The Winter Ghosts - By Kate Mosse Page 0,44

into the room, my laundered shirt over her arm, and carrying a breakfast tray.

‘I have brought you something to eat,’ she said.

I smiled and smoothed down the covers.

‘That’s kind of you. I seem to have quite an appetite this morning.’

I was touched by the way she found things to busy herself with in the room, while surreptitiously checking that I ate every scrap. Toasted bread, salted ham and an egg sliced perfectly in two. When I tried to thank her for her long night’s vigil, she brushed my gratitude aside. But a pink glow suffused her homely features and I could see she was pleased.

‘Your letter was delivered to your friends in Ax yesterday afternoon, monsieur. The boy can go again tomorrow once you know how things stand with your motor car.’

‘Thank you.’ I wiped my hands on the serviette. ‘You said there was someone who could help?’

She nodded. ‘Michel Breillac and his sons will be here at ten o’clock.’

‘What time is it now?’

‘It is nearly nine.’

‘Splendid. I can easily be ready within an hour.’

Concern flashed across Madame Galy’s face when she realised I intended to accompany them.

‘I do not think it would be wise, monsieur, after what you went through last evening. It is barely above freezing. Better to give Monsieur Breillac directions and leave it to him. He is a capable man.’

It seems extraordinary now that I would have contemplated an expedition after so serious a fever. But in truth, I believed the delirium had left me somehow stronger, restored. I felt invigorated, more complete in body and mind than I had been for some time.

‘I’m quite recovered,’ I said with a smile. ‘On top form, in fact.’

She shook her head. ‘It would be better to rest for one more day. You should not overtire yourself.’

‘It will be fine,’ I said firmly.

Supervising the salvage of my poor little saloon stranded up in the hills was not, of course, my primary concern. Madame Galy said she did not know Fabrissa, so I had to find someone who did. That could not be achieved by kicking my heels in the boarding house.

‘Very well, monsieur,’ she said, though I could see she thought me foolish. ‘Ten o’clock.’

After she had left, I flung back the covers and got out of bed. The floorboards were chill beneath my bare feet, but the ground held steady. I splashed cold water on my face and did my best to smooth down my errant hair. I ran my hand over my raspy chin and regretted the lack of a razor, but did not want to seek out Madame Galy once more, for fear she would renew her efforts to dissuade me from accompanying the Breillacs.

I finished dressing and pulled on my Fitwells. The leather of the sturdy old boots had contracted in the heat from the fire, but they were comfortable enough. I rummaged in my trouser pocket and retrieved my cigarette case and matches, then threw open the windows and looked out at the white place de l’Église.

I plunged my hand back into my pocket. Nothing. I balanced my cigarette on the sill. I frowned. After I had offered the yellow fabric cross to Fabrissa and she had refused it, I could have sworn I’d tucked it away. I tried the other pocket, but it was also empty. Just balls of fluff and a spent match.

Had I mislaid it on the way home? Since I had no recollection at all of how I had made it back to my room, it seemed the likeliest explanation, though I was disappointed.

‘No matter,’ I said to myself, shutting the window.

I was certain, you see, that I would find her.

The Breillac Brothers

As the last chime of the clock struck ten, I came downstairs to the reception area.

Monsieur Breillac and his two sons were already there, and introductions were quickly made. Guillaume and Pierre Breillac were twins, of eighteen or nineteen or so, their faces all but hidden by fur hats tied beneath the chin. In any event, they looked so similar I found it hard to tell them apart, until it became evident that Guillaume spoke passable English, whereas Pierre did not. Monsieur Breillac said nothing, just nodded a greeting, and I detected the same sadness in his eyes that clouded Monsieur Galy’s, Madame Galy’s too when she thought no one was watching.

She was still adamant I should not go, but when she saw I would not be deflected, found me a fur hat and muffler to wear as