Matt.
Dominique turned around and addressed the room. “I am
threatening all of you. I have ze secrets.”
“Are zey hidden in ze portrait of ze Madonna wiz ze big…”
Frank Bennett could not get any further because his wife nudged him fiercely.
“Behave!” she said. He slumped in his seat, looking glum.
“Ah,” said Dominique, truly in character, “You may mock me,
Monsieur Janitor, but I have ze secrets about you too. I know where you go on
ze Saturday night.”
Mr. Bennett looked a bit taken aback, his eyes darting
upwards to where Dominique stood in front of him. The room was filled with
uncomfortable coughs and embarrassed chuckles, until the other guests realised
it was indeed a joke and part of the entertainment. It took Mr. Bennett a few
seconds longer to get the joke. “You watch yourself, Madam-moiselle,” he said,
in a jocular fashion. His voice became lower and deeper, sounding like the man
who did the movie trailers, but he could not stop his lips from twisting into a
grin as he spoke. “I don’t make threats, I make promises.”
Philly’s eyes widened in surprised. She had expected Mr.
Bennett to be difficult. She smiled with relief when she saw him nudge his wife
and say, “It’s a bit of a laugh, all this pretending, innit?”
Dominique pointed around the room. “I know ze truth about
all of you, and I will tell if you do not leesten to me. Something bad eez
going to ‘appen…”
She flounced out of the room, and was rewarded with a round
of applause.
“And that,” said Matt, “was the last time anyone saw
Dominique in public. Some girls saw her go into her bedroom at night, but she
did not turn up for breakfast the next morning. What happened to her? That is
up to you. The clues are out there, so you’re welcome to start hunting for them
as soon as you are ready.”
Philly looked around the room at apt faces. Things were
going so much better than she ever dreamed. Even Meg’s dodgy BBC sitcom accent
had not dampened their enthusiasm. After a moment’s silence, everyone started
chatting avidly.
Philly’s alighted on Mrs. Cunningham. The old lady looked
sad and confused, shaking her head at her husband. Philly went over to her.
“I hope it hasn’t upset you, Mrs. Cunningham,” she said
quietly.
“No, dear that’s not it. It’s just that … oh do you know how
it is when you only realise something long after the event.”
“You mean about Dominique’s disappearance?”
“No, that’s not it. I think it’s Monsieur De Lacey being
here that has brought it to mind. That and your fellow actress’s awful French
accent. Oh please don’t think I’m being rude.”
“No, not at all. It was a little bit rubbish. She hasn’t had
time to practice,” Philly added, feeling she could defend her best friend.
“I’m not complaining. Only noticing.”
“What is it, darling?” asked Reverend Cunningham.
Mrs. Cunningham shook her head. “I need to think about it a
bit more. To collect my thoughts. I could easily be misremembering.”
“Oh for goodness sake, darling,” said the Reverend. “You
know darn well that when people say things like that in films they end up dead.
So out with it.”
Mrs. Cunningham smiled. “I hardly think anyone is going to
kill me for it now. After fifty years there’s no one left to care about poor
Dominique … except me.”
“And me,” said Philly, with the pang of guilt that was
becoming all too familiar. She began to wonder whether using Dominique’s
disappearance as the basis for their story was a good idea. After all, it was a
human being they were dealing with. But mostly, Philly had become fond of Mrs.
Cunningham and did not want her to be distressed. It was a dangerous game,
playing around with the past. It was possible that the wrong people would be
hurt by it.
Almost as if she had wished for it, she felt a comforting
arm on her shoulder, and turned her head to see Matt smiling down at her. “I
think that went
Dominique turned around and addressed the room. “I am
threatening all of you. I have ze secrets.”
“Are zey hidden in ze portrait of ze Madonna wiz ze big…”
Frank Bennett could not get any further because his wife nudged him fiercely.
“Behave!” she said. He slumped in his seat, looking glum.
“Ah,” said Dominique, truly in character, “You may mock me,
Monsieur Janitor, but I have ze secrets about you too. I know where you go on
ze Saturday night.”
Mr. Bennett looked a bit taken aback, his eyes darting
upwards to where Dominique stood in front of him. The room was filled with
uncomfortable coughs and embarrassed chuckles, until the other guests realised
it was indeed a joke and part of the entertainment. It took Mr. Bennett a few
seconds longer to get the joke. “You watch yourself, Madam-moiselle,” he said,
in a jocular fashion. His voice became lower and deeper, sounding like the man
who did the movie trailers, but he could not stop his lips from twisting into a
grin as he spoke. “I don’t make threats, I make promises.”
Philly’s eyes widened in surprised. She had expected Mr.
Bennett to be difficult. She smiled with relief when she saw him nudge his wife
and say, “It’s a bit of a laugh, all this pretending, innit?”
Dominique pointed around the room. “I know ze truth about
all of you, and I will tell if you do not leesten to me. Something bad eez
going to ‘appen…”
She flounced out of the room, and was rewarded with a round
of applause.
“And that,” said Matt, “was the last time anyone saw
Dominique in public. Some girls saw her go into her bedroom at night, but she
did not turn up for breakfast the next morning. What happened to her? That is
up to you. The clues are out there, so you’re welcome to start hunting for them
as soon as you are ready.”
Philly looked around the room at apt faces. Things were
going so much better than she ever dreamed. Even Meg’s dodgy BBC sitcom accent
had not dampened their enthusiasm. After a moment’s silence, everyone started
chatting avidly.
Philly’s alighted on Mrs. Cunningham. The old lady looked
sad and confused, shaking her head at her husband. Philly went over to her.
“I hope it hasn’t upset you, Mrs. Cunningham,” she said
quietly.
“No, dear that’s not it. It’s just that … oh do you know how
it is when you only realise something long after the event.”
“You mean about Dominique’s disappearance?”
“No, that’s not it. I think it’s Monsieur De Lacey being
here that has brought it to mind. That and your fellow actress’s awful French
accent. Oh please don’t think I’m being rude.”
“No, not at all. It was a little bit rubbish. She hasn’t had
time to practice,” Philly added, feeling she could defend her best friend.
“I’m not complaining. Only noticing.”
“What is it, darling?” asked Reverend Cunningham.
Mrs. Cunningham shook her head. “I need to think about it a
bit more. To collect my thoughts. I could easily be misremembering.”
“Oh for goodness sake, darling,” said the Reverend. “You
know darn well that when people say things like that in films they end up dead.
So out with it.”
Mrs. Cunningham smiled. “I hardly think anyone is going to
kill me for it now. After fifty years there’s no one left to care about poor
Dominique … except me.”
“And me,” said Philly, with the pang of guilt that was
becoming all too familiar. She began to wonder whether using Dominique’s
disappearance as the basis for their story was a good idea. After all, it was a
human being they were dealing with. But mostly, Philly had become fond of Mrs.
Cunningham and did not want her to be distressed. It was a dangerous game,
playing around with the past. It was possible that the wrong people would be
hurt by it.
Almost as if she had wished for it, she felt a comforting
arm on her shoulder, and turned her head to see Matt smiling down at her. “I
think that went
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