Page 49 of You Had Me at Chateau
‘Anytime, Tom,’ I say, managing a small smile, but my God I feel so guilty, because if the roles were reversed and I was handling this alone I would be going crazy too. ‘I’m always here for you, even if it’s just over the phone.’
‘Thanks,’ he says, giving me a weak smile in return. ‘Get some sleep, I know it’s later there. Goodnight, Amber.’
‘Goodnight,’ I say, giving him a wave before I hang up.
I put my phone down and lie back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to help fix things at home when I can’t even manage my own life.
Mum and Dad have always bickered but it’s always been in that fun way that couples who have been married for a long time seem to almost enjoy. They’re like a pop-up theatre group, doing a bit, making everyone around them laugh by taking the piss out of each other. Perhaps they’re not always joking.
I feel the weight of my family’s problems pressing down on me and, along with all of my own problems that I need to solve, for the first time in a long while, I’m not sure I’m up to it.
23
Waking up after another good night’s sleep is a luxury I’m starting to get used to, even if my dreams were filled with a chaotic mix of my parents trying to kill each other, and me trying to write a book while a giant nipple tassel chases me down the street – no prizes for guessing what’s on my mind.
And all of this happened only when I did eventually fall asleep, that is. Last night it wasn’t easy. My call with Tom about my parents has left me feeling a bit on edge. Are things really that bad at home? Are they really over? Perhaps when I get back I can help, even if it’s just to smooth things over and establish a new normal. But, God, I wish they would stay together. I’m sure Mum would be fine, but Dad? Who is going to take care of Dad? He isn’t going to know how to look after himself, let alone find someone else to do it for him. Bloody hell, I certainly am not going to become the person who ends up cooking and cleaning for him – I’d end up killing him.
As I stretch out in the luxurious bed, I realise just how well rested I feel despite the late night. This bed is heavenly, and it’s doing wonders for my sleep quality – I wonder if the same bed could work the same magic back home, but I doubt it, I thinkperhaps it only works in the Alps where everything is peaceful and the air is so clear. Maybe.
My stomach rumbles, reminding me that my body has already adapted to the two-breakfast way of living. I’ve slept in a little today, so my stomach is clearly demanding I put something in it already.
There’s a knock on my bedroom door, interrupting my thoughts. I quickly throw a jumper on over the vest and shorts I slept in before I answer it. Today restarts the ticker on the number of days it has been since I last flashed my underwear at anyone. Let’s start as we mean to go on.
‘Bonjour,’ a cheerful voice greets me as I open the door.
Oh, God, it’s Henri. I bet I look like a mess – bed hair, sleep still in my eyes, the whole messy works.
‘Oh, hello,’ I reply brightly, trying to style it out. ‘How’s it going?’
I lean on the door frame, trying to look casual, but probably just looking weird.
‘I’m very well, thank you. How are you?’ he asks, his smile warm and genuine.
‘Yeah, can’t complain,’ I say, mentally reminding myself to rein in the chipperness. No one is this chipper, this early – especially not me.
‘I was wondering if you’d like to go for a walk around the resort with me,’ Henri says. ‘I can show you the sights, see if any of them inspire you to write. It would be nice to set a book here, no?’
I can’t hide my smile. I’m not doing anything on purpose, not trying to play the tropes to my advantage, and yet he still wants to give little old me a tour of the place.
‘I’d love to,’ I reply. ‘Just let me get dressed.’
Henri grins.
‘Great! I’ll treat you to breakfast while we’re out,’ he tells me. ‘So we can leave right away.’
My smile widens even more.
‘Okay, sure, I’ll be ready in a few minutes,’ I tell him.
‘I’ll wait downstairs,’ Henri says. ‘Feel free to use my bathroom, knowing it’s safe.’
‘Oh, I much prefer it when you’re in it, keeps me on my toes,’ I dare to joke.
Henri chuckles.
‘I’ll see you downstairs,’ he replies.
