Anna woke from a fathoms-deep sleep to the distant hum and clatter of trams, and the clangour of foreign-sounding bells calling people to morning Mass. Sunlight filtered through gaps in the shutters, creating moving patterns on the walls and the white cotton of her quilt. For a moment, she lay, stunned by the fact of having slept at all and listened to the bells, imagining the sound travelling over the medieval rooftops and through the still alpine air of Innsbruck’s Old Town. Then she remembered Candlestick Lane where Thomas Kirchmann’s father had died in a hail of bullets; Michael Kirchmann, a hero of Innsbruck. And Clara Brunner’s troubled blue gaze as she said: ‘I think you already know him. He is the owner of Hempels now.’
Clara had left the beer garden soon afterwards, having made plans to meet a friend for supper. But even if they’d had more time to talk, Anna had been thrown into such confusion by what Clara had told her, that she couldn’t begin to frame the questions she needed to ask: why her parents went to Innsbruck, for instance, and what – if anything – they’d found out? She was grateful to Clara for inviting them over for a proper Austrian breakfast, so that they could continue their conversation.
Anna heard Tansy’s quilt rustle. A bare arm emerged as she consulted her phone, then she sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes. In the dimness of their room, her dark curls stuck up in all directions.
‘Are you awake?’ she whispered.
‘Yes. Just.’
‘When did we agree to meet Clara for breakfast?’
‘Around ten, but I need coffee first.’
‘How long did I live with you, Anna Hopkins?’ Tansy said, shaking her head. ‘Of course you need coffee!’
When Anna emerged from the bathroom, her friend, still in her sleep shorts and camisole, was just setting down a tray, on which two steaming cups of coffee nestled beside a plate of wafer-thin almond biscuits.
‘Room service,’ she said, beaming. ‘I love hotels! I think I could live in a hotel!’
‘You’re like Jake,’ Anna said. ‘Every time he goes somewhere new he says, “I could live here!”’ She took a grateful sip of velvety continental coffee. ‘I wish I could be like that, but it’s like there’s some invisible magnet that’s always pulling me back home.’
‘To Oxford?’
‘It’s Oxford for now, before that it was wherever I was living at the time.’
‘How do you feel about – you know – what Clara told us.’
‘Unbelievably relieved about my dad. Utterly confused about everything else.’ Anna looked at Tansy over the rim of her coffee cup. ‘I always felt there was something Herr Kirchmann wasn’t telling me, but out-and-out lying? I like to think I’d have sensed it if he was stringing me along, but my track record isn’t great as you know.’ She gave her friend a wan smile.
Tansy went off to shower. Anna dressed in a light sweater and jeans, then took out the small envelope she’d slipped into her travel bag before she left home and drew out three photos: The one of her, Bonnie and Jake; the badly faded snap of her parents in Innsbruck; a rare picture of herself, the one with all her siblings that she’d found when she was searching through the trunk. She sat studying their four young faces. She had never felt close to Will or Dan, but Lottie had been different. Six-year old Lottie had loved her out-of-control teenage sister passionately and against all reason, so that it was impossible not to love her back. Seeing her glowing intelligent little face, Anna felt an ache that would never fade. If she’d lived, Lottie would have been a couple of years younger than Tansy now. Who would that loving, little six-year-old have grown up to be? Anna wondered, then quickly pushed the thought away.
She felt as if she was trying to fit not just one but two, or even three, puzzles together and all the edges were obstinately refusing to match up. A half-formed thought kept nudging at the underside of her mind. Something about fathers and sons and their different legacies: Thomas Kirchmann, proud son of the hero of Innsbruck; David Fischer, who’d made his father’s quest his life’s work; her dad, Julian, who had dreaded growing cold and corrupt like Charles. Not to mention Ralph and Dominic Scott-Neville. But in this tangle of lives, one constant kept recurring: Hempels, her father’s auction house.
A terrible suspicion had begun to dawn on Anna, too terrible to voice aloud. What if her family had been murdered because of David Fischer’s Vermeer?
Tansy came out of the bathroom, trailing wafts of her favourite, white jasmine and mint cologne.
‘You OK?’
Anna mustered her brightest smile. ‘I’m fine! Let’s go.’
Clara’s home was just off Innstrasse, named for the river which gave Innsbruck its name. They were a few minutes early, so they walked beside the water for a time, looking up at the row of brightly-coloured houses with the mountains beyond. If Tansy noticed that Anna was unusually quiet, she was too tactful to say.
At last they made their way through narrow lanes to Clara’s apartment in Museumgasse. As they turned into her street, they came to a bewildered standstill. A police car was parked up on the pavement in front of Clara’s building. Clara herself was coming out of the building, limping and looking pale and shaken, escorted by two Austrian police officers. A man in a leather jacket and jeans waited by the car, arms folded and emanating stony-faced authority. Anna barely had time to take this in, before Tansy yanked her back out of sight.
‘Don’t let them see you!’
‘What are you doing?’ Anna hissed. ‘We should go and see if Clara needs help.’
‘Not a good idea,’ Tansy hissed back. ‘That man by the car? He was at the hotel yesterday waiting for the lift with a bunch of other people, as we were going out to lunch and later he joined our tour.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘One hundred percent,’ Tansy said in a whisper. ‘He wasn’t dressed like that guy in Chicago P.D. yesterday though. He smiled at me. I thought he was a bit lechy.’
Anna risked another peek and saw someone looking so much like the tough, TV cop that she would have laughed, if she hadn’t been so scared. She could hear the men talking, but their German was too fast and too colloquial for her to follow.
‘I didn’t think anything of it at the time,’ Tansy was saying. ‘It’s a little tourist town. You’re bound to run into the same people. But now …’ She gave a shiver.
Then, amongst the rapid stream of German, Anna heard the man in the leather jacket say shockingly and unmistakably, ‘Anna Hopkins.’ She felt the tiny hairs rise on the back of her neck.
Tansy’s eyes went wide with shock. ‘Listen,’ she whispered, ‘I didn’t want to say before, but that guy has got a really suspicious-shaped lump under his jacket, like a holster with a gun in it.’
‘How can you possibly tell that?’ Anna’s heart was thudding.
Tansy gave her a look. ‘I know, OK.’
Anna had another cautious peep. Clara was in the back of the car now, with one of the Polizei. The leather-jacketed man, who Tansy had recognised from their hotel, was in the passenger seat. The officer who was driving did a fast U-turn and an elderly woman, who had come out to walk her giant white poodle, stopped open-mouthed, as her neighbour was taken away. For an instant, Anna was equally stunned by this surreal event. Then it flooded back to her, the fear she hadn’t dared to speak aloud.
‘We’ve got to get out right now,’ she told Tansy.
Tansy just nodded.
‘We’ll go back to grab our stuff and jump on a train.’ It was only rarely that Anna got to glimpse Tansy the gangster’s daughter, but this was one of those times.
‘I’m feeling totally paranoid now,’ Tansy confessed as they hurried back to their hotel. ‘Yesterday if people were looking at us, I thought it was because we were cute. Now I’m worried they’re concealing side-arms.’
‘They’re not looking,’ Anna said, still feeling that chilling prickle on the back of her neck. ‘They’ve got no reason to look.’
But when they walked into the little family hotel that had seemed so friendly the previous day, Anna was immediately, ridiculously self-conscious. Judging from Tansy’s bright chatter, as the grandmotherly woman on the desk handed over their key, she felt the same.
‘Did you feel like her eyes were following us?’ Anna whispered as the door to the old-fashioned brass cage slid shut and the lift started to ascend.
‘It’s like everyone’s been exchanged for pod people,’ Tansy whispered and they giggled, slightly hysterically.
Back in their room they packed their bags at lightning speed. Not wanting to wait for the lift, or worse, risk getting into the lift with someone who might drag them off to an Austrian jail, they stole down the back stairs.
Even before they reached reception, they could hear the woman berating her teenage grandson for his permanent state of gloom. ‘Dein missmutiges Gesicht erschrickt die Gaeste,’ she scolded, which Anna roughly translated as ‘Your miserable face is enough to frighten the guests.’
Under cover of this family quarrel, Tansy and Anna slipped out into the street and began to power-walk in the direction of the train station.
‘Damn,’ Anna said abruptly. ‘I’ve still got our key.’
‘We can post it back later.’
‘It won’t take a moment.’ Anna made to turn back.
‘Are you crazy?’ Tansy protested. ‘They’ll have spares.’
A police car pulled up with a squeal of brakes. Two police officers, Anna wasn’t sure if they were the same two and the man in the leather jacket, jumped out and disappeared inside the hotel.
She dropped the key in the street and they ran.
‘People do run for trains,’ Tansy panted. ‘It’s not suspicious in the least.’ Anna was past caring. She just wanted to get the hell out of Innsbruck, before their unknown pursuer caught up with them.
They ran, occasionally shifting down to speed-walking, all the way to the station.
‘Do you mind getting the tickets?’ Anna was gasping for breath now. ‘I’ll call Jake. If something does go horribly wrong, we might need someone to be our advocate.’
‘You swear they’ll speak English.’ Tansy looked anxious.
‘Yes, I swear.’ Anna had already pulled up Jake’s number.
Tansy hovered. ‘So, um, I’m getting us tickets for the next train to Vienna?’
‘No! The next train out of Austria!’
‘Jesus, this is scary,’ Tansy said and sprinted towards the ticket office.
Anna’s heart sank as Jake’s phone went straight to voicemail. In her panic, her words tripped over each other.
‘Jake, sorry to sound dramatic but someone’s after us. Tansy saw this guy in our hotel and again on our guided tour of the Old Town, then this morning we went to meet someone. Clara Brunner, she’s involved in art restitution, she knew my dad. But when we arrived at her apartment he was outside – the man, I mean – with the Polizei! And Jake, I heard the man say my name! And then they just took Clara away. We didn’t want to be next, so we’re at the station and we’re getting the first train out of Austria.’ She saw Tansy emerging from the ticket office, a lone figure in a vast space of steel and glass. ‘I’ve got to go; I just wanted you to know.’
She hurried to meet Tansy. ‘Did you get the tickets?’
‘No,’ she said tersely. ‘There’s a train to Venice but it doesn’t leave for an hour and a half.’
‘We can’t wait that long!’
‘There is one train that’s leaving for Paris in twenty minutes.’
‘So why didn’t you get tickets?’ Anna could have shaken her.
Tansy gave a despairing shrug. ‘Because it’ll cost us over five grand.’
‘You’re kidding! Is it covered in gold and jewels?’
‘Almost. It’s the bloody Orient Express. You have to get the tickets from a special booking office. Oh, and I embarrassed myself by saying “merci” instead of “danke”.’ Tansy was near to tears. ‘What are we going to do?’
They stared at each other, breathing fast from running and from fright. The available credit limit on Anna’s card was slightly under a grand, less than one fifth of the money they’d need for the fare. Tansy didn’t even possess a credit card.
Anna had no clue what they were going to do. While they stood dithering about train tickets, the police were probably already on their way. It’s anyone who gets close to the Vermeer, she thought. Lili Rossetti and David Fischer, Clara. She felt a deep trembling start inside. She mustn’t think about her family now or she’d fall apart.
‘Dammit,’ Tansy said. She took out her phone.
‘Tansy, no!’ Anna was mortified. ‘We can’t ask Liam to bail us out.’
‘I’m not asking Liam.’ Suddenly tight-lipped, Tansy was rapidly entering numbers into her phone. She shot a look at Anna. ‘There’s only one person I know with that kind of money. Oh, hi Dad. Yes, fine, thanks. But my friend and I— Yes, you’ve met her. Frankie, listen, I need a really big favour. We’re in Austria and we need to leave in a bit of a …’ Still talking, she began to sprint across the station. For the first time, Anna properly registered the retro-style ticket booth, decked out in splendid blue and gold.
The one time Anna had met him, Frankie McVeigh had sworn to his daughter that he’d changed, that he’d forsaken his old life along with all his criminal associates. But if he had that kind of easy access to a spare five grand, no questions asked, this declaration seemed slightly premature. In any case, Anna doubted that he’d be able to magic them tickets at such short notice. Which was just as well since she knew she’d feel queasy about taking his money or, more likely, someone else’s money that he’d acquired.
Then she thought of the man she’d seen leaning on the police car, with that air of cold satisfaction at a job well done. The man who knew my name, she thought, with a flicker of terror, and knew she and Tansy couldn’t afford that kind of moral squeamishness. They had to get away.
To her surprise, she saw Tansy hurrying back towards her.
‘God bless Frankie,’ she said shakily.
‘He got us tickets?’ Anna laughed with disbelief. ‘In less than five minutes, your dad got us a berth on the Orient Express?’
‘I know it’s wrong,’ Tansy said, ‘but I didn’t know what else to do.’
Anna checked her watch. They had approximately fifteen minutes before departure. She gave a surreptitious glance around the station concourse. No blue-uniformed Polizei. No leather-jacketed man.
The entrance to their platform was cordoned off with plushy ropes in the same distinctive blue and gold. A sign said The Orient Saxe-Barthelemy Express. A self-possessed woman, wearing a modern approximation of Twenties-style livery, checked their passports and a cheerful porter – also in vintage style blue and gold livery – appeared, unhooked the ropes and picked up their bags.
‘If you would just follow me, Mademoiselles. I will show you to your cabin,’ he said. Tansy turned to Anna and breathed, ‘Oh. My. God.’
Anna followed the porter on to the platform feeling as if she was dreaming. She barely had time to take in the gleaming, dark-blue, express train, with its lovingly-restored old carriages, before they were hurrying along to find their coach.
‘Dad says sorry he could only get us one cabin. It’s a double,’ Tansy reassured her quickly. ‘But I think he felt like he should have done better.’
Each coach bore the name, in gilded letters, of a figure out of classical mythology. Their coach was Ariadne.
‘It was so last-minute,’ Tansy added, as they followed the porter up the steps. ‘Frankie had to pay over the odds to get us on at all.’
‘He paid more than five grand!’ By this stage, Anna was almost beyond being astonished. ‘Your dad must really love you!’
‘I guess,’ Tansy admitted reluctantly. Her relationship with Frankie McVeigh was best described as ‘turbulent’. ‘I’ll find a way to pay him back though, don’t worry.’
‘We’ll find a way,’ Anna said.
But by then they were inside the Orient Express and Tansy was gazing around like a child who had accidentally found her way into Hogwarts. Saxe-Barthelemy had recreated the perfect fantasy of a 1920s travel experience. Their version of the legendary Orient Express had Art Deco interiors, with polished walnut panelling and muted blue and gold upholstery. It smelled of excellent continental coffee and an elusive, unnameable fragrance, which somehow conjured up the ghostly perfumes of wealthy and glamorous women gone by.
‘Here is your cabin, Mademoiselles.’ The porter set down their bags. ‘I hope you enjoy your time with us.’
‘This is insane,’ Tansy whispered. ‘Can you even believe we’re here?’
Anna shook her head. The subtle SB monogram was everywhere, on the soft blue and gold Art Deco sofa, the corners of the curtains. They peeped into the tiny bathroom and Tansy exclaimed over the bath essences and lotions, the fluffy robes and slippers.
‘Tansy,’ Anna said quietly. ‘Not to spoil the moment, but for once in my life I’d feel better if we could be with other people. Until we’re out of the station.’
‘Good thought,’ Tansy said.
The crowded bar car was pure Art Noveau, smelling of schnapps and coffee, and featuring a gleaming, baby, grand piano. Tiffany lamps, like branching blossoms, cast a blushing pink light. It was impossible to imagine anything frightening ever happening in this rose-tinted space.
But frightening things can happen anywhere, as Anna knew too well. She couldn’t stop glancing at her watch. She sipped at her coffee, dimly aware of a gentle babble of different languages: Italian, French, German and Russian, as well as English. Someone said in an American accent, ‘How is your headache, Countess?’
Tansy’s eyes went wide. ‘Countess?’ she mouthed, then had to fight a fit of giggles.
‘Sorry,’ she whispered, ‘this is so nuts!’ She saw Anna’s eyes stray back to the platform. ‘They won’t guess,’ she said. ‘This is the most outrageous escape since forever.’
We haven’t escaped yet, Anna thought. It made it more frightening that they had no idea who they were escaping from. Clara Brunner was undeniably a good person, yet she’d been taken away like a criminal. The randomness of it, the suddenness with which disaster had struck, chilled her blood. If the Austrian Polizei burst in now, it would make no difference that they were on a luxury train.
Tansy quickly covered Anna’s hand with her own.
‘It’s going to be OK. The train’s moving. No stopping now till Paris.’
Anna watched the platform slowly sliding past, and breathed out for the first time, since Tansy had recognised the man from their hotel.
‘Anna.’ Tansy suddenly sounded so anxious that Anna turned from the window, alarmed.
‘What?’
‘What do people wear for dinner on the Orient Express?’ Now the immediate danger had passed Tansy had moved on to new concerns.
‘If you’re worried, we can eat in our cabin,’ Anna suggested.
‘Are you kidding!’ said Tansy. ‘When they’ve got Michelin star restaurants!’
They decided to have lunch in the dining car, having missed out on breakfast.
‘Not to mention, inadvertently running a marathon,’ Tansy pointed out. Then they returned to their cabin where they settled themselves grandly on their sofa and watched the passing scenery. The train began to make its unhurried way across the Austrian alps and the celestially lovely, flower meadows, waterfalls and streams, seen from their privileged surroundings, helped to banish the shadows of their morning.
They rested, chatted and gazed their fill at the views, then went for a leisurely afternoon tea in the dining car. Tansy, being Tansy, started chatting to some passengers at the next table: two retired colonels and a world-weary literary agent, who had recently sold her agency and was, as she joked, working her way down her bucket list before she decided what to do next – the Orient Express being number one on her list.
‘Of course, the original Orient Express used to go to Istanbul,’ said the more elderly of the colonels, who had a moustache the colour of iron filings.
His friend poured more Lapsang into his delicate china cup.
‘I believe some of the new ones still do,’ he pointed out.
‘But the original train would have gone to the old Istanbul,’ the agent reminded him, piling cream on her scone. ‘So much more romantic.’
‘So, what brings you two girls on the Orient Express?’ asked the first colonel. ‘Surely you are too young to be needing a bucket list just yet?’
Tansy and Anna traded discreet glances.
‘Well,’ said Tansy confidingly. ‘My father bought us tickets for a surprise present. We didn’t even know we were coming until this morning, did we, Anna?’
‘Heavens,’ said the agent, taken aback. ‘What a generous father!’
‘I’m very lucky,’ Tansy said demurely.
‘I believe we’ve just crossed into Germany,’ said the colonel with the moustache, glancing out of the window. ‘Think I’ll go for a snooze till dinner.’
Anna and Tansy went back to their cabin, where they experimented with outfits and hairstyles until Tansy was satisfied they wouldn’t shame themselves at dinner. Then Anna read her copy of A Moveable Feast until it was time to change into their modest finery.
In the dining car, candle-lit tables were set with white linen, heavy silver, fresh flowers and fabulous Lalique glasses. The menu included citrus roasted skate-wing with truffle mash, tagliatelle of wild mushrooms with a poached hen’s egg and parmesan tuile, and a salad with wild flowers and chamomile curd.
Neither Tansy nor Anna were drinkers, but Tansy said Frankie would expect them to get the full benefit from his five thousand quid, so they took advantage of the plentiful champagne.
‘Dom Perignon?’ Tansy said in awe, when she saw the label, ‘isn’t that the super-posh kind?’ Then, they moved on to the excellent red wine and became pleasantly tiddly.
‘This is so perfect.’ Tansy said lowering her voice. ‘Travelling across Europe with total strangers. It’s like we’re starring in our own Agatha Christie. I still have no idea which one is the countess though, have you?’
‘No, but I’m picturing Dame Maggie Smith.’ Anna saw Tansy take out her phone. ‘Are you taking pics for Isadora?’
She nodded. ‘She’d love this so much.’
‘Isadora was born for the Orient Express,’ Anna agreed.
‘These pralines are amazing,’ Tansy said dreamily, moments later. ‘I could eat them all day.’
She went to pour them more wine. Anna tried to cover her glass.
‘No, honestly, Tansy. I’m already losing the power of speech!’
‘Just a little drop,’ Tansy insisted. ‘I’m going to make a toast. “To Frankie,”’ she said, clinking her glass against Anna’s. ‘“For services rendered!”’ The happily inebriated Americans at the next table, echoed, ‘To Frankie!’ and cheerfully raised their glasses.
‘Pity we didn’t video that for your dad,’ Anna whispered as they got up to leave.
‘Nah,’ Tansy said, ‘Frankie has a high enough opinion of himself already.’
Live jazz floated from the bar car; a woman singing with a voice like golden gravel. The bluesy sound followed them down the corridor. Through the windows, Anna saw endless, rushing forest lit only by the impervious, blue-white light of stars.
They returned to their cabin to find that their steward had folded away their sofa and made up their bunk beds with crisp white linen, under hyacinth-blue quilts, patterned with gold art deco fans.
Anna came out of the shower to see Tansy softly closing the cabin door on their steward. She turned, obviously startled to see Anna. Anna thought she looked faintly guilty. Her friend quickly held up two Aegean-blue glass bottles.
‘I thought all that champagne might make us dehydrated,’ she said airily, ‘so I rang for extra mineral water.’
Tansy went to use the shower. Anna had just climbed into the bottom bunk, her skin smelling of Moroccan Rose shower essence, when her phone rang. It was Jake. Anna had spoken to him very briefly while they were having lunch, to let him know they were safe.
‘You and Tansy are still Ok?’ he asked at once.
‘We’re more than Ok,’ she reassured him. ‘We’re in the lap of luxury. I’m not sure if we’ll ever be able to go back to ordinary life! We get into the Gare de Lyons around 11 a.m. tomorrow.’
Jake gave his husky laugh. ‘You know, darlin’, sometimes it feels like I’m dating the Scarlet Pimpernel! But you’re quite sure nobody followed you from Innsbruck?’
‘No. And nobody has tried to push us out of the train. Sorry, you must think I was really overreacting.’
‘No, Anna, I don’t. You and I both know there are no coincidences.’ She heard a muffled announcement coming over a tannoy. ‘I’ll meet you guys at Gare de Lyons tomorrow morning. You can tell me all about it then.’
She closed her eyes in relief, if Jake was with her she could cope with anything.
Tansy came back from her shower. They switched off the lamps and settled down to sleep.
‘Have you decided what you’re going to do, when this is all over, now you’ve given up your job?’ Tansy asked.
‘Nope,’ Anna said. ‘Don’t laugh but I had this idea I might train as a therapist. I sent for loads of post-grad prospectuses, but so far they’re still sitting on my desk.’
Her phone lit up. To her surprise, she had an email from Heinrich Muller. Anna turned her lamp back on and read his startling message.
‘Oh, my God, Tansy, listen.’ She read the email aloud.
My colleague Clara Brunner regrets she is no longer able to assist you in your inquiries, as she is being investigated in connection with a serious fraud. Frau Brunner and I both urge you and your friend to please take care.
Tansy sat up. ‘That doesn’t make sense. If it’s a fraud case, why would the police be interested in us? We’d just that minute arrived in Austria.’
‘I know. It’s crazy.’
‘But that guy knew where we were staying,’ Tansy said. ‘I mean, the only people who knew we were in Innsbruck were Isadora and Liam, oh plus Isadora’s ditzy friend.’
‘Herr Kirchmann knew,’ Anna admitted. ‘I emailed him on the plane.’ She switched off her lamp.
Tansy shifted in her bunk.
‘Do you think David Fischer was right and that story Herr Kirchmann tells everyone about his dad is a lie?’
‘I honestly don’t know.’ This was just one of many things she’d have liked to ask Clara.
‘Do you think Thomas Kirchmann believes it though?’
‘He made me believe it,’ Anna said.
Yet her father had written to Clara claiming that Kirchmann knew the whereabouts of the Vermeer. An art-lover, a hero’s son, befriender of Afghani taxi drivers and Father Christmassy provider of afternoon teas … Was Thomas Kirchmann maybe just a bit too good to be true? Anna wondered.
‘I’m supposed to be meeting him on Wednesday,’ she remembered.
‘You’re not still going? Not after Clara?’
‘Not sure. I’m still thinking about that.’ Anna said.
Overtired from a day that had started with church bells in Innsbruck and was ending in a bunk on the Orient Express, via the thrilling silliness of being rescued by a notorious gangland boss, she was experiencing a sense of anti-climax, followed by her usual tedious feelings of failure and shame.
I was in Innsbruck less than 24 hours, she thought, I had one conversation with Clara Brunner and just hours later she was taken in for questioning on some spurious charge. I’m like David Fischer’s Vermeer. ‘The trouble that painting has caused, I could almost think the artist had cursed it,’ Clara had said last night.
Now they were hurtling through the night at vast expense, but no nearer to solving the mystery. If Anna had been at home, these thoughts would inevitably have driven her to her murder cupboard. But she was trapped in a claustrophobic bunk bed, listening to her friend’s soft breathing.
And furtive rustling, she realized.
The seductive scent of chocolate pralines unfurled in the dark. It seemed that Tansy had asked their steward for more than just mineral water.
‘Tansy Lavelle,’ Anna hissed. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
She heard Tansy’s unrepentant giggle. ‘I know I’m evil, but I’ll probably never have another chance to lie in bed on the Orient Express eating gorgeous chocolates again.’
‘Throw me one down,’ Anna said, ‘and I promise not to tell.’
‘Have two,’ Tansy offered. ‘That steward gave me loads. Plus, what happens on the Orient Express stays on the Orient Express, right?’