Page 83 of You Had Me at Chateau
Eh?
‘It’s obvious that you still want me and, seeing you with someone else, well, it’s reminded me that I still want you,’ she tells him. ‘I’m sure we can smooth all of this out, we’ll say that photo was a joke, and we’ll post some real photos together – what do you say? Can we give it another go?’
Oh boy, she’s gone from bollocking him to pretty much begging for him to take her back and, worst of all, Caleb isn’t saying a word. He isn’t telling her he’s moved on, he isn’t trying to get rid of her, he’s obviously just standing there, like a lemon – oh, God, do you think it’s because he wants to say yes, but he knows I’m in here, so he doesn’t know how to say it? I need to get out of here, right now, because I don’t want to hear what comes next.
Oh, the sicky, sinking feeling in my stomach, when I realise that my actual clothes are in the other bathroom, on the other side of the living room, and that the only thing I have in here is the French maid’s outfit. I suppose I’m lucky that I haveanything but, come on, it’s a fucking French maid’s outfit from a fucking sex shop.
With no other choice, I put it on, along with a pair of Caleb’s trainers that are too big, but beggars can’t be choosers – I’m not sure how long I would last barefoot in the snow, although at this stage I’ll be lucky to find a way out.
How on earth am I going to get out of this chalet, when the only external door is the front door? As I try to open the window – not that I know how I’ll get myself out through it – I knock over an ornament, which hits the floor, and while it thankfully doesn’t break, it does land with a thud. I freeze, hoping they didn’t hear that.
‘What was that?’ Annabelle asks.
Oh, I can’t catch a break.
‘Do you have someone in there?’ she asks angrily. ‘Is it her? Is it my crappy clone? I’ll rip her cheap blonde extensions out.’
I mean, I’m mildly offended that she’s referring to my actual hair that I have actually grown on my actual head as cheap extensions, but that’s hardly the pressing issue right now, is it?
‘Annabelle, wait,’ Caleb pleads with her. ‘Don’t go in there, it’s…’
Panicking, I try to hide under the bed, but it’s no good, it’s too close to the floor, I can’t get under it.
Spotting the brown wig and feather duster from last night, I quickly grab them, wrestling on the wig as fast as I can, before popping up just as Annabelle and Caleb walk through the door.
I dust the bedside table, trying to blend in, to make it look natural.
‘Ah,bonjour,’ I say with a big smile, in my best attempt at a French accent.
The two of them just stare at me for a moment.
‘La lit, c’est bon. La chambre, c’est bon,’ I babble, mustering up as much GSCE French as I can, but there’s only so much thatsticks in here, when you only scraped a D grade. I’m sure none of this is right, but I’m hoping Annabelle won’t know any better.
The two of them continue to stare at me.
‘All clean,’ I say, in a French accent that is supposed to sound like English isn’t my first language. ‘Merci.’
‘I was just going to say, don’t go in there, the cleaner is in there,’ Caleb tells Annabelle, his face etched with relief.
‘Christ, do they really make the poor cow clean dressed like that?’ I overhear Annabelle say, as I head for the door.
‘Yeah, she must be freezing,’ Caleb adds ever so considerately.
I quickly grab my bag, coat, and Uggs from next to the door, throwing them on as I make my escape onto the porch.
Breathing a sigh of relief (although not a very big one, all things considered), I glance back at the chalet one last time before heading back to the château. So that’s that then, right? He didn’t defend me, he played along with the cleaner story, and she wants him back so, yeah, that’s that. I mean, a holiday romance, even a brief one, was more than I was expecting but, I don’t know, I really thought we had something.
I guess it turns out I was just under the influence, in more ways than one.
Fab.
43
I almost take a tumble, slipping on a bit of icy sludge that has clung to my boot, as I walk into the château. I’m out of breath, shivering, and fucking starving now. I kind of wish I had kept the wig on, to keep my head warm, but I dropped it in a bin back at the resort.
The first thing I do is head toward my room, because right now all I can think about is getting out of this French maid outfit, because I feel like an absolute clown in it. Last night I felt great, and sexy, and fun, and today I just feel stupid.
I head up the stairs, turn the corner and bump straight into Henri (not literally, for a change), who’s hovering outside my bedroom door in a way that makes it seem like perhaps he was waiting for me. His eyes widen, and his jaw drops as he takes in my outfit, peeking out from behind the coat I just unzipped.
