Alice-Miranda in the Alps by Jacqueline Harvey

replied, perking up. ‘I love it when celebrities use pseudonyms. Is he a celebrity? I’ve heard Lawrence Ridley calls himself George Grant.’
    Alice-Miranda frowned. ‘Is that true, Daddy? I’ve never heard Uncle Lawrence do that.’
    â€˜I wouldn’t count on the reliability of the information you get in Gloss and Goss ,’ Hugh said, eyeing the open tabloid on the counter.
    The woman’s eyes almost popped out of her head. ‘Uncle Lawrence?’
    â€˜He’s married to my Aunt Charlotte,’ Alice-Miranda explained.
    The woman’s face began to contort and she looked as if she might cry.
    â€˜Are you all right?’ Alice-Miranda asked her.
    â€˜I just can’t believe you’re related to Lawrence Ridley,’ the woman said, fanning herself. ‘He’s so dreamy.’
    Alice-Miranda grinned. ‘My friend Jacinta thinks so too. He and Aunt Charlotte were hoping to come to St Moritz but he’s busy shooting a movie and Aunt Charlotte thought the babies were still too little for a ski trip. I can’t wait until they’re old enough to learn,’ she gushed.
    â€˜But we’re not here to talk about Uncle Lawrence, are we, darling?’ her father said, giving Alice-Miranda a nudge. He was worried the woman might pass out before they had time to ask her about the Baron. ‘Do you have anyone registered under the name of Florian?’ he asked.
    The receptionist pushed away the magazine and pulled the guest register towards her. She scanned the page. ‘Mmm, so your friend might be using an assumed name.’
    Hugh nodded. ‘Yes, I imagine so.’
    â€˜Then I probably shouldn’t tell you,’ the girl replied. ‘It sounds as if he doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s here.’
    Hugh smiled at the woman. ‘Yes, you’re probably right.’
    â€˜But, Daddy, we have to find Uncle Florian or else he’s going to do something he’ll regret,’ Alice-Miranda implored her father.
    â€˜I can’t make … I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,’ he said, turning back to the receptionist.
    â€˜It’s Christiane,’ she replied. ‘Christiane Birchler.’
    â€˜Darling, I can’t make Christiane tell us if she doesn’t want to,’ Hugh said, giving his daughter a meaningful look.
    Alice-Miranda’s eyes grew wide as she cottoned on. ‘What about …’ She glanced at her father. ‘What if I asked Uncle Lawrence to send Miss Birchler an autographed picture?’
    Hugh shook his head forlornly. ‘Oh, I’m sure she wouldn’t tell us, not even for that.’
    â€˜A signed photograph of Lawrence Ridley with my name on it?’ Christiane stared at the pair of them as if they were mad. ‘I’d tell you the name of every guest in this hotel for that.’
    Hugh grinned. ‘There’s no need to go overboard.’
    â€˜I’ll send Uncle Lawrence a message as soon as we get back to the hotel,’ Alice-Miranda said.
    â€˜Really?’ Christiane’s eyes were brimming with tears.
    â€˜Please don’t cry, Miss Birchler,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘Uncle Lawrence wouldn’t like that at all.’
    The bell above the front door jingled as someone came in from the street. Alice-Miranda looked around and gasped. ‘Hello Uncle Florian,’ she said quietly.
    â€˜Oh no,’ Christiane sighed dramatically. ‘Now I won’t get my autograph.’
    Hugh quickly went to greet his friend. ‘Before you say a word, Alice-Miranda only told me you were here because of something she overheard.’
    The child nodded. ‘I promise, Uncle Florian. I wasn’t going to tell, but I had to.’
    The Baron shook his head. ‘It is fine. It is just a short-term loan.’
    â€˜It’s not,’ Alice-Miranda insisted, taking him by the hand.