‘Renee’s suite next.’
‘Urgh. Cleaning up after that man is the worst.’
We unlock the door and find the room in disarray. The bedding is pooled on the floor in a messy heap. ‘Our white linen, left disrespectfully like that,’ Manon says.
I pick it up and put it in a washbag. The quicker we do this the quicker we can leave. I go to the bathroom and wipe down the surfaces and replace the towels, as requested. When I come back, Manon is rifling through Francois-Xavier’s bag.
‘What are you doing!’
‘Looking for evidence. Watch the door, will you?’
‘Manon, that’s not?—’
‘Aha!’ She brandishes a folder full of paperwork. ‘It’s documents relating to the purchase of the hotel.’ She thumbs through them, speed-reading while I stand just outside the door, heart racing at the thought of being caught out but also curious about his motivations.
‘And?’
‘There’s a letter from his family firm, instructing him on how to get this place back.’
I gasp. ‘But how? The divorce is finalised. He can’t do that, surely? And why?’
Manon’s face pales. ‘He knows about suite nineteen. They mention it here.’
‘Oh no. They’re going to win the hotel back, aren’t they? They’re going to bury me so deep in litigation I’ll go bankrupt. Worse, I’ll lose Chloe’s manuscript and he’ll make a mockery of the whole thing. He won’t preserve their story. He’ll sell it to the highest bidder with no care or concern for…’
Manon takes her phone from her pocket and snaps pictures of the paperwork.
Once that’s done, we make up the suite with shaking hands. Now what? Will I lose to him again?
That afternoon, I sink into despair, pasting on a smile when the family of six arrive back, cheeks pink from the cold and the excitement of the Christmas fete. ‘The light is working but please let us know if you have any more trouble.’ We found an electrician, but he can’t get here until tomorrow, so I hope the light works in the meantime.
They go on upstairs when Manon appears behind me, making me jump in fright.
‘I’ve got an idea and I’m sure it’ll work. So be ready.’
‘OK,’ I say glumly. I wanted to surprise Manon on Christmas Eve with my decision to keep the hotel and make her manager. If everything went as planned with Chloe’s story, then I figured it would be a safe bet and Manon would be able to keep her dream alive in the place she finally feels like she fits. I’d get to stay too and, at night, I planned to write in suite nineteen and hope some of Chloe’s literary genius rubbed off on me.
Now that’s all been threatened with Francois-Xavier’s scheming.
‘Manon, I want to keep the hotel. And now…’
Her face dissolves into a grin and she claps a hand to her mouth. ‘Say no more. Keep it, we will. We owe it to Chloe and Lily-Louise, and I will not let that king of idiots steal it from us.’
‘But how?’ I’ve been down this road before. ‘The legal fees alone…’
‘Leave it to me. First, I need to set up a hidden camera.’
‘A hidden camera? Is that legal?’
‘Sure, for security in the hotel. Perfectly legal.’ I swear I wouldn’t be surprised if Manon did some kind of spy-like commando roll across the floor.
That evening, Francois-Xavier and Renee return, kissing and canoodling as they go, which I’m sure is for my benefit because it looks rather awkward to kiss like that in motion.
Manon stands in front of them as they are about to go upstairs. She gives me a surreptitious nod, which is my signal, but to do what I’m still not sure.
‘Francois-Xavier,’ she says in a saccharine voice that is very unlike Manon. ‘Can I have a private word with you?’
‘What about?’
