‘I know it feels endless, and having to do so many coats to hide the bright colours is a kick in the teeth.’ I rummage in my jacket pocket and produce the antique key. ‘First, we need to see if this fits suite nineteen.’
Manon slaps her forehead. ‘I’d forgotten all about it.’
There’s a sense of excitement about discovering what’s inside. I only hope that excitement isn’t extinguished if we open the door to find a basic hotel room with a horrific colour scheme just like the rest.
‘Wait!’ She holds up a hand. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’
She dashes out before I can ask her where she’s going. I wait a few minutes and then give up, making my way up to the third floor when there’s a commotion on the stairs behind me. I turn to see Manon dragging a very reluctant Noah behind her, blithely ignoring his protestations. It’s like she’s taken him prisoner.
‘Manon! What are youdoing?’ I turn and hold on to the banister for support as tradespeople slip up and down the stairs, surefooted like mountain goats. I’m definitely going to improve my own fitness here traipsing up and down.
‘I’d like to know that too,’ Noah says, wrenching his arm from hers. ‘I was in the middle of a meeting with a supplier, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. Can you tell me what’s so urgent that I have to be here? Let me guess: another bookshelf has toppled over?’
‘We’re opening the secret room, but I didn’t want your supplier to find out. What if it’s full of gold, or the hidden corpse of your reclusive writer? Best we keep thispetitmystery to ourselves for now.’
I’m rankled she’s roped Noah into this. While it was nice of him to offer us the key he found, we don’t even know if it fits the lock. And whatever is in that suite is ours to explore. Alone.
‘Sorry for the disturbance, Noah. Manon took leave of her senses temporarily. You’ll come to learn this happens quite a bit where my cousin is concerned. You can leave.’
‘Perhaps I’ve been a little hasty. Manon is only doing the neighbourly thing by inviting me here. I’ll stay, just let me text my supplier.’ He loses his gruff countenance, which irks me even more. How fickle he is!
My brain won’t compute an excuse fast enough to get rid of him, and Manon doesn’t help when she pushes him in the back to get moving. ‘We don’t have all day.’
Part of me is furious with her; the other part just prays the key fits. If it’s another dead end, we’re back to square one and will have to try another locksmith, or the sledgehammer option. Both unappealing. Last night, locksmithnumero unosent me a terse email saying he didn’t discover any details about the internals of the lock and, if I forced entry and damaged it, I’d be bringing down a lot of bad juju on myself and every guest who ever deigned to stay here. Who knew locksmiths could be so threatening. He topped off his stroppy email with a rather large invoice for his call-out fee. Hence, I’m a little reluctant about calling in any other ‘experts’.
We find JP at the top of the stairs in deep conversation with one of his workers. We sidestep him and Manon calls out, ‘If you hear a scream, don’t panic.’
JP frowns. Honestly, the guy is going to prematurely age working in close proximity to Manon. While he seems intrigued, he also spends a fair amount of time perplexed by her. Such is the Manon effect.
When we get to the end of the hallway, I take a series of deep breaths. I wish I could say it’s from the adrenaline pumping,but that would be a lie.So many stairs. So often.While Noah and Manon are conversing about what we might find behind the door, seemingly not affected at all by physical exertion, I’m struggling to stay alive.
‘Anais,’ Manon says, hands in a prayer gesture. ‘Do you want a drum roll?’
I roll my eyes. ‘I want no such thing.’ In Noah’s presence, I act a little haughtier than usual. I’m not sure why.
‘Do the honours, then.’
I stand in front of the door and briefly close my eyes, readying myself for any disappointment that may come. We’ve beat this so-called mystery up and there’s not one solid bit of proof there is any truth to it.
‘I hope this works,’ I say, and I put the key in the lock and turn it.
19
22 NOVEMBER
The key turns and I push the door slowly open, and of course it makes the obligatory horror movie-esque squeal. Manon crashes into the back of me in her rush to get in, but I’m frozen to the spot.
‘Mon Dieu,’ is all I manage.
‘It’s a… secret library?’ Manon asks, pushing my lower back so I have no choice but to trip into the suite. Every wall is lined with bookshelves that are double and triple stacked with books. ‘I think your wish for a fully stocked library just came true,’ Manon whispers, her voice full of awe.
‘Oui.There are so many!’
Under the window is an ornate antique bed, the thick quilt lifted back as if someone just woke up and pushed it to one side. I inch closer. E. M. Foster’s novelA Passage to Indialies face-down on a bedside table – did whoever lived here not get to finish reading it? For some reason, that tugs at my heart. I suppose chances are that we’ll all leave this mortal coil somewhere in the middle of an unfinished book, which makes me strangely sad. I lift it and check the publication date. Itappears to be a first edition from 1924, so that means the guest came here sometime after that date…
In the middle of the room is a desk, cluttered and stacked with piles of paper. Novels. Dictionaries in various languages and a few gold-bound encyclopaedias.
The bookshelves are bowed with the weight of so many tomes, and the parquetry below them has stacks of books, as if they’ve spilled off the shelves over the years.
