by April Smyth
TWELVE
When we walk back into the house, it is disconcertingly quiet. The loud buzz of voices and music has been completely erased like the house has been vacuumed of all life. There is nobody around, no shuffling of feet or a polite smile from a member of Maurice's staff passing by. No Channing or Justin. No Angelica. No Rose. No Gabe. It's just me and Maurice. He takes me into the Grand Hall which takes on an entirely different mood now that the people have been evacuated. For me. I don't know which is a grander gesture: throwing a ridiculously extravagant ball for me or shutting it down because I felt sick.
Remnants of food, half empty glasses of wine, wrinkled streamers are strewn across the floor. I hope all of the guests don't resent leaving so early; Maurice's house is quite a trek away from the city or any source of life for that matter. Anyone at the party, unless they are Maurice's permanent live-in staff, would have had to travel quite some distance for this party, only to be turned around before they got to meet the guest of honour. The guiltiness doesn't last long. "Just a second" Maurice lets go of my hand, it feels empty now like the grand hall, and disappears for a few second.
While he's gone, the lights dim. At first I think the power has gone out and start to panic but then Maurice returns a few moments later with a candle in one hand and a woollen picnic blanket. He lays the blanket down in the middle of the ballroom, underneath the chandelier. He lights the candle, "Come sit with me, Cassie."
I oblige, folding my legs into a basket shape, by his side. "I hope you will enjoy staying here, Cassie," Maurice says, his face is even more ethereally beautiful in the flickering candlelight. His skin is so pale, so flawless, the flame reflects on his cheekbones and it's like watching somebody set fire to the snow. Channing comes in the room with a tray. His eyes are darting around the room shiftily like he's nervous. I wonder if my running away has gotten him in trouble since he and Justin were supposed to be looking after me. If Channing is in the doghouse it doesn't show. Maurice gives him an easy smile and thanks him when he sits the tray with a teapot, two ornate china teacups and a plate of sugary biscuits with jam and cream swirls. Channing leaves quickly.
"You're wearing the necklace I bought you," he says and reaches out and touches the pendant dangling around my neck.
I clasp it in a tight fist, "Yes, it's beautiful."
I turn to the colourful cakes before me. I'm hungry but would have preferred something filling and savoury. I'm dreaming of the fish and chips from Tony's Cafe but these biscuits covered in pink butter icing will suffice; it certainly does not take any convincing for me to scoff them all down one after the other.
"Are you hungry?" Maurice asks while I dust fine sugar and crumbs away from my chin. I nod, licking my lips and feeling a bit embarrassed by greediness but my howling stomach is so angry that it takes over my polite mind. Channing returns.
"Cassie is hungry. Take her to the kitchen and tell Miriam to make her whatever she wants," Maurice commands Channing in a low, sumptuous voice that hits me like a stone in the water, sending ripples out across my body. Reverberating from my ears and down my spine. He turns and smiles at me, the ripples continue, a tiny tremor runs down my neck. He is wonderfully handsome. This was the sort of vampire that used to occupy my dreams, not the frightening bloody fangs from Gabe's tattoo. Maurice, with his colourless eyes like glass washed up on a beach, is dangerous but in a nice way. Not in a way that makes your blood curdle, he's an enticing risk that I am more than willing to take. Spending time with a vampire is like bungee jumping or riding a motorcycle. Thrilling. When I look at his boyish face I feel the same way I do when I go running: free, liberated from the disease that stops me from living a full life, living like everyday is my last instead of feeling ensnared in the trap that my condition had been slowly building around me.
Half of Maurice's kitchen is industrial; everything is metal but it inconspicuously flows into an everyday kitchen which is made a light oak and the corners of the countertops are smooth and round. A blonde lady, that reminds me of Shannon only 50 pounds heavier, is in the homely side of the kitchen washing dishes in an all white uniform. I assume this is Miriam; she must be Maurice's live-in chef. I bump into a line of ladles which are hanging on hooks on the wall next to the thousands of other items of kitchen equipment. I wish I had been allowed more time in the kitchen, wish I really loved cooking like dad because then I would be able to appreciate the luxury having all these varying pots and pans, spoons that scoop, spoons that stir, knives for chopping, knives for spreading. I imagine that for a passionate cook, this was heaven.
I flashback to Maurice's driveway and think about how the buffed metal of his cars, old and new, had looked like paradise to me. Here, in the outskirts of Toulouse, Maurice had created a slice of heaven. Gabe must be incredibly ungrateful and rude not to appreciate how wonderful it is to spend time here, even if it is just a few days or a whole lifetime.
The sound of me clattering into the ladles makes Miriam jump. She turns and it's like somebody has switched a light on, her face illuminates with a wide smile. "Cassie! Wow," she hugs me, a tight squeeze, sways side to side.
After hugging and laughing, and lots of me pretending that it's normal for a complete stranger to be so excited to see me. She asks me what I'd like to eat, reminding me that she will and can cook anything I want. Anything in the world. I could have caviar and truffles or chocolate pudding with fudge sauce but I can't keep my mind off the crispy potatoes served up at Tony's cafe, back home, and ask for fish and chips. Sure enough, there is fresh fish and a bag of potatoes, still covered in mud. I chat to Channing about Formula One while Miriam cooks in front of us. He is pleasantly surprised to find that I am a huge fan. We chat and I welcome the distinguished smell of fish and chips. I smack my lips together. It doesn't take long to make, maybe half an hour or so, and Miriam sits it on the breakfast bar.
I have never ate so quickly. The batter is so hot it burns my tongue but I don't mind. It is deliciously salty and the chips are fluffy. The food sits at the bottom of my stomach like it's at home there, putting it's feet up and exhaling with satisfaction. This is a completely different league from Tony's. "Thank you," I say, dipping my finger onto the plate to pick up the leftover crumbs and stick them on my tongue. "That was delicious."
"It was my pleasure, Cassie," Miriam smiles with such affection in her eyes like I am her child. "It's a shame you couldn't enjoy your party…"
Channing glares at Miriam like she has said the wrong thing. I just nod and apologise for being such a bad party guest and that I'm sure I'll get the chance to meet all of Maurice's friends again soon. I don't mean it though, I hope I don't have to be subjected to that anxiety again. Walking into a roomful of people with garish costumes on, all eyes staring at me, everybody picking me apart with my eyes. What's so special about her? They were thinking when they looked at me. Drowning in my blue dress, swimming completely out of my depth and soon the sharks were going to surround me as I struggled to stay afloat.
Maurice enters the room. Illuminating it in a different way from Miriam. Where she is cheerful, her eyes wide and innocent, Maurice is charismatic. His confidence is like a spotlight on him, commanding the attention of everybody in his presence. He looks at me and smiles. I melt. I tuck my hair, which is dishevelled from running through the garden, and feel very aware about the dirt on my gown and my messy face. Wish Rose was here to work her magic on me and make me look beautiful. "Did you enjoy your meal, Cassie?" he asks. His speech is flawless; his movement is fluid. He makes every movement, every twitch of his mouth or running a hand through his soft blond hair, look as important as the last. Like everything he does is significant. He could make washing the dishes look like an intricate dance.
I nod, zealously. Maurice dismisses Channing and tells Miriam she can return to her quarters after preparing for breakfast tomorrow morning. He takes my hand again, it feels cool like a piece of smooth marble in between my fingers, and escorts me back to the grand hall where our picnic
lies in the middle of the room, dimly lit by candlelight. I feel light headed, swooning.
I have never been on a date before. Never been taken by the boys who asked me out back home and I wonder if they would treat me like this if we did. Would they take me out? A film or dinner? Would they pay for me or expect me to? Would I want them to? I never thought of myself as a damsel in distress. Never thought I'd want a boy to hold a door open for me or stroll down the beach, writing me love letters and sharing kisses in the ocean. I look up at Maurice's face, carved out of ice, and think about how I want to be that girl with him. I can't deny how good it is to be around him. The way he looks at me, the way he touches me, the way he moves around me like I am special. Like the world is revolving around me. I wouldn't quite trade my dreams of owning a race car for being a housewife but I could definitely get used to being treated like a princess.
It is nearing four o'clock in the morning when Maurice walks me back to the Andromeda suite. Outside the door, Maurice says, "I'm sorry I won't be able to spend tomorrow with you. Got to sleep," oh yes, on the metal operating table Gabe showed me. "But I will find you the minute I wake up."
I feel nauseous. Why do I have to wait so long? He has a face that blows any previous idea of beauty out of my mind. It makes me forget a lot about the past. Looking at it, tracing the shadows cast by his nose and lips, consumes my thoughts. I can't remember what I thought and dreamt about before I knew about his perfect features. And I can't imagine what I will do tomorrow. I feel achy but before I can worry about how I will attempt to pass the time whilst avoiding Gabe, Maurice leans in and kisses my forehead, cupping his hand behind my neck. I want his lips to move to my mouth, down my neck, my body fizzles but Maurice pulls away leaving a cold imprint on my skin where his lips grazed. "Goodnight Cassie," he says and walks away.
I imagine him returning to his room, lying on the steel table and closing his eyes. Unable to open them until the moon rears its fat face again tomorrow night. I feel drunk when I stumble up the stairs up to my bedroom. I can't believe how lucky I am. How wonderful Maurice is. When I think of all the nights I spent searching the internet for stories about vampires, could I have imagined meeting one? A vampire who represents the danger and thrill I so badly want but who is also heartbreakingly gorgeous and charming. I have to lie down straight away, I'm so dizzy with the memory of his lips on my forehead, his fingers twisted in between mine, his hauntingly pale eyes looking at me so fondly.
Getting ready for bed is made so difficult because I am so deliriously happy. I trip up and spin round and I grin. I grin and grin until my face hurts. I peel off my dress, it lies in a muddy, crumpled heap on the floor. I don't bother searching through the huge wardrobe filled with delights purely for my pleasure and just sleep in my bra and pants. I will save looking at all the clothes for tomorrow while I wait for nightfall. I wash my face, black gunky mascara pouring into the sink.
By the time I collapse onto the bed, the wooziness has dissipated slightly and now I'm just tired. I stare at the ceiling and cast my mind back. How long have I even been here? Only a day in Toulouse but then there was Paris last night and almost a week with Gabe and Rose. I mark the days off on a calendar inside my head and think about my dad. Red eyed and wearying. Would the police be hunting for me? Would they think I was dead? Now the happiness of my night with Maurice is exchanged for a black hole of guilt, sucking up my insides until I feel hollow. It seems so cruel that I am having the time of my life. Having midnight picnics with a handsome vampire in his luxury home in Toulouse while dad worries himself sick about his lost daughter. Would he think my condition would keep me alive? I wonder. Or does he think that danger has finally celebrated victory over me, swallowing me up and now there is nothing left of me. Will he feel guilty? Does he wish he let me go out more with my friends or encouraged my running and my ambition to pursuer a career in extreme sports?
I hope Shannon is coping for the sake of Bruce and Jana. Poor Bruce and Jana. Do they miss their sister? Is Jana asking for me to give her a goodnight kiss before she goes to bed? One lone tear drips down my face, there is absolutely no happiness left in me when I fall asleep. The guilt left nothing in its wake.
I'm standing in the surveillance room. Gabe is by my side. He doesn't speak. Doesn't touch me. As usual. We peer into Maurice's bedroom. I see the hospital bed then I see Maurice lying on top of it. He startles. He's waking up. I look at Gabe, worried, scared. He just smiles at me. Am I dreaming? I turn back to the window and I'm not looking at Maurice anymore. At first I can't make out who it is. It's so dark in here. Who is it? A girl. Long, blonde hair. I touch the glass. It's me. I am watching myself rise from the metal bed. Now I'm staring into my own eyes. Blue and sparkly like a clear ocean view. Then I am speaking. What am I saying? I try to lip read the words. Get out? Then she's screaming. Screaming GET OUT. And then I wake up.
THIRTEEN
Angelica wakes me up in the morning. Opening the curtains and letting the sun pour in and sting my eyes like acid. I'm so tired. Bad dreams and a late night combined have made me feel very groggy but Angelica is barking at me to get up. Telling me that Maurice has a lot planned for me. Maurice. I smile. I try not to think about the image from my dream of him as a corpse, try to remember him with the candle flame dancing a waltz on his white skin. That was just a bad dream.
Clothes are being thrown at my head by the time I get up. Angelica is firing them in the every direction from the wardrobe and telling me to choose something comfortable. Comfortable, yes! No more frilly gowns or obnoxious heels that pinch at my toes. I feel rusty when I move so it takes some time for me to rifle through the clothes before I pick something. A button down gingham shirt, I roll the sleeves up to my elbow for extra comfort factor, and a pair of blue jeans which I recognise from one of my shopping trips with Rose. I miss Rose, I wonder if she is still staying here at Maurice's house or whether she has went back home to look after her brother and spend the stacks of money Maurice gives her before starting her next task. I am certain she must still be here, she would say goodbye. Thinking about Rose only leads to thoughts of Gabe. I push Gabe's face and how angry it makes me out of my mind. It's like cramming too much stuff into an overflowing cupboard, knowing that I can close the door but sooner or later I will have to open it up and then it will come crashing down on me.
Angelica brushes my hair for me but says there is no need for me to wear make up today. I'm relieved. My skin deserves a break. Then we go down for breakfast. I'm in the East Wing today, which has the feeling of a cosy cottage, where a dining table is set for breakfast. Miriam pops her head out of the door, balancing bowls in her hand. "Morning sunshine," she says, placing a bowl of steaming porridge in front of me. Porridge was my daily breakfast at home but usually just the packet you put in the microwave for a few minutes. This is a different concept altogether. It is drizzled with syrup and there is a hearty serving of berries plopped in the middle. I don't care what Maurice has planned for me; I want to spend the whole day eating Miriam's food.
When breakfast is finished and an old lady with a bad back clears away our dishes, Angelica begins to recite my schedule. Relaxing massage in the morning, a gym session, a dip in the pool and most exciting of all a drive in one of Maurice's cars. I have never taken lessons before so I don't exactly know how to drive but I figure I'll learn fast. "Gabe will be here in a minute to escort you to the spa in the North Wing," Angelica says, sinking her sharp teeth into a crunchy green apple.
"Gabe?" I squeak.
"Yes," Angelica says impassively. "Is there a problem?"
"Gabe and I had a fight," that doesn't sound right. I uncovered a hideous secret about him, yelled in his face and ran away crying before he had the chance to explain. Not that there was anything he could have said to justify his actions. The misery he inflicted on me for the past two years.
"I see…"
"Could someone else take me? Justin or Channing? Or Rose?" Please let me see Rose.
"Rose and Just
in are recruiting in the city,” Angelica says. "I'll call Channing but I think he’s busy. If not, he can take you. If so, you'll just have to bite your tongue and play nice with Gabriel. I don't blame you though, he is the most uncouth young man I've ever met."
Angelica makes a call while I ask myself what recruiting is? Don't read too deeply into it, I remind myself, probably just looking for new staff. It must take hundreds of people to keep Maurice's paradise running smoothly. Gardening, cooking, cleaning. All those cars and a spa, a gym and a pool too? Not to mention the occasional spontaneous ball Maurice throws in honour of a strange girl from the other side of the Channel.
"Channing will take you to your first few appointments," Angelica returns. "But I'm afraid he has to pick up a new suit for Maurice in the afternoon…" Thus Gabe will have to take over. I don't want to see his face. His sulking expression. His tattoos. His brown eyes with those long black eyelashes. I feel sick. My heart physically hurts when I think about him and his betrayal. I even question myself. Did he really hit me with that car? And if he did, did he mean it? But it makes too much sense for it not to be true. I badly wish it wasn't though.
In the past week, Gabe had grown to be my friend. Maybe something more in my eyes. I liked seeing him smile and I cared about him a lot but everyone disappoints you eventually. Angelica just nods at me and gives me a pitying smile. She doesn't like me. In fact she is completely indifferent to me. To her, I have as much significance as picking up dry cleaning for Maurice. I'm a menial task that her boss has asked her to carry out. At least Rose, Gabe, Chec all looked at me like I was a human being. I didn't like, in Chec and Gabe's case, the way they would look at me sometimes but at least I was breathing, flesh and blood, to them.
Channing arrives and takes me to the North Wing where Maurice's spa is. There are no bedrooms, kitchens or lounges in the North Wing. It is purely used for leisure. We pass the gym and then the pool. Both are empty. What is the use of all these facilities if nobody can even enjoy them. Clearly there is nobody around but staff, Maurice and I. So what's the point in all these luxuries?