The Chateau

by Catherine Cooper

‘So, you and Jack, hey?’ Molly slurs. ‘Told you he likes you.’

  ‘Yeah. Was just a kiss though. I don’t think anything will come of it.’

  ‘You don’t like him? He’s fit.’

  Bloody hell – why is she so keen for us to get together? ‘He’s OK. I’m just not … really in a place for anything like that at the moment.’

  She stops and turns to face me, her eyes widening as she wobbles slightly. ‘You’ve got a boyfriend back in Manchester!’ she cries. ‘You didn’t tell me!’

  I laugh. ‘No! Nothing like that.’

  ‘So you’ve met someone since you’ve been here?’

  ‘NO!’

  She narrows her eyes. ‘There’s someone. My spidey sense is telling me.’

  ‘There isn’t,’ I say, but feel myself blush.

  She grabs my arm. ‘There so is. C’mon, you have to tell me. I won’t tell, I promise. So you’re telling me there’s no one in Manchester and there’s been no one since you arrived in London?’

  I smirk – I can’t help it.

  ‘There is!’ she cries. ‘Who is it? Someone at school?’

  ‘Kind of,’ I blurt. I have had too much to drink. I shouldn’t say anything. ‘But look, it was really nothing. Just a drunken snog. We’re not, like, together or anything.’

  ‘Tell me!’

  Her eyes are shining and it feels so nice to have a friend who is interested in my life and the things happening to me and I am so drunk that I can’t resist. It’s exhausting keeping it to myself, especially as I find myself thinking about him more and more. I tell Tash and Lily about him but sometimes I think they’re not all that interested – it’s not like they know him like Molly does. I can’t tell my brother – I know he’d disapprove, and my sister still sees me as basically a baby. Neither of them would want to know.

  ‘OK,’ I agree. ‘But you have to promise not to say anything. To anyone.’

  Her eyes widen further. ‘He’s with someone else?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is it Ben? Ooh! No, I know, I bet it’s Noah! It’s Noah, isn’t it?’

  ‘No.’ I pause for dramatic effect. ‘It was Mr Dorian.’ Argh. I regret telling her almost as soon as the words are out of my mouth.

  She stops stock-still and her hand flies to her mouth. Oh God. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.

  ‘Just a thing in a club,’ I clarify. ‘One night. Before I started at St Benedict’s. He didn’t know I was going to be at school there. I didn’t know he was a teacher. It was right after I’d moved. We’d never met before.’

  Her eyes are like saucers. ‘Mr Dorian! No way!’

  ‘Yes way,’ I say. Shit. I shouldn’t have told her. ‘But it was nothing, and nothing will come of it. And it has nothing to do with me not being that into Jack, he’s just not my type,’ I babble.

  Molly still hasn’t moved but she finally takes her hand away from her mouth. ‘OMG. You like him though. Mr Dorian, I mean. I can tell.’

  ‘No I don’t,’ I counter. But I’m lying.

  36

  February, London

  Nick

  I thought the idea was that Aura going back to work and training as a counsellor was supposed to mean she would be happier and more fulfilled, which would benefit us all as a family.

  Nothing could be further from the truth. She’s working a few hours, three days a week. From what she says, she spends her time answering the phone, filing and photocopying, but apparently it is ‘utterly exhausting’. Then she complains that on top of this she has her course – in other words, a couple of nights a week at an evening class for bored housewives and maybe a bit of homework in between. For fuck’s sake, how hard can it be?

  But more to the point, no one is making her do any of this. It was her choice. She gave up sitting around at home watching children’s TV, fiddling around on Facebook half the day and hanging out in the park drinking coffee to do some boring office job and pointless course, but that was her choice. I’d give my right arm to give up my job and spend all day at home with the boys, but we simply can’t afford for me to do that.

  And because she’s so ‘busy’ and exhausted, I now pick up pretty much all the slack with the boys, which in some ways is fine because they’re such fun to spend time with. But I hate that they still have to sleep in our bed all the time and I hate that Aura and I never have sex. Surely there has to be some correlation between the two? If the boys weren’t in our bed, there would definitely be more chance of some intimacy.

  While there has been the odd slip-up fidelity-wise in our marriage on my side over the years, I do the best I can. And, to my knowledge, Aura’s never found out. Before Ella, it hadn’t happened for absolutely ages. But now I can barely stop thinking about her.

  Ella hasn’t made it easy for me. She lives near school and I keep bumping into her in the supermarket. The first time was unbearably awkward but now that it’s happened a few times it feels more natural and we usually have a chat. Nothing inappropriate – we stay on safe topics: homework, holidays, that sort of thing. I try not to picture us together in the club and I try not to think about her while I’m in the shower, but often I fail.

  Half term is coming up and Aura has taken a week’s holiday from work. We considered going somewhere, maybe renting a cottage in Cornwall or something, but in the end we figured that taking the boys on a trip would end up being more disruptive and less restful than staying at home. Plus we’re not exactly flush now that we’re paying full-on nursery fees until Sorrel’s free hours kick in (which is much longer away than Aura led me to believe), so in the end we decided against it.

  The prospect of a cold and rainy half term likely to be spent largely in a stinky, noisy soft play centre with the kids is looming heavily over me when the school rings and asks if there is any way I can accompany the school ski trip over half term.

  ‘I know it’s short notice,’ Gillian the sports teacher says. ‘But Greg, who was due to accompany, has been taken ill. I wondered if you’d be able to come? Or do you have plans for the holiday? I know you have young children, but I’ve already asked several people and so far haven’t found anyone – they all have stuff booked. It would be such a blessing if you were able to help out, and I know Mike would be especially grateful.’

  Mike – the head teacher. Cunning of Gillian to mention him – she knows I want to go for head of department. But I’m not going to go on the trip just because of that. No, I’m going to go if I possibly can because I deserve a holiday, I want to get away from home on my own for more than about five minutes for the first time since Sorrel was born. And besides, this trip is free. It’s win-win.

  ‘Should be fine,’ I say. ‘Let me run it by my wife and I’ll get back to you tomorrow.’ I wince. Could I possibly sound any more pussy-whipped? I decide in that moment that one way or another, I’m going. I deserve it. I’m not going to let Aura stop me.

  ‘What?’ Aura cries. ‘But I took that week off so we could spend it together!’

  This isn’t what she said when she booked the annual leave – once we decided we couldn’t afford a week away she said she’d take the time off anyway to concentrate on her coursework and would be expecting me to take charge of the children. Also, she hates her job and wants a break from it. But now is clearly not the time to bring any of this up.

  ‘I don’t think I can say no,’ I lie. ‘You want me to get that promotion, don’t you? If I get it, there’ll be more money coming in and maybe then you could cut down your working days – spend more time on your coursework.’

  Her face softens at this. ‘That would be nice,’ she concedes. ‘I am really enjoying my course – it would be good to have more time to study. Then maybe I could do the next level up too.’

  ‘Exactly,’ I say. ‘And I also thought that, with me away, the boys at nursery and you off work, you’d have plenty of time to get on with it. You could even treat yourself to a massage or something too. Spend the week concentrating on you. Wouldn�
�t that be nice?’

  She hesitates before she replies, but I can tell she’s coming round to the idea. ‘Mmmm. I guess so. But the boys will be quite hard work on my own for an entire week,’ she counters.

  They’ll be at nursery most of the time for fuck’s sake, I think to myself, fighting not to let my feelings show on my face, trying to conjure up a sympathetic expression as I take her hand. ‘I know. But you can do it. Maybe you could book the boys in to nursery for an extra couple of days – some families will be away so there’ll probably be space. And it’ll be lovely for you to have some bonding time alone with the boys. They barely see you these days and they miss you. Every day when I pick them up from nursery the first thing Sorrel asks is when he’s going to see you.’

  I can see that my last statement, which was, to be fair, true, was a winning one. Aura’s expression softens.

  ‘Really?’ she asks.

  ‘Yep. And I tell you what, how about when we get back, we go away for a night somewhere not too far away, just you and me? Maybe send the boys to my parents? They’re always asking to have them.’

  As I suspected it would, a panicky look crosses her face – I know she’ll never agree to that. But objectively it is a nice offer, she can’t deny that, even if it’s one I know she won’t take me up on. ‘Hmm. Not sure I’m ready for that,’ she says, as I knew she would. ‘But OK. You go on the ski trip. And then next time, it’s my turn, OK?’

  I’m not sure what she means by that and I don’t much care; right now I’ll agree to anything if it means a week away from home on my own.

  I kiss her forehead. ‘Of course. You’re the best, Aura.’

  Back of the net.

  37

  February, French Alps

  Ella

  ‘Ooh yay, this is so exciting!!!!’ Molly trills. ‘A whole week away from home! No parents!’

  She lugs her enormous suitcase over to the edge of the coach and dumps it with the rest of the pile. ‘Come on, hurry up!’ she adds impatiently. ‘If we’re going to be on this thing for an entire day or whatever it is, I want to make sure we get a decent seat.’

  ‘I was kind of hoping Ella would sit with me,’ Jack interrupts.

  A warm feeling rises through me, alongside a vague one of unease. It’s nice that Jack likes me so much. I’m trying hard to like him back, in that way. We’ve been out a few times since the party, though mainly as part of a group. And he’s come over to mine some evenings when Mum’s been out and we’ve had a bit of a session because, well, why not? It’s fun and it feels nice. And it’s not like I’ve got anything else to do. But we haven’t gone all the way; I haven’t wanted to. I like his company and he’s very sweet to me, but I don’t feel that rush of adrenaline when I see him, like I do every time I see Mr Dorian, even though it’s only at school or in the supermarket.

  Molly tuts and rolls her eyes. ‘Fine!’ she says. ‘Looks like you’re stuck with me then, brother dear,’ she says to Ethan, who carries on fiddling with the straps on his enormous rucksack and ignores her. ‘I’ll get on and save us some seats. Ella, you come with me so we can sit close together at least.’

  ‘See you on the bus, Jack,’ I say, following Molly, who is already racing up the steps of the coach.

  ‘I hope Jack isn’t going to try and monopolize you this holiday,’ Molly grumbles, expertly scanning the coach and selecting the best seats with extra legroom next to the coffee machine. ‘I was hoping we could have some fun together while we’re away.’

  I sit down behind Molly and Jack slides in next to me, immediately taking my hand. It feels too public and I fight the urge to pull it away.

  ‘Excited?’ he asks.

  I nod.

  ‘Me too.’ He pauses. ‘I wish we could share a room,’ he whispers.

  I laugh, feeling myself blush. We’re way off anything like that. Aren’t we? We only got together a few weeks ago. I still see us more as friends with not-going-all-the-way benefits rather than actually as a couple.

  ‘St Benedict’s might like to think it’s liberal, but I don’t think it’s that liberal,’ I say, skilfully avoiding having to agree that I wish we could share too.

  He puts his hand on my thigh. ‘Shame, that.’

  I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing and put my hand on top of his and give it a gentle squeeze.

  ‘Right – is everybody here?’ Miss Fielder shouts from the front of the coach.

  ‘I’m not!’ someone calls from the back.

  She ignores the call and walks slowly to the back of the bus, counting heads under her breath as she goes, and then walks to the front again.

  ‘Forty. Plus myself, Mr Woods, Miss Oliver and Mr Dorian. Good. Looks like we’re ready to go then.’

  My stomach lurches and suddenly my face feels like it is burning. Molly turns round and gives me a knowing look.

  ‘I didn’t know Mr Dorian was coming,’ she says, putting far too much emphasis on his name. ‘Did you?’

  A bizarre, panicky feeling rises through me – I can’t work out if this is the best or worst thing that could possibly happen. I daren’t look at Jack.

  ‘I thought Mr Baxter was coming with us,’ Molly shouts towards the front of the bus.

  ‘He was,’ Miss Fielder replies, ‘but he has just had an emergency appendectomy and so is unable to come. Mr Dorian has stepped in at the last minute, for which we should all be very grateful.’

  On cue, Mr Dorian climbs on to the bus. He is wearing a black ski jacket and beanie hat and looks much hotter than he usually does in his boring school shirt and chinos combo. I feel something I shouldn’t low down as I think about us kissing in the nightclub and my face is burning like it’s on fire.

  I sneak a look at Jack. It’s a relief to see he’s busy fiddling with his phone and AirPods and seems thankfully oblivious to my turmoil.

  ‘Good old Mr Dorian,’ Molly sings. ‘Where would we be without him?’

  Oh God.

  By the time we’re about half an hour into the journey I’m veering between feeling calmer and almost out of control. Mr Dorian coming on this trip is no big deal, right? Molly seems to have pretty much left the subject alone since I accidentally told her about what happened after the party – she’s been more interested in hearing about what is (or isn’t) going on between me and Jack. And it’s not like anything could happen between me and Mr Dorian, is it? Not on a trip like this. Not with everyone else here. Being on this trip is pretty much the same as being at school. But then why is he coming? Why doesn’t he go skiing with his family? Maybe he wants a chance to …

  ‘Chewing gum?’ Jack asks, offering me the packet.

  I smile. ‘No thanks, I’m fine.’

  He smiles back and carries on nodding along to whatever he’s listening to and I go back to staring out of the window. It’s lucky Jack’s a boy – he doesn’t seem to have noticed that since Mr Dorian got on the bus I can barely sit still. I bet Molly has, even though she’s sitting behind me.

  And then … Mr Dorian walks past. I catch a whiff of his aftershave which takes me right back to that night at the club. So hot. He tells some boys at the back to quieten down and then walks back to the front of the bus.

  He doesn’t catch my eye, but then, why would he?

  I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep.

  38

  February, French Alps

  Ella

  ‘This feels weird, being in a room, just you and me, without anyone to tell us what to do,’ Molly says, taking stuff out of her suitcase and flinging it into a deep shelf in a cupboard. ‘So it’s lucky I managed to smuggle this in!’ she trills, picking up a clear bottle and waving it around.

  ‘Vodka?’ I ask, pulling a top from my case and folding it neatly onto another shelf. Molly might intend to live like a pig this week, but I don’t. ‘Where’d you get that from?’

  ‘Nicked it from the cupboard at home. No one’ll notice and, even if they do, I’ll just blame Ethan. I thought maybe we
could play some drinking games.’

  ‘Cool,’ I say, feeling my stomach clench slightly. Drinking games aren’t really my thing, but there’s no point trying to tell Molly that. ‘What’re you going to wear this evening?’ I ask, not because I particularly want to know, but because I want to change the subject.

  ‘This … and this,’ she says, reaching into her scrunched-up bundle of clothes and pulling out a pair of jeans and a standard-issue hoodie seemingly at random. ‘No one I want to impress here. Well, except Tom, I guess, but he’s going out with Sadie now, so nothing’s going to happen there. At least for now. You?’

  ‘Oh, um, I hadn’t really thought about it,’ I lie, picturing the skimpy top I was planning to wear with my favourite vintage Levi’s jeans but suddenly realizing that it probably isn’t particularly snow-appropriate as an outfit.

  ‘How are things going with you and Jack?’ she asks bluntly, apropos of nothing.

  ‘OK,’ I say. ‘But like I’ve told you before, we’re just friends who get together sometimes. It’s no big.’

  ‘D’you reckon that while you’re here, you might …’

  ‘Might what?’ I ask, playing for time as I know exactly what she means.

  ‘You know … I could always get out of your way and bunk in with Ethan if you wanted to—’

  I blush furiously and continue pointedly with unpacking, not looking at her. ‘No, I don’t think so,’ I interrupt tersely. ‘It’s not like that. I don’t think we’re ready to anyway … after all, we’ve only just met.’

  Molly snorts. ‘YOU might not be ready! I bet he is though!’

  I look up at her. ‘What do you mean? What has he said?’

  She waves her hand. ‘Nothing. But he’s a boy, isn’t he?’

  ‘Has he said something to Ethan?’

  She shrugs. ‘Dunno. Even if he had, Ethan wouldn’t tell me.’ Hmm. I guess my brother probably wouldn’t tell me anything like that, but we never talk about sex stuff anyway. I think my sister would tell me though. And twins are closer, aren’t they? I wonder if Ethan has said something about what Jack’s said and she just doesn’t want to let on?