Page 60 of You Had Me at Chateau
The second my eyes hit the menu I knew what I was going to have: a burger, with bacon, brie and caramelised onion relish, and a side of French fries. There is so much good stuff on this menu, and I tend to be the sort of person who always orders the same thing at the same restaurant, which I need to try not to do here… but if I did, I wouldn’t regret it. This might be the best burger I have ever tasted – ever – and the French fries just feel all the more French for me, well, being in France right now. They don’t get more legit than this, do they?
Caleb and I have been chatting for hours and I have to say, I’m surprised at how much it turns out we have in common – both now and when we were younger.
From pirates to Powerpuff Girls (yep, I had a phase where I was into both – my birthday parties took a jarring turn from one year to the next), our childhood obsessions have a lot of crossover, over the years. Even in our teens we both had the same phase, when we were obsessed with pop-punk (except he didn’t go as far as to get his eyebrow pierced like I did – not that you would know now, because my dad made me take it out) and gross-out comedy movies. It’s like we were following the same blueprint, without even knowing. Even as adults I would say we’re both equally obsessed with (if not dependent on) air fryers – although I suspect he probably has a fancy built-in one, like Tom does. It seems as though it’s only in recent years that our paths have deviated, with Caleb going on a reality TV show, but that they’re coming back together now that he’s becoming an author. It’s strange really.
But after reminiscing about old TV shows and swapping embarrassing stories of when we were teens, the tone has just shifted a little.
‘Sometimes, I feel like I don’t belong in this industry,’ Caleb admits, his tone showing a little of his vulnerable side. ‘I can’t shake this feeling, like when I’m at events, that people are side-eyeing me just because I’m famous for being famous, instead of having a talent like an actor or a musician. I think they question what I’ve actually achieved, other than being a face on TV.’
Wow, I mean, I know all about imposter syndrome (it’s part of the job, being an author) but I never would have thought Caleb felt it.
‘Listen, anyone who makes you feel bad is probably just jealous, because you’ve made such a name for yourself that people will pay you thousands of pounds to, like, hold a mug,’ I remind him. ‘And you made phenomenal TV. Most actors could never – not without a good script.’
‘Did you watch the show?’ he asks, in a tone that suggests he assumed I hadn’t.
‘You know what, I hadn’t, until I met you, and then I had a peep because I was curious, and I got hooked,’ I confess. ‘In fact, the only reason I stopped watching you on TV was because you turned up here. So no spoilers, okay? I’ll get back to TV you when real you goes home.’
Caleb laughs.
‘Thanks for the pep talk,’ he tells me, dipping a French fry into his tomato sauce, before popping it into his mouth.
‘Ah, you’re welcome,’ I reply. ‘I totally get it. I often feel like I’m surrounded by more experienced, more successful authors, wondering if I’ll ever measure up. Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder if they’re looking down at me, because I’m younger, less experienced, less settled in life. Everyone seems to have a confidence that I don’t think I can unlock with anything but time – the problem is, I could really do with it right now.’
‘I guess I have all this to look forward to, huh?’ he says with a smile.
‘Oh, I’m sure you have nothing to worry about,’ I insist. ‘With the kind of advance you’re probably getting, you don’t need to care about what anyone thinks.’
‘Yeah, maybe you’re right,’ he replies. ‘It’s kind of reassuring, chatting with you about this author stuff. Honestly, I feel like a fish out of water sometimes. I know that it was being on TV that got me a foot in the door, but now that I’m here, the pressure’s on.’
I mean, publishing a book that is being ghostwritten for you, and people not liking it, isn’t exactly the same as slogging away for weeks, months or even years on a book, only to see it flop – and then having to find the strength to do it all again.
‘You’ve got to have faith in yourself,’ I remind him. ‘Plus, your publisher wouldn’t have offered you a deal, if they didn’t think that a book by you would do really well.’
Caleb nods thoughtfully.
I suppose, at the very least, it’s something that he recognises his privilege, and why he has a seat at the table.
Neither of us has left so much as a bit of garnish on our plates, in fact, they’re so clean you could be forgiven for thinking they hadn’t been used. You can’t even see a trace of ketchup – although calling it ketchup feels like a bit of a diss, because it’s more like a fancy tomato puree.
I notice Caleb gesture over my shoulder at someone.
I just stare at him, silently asking if I need to be worried.
‘I’ve arranged us something special for dessert,’ he tells me. ‘You’re going to love it.’
‘I am on the verge of a food coma!’ I point out. ‘Dessert will send me off nicely, thank you.’
Caleb laughs.
‘I’m not specifically doing this to take pictures of the different desserts, but it would be a shame not to,’ he says.
‘Hey, I’m the kind of girl who takes photos of her food, and I only have like 250 followers, so have at it,’ I reply. ‘Wait – different desserts?’
‘Yeah, it’s a tasting menu,’ he replies. ‘Well, in that we’re basically tasting everything on the menu.’
A parade of plates arrives at our table, each one looking more beautiful and enticing than the last. There’s crème brûlée, tarte Tatin, macarons, something I don’t recognise that looks like layers and layers of chocolate, but yes, please. My mouth is watering just looking at them.
‘Wow, Caleb, this is amazing,’ I say, grabbing a fork and diving into the tarte Tatin. ‘You sure know how to treat a prop girlfriend.’
