I look at the screen where it does indeed say ‘potatoes’. But honestly, what a faff! Wouldn’t it be easier to jot things down in a notebook like I normally do? In any case, once we get the kitchen sorted, I’m hoping to have one of those blackboard walls I’ve seen in interiors magazines, so the boys can draw pictures with chalk and I can write my shopping list – which will include things like terrine and macarons now that we live in France and will be buying things like that.
But Frank seems so excited about the device and so eager to help that I say: ‘Brilliant, I’m sure it will be super useful,’ though I can’t actually see myself using it at all. What would be the point?
6
September, Mozène
Aura
Once my site is up and running, Frank also helps me navigate another website which is all in French and which will set me up as a business in just a few clicks, apparently. ‘Don’t worry – you don’t have to pay anything unless you earn, and it will help you get into the health system more easily,’ he adds. Then we look at various Facebook pages and other sites where he thinks I could advertise my fledgling counselling business.
By the time we’ve done all that it is lunchtime, so it seems rude not to ask him to stay and eat with us. Helen and the boys arrive back in the kitchen just as I’m putting bread, cheese, ham, tomatoes and anything else I can find in the fridge on the table. It’s a far cry from the nourishing home-made soup I envisaged myself making for lunch, perhaps with some sourdough bread (also home-made, naturally) – but there never seems to be any time. And I really do need to go shopping.
Helen is carrying a bunch of wildflowers she has picked. She takes an old carafe down from the dresser, fills it with water, arranges the flowers prettily and puts them on the table. Sorrel is carrying a fistful of dandelions and weeds and thrusts them at me. ‘Fowers, Mummy,’ he says.
‘Sorrel! They’re lovely, thank you!’ I say, pretending to smell them. I put them in a glass of water next to Helen’s rustic-chic arrangement where they look even more bedraggled, but Sorrel seems pleased with them.
‘Pretty,’ he says.
‘Thank you so much for keeping the boys occupied, Helen. We’ve got so much done! Did you have a good morning?’
She unclips Bay from his buggy and lifts him into his highchair before taking the large supermarket bag which is hanging off the back of the buggy and showing it to me. It’s full of twigs, leaves, tiny stones, feathers and some more flowers.
‘It was great! We collected these. I’m not entirely sure what we’ll do with them, but the boys had fun picking up anything that caught their eye. They’re mainly too big and heavy for a traditional collage, but I thought maybe we could create something with them out in the garden this afternoon? Unless you had any other plans for the boys, Aura?’
‘Oh gosh, no, that sounds an ideal activity for them, as long as you’re happy to do that? I know you’re only officially supposed to work five hours a day and I don’t want to feel like a complete slave driver!’ I laugh, but even to me it sounds forced. I’m mindful of what Chloe said about our ‘unpaid au pair’ arrangement with Helen, and don’t want her to feel exploited.
‘It will be a pleasure,’ Helen says. ‘Anyway, it’s not as if I’m doing anything else this afternoon, is it? I’ll get them back to you in time for their tea, perhaps you could take over then?’
Nick comes in, treading mud as usual, and sits down at the table. ‘Speaking of childcare duties, Helen, we wondered if you’d be happy to babysit this Saturday?’ he says. ‘We can either pay you the going rate, or you can take some extra time off during the week – whatever works best for you.’
I bite down on my anger – we haven’t discussed this yet. I don’t want to go to Thea’s party and I don’t know if I’m ready to leave the boys all evening with someone who, although she seems brilliant with them, I don’t know all that well. It’s different during the day when I’m always around. And it’s quite obvious why Nick’s so desperate to go, having seen what Thea looks like.
Helen’s face falls. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. Normally I would, but I’m going to see a friend in Toulouse this weekend. I would have checked with you, but I assumed the weekend would be my two days off? We’ve got a cheap hotel room booked and are planning to see the sights while the weather’s still good – I was going to ask if you could drop me at the station but it’s no problem if it’s inconvenient – I’ll just get a taxi.’
‘Of course the weekends are your own, Helen,’ I interject before Nick can say anything, ‘and it’s absolutely no problem to give you a lift to the station.’ She’s so amazing with the boys and it makes my life so much easier to have someone around to help. The last thing I want is for her to think we’re unreasonable or inflexible. ‘It’s no big deal – there will be other parties, I’m sure.’
‘I can babysit, if you like?’ Frank interjects. My feeling of relief immediately turns to panic – I don’t want to go to this party and neither do I want to leave my precious boys with a man who I’ve only just met, however helpful he might seem.
‘Frank, that’s very kind but won’t you be going to the party too?’ I ask desperately.
‘No. Thea’s dinner parties aren’t exactly my scene,’ he says. ‘I won’t be invited to this one. I’m not the right sort of person. Chateaux-dwellers only, I think you’ll find!’ He laughs, but it sounds hollow. It seems like he’s making a joke, but I don’t entirely understand it.
‘That’s very decent of you, Frank, if you’re sure,’ Nick says, making me boil with rage. Only yesterday he was saying he thought Frank was weird and tragic, wasn’t he? And yet suddenly he’s good enough to look after my darling children.
‘I don’t know,’ I bluster, ‘the boys aren’t used to being left in the evening and …’
Frank takes both my hands across the table. His palms are clammy and I want to pull mine away but that would be rude. ‘Aura. Look at me.’ He looks directly into my eyes and it feels too intimate. ‘I have three children of my own and I did a lot of the day-to-day care when they were small. I now have two grandchildren. You’ll only be down the road at Thea’s place. I’ll be at the end of the phone and you can call me whenever you like, if it makes you feel better. It’ll be good for you to meet some new people. Go on – get out there and enjoy yourself.’
I still don’t want to, but I can’t think of a way to say no that wouldn’t seem insulting after everything he’s done for me.
‘OK, thank you, Frank. If you’re sure.’
‘Thanks, mate,’ Nick adds. ‘Appreciate it.’
7
September, Mozène
Aura
That night I’m dreaming I am in a cinema watching a film I don’t understand when Nick shakes me awake. ‘Where the fuck is that music coming from?’ he shouts.
It’s so loud I can barely hear what Nick is saying, though I can hear the boys screaming from their room next door even over the din. The music is creepy and dramatic with massive choral cadences and loud bangs – it sounds familiar but not in a good way – it makes me think of horror films. What the hell is going on?
I scramble out of bed to go to the boys, shouting at Nick, ‘I think it’s coming from downstairs – can you go and see?’ and bump into Seb on the landing, who is bare-chested, wearing only pyjama bottoms and – for fuck’s sake! – filming.
‘What’s happening?’ he shouts.
‘I don’t know,’ I snap. ‘Get out of my way. And stay out of the boys’ bedroom – you know the agreement.’ The bathrooms and bedrooms are out of bounds to the crew.
Nick rushes down the stairs and suddenly the music cuts out, giving way to the boys’ screams.
I lift Bay out of his cot and hold both of my sons in my arms in Sorrel’s bed. ‘Sssshh, ssshhh, it’s OK now,’ I soothe. Their sobs are already subsiding.
Seb has obeyed my instruction to stay out of the boys’ room, but I see with a flash of annoyance he’s filming Nick coming up the stairs.
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‘What was with the Verdi?’ Seb says.
‘Verdi?’ Nick asks as he arrives on the landing.
‘The music,’ Seb persists. ‘Dies Irae. I was in the orchestra at uni and we did it for an end-of-term concert. I played percussion – brilliant fun, especially for that piece of music. Massive drum.’ He mimes hitting something with a drumstick as he says ‘Ba DUM Ba DUM Ba DUM Ba DUM. Fantastic.’
Nick puts his hand to his forehead. ‘Right,’ he says. ‘I don’t know what happened. It was the Astrid thing playing it. I unplugged it. Some kind of malfunction, I imagine.’
They continue to talk in low voices so I struggle to hear what they are saying and soon the boys are asleep again. I tuck the boys back into bed and join Nick and Seb on the landing. ‘A malfunction?’ I hiss. ‘Why would that thing suddenly start playing demonic music in the middle of the night?’
Nick shrugs. ‘I dunno. These things happen, don’t they? Like when you go to a hotel and you get an alarm call at 3 a.m. because someone’s given them the wrong room number. It feels weirder than it really is.’
That did happen to us once, what now seems like a lifetime ago. And I don’t want to discuss this in front of Seb, who I’m not entirely sure didn’t somehow set this up to give himself something more interesting to film for his programme. We’ve been pretty boring so far, after all.
‘I guess. Anyway, I’m going back to bed. Night, Seb,’ I say pointedly. ‘See you in the morning.’
‘Sorry about the music last night, Helen,’ I say at breakfast as she helps the boys eat their porridge, ‘I’m not sure what happened there.’
‘Yes, it woke me up,’ she said. ‘But it went off again so quickly I figured you’d got it sorted and so I stayed put. Very odd,’ she says.
‘Music!’ Sorrel cries, waving his spoon around. ‘Very loud.’
‘That’s right, Sorrel,’ Helen agrees. ‘Very loud music.’ She looks out the window. ‘On another note, though, I was thinking about what to do with the boys today and wondered if you’d be happy for me to borrow the car this morning, if you don’t need it? The weather looks awful, so I thought it might be nice to take the boys to soft play in town – let them burn off some energy. Assuming it’s OK with you, of course. I had a look at the website and it’s only a few euros – no charge at all for Bay.’
I feel a lurch of panic – do I want someone I don’t know all that well driving my beloved children around?
‘Oh, um, I’m not sure, I thought maybe I’d …’ I bluster, but I don’t know what to say. I would love to get on with disposing of some of the junk from various rooms – the skip arrived yesterday – and it’ll be much harder to do it with the boys around.
‘It’s all right, if you feel weird about me driving the boys, I understand. I’m sure we can find something to do here,’ Helen says.
‘No, it’s OK,’ I say. I need to get over this. I trust Helen. They’ll be fine with her. ‘Soft play sounds a wonderful idea – thank you.’
Soft play is a resounding success – the boys always loved it when Nick took them back in London too. Later I drop Helen at the station as promised. As soon as I get back to the house, I miss her. Nick is simultaneously trying to strip ancient wallpaper while keeping an eye on the boys, so everyone is absolutely covered in dust, scraps of paper and God knows what else.
I wish he wouldn’t try to get on with other jobs while he’s meant to be looking after the children, but I can’t be bothered to get into a row about it now.
I usher the boys into the kitchen and put them in front of the iPad (I promised myself I wouldn’t do that anymore once we were in France, but needs must) and achieve my first cooked-from-scratch meal since I’ve arrived – a lasagne. I figure the boys can have it for their tea and I can leave some for Frank for his dinner when he’s babysitting tomorrow. I know he won’t accept any payment, so the least I can do is provide him with something to eat.
I remember what he said about Thea’s parties ‘not being his thing’ and wonder again what he meant. What is it going to be like? I’m not going to know anyone and Thea wasn’t exactly warm and welcoming when she came round. She made it very clear it’s Nick she’s interested in, not me. Going to this party feels like a terrible idea in so many ways. I should have stood my ground and said no.
8
September, Mozène
Aura
I’m feeding the boys earlier than usual as I want them to be asleep by the time Frank arrives. It’s highly unlikely they’ll stay asleep the whole evening, but at least that way he might be able to enjoy a quiet dinner, hopefully. Also, I’m not sure how the boys are going to react to us going out; if they start screaming and crying and begging us not to go, I don’t think I’ll be able to bear it. Nick would probably insist we go anyway, and the whole evening would get off to a horrible start. Again I find myself wishing we didn’t have to go at all.
I manage to get the boys to eat their tea (incredibly slowly, but we get there eventually), and we skip bath time, going straight to the three of us lying down on our bed, reading stories and cuddling until they are both asleep.
Nick refuses to stop stripping wallpaper until about fifteen minutes before we are due to leave, at which point he jumps in the shower and gets dressed. His shirt isn’t ironed but I wasn’t going to offer to do it for him (even if I had the time). It’ll have to do.
Frank arrives and I give him a quick debrief (with Seb and Chloe filming; sometimes I really wish they’d just fuck off) and show him where the lasagne and salad are before diving in the shower.
I half-dry my hair and put on an old Hobbs dress – it hangs off me these days, as the stress of everything that happened in London and the move seems to have resulted in me losing some weight. I suppose that’s something. There isn’t enough time to do my make-up properly as I don’t want to be late, so I’m feeling far from perfectly groomed by the time we are downstairs ready to go.
‘It’s likely the boys will wake up,’ I remind Frank, ‘they usually do. I’ve told them we’re going out this evening and they seem fine with it, but they’re so little it’s difficult to know how much they take in.’ I feel another pang of unease. Is it really OK to leave them with someone I barely know? I wish Nick and Frank hadn’t railroaded me into this. Suddenly I wonder if Nick had approached Frank behind my back and talked him into offering to babysit. My anger flares again at the thought.
Anyway. Too late now. ‘So what we usually do is sit with them until they go back to sleep,’ I continue, even though, as far as Nick is concerned, this is not part of the new regime. ‘They’re not allowed to come downstairs, and they have water in their room in sippy cups, so you just need to sit there for a while, or maybe read a story with the light as dim as you can. Normally it’s fine, but if they won’t settle, I would a hundred times rather you called me than allowed them to get too distressed. For your sake as well as theirs!’ I add, trying to sound light-hearted and jokey but failing.
Frank nods. ‘Understood. I’m very happy to read stories until they drop off again. But if there are any major issues, I’ll call, I promise. Now go! Have fun! Thea puts on quite a spread. I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourselves. The boys will be fine – please don’t worry. And I won’t be offended if you want to call – as many times as you like.’
Thea was very clear that the film crew were not to come with us this evening. ‘I’m holding my annual Hallowe’en party next month and they are very welcome at that,’ she said. ‘But this is an intimate dinner party with some of my closest friends, most of whom are very private people. They wouldn’t want to be on TV. For some of them, it might even put their security at risk.’
I’m certain this isn’t true; Thea is simply trying to make herself and her friends sound important. But I don’t care because I’m delighted to have a night away from the film crew. I’m sick of having them hanging around all the time. Seb was annoyed when I told him they couldn’t come and grumbled it ‘wasn’t in the spirit of the show
’, but fuck him. I told him there was nothing I could do about someone else barring them from their private property. Chloe didn’t seem to care at all – I think she was only too pleased to have the night off.
9
September, Mozène
Aura
Chateau Amaryllis is a fifteen-minute drive away from our place and I’m totally unprepared for how stunning it is. Thea said it was finished but, wow, it’s like something out of a film.
‘Don’t park right in front,’ I tell Nick, embarrassed by our battered old Renault Scenic in such grand surroundings. ‘Let’s park round the side.’
I take Nick’s arm – partly because I’m unsteady on my now-unfamiliar heels and partly because I’m feeling possessive after the way Thea flirted with him when she came round before. We walk up the stone steps and Nick pulls a brass lever like you’d expect to see on the front of Downton Abbey. Deep inside the chateau, a bell chimes.
When the door opens, it isn’t Thea who greets us but a beautiful young woman wearing a full-length red sequinned evening dress. I feel underdressed in my at-least-five-years-old simple black dress, which might as well be a rag in comparison.
‘Good evening. Monsieur et Madame Dorian, I think? I am Emilie, your hostess for the evening.’ Her English is grammatically perfect but she speaks with a French accent. ‘May I take your coats?’
I hand over my Zara wrap and grip my Accessorize clutch bag tightly. I checked several times before leaving the house that my phone was fully charged, the volume was turned up to high and vibrate was also switched on – I even got Frank to help me give him his own ‘Flight of Valkyries’ ring tone so that I’d know straight away it was him calling, in the event of a problem with the boys. Even so, I’m desperate to check I haven’t somehow accidentally switched it off, but don’t feel I can take my phone out now. I’ll pop to the loo as soon as I can to check it’s all set up OK.
The Chateau Page 4
