Alice-Miranda in the Alps Page 7

  Jacinta burst through the surface. ‘Marco!’

  ‘Polo,’ the children shouted.

  Jacinta pushed off the bottom of the pool and pounced, grabbing hold of something huge and hairy.

  Otto squealed.

  ‘Eew! What’s that?’ Jacinta screamed, opening her eyes to see she was clutching the hotelier’s hairy arm. She immediately let go, her face flushing the same colour as the man’s goggles. ‘S-sorry, Herr Fanger, I didn’t realise you were here.’

  ‘It is all right, Miss Jacinta,’ the man replied. ‘I am just doing my exercises.’

  Millie and Sloane were treading water in the middle of the pool, biting their fists to stop themselves from howling with laughter.

  ‘Does Gertie go in the water?’ Alice-Miranda asked, swimming over to the man. She gestured to the dog, who was now stretched out full-length on the sun lounger, fast asleep.

  ‘Oh, goodness no,’ Otto replied. ‘She does not like to get wet at all but she loves to dress up.’

  Millie rolled her eyes, imagining what the dog’s groomers must go through.

  ‘Does Frau Doerflinger enjoy swimming?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘My poor Delphine never has time to relax. She is so busy with the hotel and the chocolate factory and soon we will have another … Oops!’ The man tittered and covered his mouth. ‘Anyway, soon we will celebrate.’

  Alice-Miranda frowned, wondering what Herr Fanger was talking about.

  ‘Your eyes are really red,’ Millie said, looking at her friend. ‘Do they hurt?’

  Alice-Miranda nodded. ‘They are stinging a bit. I’ll go upstairs and find my goggles and see where Daddy has got to,’ she replied, swimming over to the pool’s edge and climbing out of the water. ‘Bye, Herr Fanger.’

  The man waved goodbye and put his earphones back in. He thrust his arms into the air and began to sing along with the music, perfectly executing every move to ‘YMCA’.

  Alice-Miranda hurried up the stairs. As she reached the top, a tall man in a dark suit and hat, with an overcoat slung across his left arm and a briefcase in his right hand, walked out of a doorway ahead of her and along the hall.

  ‘Uncle Florian!’ the girl gasped and rushed towards him.

  The man’s jaw dropped.

  ‘It’s so lovely to see you,’ Alice-Miranda said, throwing her arms around his waist.

  Florian von Zwicky leaned down and hugged the girl back. She kissed him on one cheek then the other and then the first again. For a moment Florian’s face seemed frozen. ‘W-whatever are you doing here?’ he whispered.

  ‘We came for the White Turf racing,’ the child explained. ‘Highton’s is one of the sponsors. Daddy’s been trying to get in touch with you for ages but he says that your phone doesn’t let him leave a message. He and Mummy had hoped we could come to Zermatt for some of the time too but your hotel was fully booked.’

  The Baron’s brow creased at this. ‘There must be something wrong with that confounding phone. The hotel is certainly not full.’

  ‘That’s strange.’ Alice-Miranda frowned for a split second before breaking into a smile. ‘It doesn’t matter. Mummy and Daddy will be so excited to see you. Is Aunt Giselle here too?’

  Florian took a deep breath and shook his head. ‘No, Aunt Giselle is at home. I’m just doing some business and … I’d rather you didn’t tell your parents.’

  Alice-Miranda was surprised to hear this. She looked at the Baron with new eyes. The man seemed drawn and tired and not at all like the jolly, old fellow she knew. ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked him.

  ‘Of course, of course. I just have a lot of things on my mind and I’d rather not burden your parents with any of it,’ Florian replied with a smile. ‘Is it too much to ask that you keep our meeting between us?’

  Alice-Miranda considered this. ‘I can keep a secret, if that’s what you want.’

  The Baron exhaled, visibly relieved. ‘Yes, it is. Thank you, sweet girl.’

  ‘Are you going home now?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ he said.

  ‘You might not be able to avoid us if we’re staying in the same hotel,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘It’s not that big, really.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not staying here,’ Florian replied. He heard a noise and turned to see a door opening back along the hall. ‘I have to go. Goodbye, my dear.’ He planted a kiss on Alice-Miranda’s head and dashed away.

  As Alice-Miranda stood there wondering about the Baron’s reason for keeping his visit a secret, two men emerged from the same room she’d seen Uncle Florian leaving. They walked right past her as if she were invisible. Deep in thought, Alice-Miranda set off for the lift in the foyer. The men, it seemed, were headed there too. The three of them stood together waiting for the carriage.

  ‘He is desperate,’ the taller of the two men said.

  The other man nodded. ‘It is sad to see a great man brought to his knees like that, but one man’s loss is another’s gain.’

  The tall, bald man grinned. ‘Yes, I think the boss will be very happy.’

  The lift doors opened and the taller of the two men held out his arm for Alice-Miranda. She stepped inside and waited to see which floor they were going to.

  The shorter man in the flashy pinstriped suit pressed the number eight and looked around at Alice-Miranda. ‘Which level do you need, little girl?’ he asked.

  ‘Same, thank you,’ she replied, hoping they would continue their conversation.

  The short man examined his reflection in the mirror and smoothed his grey hair. ‘I just wish he had signed the papers. Do you think he will understand the fine print?’

  The tall man shook his head. ‘I am a lawyer and I could hardly understand it.’

  ‘Are you sure it’s binding? What if he finds out and takes legal action?’ the other man said, his tone growing serious.

  The bald man raised his eyebrows. ‘With what? He has no money left and he will be paid for the sale – just at our rate, not his. Any longwinded legal battle will likely go badly for him. He should take the money and run.’

  The short man chuckled. ‘He looked like he wanted to run out of our meeting.’

  Alice-Miranda glanced at him in the mirror. She knew she shouldn’t be listening but she couldn’t help it and it wasn’t as if they were being particularly discreet.

  ‘Tomorrow morning he will deliver the papers to the office,’ the taller man said, ‘and in a week we should be getting some nice, fat bonuses.’

  The shorter man pressed his finger to his lips as he caught sight of Alice-Miranda looking at his reflection.

  ‘She’s just a kid,’ the taller man whispered.

  Alice-Miranda immediately looked away, She didn’t like the sound of this. Uncle Florian would never sell the Grand Hotel Von Zwicky, not unless something was terribly wrong. She had promised not to tell her parents he was in St Moritz but now she wasn’t so sure that was the best idea.

  The lift shuddered to a halt and the doors slid open. The shorter man stepped aside and motioned for Alice-Miranda to go ahead of them. She smiled and scurried into the hallway, taking the first right and almost colliding with Frau Doerflinger.

  ‘Watch where you’re going, child,’ the woman snapped.

  Alice-Miranda apologised and continued down the corridor. She had far more important things on her mind than the cranky hotelier. She had to find her father and track down Uncle Florian right away.

  Alice-Miranda burst into the suite. She rushed to her parent’s bedroom and knocked gently on the door before pushing it open.

  ‘Daddy,’ she said, scurrying over to the bed and tapping her snoozing father on the shoulder.

  Hugh’s whole body tensed and he sat bolt upright. ‘Hello darling. I was just coming down to the pool,’ he said as he swivelled his legs to the floor.

  Alice-Miranda looked at him. ‘You were sound asleep.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, grinning at her. ‘I just put my head down for a minut
e. I guess I’m not as young as I used to be.’

  ‘Daddy, I just saw Uncle Florian downstairs –’

  ‘Oh, how wonderful!’ Hugh exclaimed. ‘Your mother will be so pleased.’

  Alice-Miranda shook her head. ‘It’s not wonderful, Daddy. He asked me not to tell you that I saw him.’

  Hugh frowned. ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure at first, but I think I have an idea,’ the child said urgently. ‘When he left, I overheard a conversation between two men I think he had just had a meeting with, and it didn’t sound good. We’ve got to find the Baron before it’s too late.’

  ‘Too late for what?’ Hugh said. He wondered if he was still dreaming.

  ‘I’ll tell you as soon as I’m dressed,’ Alice-Miranda said, racing off to her bedroom.

  Hugh pulled a grey sweater over his shirt. ‘Where are the others?’

  ‘At the pool,’ she shouted back.

  ‘I’ll call down and let them know something’s come up or else they’ll be worried about you,’ Hugh said, trying to locate his boots.

  ‘Thank you,’ Alice-Miranda yelled, changing as quickly as she could. Uncle Florian was some where in St Moritz and she had a pretty good idea where they should look first.

  Mrs Oliver had just come through the revolving door and was brushing snowflakes from her shoulders when she spotted Alice-Miranda and Hugh charging across the foyer.

  ‘Hello there. Where are you two going in such a hurry?’ the woman asked.

  ‘We’ll have to tell you later as we’re in a bit of a rush,’ Hugh replied. ‘How’s Cyril?’

  ‘I’m afraid he has a dislocated shoulder and a severe concussion. The doctor said that if it wasn’t for his helmet he’d be in a very bad state.’ Dolly sighed, shaking her head. ‘He will have to stay in the hospital for at least a couple of days and he’s not to fly for another week.’

  ‘Poor Cyril,’ Alice-Miranda said.

  ‘He’s worried about how we’re going to get home but I told him not to fret about that at all,’ Dolly said. ‘You know how he hates letting anyone else take charge when it comes to flying the family.’

  Hugh nodded. ‘We’ll work something out.’

  Alice-Miranda looked at her father. ‘I’ve got an idea, Daddy.’

  ‘You can tell me on the way,’ Hugh said, pulling on his gloves. ‘And everything else too. See you later, Dolly.’

  With that, the pair bundled out into the cold, leaving Mrs Oliver wondering what on earth was going on.

  ‘I hope Uncle Florian won’t be too cross with me, Daddy,’ Alice-Miranda said.

  ‘Don’t worry, darling, it was right of you to tell me,’ Hugh assured her. ‘He’s a proud man, but I won’t let him lose the hotel. It’s been in his family for over a century.’ He pushed open the door to the guesthouse they had visited the day before. ‘After you.’

  The pungent smell of sweaty ski boots made an immediate assault on the pair’s nostrils.

  Hugh grimaced. ‘Good grief. I think that’s worse than yesterday.’

  The receptionist seemed to be in the exact same position and possibly reading the same magazine. She didn’t even look up when Hugh cleared his throat and Alice-Miranda called out hello. Hugh promptly picked up the little bell on the countertop and gave it a very loud tinkle.

  The young woman finally glanced up. ‘Oh, hello. Sorry, still no barons or princes or kings.’

  ‘I think our friend might have checked in under a different name,’ Hugh said.

  ‘Ooh, he must be super-important then,’ the woman replied, perking up. ‘I love it when celebrities use pseudonyms. Is he a celebrity? I’ve heard Lawrence Ridley calls himself George Grant.’

  Alice-Miranda frowned. ‘Is that true, Daddy? I’ve never heard Uncle Lawrence do that.’

  ‘I wouldn’t count on the reliability of the information you get in Gloss and Goss,’ Hugh said, eyeing the open tabloid on the counter.

  The woman’s eyes almost popped out of her head. ‘Uncle Lawrence?’

  ‘He’s married to my Aunt Charlotte,’ Alice-Miranda explained.

  The woman’s face began to contort and she looked as if she might cry.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Alice-Miranda asked her.

  ‘I just can’t believe you’re related to Lawrence Ridley,’ the woman said, fanning herself. ‘He’s so dreamy.’

  Alice-Miranda grinned. ‘My friend Jacinta thinks so too. He and Aunt Charlotte were hoping to come to St Moritz but he’s busy shooting a movie and Aunt Charlotte thought the babies were still too little for a ski trip. I can’t wait until they’re old enough to learn,’ she gushed.

  ‘But we’re not here to talk about Uncle Lawrence, are we, darling?’ her father said, giving Alice-Miranda a nudge. He was worried the woman might pass out before they had time to ask her about the Baron. ‘Do you have anyone registered under the name of Florian?’ he asked.

  The receptionist pushed away the magazine and pulled the guest register towards her. She scanned the page. ‘Mmm, so your friend might be using an assumed name.’

  Hugh nodded. ‘Yes, I imagine so.’

  ‘Then I probably shouldn’t tell you,’ the girl replied. ‘It sounds as if he doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s here.’

  Hugh smiled at the woman. ‘Yes, you’re probably right.’

  ‘But, Daddy, we have to find Uncle Florian or else he’s going to do something he’ll regret,’ Alice-Miranda implored her father.

  ‘I can’t make … I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,’ he said, turning back to the receptionist.

  ‘It’s Christiane,’ she replied. ‘Christiane Birchler.’

  ‘Darling, I can’t make Christiane tell us if she doesn’t want to,’ Hugh said, giving his daughter a meaningful look.

  Alice-Miranda’s eyes grew wide as she cottoned on. ‘What about …’ She glanced at her father. ‘What if I asked Uncle Lawrence to send Miss Birchler an autographed picture?’

  Hugh shook his head forlornly. ‘Oh, I’m sure she wouldn’t tell us, not even for that.’

  ‘A signed photograph of Lawrence Ridley with my name on it?’ Christiane stared at the pair of them as if they were mad. ‘I’d tell you the name of every guest in this hotel for that.’

  Hugh grinned. ‘There’s no need to go overboard.’

  ‘I’ll send Uncle Lawrence a message as soon as we get back to the hotel,’ Alice-Miranda said.

  ‘Really?’ Christiane’s eyes were brimming with tears.

  ‘Please don’t cry, Miss Birchler,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘Uncle Lawrence wouldn’t like that at all.’

  The bell above the front door jingled as someone came in from the street. Alice-Miranda looked around and gasped. ‘Hello Uncle Florian,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Oh no,’ Christiane sighed dramatically. ‘Now I won’t get my autograph.’

  Hugh quickly went to greet his friend. ‘Before you say a word, Alice-Miranda only told me you were here because of something she overheard.’

  The child nodded. ‘I promise, Uncle Florian. I wasn’t going to tell, but I had to.’

  The Baron shook his head. ‘It is fine. It is just a short-term loan.’

  ‘It’s not,’ Alice-Miranda insisted, taking him by the hand. ‘They’re going to seize the hotel.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Florian said, his forehead creasing.

  ‘Is there somewhere we can go to talk in private?’ Hugh asked Christiane, who seemed to be much more interested in what was going on now that she realised her guest was using an assumed name.

  ‘The breakfast room is empty,’ she replied reluctantly. She considered snapping a couple of photographs to see if she could interest Gloss and Goss in the niece and brother-in-law of Lawrence Ridley.

  ‘Through there.’ Florian pointed at a doorway off to the left.

  ‘It’s good to see you, Florian,’ Hugh said.

  The Baron smiled. ‘It is good to see you too, my friend.’

&n
bsp; The two men embraced and followed Alice-Miranda into the room.

  Giselle von Zwicky made her way through the hotel lobby, turning off the lights as she went. The bar had closed an hour ago and she had sent the chef home just after nine. There was no point having staff in the kitchen to cook for an empty dining room. She could hear the happy shouts of holiday-makers, and looked out the window. Snow had been falling steadily since midday and tomorrow was forecast to be fine. It would be a beautiful day on the mountain. She wondered if she should abandon her post – at least if she was skiing she could forget about their troubles, even if it was just for a little while.

  Giselle walked to the huge double front doors with their ornate iron lacework set against carved mahogany panels and turned the lock. The handful of guests who were staying had keys to the side door.

  She wondered if Florian had called. He had left the day before with a spring in his step – something she hadn’t seen for a long time. He had kissed her softly and told her that everything would be all right, to trust him. Of course she did. They had been married for more than forty years and never once had he let her down. But this – this was inexplicable. In all the years they had run the hotel, never had there been so few guests. None of it made sense. They hadn’t let things slide, the place was as beautiful as it ever was – better, really, with their ongoing program of refurbishments. Even good friends seemed to have abandoned them. She had thought they might see Hugh and Cecelia this season but there had been no booking and no word. Though she could have telephoned Cecelia, the truth was she couldn’t bear another rejection.

  As she crossed the foyer, Giselle noticed a beam of light shining along the bottom of the office door. She pushed it open and gasped. ‘Valerie, my dear, you scared me half to death.’

  A young woman looked up from one of the desks. ‘My apologies, Baroness. I was just catching up on some work,’ she said.

  The cuckoo clock above the fireplace sprang to life, the little bird popping in and out of its house eleven times.

  Giselle patted her chest and took a deep breath to steady her racing heart. ‘You should go home. It is far too late and I am afraid I cannot pay you any overtime at the moment.’