over with.”
“Thank you. I’m concerned they’re still here, hiding somewhere.” Emilie bit her lip. “Margaux didn’t see the intruders leave.”
All the rooms were as Emilie remembered them, and although it was impossible to be sure that absolutely nothing had been taken, given her unfamiliarity with the detail of the individual objects in the house, she arrived back with Sebastian in the hall reassured.
“Well, that’s the entire house checked,” he confirmed. “Anywhere else they could be hiding?”
“The cellars perhaps? But I’ve never been down there.”
“Maybe you should then. Do you know how to access them?”
“I believe the door is in the lobby just off the kitchen.”
“Come on then, let’s go and take a look.”
“Do you think it’s really necessary?” Emilie said reluctantly. Dark, enclosed spaces terrified her.
“Would you prefer me to go down alone?”
“No, you’re right. I should see the cellars for myself.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe,” he said, grinning as they walked into the lobby. “This door?”
“Yes, I think so.”
Sebastian pulled back the rusting bolts and turned the key with difficulty. “This hasn’t been opened for years, so I’d doubt anyone is lurking down there.” Managing to drag the door open, he searched for a switch and found a crude piece of string hanging above his head. Pulling it, a straggle of light appeared from below. “Right, I’ll go first.”
Tentatively taking the steps downward behind Sebastian, Emilie followed him into a cold, low-ceilinged room, the air stagnant and damp.
“Wow!” Sebastian exclaimed at the lines of wine racks, filled to the brim with dust-covered bottles. Pulling one out at random, he dusted off the label and read it. “Château Lafite Rothschild 1949.” I’m no wine expert, but this lot could be a vintner’s dream come true. On the other hand”—he shrugged as he replaced the bottle—“they may all be undrinkable.”
They both wandered around the room, pulling out bottles and inspecting them.
“I can’t find a single bottle after 1969, can you?” asked Sebastian. “It looks like no one bothered to add to the collection since that date. Wait a minute—”
Sebastian put the two bottles he was holding onto the floor, then pulled out four more, making six, then twelve. “There’s something behind this rack. It’s a door, can you see?”
Emilie peered through the rack and saw what he meant. “It probably leads to another cellar which no one used,” she offered hopefully, eager to remove herself back upstairs as soon as possible.
“Yes, surely a house like this would have extensive cellars running underneath. Aha.” Sebastian removed the last bottle, then took hold of the rotting wooden wine rack and eased it out into the center of the room. “I was right, it is a door.” He brushed the cobwebs from the lock and tried the handle. The door opened grudgingly, the wood no longer fitting its frame comfortably, having warped in the damp atmosphere. “Shall we see what’s inside?”
“I . . .” Emilie was nervous of going further. “It’s probably empty.”
“Well, we shall see,” said Sebastian, using all his strength to drag the door fully open along the cellar floor. His hands groped again for a light switch, but none appeared within his grasp.
“Wait there a moment,” he instructed Emilie as he stepped forward into the blackness. “There does seem to be some natural light coming from somewhere . . .” Sebastian disappeared completely into the gloom. “Yes, there’s a small window in here—ouch! Sorry, just banged my shin on something.” He reappeared at the entrance. “Do you by any chance know where there might be a flashlight?”
“I can check upstairs in the kitchen.” Emilie turned and headed for the stairs, grateful for an excuse to escape.
“If you can’t find a flashlight, bring a candle or two,” he called after her.
The flashlight
“Thank you. I’m concerned they’re still here, hiding somewhere.” Emilie bit her lip. “Margaux didn’t see the intruders leave.”
All the rooms were as Emilie remembered them, and although it was impossible to be sure that absolutely nothing had been taken, given her unfamiliarity with the detail of the individual objects in the house, she arrived back with Sebastian in the hall reassured.
“Well, that’s the entire house checked,” he confirmed. “Anywhere else they could be hiding?”
“The cellars perhaps? But I’ve never been down there.”
“Maybe you should then. Do you know how to access them?”
“I believe the door is in the lobby just off the kitchen.”
“Come on then, let’s go and take a look.”
“Do you think it’s really necessary?” Emilie said reluctantly. Dark, enclosed spaces terrified her.
“Would you prefer me to go down alone?”
“No, you’re right. I should see the cellars for myself.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe,” he said, grinning as they walked into the lobby. “This door?”
“Yes, I think so.”
Sebastian pulled back the rusting bolts and turned the key with difficulty. “This hasn’t been opened for years, so I’d doubt anyone is lurking down there.” Managing to drag the door open, he searched for a switch and found a crude piece of string hanging above his head. Pulling it, a straggle of light appeared from below. “Right, I’ll go first.”
Tentatively taking the steps downward behind Sebastian, Emilie followed him into a cold, low-ceilinged room, the air stagnant and damp.
“Wow!” Sebastian exclaimed at the lines of wine racks, filled to the brim with dust-covered bottles. Pulling one out at random, he dusted off the label and read it. “Château Lafite Rothschild 1949.” I’m no wine expert, but this lot could be a vintner’s dream come true. On the other hand”—he shrugged as he replaced the bottle—“they may all be undrinkable.”
They both wandered around the room, pulling out bottles and inspecting them.
“I can’t find a single bottle after 1969, can you?” asked Sebastian. “It looks like no one bothered to add to the collection since that date. Wait a minute—”
Sebastian put the two bottles he was holding onto the floor, then pulled out four more, making six, then twelve. “There’s something behind this rack. It’s a door, can you see?”
Emilie peered through the rack and saw what he meant. “It probably leads to another cellar which no one used,” she offered hopefully, eager to remove herself back upstairs as soon as possible.
“Yes, surely a house like this would have extensive cellars running underneath. Aha.” Sebastian removed the last bottle, then took hold of the rotting wooden wine rack and eased it out into the center of the room. “I was right, it is a door.” He brushed the cobwebs from the lock and tried the handle. The door opened grudgingly, the wood no longer fitting its frame comfortably, having warped in the damp atmosphere. “Shall we see what’s inside?”
“I . . .” Emilie was nervous of going further. “It’s probably empty.”
“Well, we shall see,” said Sebastian, using all his strength to drag the door fully open along the cellar floor. His hands groped again for a light switch, but none appeared within his grasp.
“Wait there a moment,” he instructed Emilie as he stepped forward into the blackness. “There does seem to be some natural light coming from somewhere . . .” Sebastian disappeared completely into the gloom. “Yes, there’s a small window in here—ouch! Sorry, just banged my shin on something.” He reappeared at the entrance. “Do you by any chance know where there might be a flashlight?”
“I can check upstairs in the kitchen.” Emilie turned and headed for the stairs, grateful for an excuse to escape.
“If you can’t find a flashlight, bring a candle or two,” he called after her.
The flashlight
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