Chapter 27
Chapter 27
Fran had fully intended to follow everyone else outside. The process of mustering guests and employees as far away as was practical from the approaching wildfire was in full swing, the noise of the fire alarm ripped through every other thought or action, and she was out of her room before she realised she’d left her passport and bag behind. Her phone was in her pocket, but in her haste she’d left everything else.
From the main foyer, Fran could see people beginning to pool quite a way down the chateau’s main driveway. Further down than the designated muster point, because although the chateau itself wasn’t on fire yet, the fire was whipping through the surrounding farmland, vineyards and grasslands, driven on by the strength of the wind. This wasn’t the only fire in the area, she’d gleaned that much information, and the fact that a number of fires had broken out almost simultaneously was stretching the resources of the fire brigade to breaking point.
The emergency services would be at Chateau les Champs d’Or as quickly as possible, but how quickly was pure conjecture.
Today the mention of les pompiers did nothing to amuse Fran, all the jokes from earlier in the week falling away at the thought that this was real, this fire was intense and spreading almost uncontrollably, that it looked as though the chateau might be next in its path and there was no way for the sheer number of people pouring out of the hotel to go anywhere other than across the bridge and hope the river would provide a barrier to escape the spreading fires.
She was about to head outside when a thought struck her. What about Red? She’d forgotten about him. The cat must be terrified. Everywhere he was familiar with was on fire, or about to ignite. Where would he go to seek safety? Everywhere Fran had ever seen him was in the path of the fire.
Fran made a split-second decision and slipped away from the doorway, running instead for the side door, the staff door through which she’d gone the very first time she’d met Red. It was open, left ajar by someone in the flurry of panic, she assumed. Pushing it fully open, Fran shot through it and headed along the side of the chateau, heading for the long grass where Red had first made himself known.
This time the squeaky mouse noises she made were almost supersonic, her lips so dry she could hardly manage the sound at all. Whether or not the cat would be able to hear her was in the lap of the gods, the wind was whipping the sound away from her lips the moment she made it.
With no sign of the cat, Fran continued to work her way around the rear of the building, getting her first blast of smoke full in the face. She took a lungful before she could stop herself, pushing most of it back out on a reflexive coughing fit.
She should head back and wait with the others. From ground level, it was difficult to see anything through the bloom of smoke, impossible to know how close the actual flames were. The last strand of logic Fran was hanging on to told her it would be impossible to spot a small ginger cat in these conditions, that this was a dangerous situation, and she should leave it. Right now.
But logic and love didn’t necessarily make ideal travelling companions, and Fran knew, above anything else in that moment, that she loved that scruffy, scrawny little bundle of trouble. And she also knew there was no way she was going to abandon him.
Wrapping her gauzy scarf as a makeshift face mask, she continued around the back of the pool area. Perhaps Red had taken himself up into the canopy of the oak with the split trunk – that was where he’d gone the last time he’d panicked.
Doing her best to call for him as she went, Fran blinked and coughed as the smoke became thicker, stinging her eyes and scratching at the back of her throat; beating her back.
‘Red, where are you?’
Tears streamed from her eyes, not all of them a result of the acrid smoke, her voice ragged and desperate. As she reached the edge of the meadow, she did her best to wipe the tears away, only to have them replaced by more. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open at all, the lids felt swollen and uncooperative, and she was coughing more than calling, now.
An enormous pop, like a firework, had Fran straining to see clearly through the swirling smoke. She could just about make out a pulsing of colours, reds and yellows, amongst a dense cloud of smoke, still some way away from where she stood and obscured by the heavy atmosphere, and yet somehow Fran knew exactly what was burning. The oak with the split trunk. Red’s hiding place.
‘No, no, no …’
If the cat had been taking refuge in the strong branches of that ancient tree, there would be no way for him to escape. No way for Fran to get close enough to help him.
The image of that beautiful little ginger cat perishing in the flames was too horrendous to contemplate. She couldn’t cope with the thought of it, couldn’t go any further forwards because there was grass under her feet, dried grass just waiting to burst into flames. There was nothing more Fran could do, except retreat.
A crack and a whoomph pulled Fran’s total attention, the swirling in the cloud-like gloom giving her a glimpse of the oak. Only a partial tree remained, burning into the sky like a medieval torch, the other half slumped like a corpse and burning bonfire-hot on the ground.
Fire tracked in all directions from the base of the tree, from the place where only a few days ago Fran had lain with Johnny and had contemplated her life taking a different turn.
But right now there was only one thing to contemplate. With the flames drawing closer, Fran turned on her heels and tried to run. But the smoke was thickening by the second, making it difficult to catch her breath even through her makeshift mask. No longer sure which way she was facing, her eyes all but closed against the harsh abrasion of the particles in the air, Fran felt for something familiar, eventually hitting the stone of a wall. With no way of telling which wall she was touching, but with her options narrowed to the roughly hewn granite beneath her fingers, she kept her hand on it, hoping she was heading in the correct direction and that her path would bring her back around the building and to safety.
On the edge of the ragtag group of people mustered by the bridge which spanned the tributary of a larger river, and the area considered to be the safest place for the hotel guests and staff alike to wait for the arrival of the emergency services, Johnny searched the faces again. She wasn’t there. He couldn’t see Fran anywhere. He caught sight of Noel, heading in his direction with a bundle of hastily grabbed footwear in his hands, the expression on his face a mirror of the concern written across everyone’s features. Noel dropped his armful of shoes and grabbed Johnny by his shoulders, forcing him to stand still and focus.
‘Thank God you’re out here. I thought the whole thing was some sort of a drill until the busboy hammered on my door. Wouldn’t even give me time to put on some proper shoes.’ Noel gestured to the sliders on his otherwise bare feet, then reached for a pair of trainers. ‘That alarm nearly drilled a hole in my brain it was so loud. Needs to be, I suppose, to get everyone out.’
‘Everyone isn’t out, though. I can’t see Fran anywhere,’ Johnny said.
‘Who? Ed and Ricky went out for the day, so they’re OK. Who are you looking for?’ Noel said.
‘Fran. She’s not out here.’ Johnny was scanning the group again.
‘Fran?’ Noel’s incomprehension forced Johnny to concentrate on him for a moment.
‘Our waitress. The one you … She and I … Doesn’t matter. Dark bobbed hair. She brought you those ridiculous chips, remember?’
Noel’s confusion lifted, a nod of comprehension at Johnny’s explanation. ‘Didn’t know her name was Fran.’
‘Well it is, and she’s not out here. I can’t see her anywhere.’
‘Are you sure she was in the hotel?’ Noel asked, hanging on to him again. ‘Maybe she’s not on site at the moment. Maybe she’s gone out for the day.’
‘I saw her earlier, she must be here,’ Johnny said.
‘Just because you saw her earlier doesn’t mean she’s still here, though, does it?’
Johnny shook his head. Noel was being a complete imbecile. ‘You’re not listening. Yes, she is. Several people saw her after the fire alarm sounded. She was in the foyer as they were heading outside, but nobody has seen her out here. Nobody knows where she is.’ Johnny broke away from Noel’s grasp, gesturing towards the hotel. ‘Maybe she fell on her way out. Maybe she’s hurt and can’t walk. Look at it, Noel. The whole place is going to go up any minute.’
The chateau loomed out of what looked like – from this distance, at least – a heavy grey fog. Although the way the grey was pluming and billowing, it more closely resembled one of those supernatural foggy manifestations in one of the many apocalyptic movies they’d watched when they were kids. But this wasn’t supernatural, or fog. Smoke was billowing right over the turrets of the chateau, and although they couldn’t see the fire, there must be an inferno to be creating all that smog.
It looked bad. Bad enough that it became clear Noel wasn’t the least bit keen on going any closer to it than where he was currently standing.
‘We should wait for help, mate. Wait for the experts.’
‘I can’t wait for the emergency services; it might be too late by then. I’m going to go and look for her.’
Johnny was on the move before Noel could argue further.
‘You can’t be serious,’ Noel said, skipping every few strides to keep up with him. ‘There’ll be a fire engine here any second. Let them go in and look for her. They’ve got all the proper equipment, breathing apparatus, all that.’
Johnny was still striding, heading back up the driveway, a little surprised that Noel was doing his best to keep pace, even though chips of granite kept flicking up between the soles of his feet and his sliders. Every now and again he stopped to flap the stones out.
‘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. ‘You want me to consider my family?’
‘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 him from 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 a bon 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 for les pompiers and 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.