The Chateau of Happily-Ever-Afters: a laugh-out-loud romcom!. Jaimie Admans
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they’ll probably block your card because they suspect it’s been stolen. You’ll have to phone them and prove you’re you. And that’s the pharmacie, I don’t need to translate that one.’ She points across the road. ‘That’s the boulangerie, the bakery, and not to toot my own horn, but my stuff is much better than his. Further on is the library but you’ll be lucky to find it open. It’s run by a forgetful old bloke who forgets he runs it most days.’
I look around in disbelief. ‘That’s it? A chemist, a baker, a grocery shop, and a library?’
‘What else do you need?’
‘I…’
‘This village only really comes to life on market days. The streets are lined with stalls and that covered triangular area in the middle is full of sellers.’
I look at the odd-shaped area between the bakery and the library, hanging baskets full of flowers swinging from each concrete pillar supporting the roof. ‘When’s market day?’
‘Tuesday and Saturday mornings,’ she says. ‘I’d love to get a stall but I’d have to get here so early that I’d let my regular customers down. Then again, when you meet Theo, the butter seller, you’ll see why it might be worth it. He’s gorgeous.’
When Kat leaves me, with a promise of coming round with breakfast tomorrow morning, and me actually having the cash to pay her this time, I watch her green-tipped hair walking away and wonder what I’ve let myself in for coming here. I don’t understand a word of the language, and even though Kat’s taught me to ask ‘parlez-vous anglais?’ in shops, she’s also told me not to count on any locals speaking English. The next few weeks might not be quite the relaxing holiday I was hoping for.
In the épicerie, the shopkeeper greets me with a bright ‘bonjour’ and comes out from behind the counter babbling in French. After a series of hand gestures and me butchering the pronunciation of the three words I know, he goes back behind the counter and watches me like he’s not sure if I’m a foreigner or a really weird shoplifter.
By the time I get back to the château, I’d sell my soul, my first-born child, and every non-vital organ on the black market for a cup of tea. Kat was right about not being able to find anything that even resembles British tea over here. With my few groceries in a brown paper bag, I don’t see anyone but a woman walking her dog on the way back either.
The château door is open when I go in and I let it slam shut behind me to let Julian know how annoyed I am. I’ve no idea where he is, but he can’t go around leaving doors unlocked.
‘That you, Wend?’ he shouts from somewhere below me.
‘No,’ I shout into the empty entranceway, annoyance prickling even harder at him shortening my name like we’re friends. ‘It’s a burglar. I came to steal all your valuables because the door was so conveniently left open, and as your car keys are on the table inside the door, maybe I’ll nick that as well while I’m at it.’
‘You’re wasting your time in food ambassador-ing or whatever it is you do,’ he shouts back. ‘You should be in stand-up comedy.’
‘Ha ha,’ I mutter under my breath. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve found a kitchen yet, have you?’
I feel completely lost looking around the château. I’ve barely had a chance to explore it and half of that was in the dark. There are so many rooms, too many, full of too much stuff. This is Eulalie’s house, her history, her memories. All of the stuff in these rooms is stuff that she bought, that she put there, that she left after her husband died. She might never have come back here, but she never stopped thinking about it, weaving it into tales, getting lost in her memories. It feels like a lot of pressure to treat it with the honour it deserves.
‘Down here,’ he calls, his voice muffled from the floor below.
I pick up Kat’s baked goods from the table where I left them, surprised to see Julian hasn’t pinched any, and cross the empty entranceway and reception rooms towards a tiny staircase which leads down into the basement level of the château.
‘There’s a kitchen down here?’ I ask as I squeeze my way down a narrow stone staircase with no banister.
‘Servants’ quarters,’ he says from somewhere. ‘The lord and lady of the manor would never have lifted a finger. Everything would’ve been done for them, cooking, washing, all that stuff hidden below deck, out of sight. Don’t tell me you’ve not seen Downton Abbey?’
‘Surely Eulalie and her husband didn’t have servants? She wasn’t the kind of person who’d have servants. She hated people doing anything for her.’
‘I don’t know. It depends how rich they were. To be honest, it probably goes back much further, this house has a lot more history than just Eulalie.’
There are dark stone floors and an open fireplace at the bottom of the stairs, a huge room that spreads in both directions. If this really was servants’ quarters once, it’s bigger than an entire floor of my block of flats put together. It smells damp and musty, and like the rat in the box I found last night isn’t the only thing to have died here in the past twenty years.
‘Where’ve you been?’ he calls from another room.
‘I walked into the village with Kat to get some shopping, not that it’s any of your business.’
He lets out a low whistle. ‘Oh good. I was starting to worry you’d been eaten by a snake. They’re big enough around here to devour a human. It would’ve been a dreadful shame if you’d run into one.’
‘You’re hilari—’ I turn a corner and put my head around the door of the room I think he must be in. Then I let out a shriek and nearly drop my shopping. ‘You’re naked!’
He glances down at himself. ‘Your powers of observation get more efficient by the day.’
I blush crimson red and turn around so I don’t have to look at him. ‘What are you doing without any clothes on?’ I ask, trying to ignore the edge of hysteria in my voice.
‘Getting an early lunch.’
‘I meant why are you doing it naked?’
‘Well, why not, eh?’
I make myself take a deep breath and count to ten. ‘Julian, you can’t walk around with no clothes on.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because you’re not alone. I’m staying here too and I don’t want to see that!’ I wave a hand over my shoulder to indicate his bits.
‘Don’t look then.’ He laughs. ‘If it annoyed you so much you wanted to leave, that would be fine with me. You said you could outdo me on the annoying housemate front. You obviously haven’t begun yet so I thought I’d get a head start on proving you wrong.’
‘Well, I’m asking you nicely,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Please would you put some clothes on?’
‘Why should I?’
‘Because that’s offensive!’
‘This is my house just as much as yours. You can walk around naked too, if you want. I won’t mind.’ I can hear the smirk in his voice.
‘If there were police around, you’d be arrested for indecent exposure.’
‘Only in public. Not in my own home. If it offends you so much, you know where the front door is.’
I glare at the empty room so I don’t have to turn around and face all of him. He’s doing this to annoy me. He’s doing it for a reaction, and I’ve given him one. I should’ve ignored it. All I’ve done is given him what he wanted.
And