Page 15 of You Had Me at Chateau
‘Okay, fab, well, you’ve got a couple of days to get ready, and you’ll be back in time for Christmas,’ she tells me. ‘I’ll buzz all the details to your inbox. But Amber, listen, I do need you to stick with your original draft, okay? And no sneaking any murders into this one.’
I sigh heavily. I’m not feeling it, at all, but it doesn’t seem like I have much choice.
‘Great,’ I reply.
I must be the only person in history to feel down in the dumps about being given a holiday at a fancy resort. But I don’t ski, I’m not close with the other writers – not like they are with each other – and, worst of all, I do not want to write this book.
But it seems like I don’t have a choice so I guess France it is.
Super!
7
Tonight I feel like I’m at a wake – but a wake where the man of the moment isn’t actually dead.
It’s Dad’s birthday, so we’re gathered at the house. Everyone is in the lounge sitting around the coffee table. Apparently Dad went out with his friends earlier, so this is a family-only function. Thank God, because I’m not sure the house could handle much more rowdiness than this. Tom has a big armchair to himself so he’s sitting with a beer in his hand, and his legs draped over the side of the chair, like he used to do when we were kids. Then, on the L-shaped sofa we have Mum, Dad, Auntie Kay and Amy, my cousin, the one who set me up with Ray. This is the first time I’ve seen her since and, unsurprisingly, I haven’t brought her a thank you gift.
And then there’s me, sitting on the floor, making the most of the underfloor heating, and watching while my dad opens his presents.
But, yeah, it definitely feels more like a wake than a celebration, and the thing that’s dead is, of course, the concept of family functions that aren’t awkward, thanks to my parents’ pre-divorce status. Even the balloons look deflated, and the ‘HappyBirthday’ banner has been hung on a wonk, which makes me wonder if Mum might have done it on purpose, as a little sneaky ‘fuck you’, because that’s about as controversial as Mum gets.
‘Here’s one from me,’ I tell him, handing him a gift bag.
‘Thanks, Amber,’ he replies, his voice strained but trying to sound cheerful.
‘You’re welcome,’ I reply.
It’s nothing exciting, just stuff Mum told me he was after a while ago.
‘Golf stuff,’ he says, holding up a golf glove and some luminous green golf balls.
Tom practically sprays the sip of beer he just took across the room.
‘Thomas,’ Mum ticks him off.
‘Sorry,’ he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I was just thinking about a golf book I read earlier. Amber didn’t give you a golf book, did she, Dad?’
I shoot Tom a look.
‘No, give over,’ Dad insists. ‘I don’t need a book to teach me how to do it.’
‘I don’t know, I learned a thing or two from this one,’ Tom replies.
‘So, come on, Amber, I’m dying to know,’ Amy chimes in, attempting to lighten the mood. ‘How did your date with Ray go?’
I pull a face.
‘Kind of awful,’ I say casually. ‘I threw my knickers at him.’
Dad winces.
‘I don’t think I need to hear this,’ he says, throwing up his hands.
‘It’s okay, you’ll want to hear this one,’ I reply. ‘Before he arrived, I found a pair of worn knickers in my trouser leg. I must have left them in there the last time I wore the trousers. Anyway,I hid them in my bag, thinking they would be safe but the date wasn’t going well so I reached into my bag, to get my purse to give him money for the bill, and I accidentally pulled them out and dropped them on the table in front of him.’
Tom bursts out laughing, nearly choking on his drink yet again.
‘That’s brilliant,’ he blurts. ‘Honestly, that might be my favourite story ever.’
