‘Mrs Warp, when will we see Mum and Dad?’ asked Kate.
‘Very soon dear,’ said Mrs Warp, ‘They are going to let your father out tomorrow.’
Kate could see Hector looking to the window. The bright sunshine of a brilliant spring morning might just as well have written in the air ‘please explore the château’. With five floors, if you included the cellars, and large grounds, the château was an open invitation neither Kate nor Hector were going to ignore.
Just fifteen minutes later Kate’s worst fears were realised, as Hector had managed to get the contents of every little pot of honey, jam, marmalade, margarine and butter onto his face, hands, arms, hair, the bed, the sheets, and even a portion of the wall behind the headrest. As Mrs Warp dragged him out, Kate could even see some jam on one of his feet.
Kate ignored Hector’s shouts for help as Mrs Warp made him wash in the shower. Kate went to the window and looked out over the sunlit lawns and paths. She felt her spirits rise.
Once Hector was out of the shower and getting dressed, Kate asked Mrs Warp about the gardens. Mrs Warp began to describe various plants and trees in much more detail than was needed. As Hector struggled with his socks, and Kate’s conversation with Mrs Warp continued, Kate sensed something unusual about Mrs Warp. If asked she would not have been able to explain her feeling; it was just a feeling. Mrs Warp was odd.
Kate and Hector’s clothes appeared to have been washed and dried in the night. Once they were dressed, Mrs Warp was quite happy for them to explore and enjoy themselves. They started with the cellars, which were a great deal less exciting than they expected. They were full of junk, rubbish and abandoned furniture. One room was locked, and although Hector was excited by the possibility of mystery and adventure, these lively expectations were soon doused by Mrs Warp, who informed them that it was the gardener’s room.
They worked their way up the different floors, finding nooks, hidden rooms and grandiose areas for entertainment. There was an air of decay, painted over with a new layer of synthetic hope. It was a monument to an era passed, but a fantastic place for hide and seek.
A short time later Kate was hiding on the second floor. She could hear Hector’s taunts as he advanced up the main staircase. The problem, Kate had discovered, was that so many of the rooms were poorly furnished. They were large, but there were very few places in which to hide. Hector’s confidence that he had her caught, cornered, and that he was closing in, was justified.
Kate slithered up the banister, trying to press her weight down using her hands so that her feet would not make the floorboards creak. The top floor was much smaller and only had three rooms, but it was her last hope with the advancing, gloating Hector stumping ever upwards.
Kate opened one of the doors, gripping the door handle much more tightly than was necessary, to discover a small cupboard full of coats and old clothes. She quickly buried herself in a smelly pile of discarded curtains.
Kate could feel her heart beating as Hector’s heavy tread reached the top floor. It was only Hector, and nowhere near as dangerous as the previous day’s events, but it was still thrilling and jangling and breathtaking. It was something of a disappointment to hear Hector’s voice exclaim in awe, rather than gloating threat.
‘Wow,’ said Hector, ‘I can see everywhere,’ Then he shouted, ‘Whatever you do Kate, I can see you.’
Kate did not hesitate. The game was over, Hector had definitely discovered something.
As Kate scrambled out from under the curtains, through the landing and on through the next open door, her jaw dropped as she took in the vast array of television screens, all of which showed different views of every single room in the château.
‘This is awesome,’ said Hector, whose line in hyperbole was unrivalled.
Kate, however, was gripped, not by the vast array of television screens, but by the surprising window, which had handles around its side. It was made, not of glass, but of polythene. It flapped gently in the wind. Outside the window Kate could see the beginnings of a huge rope slide.
‘Wow,’ said Hector, following Kate’s gaze, ‘let’s try it now!’
‘I really don’t think you should,’ said Mrs Warp as she entered the room, ‘For one thing, it is far too dangerous, and for another, it is time for lunch.’
‘Then why is it here?’ asked Hector.
‘It is there so anyone can escape if things get tricky. After all, this is not a normal house.’ said Mrs Warp, her usual kind smile returning.
Lunch turned out to be a vast selection of salad, meats and fruits. There were supposed to be sausages, but they had been taken, Mrs Warp explained, with a glance to the young man who had appeared at the kitchen door.
The man began to talk in French, and both Kate and Hector were surprised with the apparent ease with which Mrs Warp slipped into what they assumed was fluent French. Mrs Warp turned to Kate and Hector.
‘Do you like dogs?’ asked Mrs Warp, ‘only our gardener has been looking after his uncle’s dog. His uncle died two days ago, and no one wants the dog. You could play with it in the grounds this afternoon if you liked.’
‘His name is Bandit,’ explained the gardener in a thick accent, ‘And he is a terrible thief.’
‘Does he keep getting caught?’ asked Hector.
‘No, it’s the fact that he keeps stealing things,’ explained Mrs Warp, ‘and he has just been caught with the sausages that were for lunch.’
A young chocolate brown labrador appeared in the doorway, complete with a permanently happy look.
‘Ahh, you are soooo cute,’ exclaimed Kate, rushing to cuddle the dog.
This was what Bandit did best. He seduced his victims, stole their food, and then looked cute again so he would be forgiven. It was a constant cycle of looking cute, stealing and eating. Bandit was very good at it. He could already tell that the young female would forgive him easily, while the boy had a sticky look which, at the very least, would mean he would be good to lick.
In the garden that afternoon Bandit was more than fun. He was a runner, a jumper, and great at hide and seek. In fact, he was too good. He just used his nose. Kate noticed that when Hector went to hide while she covered Bandit’s eyes, Bandit would follow the exact path Hector had run, even if Hector had gone in zig-zags. Following a scent was just easy for him.
Bandit found other things he was not supposed to find. Hector and Kate did not know that police officers, trained by the French Special Forces, were positioned in the garden in hides dug into the ground. They could not be seen, but Bandit could smell them, and their holes in the ground were his favourite toilets. Every time Bandit trotted off to the toilet there would be a yell of complaint as a French police officer emerged covered in dog wee.
Some of the French police officers thought the whole thing was very funny, but these were generally not the ones that Bandit had used as a toilet. By late afternoon there was a gathering of police officers on the drive. Some of them wanted to get rid of Bandit, while others still thought the whole thing was funny. Kate and Hector sat with Bandit between them watching. One officer seemed to be claiming that someone had stolen his lunch, and the glances in their direction told Hector and Kate that Bandit was head of the suspect list. To be fair, Kate reflected, Bandit would be at the top of anyone’s suspect list.
Bandit was leaning on Kate, and Kate could see that Hector was leaning on Bandit. As Kate watched an exceptionally tall man with a suitcase approach the police officers, it occurred to her that Bandit was with them now, and she rather liked the idea. Bandit was probably not much use in a tight spot, but if they were murdered by an