23.

Thérèse Clement was one of those immaculate women who somehow seemed to have a presence much greater than her petite physique.

She was dressed in a stylish light-blue trouser suit with soft leather boots. She had a long silk tie knotted loosely around her neck and her jet-black hair was cropped, the front swept up and away from her high forehead. Her skin was flawless, her large hooded brown eyes set above razor-sharp cheekbones, and she smelt intoxicatingly expensive.

She was, Alice thought, utterly intimidating as only French women could be. But she’d also been utterly rude.

Alice sat with her knees turned in neatly on the pink silk sofa in the Messents’ drawing room, acting like she hadn’t ever set foot in this house before, and thanking her lucky stars that neither Thérèse nor the Messents had seen her when she’d been summoned here by Detective Rigby on the night of Enya’s death.

She felt self-conscious in the black suit that Jinx had chosen for her and tried to still her trembling hands, clasping them tightly together in her lap — making her feel worryingly like a nun. She longed to touch her necklace for comfort, but Jinx had told her not to wear it and she couldn’t help feeling that a part of her was missing.

Thérèse was reading the dodgy credentials Helly had printed for her. She wondered whether her alter ego, Caroline Doulton – a cobbled-together identity made up of an old school friend and her former mentor — was going to work.

She’d almost lost her nerve twice on the way here, but Jinx had dropped her a street away in a cab and had assured her that she’d be right there on the other end of the phone. Despite her earlier confidence, Alice had started to get cold feet and she’d clung to Jinx feeling unexpectedly jittery for a whole second or two before letting her go.

But she was here now, she told herself. She just had to hold her nerve and bluff it out, even if Thérèse’s silent scrutiny still felt unbearable. In the hall, a rather splendid antique-looking grandfather clock ticked loudly.

‘I hope you don’t mind about the dog. I came at such short notice from the agency, you see,’ Alice blurted, with a nervous smile. Agatha was sitting by the sofa, Alice’s foot firmly on her lead. ‘I can arrange for her to stay elsewhere, but um … Miss Beeton — er, yes, at the agency — she told me to come straight away.’ It felt ridiculous, referring to herself like this. She was going to have to get better at this charade if she was going to last.

‘I don’t think that’ll be necessary, as long as she’s trained and does not um … how do you say it … do the business … on any of the carpets.’ Thérèse didn’t look up.

‘Good,’ Alice said, ‘and she most certainly would not.’ Or at least Alice would most certainly clean it up sharpish if she did.

Jinx and Helly had been horrified that Alice had insisted on bringing Agatha, but Alice needed an ally in the house otherwise she’d lose her nerve.

The front door slammed and, through the open drawing room doorway, Alice saw a girl dash across the hallway in long strides and up the central stairs.

‘Laura,’ Thérèse called out.

Reluctantly, Laura reversed back down the stairs and walked over to the door. She was a pretty girl, wearing an ugly sports hoodie that was far too big and black jeans with ripped knees and huge, clumpy boots. Large headphones were slung around her neck, the tinny sound of angry music coming out. As Thérèse spoke to her sharply in French – something about being pleasant to the new lady was all Alice’s O-level French picked out – Laura lolled against the doorframe in bored resignation, and all that was missing to complete the stroppy French teen look was a flick of cigarette ash and a pop of pink bubble gum.

‘Laura, meet Caroline.’ Thérèse switched seamlessly back into English. ‘She’s our new housekeeper.’

Laura’s heavily outlined eyes briefly met Alice’s. She was wearing a lot of foundation but it didn’t conceal the spots on her forehead. Lack of fruit, vegetables and hydration, thought Alice, seeing the dullness of the child’s skin. She’d be sorting that out for starters. Then she checked herself.

Had she heard right? Had Thérèse given her the job? Just like that?

It stunned her that Thérèse was so trusting. It was only now, seeing this process of recruitment ‘live’ for the first time, that Alice realised how important her agency’s reputation was. Because Thérèse had accepted that Alice had come pre-vetted by the agency. An agency whose reputation would be in tatters if this went wrong.

‘Hi,’ Laura said, with an insincere attempt at a smile, holding up her hand.

Agatha barked once and Alice shushed her.

‘Oh! Is that your dog?’ Laura asked, only noticing Agatha now.

‘Yes. I didn’t have anywhere to leave her, so I brought her along. I hope you don’t mind?’ Alice let go of the lead and Agatha scampered over.

Laura crouched down to pet her. ‘She’s cute.’

‘You can pick her up,’ Alice said. ‘If you want. She likes a cuddle.’

Laura turned off her headphones and cradled Agatha over her shoulder like a baby, then laughed as Agatha snuffled her ear.

‘Bonjour, petite,’ Laura said with a smile.

Thérèse raised her eyebrows. She’d clearly expected Laura to be a lot more obstructive.

‘Can I take her?’ Laura asked. ‘To my room. I want to show my friends.’

She meant on the phone, Alice realised, taking a second to keep up. Thérèse shrugged, indicating that the decision was Alice’s.

‘If you’d like.’

Laura turned and walked upstairs with Agatha, who looked over her shoulder at Alice, and Alice wondered whether she actually winked.

And that’s when she noticed the hardly perceptible lowering of Thérèse’s shoulders. It must be fairly stressful to be tasked with finding a trusted housekeeper at such very short notice, Alice thought. Especially considering what had happened to the last one.

Handing back Alice’s CV, Thérèse smiled for the first time. A smile that revealed that she was wearing one of those plastic braces that were all the rage. Alice, whose own teeth, although rather overlapping in places, were perfectly passable, was fascinated by the fad for adult orthodontics. Although, Eva, one of her housekeepers, had got her teeth done on holiday in Turkey a few years ago, and had come back looking like a completely different person. Oh! Eva, Alice thought. She would have been perfect for this job. Why, oh why had she had to fall in love with that bodyguard from New York?

‘You’re just what we need. And it seems that Laura is on board. It’s tricky dealing with a sixteen-year-old. She’s not always so … agreeable. So, thank you for coming, Caroline,’ Thérèse said.

Alice looked around. Who on earth was she talking to? Oh gosh! She rapidly swivelled back.

‘Wonderful.’ She grinned, because, of course, Caroline was now her.

‘Très bien.’ Thérèse clapped her perfectly manicured hands together. ‘Let me show you around. The first thing you must know is that Monsieur Messent – and we have cleaners in three times a week to ensure this is so – he is very exacting …’

‘Exacting?’

‘Insofar as he likes everything to be—’ she threw her hands up in search of the right phrase ‘—just so. You know. Tidy. Neat.’

Like his study had been, Alice remembered. Or at least until Enya had been killed.

The next hour passed in a blur, as Thérèse took Alice on a whistlestop tour of the house — with the notable exception of Monsieur Messent’s study, which she told Alice was ‘strictly private and not for you to go into’ – before announcing that she and her boss, Camille Messent, would be leaving shortly.

Alice hardly had time to take in her cramped little staff quarters in the attic, before Thérèse whisked her down to the family kitchen. There was no food, Thérèse explained, in an exasperated way, opening the cupboards and fridge, so Alice would have to order supper in tonight.

Hurrying downstairs to the staff kitchen where Jacques had worked on New Year’s Eve, Thérèse led her into the little back office there – which she referred to as the ‘’owskeepers office’ – and presented her with an iPad, explaining that it was already set up for doing all the household shopping and food delivery orders from Harrods.

Alice was about to protest that she was perfectly happy to go to actual shops to stock the kitchen, but Thérèse cut her off, looking at her phone and pulling a face.

‘I must go, but there’s nothing to it,’ Thérèse said, with a look as if to say that being a housekeeper was a doddle.

‘Are there any alarms I need to know about? In case I go out and there’s no one else here? Or spare keys in case anyone loses theirs?’ Alice asked. Any that might fit a certain study? she was actually thinking.

‘Ah, oui. We are very security conscious, particularly after …’ Thérèse looked Alice up and down. ‘ … I’m assuming your boss lady … the very stiff upper lip one …’

‘Miss Beeton,’ Alice said, trying not to sound offended.

‘ … yes, your Miss Beeton,’ Thérèse continued, ‘I assume she has told you all about our – how shall I put this? – troubles over New Year?’

Troubles. Hardly the phrase Alice would have used. More like murder most foul. Only from the testy, if determined, little smile on Thérèse’s face, it seemed this whole episode was already something to be glossed over in this house.

‘Yes … Enya …’ Alice said.

‘The burglary,’ Thérèse corrected her, like Alice had simply mispronounced the word. ‘The family … I suppose all of us … and particularly for the child … we all just want to move on.’

‘Yes, I’m sure,’ Alice said. To move on and forget. Like Enya’s life hadn’t been worth anything at all.

‘You must of course always put the alarm on if there’s no one in the house,’ Thérèse said. ‘I’ll WhatsApp you the codes and the instructions. Obviously, you read French, no?’

Ah, oui, un pois, or at least I’m sure I’ll be able to figure it out,’ Alice said, already worrying now whether she had just said pois and not peu? ‘And the keys?’ she reminded Thérèse.

‘Here.’ Dipping into her purse, she pulled out a jangly set of twenty or so keys on a brass ring. ‘Everything you’ll need.’

Back upstairs in the hall, Camille Messent was striding down the stairs in heeled boots, carrying a small overnight case with a large gold double-C on its side. She was talking on the phone in French. When Thérèse pointed Alice out, she smiled apologetically and held up a finger, which was adorned in a rather funky square-cut aquamarine ring, a gesture that Alice interpreted as pausing their introduction until she had more time.

Alice smiled back, thinking how extraordinarily beautiful Camille Messent was in person. The photographs that Alice had studied when she’d visited Enya really didn’t do her justice. She was wearing a midnight-blue silk jumpsuit with a collection of thin gold chains, and a leather coat with a fake fur collar. She had the kind of soft but commanding voice that made Alice want to listen to her all day. Not that she could understand what she was saying. No wonder this woman had an amazing job and a hectic life. She must be in demand everywhere. Alice suddenly felt ashamed that she’d been so judgemental about her leaving her daughter at this time. Perhaps her husband needed to be doing more to step up? Though she remembered the warning Katy Ellison had given her about them as a couple too. Who knew what lay beneath this smart veneer?

Thérèse suddenly seemed much less glamorous in the wake of her boss. She was busy shoving papers and chargers into a stylish leather case and barely managed the most hurried of goodbyes to Alice, who babbled several pressing questions about her actual duties. Like, were there any social functions she needed to be preparing for? And when would Monsieur Messent next be home? Oh, and where did Laura even go to school?

But Thérèse told her to message any queries. And with that, she was gone, trotting down the front steps after Madame Messent and into a waiting black cab.