You Had Me at Chateau, page 19
I freeze, my eyes darting to Caleb, who is watching me with mild curiosity, then back to my screen. I can feel my face turning red because obviously I get the joke – he’s referring to the lavender balm I used to use to help me sleep, when I was worrying about my GCSEs, that was called Badger Balm, but he used to call it beaver cream as a joke – but Caleb won’t know that, and we all know what ‘beaver cream’ sounds like.
‘What? Why are you being weird? Is someone there?’ Tom asks, noticing my reaction.
‘No,’ I say firmly, but he’s already peering closer at the screen.
‘There is, I can see someone, reflected in the mirror behind you,’ Tom says, squinting to get a better look. ‘There’s a man there, I can see him. That or you’ve got one seriously chill ghost.’
I glance over at Caleb, who stands up and walks over, clearly deciding it’s better to just say hi than to let Tom think some random has his sister held hostage or something.
Caleb stands in front of the camera and waves.
‘Hi, I’m Caleb,’ he says.
‘Oh, hi,’ Tom says, taken aback. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise Amber had company or I wouldn’t have ranted about our parents for so long.’
‘No worries,’ Caleb replies. ‘I sympathise if I’m being honest with you. Not many people know this but my parents broke up when I was a teen.’
‘Shit, that’s rough,’ Tom replies.
‘It was a long time ago,’ Caleb says. ‘But I know what it’s like, when your parents split, and to go through it without any siblings, or close family, so I have two things to tell you both. The first thing is that, when my parents broke up, the main thing I remember is that they both stopped trying. When people run out of love for each other, they run out of everything. They don’t care, they check out. People who don’t want to make things work don’t try to push each other’s buttons like that. I don’t know your parents, so I might be wrong, but they sound to me like two people trying to get a reaction out of each other, and people only do that when they want something.’
‘Huh,’ I say thoughtfully.
‘That’s a good point,’ Tom chimes in. ‘They’re not avoiding each other. If anything, they’re spending more time together than usual.’
Caleb smiles.
‘The two of you have each other,’ Caleb continues. ‘So long as the two of you stick together, and stay on the same page, you’ll be fine, whatever happens with your folks.’
‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Tom says with a half-smile. ‘I’m sorry to hear that you don’t have any close family, I can’t even imagine that. It must be tough.’
‘It is sometimes,’ Caleb admits. ‘But it makes me appreciate the connections I do have, even more.’
I feel a rush of warmth at Caleb’s words. He’s not just some shallow influencer; he’s genuinely thoughtful and caring. He’s a real person, not just a series of pretty pictures, and it sounds like he’s really been through it. It’s like I’m seeing a whole new side of him.
‘Thanks for the pep talk,’ Tom replies, his voice sincere. ‘I’ve spent the past few days thinking that my family was imploding.’
‘No worries,’ Caleb says, smiling. ‘It’s good to remember that family isn’t just about who you’re related to by blood. It’s about who’s there for you, who supports you. You don’t need a family tree to find people like that.’
By the time the call ends, Tom seems like a new man.
‘Thanks for opening up to him like that,’ I tell Caleb. ‘Honestly, I think it meant a lot to him.’
‘I figured,’ Caleb replies. ‘I’m selective, when it comes to who I open up to.’
‘It sounds like you’ve been through a lot,’ I point out. ‘Going through that at such a young age – at least Tom and I are adults. Or claiming to be.’
Caleb laughs.
‘What actually happened is that my dad left, when things got tough between him and my mum, and he never came back, never bothered on birthdays or Christmases, and we were cut off from his side of the family,’ Caleb explains. ‘My mum didn’t really have any family either, and she died just before my TV debut.’
‘Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,’ I tell him.
‘She had… she…’
Caleb sounds like he has a bit of a lump in his throat.
‘It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me,’ I insist. ‘We’ve got plenty of time to talk.’
‘One of the reasons I wanted to do the show was to raise money for her,’ he says. ‘Anyway, she passed before I had the chance, but I honour her memory by raising money and awareness for charities that will help people who were in the situation we were in.’
‘That’s so incredible,’ I point out. ‘She would be so proud of you, if she could see what you were doing.’
He takes a deep breath, as though he’s recomposing himself.
‘I hope so,’ he replies. ‘It certainly makes the anal beads a lot easier to wear.’
I laugh.
‘I think you’re right about my parents, you know,’ I tell him, taking his cue to move the conversation along. ‘My parents have been referring to whatever they’re going through as pre-divorcing.’
‘Yeah, they clearly don’t want to split up,’ he points out. ‘Perhaps when you get home you can work out what’s the matter, and help them work around it.’
‘Gosh, I hope so,’ I reply with a sigh. ‘Anyway, thanks for cheering Tom up, at least. Even if it just helps him to keep sane until I get home.’
‘You’re welcome,’ Caleb replies.
It’s nice, to see Tom and Caleb getting on so well – he didn’t have to open up to him like that – and I’m amazed at how Caleb has instantly put Tom’s worries to bed. Bloody hell, even I feel a bit better, after hearing his words.
‘You know, you’re pretty deep, for an influencer,’ I point out.
‘None taken,’ Caleb jokes – implying I should have followed my statement with: no offence.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it,’ I reply, laughing awkwardly. ‘I meant it as a compliment.’
‘I was on this planet for a long time, before this was my job,’ he points out. ‘I was a teacher, actually, not too far into my career, but it wasn’t an easy job to keep up, not when your mum is ill. I’ve always wanted to help people, I knew that much, so I started training to be a grief counsellor, but ironically, when you’re grieving yourself, it’s not that easy. I got lucky, with the timing of the show, because it set me on a different path. I do still like to help people, though, so sometimes I can’t resist sticking my beak in, offering people advice if I think I can help.’
I smile at him.
‘I get that,’ I tell him. ‘The reason I wanted to write funny books was to make people happy. I always thought that if I could make people smile, even when they were going through a shit time, then I would leave this world a little better than I found it.’
‘That’s great,’ he tells me. ‘That’s my motto too. And I’m sure you do make people really, really happy.’
‘Oh, yeah, I make them happy enough, just not horny enough,’ I joke. ‘It’s always worth it, for the lovely emails and messages I get from people who do enjoy what I do, but you are always going to have people who don’t get what you’re going for. Lots of people say they enjoy my books, but then follow it up with a comment saying they’re not complex, or deep – as though I don’t work hard to keep them that way. I don’t want to make people think, I don’t want to be the reason for anyone’s existential crisis, I don’t want to make them sad, I don’t even really want to make anyone all that horny. I just want to make people smile. To make their dark days lighter. Sometimes it’s just not that deep.’
‘It was reading that got me through losing my mum,’ he tells me. ‘Crime books. Nothing too heavy, or deep, just mysteries that needed solving, and detectives picking through the clues to figure it all out. It took me out of my reality and into somewhere I could breathe.’
‘People who don’t read don’t get it, but there’s a lot to be said for not getting lost in a book, but hiding away in one,’ I reply.
Caleb smiles at me.
‘Anyway, I’m just happy to help,’ he says. ‘It was nothing.’
Maybe there’s more to this influencer gig – and to Caleb – than I first thought.
34
Stepping out of Henri’s warm 4x4, into the cold outside, is a real shock to the system.
Still, we’re here, at the cabin he’s working on, and I can’t wait to see it.
It’s tucked away in a secluded part of the forest, miles away from the main resort. You can tell that it’s unfinished, but that it’s a work in progress, and I bet it’s going to be something really special when it’s finished.
The exterior is made of dark, weathered wood, blending almost seamlessly with the trees that surround it. Large windows – even if they are a bit dirty at the moment – promise undisturbed views of the forest that surrounds the place, and the covered porch looks like it’s going to be a great spot to watch the sun go down – or rise, if you’re into that sort of thing.
‘Here we are,’ Henri says as he holds the door open for me, and I step inside.
‘Oh, wow,’ I say – meaning it mostly in a good way.
The interior is sparse but inviting. The walls and floors have been redone (oh, come on, like I know the technical term for it) with raw timber, giving the place more of an inside feel and the most amazing smell. The only furniture in the room is a bed in the corner and two armchairs positioned near a fireplace. It’s all clearly seen better days which makes me think that it’s only here for Henri, or whoever, while they’re working on the place.
‘I want this place to be a romantic escape,’ Henri says, his voice filled with passion. ‘Somewhere lovers can come to get away from it all. It’s kilometres from the main resort – too far to walk – and there’s no phone service. Eventually, there will be Wi-Fi, but I think there’s something romantic about being cut off from the rest of the world, don’t you?’
I nod, imagining how cosy the cabin will be when it’s finished, and how nice it would be to be trapped here with a dreamy man – definitely something that could go in one of my books.
‘It does sound wonderful,’ I reply. ‘Is there a kitchen?’
I don’t mean to make it sound like food is all I care about but I’m also in no position to deny that’s true.
‘Not yet,’ Henri replies. ‘Which is why I brought a picnic.’
He lays a blanket on the wooden floor and starts unpacking the basket he brought with him. He pulls out a variety of foods: breads, a selection of cheeses, charcuterie, grapes, and a small jar of honey. There’s also a bottle of red wine and two glasses.
No, I don’t know how much cheese is too much cheese, I just know that I’m nowhere near my limit yet.
‘It’s a bit chilly in here,’ I remark, rubbing my arms.
Henri nods and moves to the fireplace, expertly arranging the logs and kindling. Within minutes, a warm, crackling fire springs to life, lighting the room with a romantic glow.
I sit on the blanket, appreciating the warmth as it slowly spreads through the lodge. Yep, this is definitely romantic.
‘It will be warmer when it is finished,’ he explains. ‘But for now it’s okay, to spend a few hours here, away from everyone else.’
I smile. I can definitely brave the cold for this. I’ve never done anything like it before.
Henri joins me on the blanket, handing me a plate before loading up his own.
It looks so, so good. The food doesn’t look bad either.
‘So, tell me more about your role here,’ I say, genuinely curious. ‘I know you look after the château, but this seems like a real pet project of yours.’
Henri leans back on one elbow, his face illuminated by the firelight.
‘This place is owned by my family,’ he tells me. ‘My dad is technically in charge, but I run the day-to-day operations. And one day it will be mine, so I like to do a good job.’
I laugh.
‘Wow, that’s amazing,’ I reply. ‘I had no idea.’
‘No, I don’t usually tell people who stay at the château,’ he replies. ‘And no one would guess, because I actually work hard. My siblings are just happy to live off my family’s money but I could never do that. I love to work.’
Jeez, imagine loving your job. I’m more envious of the fact he loves what he does than I am of the fact that his dad is clearly a millionaire – probably a billionaire. No, wait, what am I saying? I’m sure if I had family billions I could have a job that I loved – I could start my own publishing house, and publish my own books, whatever genre I wanted.
‘Do you like the wine?’ he asks me, changing the subject.
‘Yes,’ I reply. ‘I usually only drink white but this is nice.’
He narrows his eyes at me, unconvinced.
‘I have white in the car,’ he says with a smile. ‘Let me get you some.’
‘Oh, you don’t have to do that,’ I reply.
‘It’s no problem,’ he insists.
I pop a piece of cheese in my mouth. Wow, so Henri is the heir to all of this? Can you imagine if Mandy, Bette and Gina knew that? The banging-a-billionaire trope would be straight to the top of their list – and yes, I know the wager is off, but I still think they would be all over it.
A few minutes later, Henri returns with a concerned look on his face.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask, sensing his unease.
‘It seems like my car battery is flat,’ he says. ‘I can’t unlock it.’
My heart sinks.
‘Can we walk back?’ I ask him. ‘To the château, I mean?’
Henri shakes his head.
‘It’s too far, and it’s getting dark,’ he tells me. ‘But don’t worry, I have a meeting later, and I told the person I’m meeting that I would be here first. When I don’t show up, he’ll know to come here and get me. Everything will be okay.’
I nod, trying to shake off the anxiety that is building inside me. I don’t want to sound like I’m addicted to my phone but I do feel kind of edgy when I know I’m somewhere without signal.
‘Okay,’ I say, forcing a smile.
Henri sits back down, and we continue our meal in silence for a few moments. Then, sensing my discomfort, he reaches over and takes me by the hand.
‘I promise, it will be okay,’ he reassures me. ‘In the meantime, let’s enjoy our picnic, and the fire, and each other’s company.’
‘Yeah, you’re right,’ I tell him, trying to sound like I mean it, and like this hasn’t totally distracted me.
I pick up another piece of cheese. Then another, as my mind races with worry. After all, nothing good ever happens in a cabin in the woods, does it?
35
Pacing the floor – treading the creaking floorboards, which only makes all of this even more creepy – I try to steady my racing heart and my sharp breaths which are, probably technically speaking, in panic-attack territory, but I’m trying to run it in the background, so that Henri doesn’t think I’m a dork. Hopefully I’m coming across as fidgety, rather than like I’m freaking out.
The cabin would be completely dark were it not for the flickering glow of the fire – although somehow this only makes things seem creepier. It’s marginally better than total darkness, of course, and I’m grateful for the warmth.
It’s late now, and no one has turned up to rescue us. Every creak of the wood, every gust of wind outside, everything sends shivers down my spine. Even without everything I’ve ever seen in every horror movie ever running through my mind, it’s cold here, and we only have so much food. It’s glorified camping.
Henri is much more chill about it. He’s sitting by the fire, the reflection of the flames dancing in his eyes as he warms his hands.
‘Don’t worry, Amber,’ he reassures me, his voice calming. ‘People knew I was coming here. I’ll be missed – the resort relies on me for too much. Someone will come.’
I nod, but I’m not convinced.
‘Even if they don’t come until morning, it will be okay,’ he continues. ‘If you want to take the bed, wrap yourself up under the covers, and I’ll add more wood to the fire. I’ll wake you, if anyone comes, but otherwise try to get a good rest. I will take care of you.’
Oh boy, now we’re going to have to sleep here? Really? I mean, at least it’s warmer in here than it is outside, and slightly less scary, but… come on.
As I glance around the cabin, I can’t help but smile to myself. I can’t believe I’ve walked right into a classic trope – perhaps the most iconic one there is – there’s only one bed. Oh my God, there’s only one bed. What am I going to do?
I shake with cold as I watch Henri push the two small armchairs together. He tries to get on them, to make a sort of bed out of them, but he looks like he’s struggling to keep his balance.
Shivering, I get into the bed, pulling the blankets around me tightly. My teeth are chattering, and I can’t seem to get warm.
I can see Henri, still struggling to keep his balance on the chairs – and without a blanket – and I feel a pang of guilt.
‘Henri, you can’t sleep like that,’ I tell him. ‘Just share the bed with me. I don’t mind.’
He looks at me with a playful glint in his eye.
‘You just want my body heat,’ he says.
I laugh, despite the cold.
‘I mean that won’t hurt, come on, I’m sure we can both fit,’ I tell him.
It’s one of those beds that is a little bit bigger than a single, but a little bit smaller than a double.
Henri hesitates for a moment before climbing into the small bed beside me. The lack of space forces him to spoon me but I can’t complain because his body heat almost instantly calms my shivers. As his arms wrap around me, suddenly I don’t feel so scared any more.
‘I am actually much warmer,’ I murmur, snuggling closer. ‘God, I can’t believe we’re stuck here.’
Henri chuckles softly.
‘You know, there are rumours of a yeti in these mountains,’ he says, his voice like he’s telling a ghost story around a campfire.
