The Chateau of Happily-Ever-Afters. Jaimie Admans
He hands the open box to me and I shriek and stumble away. ‘Seriously? I nearly died for a dead rat?’
He bursts out laughing as he fits the lid securely back on the box. ‘Nothing like a bit of melodrama first thing in the morning. I didn’t realise getting stuck in a wall was such a near-death experience.’
‘I was alone! It was scary! I didn’t think anyone could get in to help me!’
‘Yeah, well, if you will insist on acting like a child and shutting the door in people’s faces. The solicitor never did say how old you are but I assume it’s in the single digits. Did someone have to sign a permission slip for you to come here?’
‘At least I’m not wearing a shirt that was clearly made for someone much younger. You must’ve got that from the children’s department,’ I say, even though he looks better than he did in the suit the other day.
‘Which is a step up from your current fashion choices, which seem to be showcasing the contents of a floor that hasn’t been cleaned since the nineties.’
I start brushing off the grime that’s ingrained in my clothes, trying to ignore him as he starts undoing the buttons of his shirt. ‘Why are you doing that?’
‘Well, if you have such a big problem with my shirt then it’s only fair I take it off. If you wanted a proper gawp at my abs you should’ve just said so.’ He slides the shirt off his tanned shoulders, flexing his bloody huge biceps and rolling his six-pack.
My eyes don’t know where to look first and I force myself to turn away so I don’t give him the satisfaction.
‘Okay, so…’ he says after a long silence. ‘Thanks for saving my life, Julian. Sorry for locking you out and for the crick in your neck from making you sleep in the car all night just so I could get a head start on the treasure hunting and keep it all from you.’
‘It wasn’t because of that.’
He doesn’t say anything but I can practically hear the raised eyebrow.
‘Fine,’ I mutter. ‘Sorry. And thank you for rescuing me.’
‘You’re welcome. I’m always happy to help idiots in distress.’ He claps his hands together. ‘There, now that’s settled and it’s daylight, I’m going to have a look round the grounds and see what’s growing on our fifteen acres.’
I hate the emphasis he puts on ‘our’. He’s doing it on purpose. ‘I was just about to do that.’
‘No, you were going to stay stuck in that wall until the end of time. Maybe after a few weeks of starvation, you’d have lost enough weight to free yourself.’
I turn around and glare at him, the shirtless git. His mention of starvation has made me remember how hungry I am. Now he’s in, there’s nothing to stop me going out to get food. Surely the village can’t be far away.
‘Seeing as you trying to kill me with that look of pure hatred has failed, shall we go and have a look round together? I’m not sure I can trust you not to fall down a well or something.’
I glare at him even harder but he continues smirking with his smug face and laughing eyes.
That feeling of being alone out here earlier? That was a good feeling. I miss that feeling.
Outside, the early morning sun is high in the sky and I squint up at it like a mole seeing daylight for the first time. It makes my eyes sting and start watering. Julian slides his sunglasses out of his jeans and puts them on. Of course, I didn’t think to bring sunglasses with me.
He stands at the top of the main steps and takes a deep breath, looking around. Past our courtyard, driveway, and the little access lane, there’s nothing but fields and trees for miles in front of us, the rolling green of Normandy hillsides. There’s no road, no traffic noise, nothing but the occasional squawk of a bird.
‘It’s so peaceful here.’ Julian breathes in again and exhales slowly, and I do the same, trying to breathe in some of the French countryside and block out the man beside me, even though he hasn’t really done anything wrong. Yet.
‘I live in the centre of Glasgow,’ he continues. ‘You can’t go five minutes without a siren or a police helicopter or someone yelling at someone else.’
‘Same,’ I mutter.
‘Where are you?’
‘Outskirts of London, on a road with the nearest takeaway to a nightclub that chucks out at three a.m.’
‘Oh, I bet that’s fun,’ he says with a laugh.
‘Supremely.’
He glances over at me. ‘Ever been to Normandy before?’
‘No. You?’
‘Nope. I work in Paris sometimes but it’s busy there. It’s nothing like this.’
I work in Paris sometimes. I want to mutter it under my breath. Posh git.
He looks at me with that smirk again and I swear he knows what I’m thinking. Instead of saying anything, he walks down the steps and I follow him, annoyed at myself for following him. I want to go in the opposite direction and be brave enough to look around on my own, but it didn’t exactly end well last night, and there’s a lot of land behind the château. Having someone around, even him, makes it seem less imposing somehow.
‘We have a moat,’ I say, rushing to catch up with him.
‘Have you won any prizes for your powers of observation lately?’
‘Ha ha ha,’ I say, just to let him know how utterly hilarious I think he is.
He lets out a genuine laugh. ‘Yeah, I’ve got to admit the moat is impressive. It’s a shame it’s not cleaner. Can you imagine how awesome it’d be to literally swim around the house?’
‘I don’t want find out. I think there’s enough things already swimming around in there.’
‘What, like fish? Don’t tell me you’re scared of them too?’
‘I’m not scared of… there are fish in there?’
‘Yeah, I saw them last night. Maybe you were too busy rushing inside to start treasure hunting to notice them.’
‘I wasn’t…’ Oh, what’s the point? He’s never going to believe I shut him out for any other reason than to get a head start on the non-existent treasure, and why does it matter if he does anyway? Give it a few days and I’m sure he’ll have turned the place upside down, discovered for himself that dead rats are the most exciting things hidden in these walls, and gone on his merry way back home, leaving me to enjoy my holiday in peace.
At the back of the château is a huge area that was probably a lawn once but now bears a resemblance to the Little Shop of Horrors. ‘If there’s not something in there shouting “Feed me, Seymour” I’ll be surprised.’
He turns round and smiles at me. ‘That’s one of my favourite movies.’
‘Mine too.’ I meet his eyes and feel myself smiling involuntarily, remembering the classic old film about the man-eating Venus Flytrap. I realise what I’m doing and give myself a good shake. ‘I mean, yeah, alien plants are about what I’d expect from your level of intelligence.’
He gives me a look but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. I can’t insult him for liking a film I’ve seen at least twenty times.
The bridge across the moat at the back of the château is nothing more than a footpath through the water that looks like it’s sunk over the years.
‘Look.’ Julian crouches down on the edge of