The small sequence of events was just like being in a home of his own. She offered them coffee that was already made. Max thanked her and took the biscuit plate she put in front of him. Then, in a spurt of words, she told him about the man in the black Audi. Max looked worried, nodded, but didn’t say anything. She reached out a hand and touched his face and smiled in a funny, kind of sad way.
It was a toe-curling, stomach-churning moment as far as Sayid was concerned. He watched them both, ignored and probably not even noticed by either of them, for a few minutes.
“I’m going to change my clothes,” Sophie said, leaving the two boys.
Max’s ginger biscuit, dunked in coffee, wobbled and splashed back into the mug. “Oh, right. Sure. OK,” he managed to say.
As Sophie turned out of sight, Sayid pulled a face. “What was all that about?”
“What?”
“All that. She was all over you. I thought she was going to wipe the biscuit crumbs from your mouth for a minute.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“If I’d had anything to eat in the last few hours I’d have puked. That’s how bad it was. She’s trouble, I’m telling you.”
Max pushed the chair away from the table.
“Sayid, one of those blokes from the hospital was waiting for her, didn’t you hear what she said?”
“And those others were at the chateau! Whoever ‘they’ are, they know everything. Max, you’re being set up. And guess who’s the only person who’s been around long enough to know where we are.”
“She didn’t know about the chateau,” Max whispered furiously.
“You can’t be sure! Just like you can’t be sure that bloke was watching her! She said he was but that doesn’t mean anything. He and his mate could be knocking on the comtesse’s door any minute now.”
Max felt the turmoil of uncertainty. This wasn’t one of those moments when you had to decide on a course of action, like when the German and those bikers attacked them. His body and mind had responded immediately then. This was worse, because it made heart and mind fight each other. They were surrounded by people who liked and cared about them. Who knew where they’d been? Who had betrayed them? It couldn’t have been Bobby. He would not have brought violence to his grandmother’s house. But where was he? Max couldn’t get hold of him on the phone he had given them. Was that because mobile reception was poor down there, or was Bobby deliberately not answering? And Sophie? Max shook his head. He didn’t want to be thinking such distrustful thoughts about anyone here.
“I’m sorry, mate. But this is really serious stuff now, and I don’t mind telling you, I’m scared,” Sayid said by way of apology.
Max had to acknowledge that. “Have another piece of cake. It’ll take your mind off things.”
“I’m not kidding, Max!”
“I know,” he said gently.
Max understood that Sayid had been incredibly brave so far. His friend had put aside his own fear to help. He guessed there was an element of adventure that excited Sayid, but the reality of the danger was getting to him. Max had faced violence before-but it didn’t stop him from being scared. The difference between them was that Max had to see this thing through. It’s what his dad would have done.
Max walked through to the kitchen and the sound of the small portable television set that the comtesse seemed to have on permanently, a slush of words and laughter. The old lady sat at a large wooden farmhouse-style table. A cigarette smoldered between her lips, one of her eyes half closed against the smoke, and a large glass of cheap red wine nestled in partnership with the half-empty bottle.
Piles of diced vegetables sat before her like a gambler’s winnings. Max told her briefly about the unknown enemy waiting at the chateau for him. She wielded the long-bladed knife with a rhythmic certainty as she listened. Max wondered how she didn’t lose the ends of her fingers. She looked up.
“I’m making soup and, before you ask, I didn’t tell Sophie where you were,” she said without looking up.
“How did you know that’s what I was going to ask?”
“It’s obvious,
“Where do you think Bobby is, Comtesse?”
She nodded. “Your question makes sense. He’s your first suspect.”
“No, I’m worried about him. He didn’t answer his phone and the mobile he gave us is flat. So if he is trying to contact us, why hasn’t he phoned here? He was supposed to come back to d’Abbadie’s chateau for us.”
Ash dropped from the cigarette. She blew it away from the vegetables, then ground out the smelly stub in a curve of potato skin. “Robert is a child of the sea and the mountain. He goes with the wind.”
“He wouldn’t abandon or betray us, Comtesse, I’m certain of it.”
She stopped dicing and indicated with the knife the chair next to her. Max sat down obediently. She swallowed a mouthful of wine and pointed the remote control at the television set, muting the sound.
“Let me tell you about my grandson. He is frightened of failure. His father expects great things from him. He is frightened of his father. He hides in his sport. Perhaps he thought you were involved in something that was too big for him.” She covered his hand with her own. “It is not the first time he has run away. And now he has this Peaches with him. He’s a boy with his girl. Life is easier that way.”
Max nodded. He couldn’t blame Bobby for leaving them in the lurch.
“Sophie asked me where you were. I did not tell her. She was emotional. Though she did not show it. But I saw it. You young people. My God, it’s wonderful to have youth, but the emotions! You can keep them!” She smiled at his blank expression. “You don’t know what I mean?”
“No,” he said.
“You will. But Max, let me tell you, this matter is not finished. Be careful of everyone around you. Especially the girl.”
Was the comtesse confirming Max’s own doubts about Sophie?
“Remember my warning,” the Comtesse said. “I saw it in the cards.”
Yeah. It was a great pity the cards hadn’t told her where Bobby was, or who it was attacking them, and where they might be now. Second-guessing pretty pictures wasn’t exactly an exact science.
Max took the piece of paper with the triangles enclosed by a circle from his pocket. This jigsaw puzzle of a mystery that he had stumbled upon needed all the pieces to make sense, fit neatly and give him the complete picture. The comtesse seemed the only one around who had any inkling about all this weird stuff. Weird but important. But then she would be involved-and at risk. Enormous risk, given what had happened to Max so far.
She seemed to read his thoughts. “I’m an old lady. I get very forgetful. I don’t even know what day of the week it is sometimes. In a way it’s quite nice. Time stops. What is it Bobby says about me? ‘One sandwich short of a picnic’?” She smiled. “I have forgotten more than I ever knew.” She looked at the piece of paper he held. She raised her eyebrows. “More secrets?”
Max unfolded it to reveal the triangles, circle and signs. “Do you know what this is?” He turned it towards her and waited as she gave it barely a glance.
“It’s a birth chart,” she said almost dismissively.
“Which means what?” Max asked.
“Somebody is born at a particular time. Someone who knows how to interpret these things looks to the heavens and the stars and planets, and draws a birth chart.”
Max thought for a moment. “Like a compass? They point to the stars and planets.”
“That is one way of thinking of it, yes. It used to require great skill to do such things. It shows someone’s life, their destiny. It shows events. It shows me nothing. I don’t understand them. I don’t do them. What do I know? I will tell you a secret, Max. It’s too difficult. Like mathematics. I hated it at school. I am intuitive, not scientific. Besides, these days, things like this can be done on computers. Not for me, I think.”
She drained the bottle into the glass and dropped it into a bin full of other empty bottles.
“But this was done years ago. Maybe twenty or thirty years ago. And you can see it’s hand-drawn,” Max said.
“Then the man who did it had the old skills,” she said.
Max gave that a moment’s thought. “Old? You mean, special?”
