it was hard to read signs; they lost their bearings twice.

A little after ten, however, they found the sign for Les Pointoises, and in relief and triumph they rolled up the lane towards a huddle of buildings picked out by the beam of the Bentley's headlamps. Compton-King switched off the engine. All was silent.

‘It's very dark,' said Megan. ‘Which of the gites are we supposed to be using?'

Adam pulled some papers from his pocket and leafed through them, then read out, ‘Key to number four under geranium pot next to barbecue.'

There was a thoughtful silence.

‘We should have got a torch at the service station,' said Megan.

‘I've got a lighter,' said Bruno.

‘But we don't know which house it is. There are about six of them.'

‘Isn't there anyone else staying here? Someone we can ask?'

‘I can't see any lights on.'

‘Come on,' said Compton-King, getting out of the car. ‘Bring your lighter, Bruno.'

There followed a painful ten minutes during which they groped around in the darkness by the feeble flicker of Bruno's lighter, speaking in low voices until it became
evident that the complex was deserted and that there was no need. At last, after Compton-King had barked his shins on a low wall and Adam had almost fallen in the swimming pool, they found the right barbecue, and the right pot. Finding the door, and then the keyhole, took a little while longer.

‘I'm dying for a pee,' muttered Megan in the darkness, as Adam prodded at the lock with the key.

‘All I want is some food and sleep,' said Adam. ‘At least we're here… Got it!' There was the sound of a lock turning, and a door opening.

Adam stepped inside, groped for a light switch, and clicked it on.

They stood in the doorway, surveying a low-ceilinged kitchen, illuminated by a naked bulb, and containing cupboards, a small cooker and fridge, a sink, and a cheap table with three chairs. It felt as though nobody had been in for some time, certainly not to dust or lay in provisions. Adam went to the fridge and opened it. Nothing.

‘Are you sure it's the right house?' asked Megan.

Adam glanced at the tag on the key. ‘Number four. This is the one. Sorry, everyone. Looks like no supper.'

They went through to the living room, which was small and box-like, cheaply furnished with a sofa and two armchairs, a pine coffee table, and some tatty lamps. ‘God,' said Adam. ‘I had expected something a bit better than this.'

Compton-King glanced at Adam's stricken face. ‘Don't worry. We're all exhausted. Maybe we should just get to bed.'

‘What makes you think it's going to look any better
in the morning?' muttered Megan. ‘It's an absolute dump.'

‘I am truly sorry,' said Adam.

Megan shrugged.

With the help of Bruno's lighter, they retrieved their bags from the boot of the Bentley. Trooping upstairs, they were unsurprised to find that the mattresses on each bed were thin and lumpy, with only sheets and one blanket each, and no spare pillows. Notwithstanding the heat of the day, the temperature beneath the clear starry sky had dropped. It was going to be a chilly night.

Adam and Megan took the double bed. Despite the cold, Megan stayed resolutely on her side of the bed, sullen and angry.

‘How could you book such a poxy place? It has to be totally the worst gite in all of France!'

‘I've said I'm sorry,' said Adam. ‘We'll sort it out in the morning. If necessary, we'll find somewhere else.'

‘If necessary? I'll say it's necessary. A horrible trip, and a horrible house…'

Adam lay in the dark, listening to Megan grumbling, waiting for sleep, envying Bruno his big sheepskin coat. Megan was right. The place was a dump, and he was to blame. He ruminated on the situation, realizing that this was the first occasion on which something had gone wrong for himself and Megan. So far, their existence in London had been untested by disaster, untroubled by anything more than the most minor domestic trauma. This evening her defection had been almost instant, putting him in the wrong, instead of trying to make the best of it and being affectionate and cheerful. Even
Compton-King had tried to be both of those things. He couldn't help wondering if certain other unappealing truths about their relationship were going to surface during this holiday.

Adam woke a little before nine. Ready to make the peace with Megan, he rolled over, but found her side of the bed empty. He lay there for some minutes, staring at the thin shafts of light piercing the shutters, trawling over the events of the journey and their arrival last night. Suddenly his thoughts were broken by the sound of high-pitched screaming. He bounded out of bed and down the corridor to the bathroom, from where the screams came. He found Megan dancing around on the tiles in the middle of the bathroom, clutching a towel and emitting squeals of disgust. Behind a plastic shower curtain came the sound of running water.

‘What on earth's the matter?' asked Adam.