Chapter 15
15
It was worth coming on this trip for the food alone, it turns out.
I’m in the dining room – which weirdly reminds me of the one from Saltburn , thanks to its grandeur and the fact I watched the movie recently, and otherwise have basically no points of reference for such fancy dining spaces – with Mandy, Bette, and Gina. We’re tucking into a delicious French dish – Coq au Vin – prepared for us by the chateau chef, served to us by the chateau waitstaff. Yes, I feel fancy as hell right now.
God, it’s good. The tender chicken, slow-cooked in red wine with mushrooms, onions, and bacon, only seems to get better with each bite. I’m getting to the point where I’m starting to feel full, but it seems like a shame to waste a bite of it – which is probably why I’m wiping my plate clean with the freshly baked bread, smothered in herb butter.
‘Oh, and I’ve really got into pottery,’ Mandy continues – she’s currently listing all of the activities she fills her days with, when she’s between books. ‘There’s something so therapeutic about moulding clay with your hands. I’ve made a few decent vases but that’s not why I do it – crafts are good for the soul.’
Bette nods enthusiastically.
‘I love knitting,’ she adds. ‘There’s nothing like curling up with your needles and a whisky on a chilly evening.’
I stifle a smile, because that sounds funnier than Bette intended, I’m sure.
‘I’ve made scarves, sweaters, and such, but I’m obsessed with knitting dog jumpers at the moment,’ she continues, confirming that it’s definitely knitting needles she’s on about.
‘I’m with you both,’ Gina says, finally retiring her cutlery. ‘I dabble in a bit of everything – painting, cross-stitching, even some jewellery making. It’s nice to take a break from writing and just create something for the love of creating.’
‘The earrings you gave me are just fabulous,’ Mandy tells her. ‘You should sell your jewellery.’
‘I’m happy to give them as gifts,’ Gina insists. ‘But I suppose if the writing thing doesn’t pan out…’
She laughs, as though the idea is ludicrous. I wish I had that confidence in my work.
‘Never going to happen,’ Mandy reassures her. ‘Which is why I treasure my earrings.’
‘How lovely – do you have them with you?’ Bette asks.
Mandy’s face falls.
‘No, not with me,’ Mandy replies. ‘I keep them safely in my jewellery box.’
I get such a phoney, disingenuous vibe from Mandy. It’s almost like she will kiss your arse, if it serves her, but otherwise she doesn’t have time for you. She’s the kind of person who would pretend to love a gift if she wanted to keep you on side, but tell you that it sucked if she wasn’t bothered.
Gina smiles and bats her hand to let Mandy know she isn’t offended.
‘Hobbies are so important,’ she concludes. ‘I’m sure I’ll be obsessing over something else next week.’
I listen quietly, feeling a pang of envy as they chat about what they do for fun. I wish I had time for arts and crafts. If I have any free time, I spend it tidying my apartment or washing my hair. I’d love to be like them, enjoying long breaks between books, but I always seem to find myself stumbling sleepily from one project to the next. Any downtime I do have, like a true millennial, I spend it staring at screens – something that feels a bit too much like work sometimes. I mean, they said we’d grow up to have square eyes, and I guess I do wear glasses!
At first, I liked my fast-paced way of working. I loved being busy, doing a job I love – I felt so lucky – but this new book is kicking my arse. I just can’t get excited about writing another romance novel, and I get that my editor wants me to write more of what worked before, but that doesn’t feel authentic to me. I’m a writer, a creative, with ideas that I want to bring to life. What I need is to find that balance between doing something I enjoy and something I can make a living from. Right now, it feels like it can only be one way or the other.
‘Amber, you seem quiet,’ Gina says, pulling me out of my thoughts. ‘This is a space where we can talk freely, you know.’
‘You have just as much right to be here as us,’ Mandy adds, somewhat patronisingly. ‘You shouldn’t feel like you don’t fit in.’
I haven’t mentioned feeling like I don’t fit in, so Mandy’s comment only makes things feel more uncomfortable. I decide to change the conversation.
‘I met Henri, before I came down,’ I tell them.
‘Oh, isn’t he gorgeous?’ Gina says, bouncing her eyebrows up and down.
‘He’s single,’ Bette points out, practically singing the words. ‘I asked.’
‘I get the impression he’s on the lookout,’ Mandy chimes in. ‘For a mature woman, though, someone refined and experienced.’
Gina nods thoughtfully.
‘He’s clearly a very flirty man,’ she points out. ‘Relentless, really.’
If Henri was flirting with me earlier then I shouldn’t read too much into it, because Gina makes it sound like he’s that way with everyone. Well, if I were a ten out of ten, I would probably flirt with everything with a pulse too, just to flex that I could.
‘I do genuinely think he’s interested, though,’ Mandy points out again. ‘I think one of us could have him, if we wanted.’
‘How could he choose between us?’ Bette asks.
Yeah, because that’s going to happen.
Okay, sure, I’ll play along for a second. Well, surely Bette is out, because she’s married. The rest of us may be single, which is surely the minimum requirement, but that still doesn’t mean he’s actually interested in any of us.
‘I fancy my chances,’ Gina says with a confident smile. ‘Seeing as though I have youthful maturity on my side.’
‘Are you calling me old?’ Mandy snaps, semi-playfully, but I suspect she is genuinely a little offended.
‘No, I’m calling Bette old,’ Gina jokes.
Thankfully, Bette laughs, so I do too.
‘I suppose you think you’re in with the best chance, being the youngest?’ Mandy says to me, still ticked off.
‘We’re all romance writers,’ I point out. ‘We’re all familiar with the tropes, which surely means any of us would be in with a shot equally – we’re all experts in falling in love.’
Hopefully that’s the best thing to say, to defuse the situation.
Mandy narrows her eyes at me as a smile slowly creeps across her face. Oh, I don’t like the look of that.
‘How about a wager?’ she suggests. ‘The four of us compete, using the tropes, to see which one of us can woo the foxy Frenchman first.’
I laugh but then I realise Mandy is serious. I mean, obviously using the tropes in our books makes sense, because they’re the themes of romance, and it’s easy to do a storyline like ‘brother’s best friend’ on the page, because you’re making it all up, but you can’t exactly force that one in real life, can you? At least not with a man you’ve just met.
‘Oh, I love it,’ Gina says excitedly. ‘Let’s do it!’
‘I’m in,’ Bette says – then she must notice the look on my face. ‘Oh, Bernie won’t mind. You know what they say, what happens in France stays in France.’
No one says that.
‘So, Amber, are you in?’ Mandy asks. ‘Or are you scared that you’ll be beaten by one of us oldies?’
‘I don’t know,’ I start, laughing it off.
‘I thought you were here to enjoy this retreat with us,’ Mandy says. ‘That you were one of us. And this is what we do for fun…’
‘This and drink wine,’ Bette adds.
That bit I’m already good at. I pick up my drink and drain the last of the wine from my glass.
‘Okay, sure,’ I say. ‘Why not? Count me in.’
I’m not actually in, and have no intention of playing this seriously silly, incredibly weird game, but I want to keep the ladies on side. Well, I might actually need to take Gina up on her offer of giving me advice with my work, if I’m going to try to make things spicy, like Jen wants me to. Oh boy, I just threw up in my mouth at the thought. I’m just not a sexy person, at all, I have zero game, and a goofy giggle. I’ve never even been able to talk dirty in the bedroom, because I always feel – and probably sound – so silly.
‘We’re all starting at square one,’ Mandy says. ‘And we all have an equal chance.’
‘Not quite,’ I chime in. ‘I’ve forgotten my toothbrush, so I can’t brush my teeth. Does anyone have a spare?’
‘No, Amber, no one has a spare toothbrush,’ Mandy answers for everyone, narrowing her eyes at me like I just suggested I hadn’t ever owned one, rather than that I forgot mine.
‘That’s okay, Henri told me where I could get one,’ I say. ‘He offered to take me.’
I don’t mean anything by it, I’m not rubbing it in, but I notice a flicker of recognition on each of their faces.
‘Oh, so you’ve been flirting with him?’ Bette says, raising an eyebrow.
‘No, no, no, I just asked him if he has a spare toothbrush in his bathroom,’ I clarify.
‘In his bathroom, hey?’ Gina persists.
‘It was just a friendly question,’ I add, trying to put the issue to bed.
‘She’s doing “friends to lovers”,’ Bette says knowingly. ‘Well, that’s given me an even better idea. Game on.’
I just laugh. Are these three really, seriously going to compete for Henri? There’s no way I’m going to actually join in with this game, not a chance, but at least it will be fun to spectate.
This writers’ retreat is definitely not what I expected.