The Chateau

by Catherine Cooper

  I’m not crying about what he said. It was pretty much what I expected him to say, only he was nicer about it than I thought he might be.

  But it makes me think about how it would have gone if this had happened back home. Tash and Lily would have been waiting for me outside and we’d have gone to Emma’s Café to have hot chocolate with whipped cream and flakes and pull apart what he said.

  Instead I brush away my tears and send a Snap to them both: You there?

  But neither replies. I try calling my sister, though God knows what time it is wherever she is, and my brother, but they don’t answer either. I wouldn’t tell them either of them about Mr Dorian but I just need to hear a friendly voice. Speak to someone who cares about me.

  Fresh tears fall as I realize how alone I am.

  32

  January, London

  Nick

  I guess that went as well as could be expected.

  As Ella is so new at school, and I barely remember anything about the night in the club, I don’t know much about her personality, what she’s like.

  But she didn’t call me a dirty fucker or a paedophile or anything like that, neither did she cry (not that I was really expecting that, but you never know). So that’s all good.

  I think she understood where I was coming from. The importance of keeping this quiet.

  I feel a lot lighter picking up the boys than when I dropped them off. Sorrel is with the same little girl as yesterday, playing with Duplo again. He’s obviously made a friend – so cute. Bay seems pretty happy too and, according to Kerry, one of the staff, there were no more tears today once he’d settled.

  ‘Sorrel loves the Duplo,’ she tells me, ‘and he painted this picture for you too.’ She thrusts a grey piece of paper at me which is daubed with various swirls of brightly coloured paint that have gone a murky brown at the points where the colours overlap.

  ‘Is Mummy!’ Sorrel beams. There are no discernible shapes at all, but I say, ‘It’s brilliant, Sol, she’ll love it. We can put it on the fridge at home, can’t we?’

  Sol nods happily and sticks his finger in his mouth, reaching up to take my hand with his other hand.

  ‘Will we see you tomorrow, Sorrel?’ Kerry asks, ruffling his hair. ‘You can carry on with that castle you were building earlier with Indy.’ Sorrel nods solemnly as Kerry indicates a cluster of Duplo bricks seemingly randomly stuck together which is Sol’s ‘castle’.

  ‘We’re still missing some forms for the boys,’ Kerry says. ‘I emailed your wife again about it, but nothing’s come through yet. Would you be able to give her a nudge for me? Perhaps you or she can get them completed and bring them along later this week?’

  ‘Yes, of course – I assume Aura knows what’s needed?’ I ask as Kerry hands me Bay.

  ‘Yep – it was all in the application pack and also the emails. See you tomorrow, Bay. Bye-bye!’

  Bay grins and waves his chubby little hand. ‘They’re lovely little boys, Mr Dorian; you should be proud,’ Kerry adds.

  ‘Nick, please,’ I say. ‘And thank you, that’s very kind.’ I wonder if she says that to all the parents, and also if she’d say that if she had to be kicked awake by them every single night.

  I sort the boys out a simple dinner of fish goujons and fresh peas (Aura won’t let the boys have ordinary fishfingers, which is a shame because I love a fishfinger sandwich; organic goujons just somehow aren’t the same) and have a couple of beers while I watch them eat. Considering how it could have gone with Ella, I think today went OK, and I want to celebrate.

  The three of us are settled in front of CBeebies as usual when Aura comes home. The front door slams, harder than usual, and I hear her stomp into the kitchen without a word.

  Oh dear.

  The boys are transfixed by what’s happening on the screen so I ease myself out from between them and put Bay in his bouncy chair, steeling myself for what I might find in the kitchen.

  Aura is standing by the sink, pouring herself a massive glass of white wine.

  ‘Darling?’ I say gingerly. ‘How was your day?’

  She takes a huge slug of wine and slams the glass down. ‘It was shit, but thank you for asking.’

  ‘What happened?’

  She turns to face me and rolls her eyes. ‘Nothing happened as such, it’s just that the work is so boring and I’m too old to be treated like some kind of teenage work-experience girl.’

  ‘Who’s treating you like that?’

  She waves her hand in front of her face as she takes another gulp of wine. ‘Everyone. Photocopy this, type up that, file these, sort the post, all day long. I’m better than this.’

  I want to say, But it’s an admin role – you knew that, and that’s what admin tasks are, but I know that isn’t going to help.

  ‘I know, darling, I’m sure it will get better. And look at it this way, because you’re only working part-time it gives you the chance to study for the counselling, like you said you wanted to do.’

  ‘Don’t say “only”,’ she snaps. ‘I’m working, bringing home the bacon, same as you. And now I need to go and get ready for class this evening, and then tomorrow I’m off, thank Christ. Boys OK?’ she asks, pretty much as an afterthought.

  ‘Yes, they’re fine. Look, Sorrel did you a painting. It’s on the fridge,’ I add, pointing. ‘It’s a picture of you, apparently.’ I see her face soften.

  ‘Aww. That’s sweet. I’ll go and give them a kiss before I get changed, but then I’ll have to dash out. You OK to do bedtime?’

  I nod. ‘Of course.’ It is exhausting having to do tea and bedtime every evening after a day at work and I hope Aura is going to take up the slack on her share again at some point, but now is clearly not the time to bring it up.

  She downs the rest of the wine and shoves the glass in the dishwasher. ‘I’d probably get yourself something to eat as I won’t be back till about nine thirty – I’ll grab a takeaway for myself on the way home.’

  I go to try to give her a hug but she ducks out of my way and rushes off into the living room. A few seconds later, I hear her run up the stairs and then after another ten minutes when I’m back with the boys on the sofa she shouts ‘’Bye, see you later!’ from the hall and I hear the front door slam.

  Bedtime is the usual shitshow but eventually after three stories and lying in the dark in bed staring at the ceiling for about half an hour, both boys drop off. I ease myself up, careful not to move too quickly so as not to wake anyone, and go into the bathroom. I take my clothes off and get in the shower – I prefer to have a shower pretty much as soon as I get home from school but thanks to our new routine, these days there is usually no time. The water is hot and welcoming.

  Squeezing shower gel into my hand, I also get started on my somewhat tragic routine more suited to a teenage boy of wanking while I shower. Since Aura decided the boys were going to sleep in our bed every night, it’s been pretty much my only release. I run through my usual favourite mental images of actresses, pop stars and ex-girlfriends I could have ended up with had my life turned out differently but am surprised and somewhat ashamed to find that it’s Ella’s face in my head when I come.

  33

  January, London

  Ella

  Three weeks on since my arrival in London, things are not that much better. They’re all so up themselves here. I usually tag along with Molly, who I sit next to in class, because it’s better than hanging round on my own the whole time. Everyone is already in their cliques and not interested in a newcomer like me.

  Molly’s OK, I guess, though I get the impression she’s a bit desperate for a friend and my arrival is something of a relief for her. Even so, I can kind of imagine us being proper friends, in time. It’s not like being with Tash and Lily, but I’ve known them since I was about five so it’s just never going to be, is it?

  Sometimes Molly and I hang out after school in a café or go shopping. I like it when we do that – Mum is often late at work and even if she is home
, she spends half the night on her laptop or phone. And while I still talk to Tash and Lily on Snap most days, it’s not the same when I haven’t been to the party they’ll be talking about or don’t know what the boy who works in Nando’s that everyone fancies looks like. My brother is busy with his job and new girlfriend and my sister is in a totally different time zone which makes it almost impossible to speak to either of them. I miss them all so much. Having someone to spend time with after school does make it easier, even if she’s not my BFF.

  Molly and I are in Latte Da complaining about the amount of homework given by our English teacher when Ethan, her twin brother, and his mate Jack join us.

  Molly kicks my leg under the table and I kick her back. She keeps saying Jack really fancies me, but I’m not so sure. He joins us for lunch sometimes at school and he lives fairly near me so we’ve walked back from school together a few times, but I don’t get the impression that he’s interested in me in that way. Molly is convinced though, and goes on about it to the point where it sometimes gets a bit annoying.

  The four of us chat and laugh and I realize that their company is kind of starting to feel normal, even if a lot of the boys’ chat is boring stuff like whether Maseratis or Ferraris are better and whether or not backing stuff up to the cloud makes you more likely to be hacked. Two more boys, Max and Tom, arrive and we all slide along the benches to let them in. It’s quite squashed now and Jack’s thigh is pressed up against mine. Is he doing it on purpose? I’m not sure.

  ‘You going on the skiing trip?’ Tom asks the table in a general way.

  ‘Yep,’ Jack says. ‘Can’t wait.’

  ‘I’m going too,’ Molly pipes up, and blushes. She really likes Tom and got with him at a party before Christmas, but she’s not sure if he remembers as he was really drunk and she doesn’t know whether to say anything or not. I give her a sympathetic smile and she smirks.

  ‘Ella? You should come too,’ Ethan says. ‘It’ll be really fun.’

  Part of me is excited and happy about being asked, but the other part is in a panic because I don’t really know these people. Wouldn’t it be weird? ‘Oh, I don’t know … I’ve never skied. I’m not sure it would be my thing.’

  ‘You should definitely come,’ Ethan continues. ‘None of us has skied either. Except posh-boy Jack here, that is.’

  Jack gives Ethan a good-natured shove. Ethan shoves Jack back, pushing him against me. He straightens himself up and then pats my leg, saying, ‘Sorry about my imbecilic friend here.’

  I blush as Molly kicks my ankle again and gives me a knowing look.

  ‘Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by this bellend, you should come with us,’ Ethan says. ‘It would be fun. We’re not as bad as we seem, honestly. At least, I’m not.’

  ‘Maybe. I’ll need to ask Mum – I’m not sure if she’s got any plans for the holidays.’

  I don’t particularly care if Mum has any plans or not – I can’t imagine she does anyway as she’ll no doubt be working. But up until now I was hoping to go back to Manchester and stay with Tash or Lily this holiday, see everyone, go to our usual places.

  But suddenly I feel like maybe I would like to spend more time with these people. They are actually kind of OK. Going on the trip might even make me feel like I fit in a bit better too. I’m stuck here for almost two years at least, after all. It’s probably worth making the effort.

  ‘I’ll see what she says,’ I add, making up my mind that I do want to go. Although I’m pretty sure Mum will say yes – anything that gets me out of her hair is good news for her, and she’ll also be pleased that I’m trying to fit in at school.

  As I leave the café my phone pings with a text.

  Sorry am going to be late. Not much food in – can you get yourself something? Will pay you back. Love Mum xxx

  I duck into Sainsbury’s Local to get myself a Charlie Bigham fish pie and a bag of prepacked salad – not for the first time this week. While I’m picking out a chocolate bar as I wait in the queue for a self-service till I notice that Mr Dorian is standing next to me, staring blankly at the racks of chocolate. He catches my eye.

  I might have imagined it, but it looked like he blushed. ‘Ella. Hello. Do you, ah, live near here?’

  ‘Yep – All Saints Road. And you?’

  ‘Oh, not too far, just … round the corner.’

  He obviously doesn’t want to tell me where he lives. Not sure if that’s normal for any teacher because they don’t want kids throwing eggs at their doors, or if he’s worried I’m going to start turning up and stalking him.

  ‘I’m just getting some bits for the boys’ dinner before I pick them up from nursery,’ he says, brandishing his basket at me. I glance at it – organic carrot sticks, apples, cucumber, hummus, beetroot crisps. Yuk. No chocolate or little treats. Poor children.

  ‘I’m getting my dinner too,’ I say, holding out my pie and salad. ‘Mum’s out this evening.’

  He smiles nervously. ‘That looks lovely. I wish … well. Anyway. I hope you have a nice evening, Ella, and I’ll see you at school tomorrow.’

  He moves away as a till comes free. I am standing behind him as I wait for a till and can see that his neck is bright red as he scans his food through.

  34

  January, London

  Nick

  Oh God.

  It’s always weird bumping into kids from school out of hours. They somehow don’t expect you to have a real life outside of lessons and neither I nor they ever seem to know how to react.

  But I’m never usually as bad as that. I see Ella every day at school and had pretty much managed to push what happened out of my mind. Beyond registration, we don’t have to interact that much.

  But when I saw her in the supermarket like that all I could suddenly think about was that time in the shower and what I was doing while thinking about her so I could barely get my words out. And then I nearly told her I wish my wife would let me eat ready meals like she had in her basket, as if I’m some downtrodden house-husband – which I guess these days I pretty much am.

  For fuck’s sake. I will not think about her. I will not.

  35

  January, London

  Ella

  Molly’s invited me to a party. My initial instinct is to say no but then I realize that, if I don’t go, all I’ll be doing is sitting at home sending Snaps to Tash and Lily, who will probably be out doing something fun and I won’t be there and I’ll only get jealous and pissed off about being stuck in London. As usual.

  Ethan, Tom and Jack are going to the party too. They’re fine, I like them and everything, but like all boys of my age, they seem pretty immature.

  After I bumped into Mr Dorian in the supermarket I was thinking about that time in the club. How hot it was. I bet it’s not the first time he’s done that to his wife. I don’t reckon it would take all that much to make it happen again. It would kind of be fun to have a thing going with a teacher, wouldn’t it? Give me something else to think about other than being taken away from my friends. I don’t care that he’s married, it’s not like I’d want to be with him forever or anything, and I wouldn’t want to tell his wife or anything like that. It would just be a bit of a laugh, something to tell Tash and Lily. Make them remember who I am.

  But about tonight – this party. It’s at Max’s place – Molly says it’s an enormous house by Clapham Common and his parents are out of town.

  Molly and I have a few drinks while we get ready at mine, just like I used to back in Manchester. It isn’t nearly as much fun as with my girls, but it feels like weeks since I last did something like this. Which I guess it is. Since that night I went out and got with Mr Dorian. Molly is sweet, seems almost overexcited this evening. Like she’s really pleased to be round at mine, to be going out, to be doing all these things which are actually very normal. Maybe she’s not that used to drinking, I don’t know.

  I have more drinks before we leave than I normally would because I’m a
bit nervous. I’m not sure why – it’s not like I really care what these people think of me; I guess it’s just that I don’t know anyone down here. And by the time we get to the party my head is already spinning. I hope there’s some food – I need to eat something. My phone chirrups just as we’re going in. It’s my brother – no doubt calling me back after I left a message having a go at him for never answering his phone. But I shove it back in my bag – I can’t talk to him now.

  We can hear the music from the corner of the road and the front door is open. The rumours were right, the house is enormous, with at least four storeys, and the downstairs rooms are heaving. We push through to the kitchen and help ourselves to vodka and tonics. Outside in the garden the trees are lit with fairy lights even though it’s too cold to want to spend much time out there – though there are a few smokers on the patio, and I can see the tips of two cigarettes or joints glowing further down the garden in the darkness. There is a huge bowl of ice in the kitchen so I chuck a couple of cubes in my drink and eat one of the slices of pizza from the boxes on the table. It makes me feel better almost instantly.

  The party is fun. We drink, and dance, and drink some more. Molly was right about Jack fancying me; he barely leaves my side. By the end of the evening when we end up snogging in an armchair in a dark corner because I am drunk and a little bit horny and it’s comforting to be touched that way and feel like someone is really into me – it’s been so long.

  At the end of the evening Jack asks if we can do something next week but I’m sort of out of it by then so I’m only half paying attention. It’s 2 a.m. and the police are here because the neighbours have complained about the noise so the party is breaking up.

  Molly links her arm through mine as we walk back to my house – we’re both staying at mine because it’s closer and that way we can keep both our mums happy as neither of us will be walking home alone.