The Mystery of the House Next Door

A Holiday in France Turns into a Comedy of Errors

When valet William travels to France with a retired major and his formidable wife, Lady Charlotte, a simple holiday quickly turns into something far more chaotic. With a broken cooker, a surprise visit from the ever-resourceful Uncle Tom, and a questionable free meal at a nearby casino, William is soon drawn into a spiraling tangle of social ambitions, romantic plots, and criminal undertones.

Lady Charlotte, determined to match her daughters with wealthy American neighbours—celebrity actors no less—sees William as more hindrance than help. But with two ex-casino waiters (and amateur thieves) now working in the chalet, a mysterious chef with secrets of his own, and daughters who refuse to be managed, the stage is set for mayhem.

Only William, with a little help from his wily uncle, can piece things together before everything truly falls apart.

Join William on a farcical French getaway where nothing is as it seems, and everyone has something to hide.

Excerpt from the book

William opened the lid of the oven to check. He couldn’t understand it. The timer was still working but the major’s lunch was stone cold and, more importantly, so was his wife’s. He groaned. God knows what her highness will say when she gets back. She’s been nagging at me ever since we arrived here at their holiday chalet in France, just because it doesn’t have her own private bathroom as she demanded, as if it is my fault.

He couldn’t understand what she was beefing about. The chalet was a charming holiday house, consisting of two towers linked together by an imposing ground floor entrance. The builder had evidently seen the advantage of doubling the original size, with the undoubted increase in value it would command. The resulting structure, providing extra bedrooms and bathrooms apart from anything else, would have been enough to satisfy the demanding standards of any number of travellers, but not her highness.

If that wasn’t enough, it was on a hill looking out over a rolling landscape below, embracing a magnificent building housing the finest tourist attraction, a casino and swimming pool, and beyond that sloping down to the coastline and miles of sand dunes and the harbour.

However, with this latest disaster of the cooker, William almost wished he’d never agreed to be the major’s valet in the first place. First, her demand for her own private bathroom, now this. Although on reflection, at least he wasn’t at Uncle Tom’s any more. He was a brick to put me up ever since my parents died, but his eccentric ways of carrying on used to drive everyone round the bend, me included, so the major’s offer out of the blue was something to be thankful for. But what was he going to do about the oven? They were at least two miles from Nevrille, the nearest French town, and even if he managed to cadge a lift, he wouldn’t know who to ask for help once he got there. As it was, Susan, the major’s daughter, had borrowed the old boy’s car to go for a swim, so that was out of the question.

Just as he was running out of ideas, the kitchen door exploded open with a bang and Hortense, the village help, arrived, after propping up her rusty old bicycle outside.

‘Bonjour, Monsieur. Comment ca va?’ Then, seeing his expression, she added, concerned, ‘Vous avez un problem, n’est pas?’

William waved a hand at the oven. ‘You can say that again, Hortense, the blasted oven’s packed up!’

As she bent over to see, he explained as best he could. ‘I put that in two hours ago – il y a deux heures, and regardez. Voila!’

‘Ah, mon dieux! C’est pas vrai! C’est l’element encore. C’est caput!’

He turned in puzzled bewilderment. ‘What’s that, when it’s at home?’

She fanned herself to illustrate. ‘Alors, we need a new element to heat the overn, monsieur. Tout suite. Otherwise, vous n’allez pas manger, vous comprenez?’

‘Where do we get this element?’ demanded William feverishly. ‘The major will be back soon and so will his wife!’ The thought of what Lady Charlotte would say when she found out made his blood run cold.