Chapter 37
It’s only been underway for a couple of hours, but I can already tell the launch party at the Chrysalis is going to go down in history as one of the best parties the village has ever seen.
As I’d asked, the tables from the restaurant have been arranged in two long lines at one end of the room, with an area at the top left free for dancing.
Izzie and the kitchen staff have outdone themselves with the food (it’s surprising just how many dishes you can make with potatoes and veg .
. .), and delicious scents waft up from the heaped plates and serving bowls which have been set out on each table, so the diners can help themselves.
Hunter, meanwhile, has, somewhat reluctantly, given up the keys to the wine cellar, and the result of that is a raucous, festive atmosphere that’s only slightly marred by Callum and Izzie’s terrible singing, as they stand by the grand piano and treat us to their rendition of ‘Super Trouper’.
(‘You’d have thought they’d be better, really,’ says Millie thoughtfully. ‘What with all the albums they’ve released.’)
After dinner, though, the woman who’d told Luna she’d been a backup singer takes over, and turns out to be pretty good; especially once Hunter’s been talked into fetching his guitars from the apartment and offering them to the musicians among the crowd.
‘First wine, now musical instruments,’ I say teasingly, as we watch two men from the village strike up a jaunty little folk tune. ‘You’re going to lose your reputation as a complete bawbag if you’re not careful.’
‘That sounds really weird in an English accent,’ Hunter comments, taking a large swig of his beer. But when I glance back over at him, he’s watching the people on the dance floor with a smile on his face which does nothing to disprove my comment.
‘It’s OK,’ I say, leaning over so I can shout into his ear above the sound of the music. ‘Your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell them you’re a teddy bear, deep down. You can continue pretending to be the aloof laird.’
‘I’m neither aloof nor a laird,’ he points out, his face very close to mine as he turns to grin at me, looking more relaxed than I’ve seen him since I got here. ‘That title definitely belongs to Dougie, and Dougie alone.’
I tear my eyes away from his face and follow his gaze to where Lord Glenmuir is seated at the head of one of the tables, barking orders at everyone who happens to be within earshot. He seems to be enjoying himself; everyone does, actually. Well, everyone except me.
I’ve been so wrapped up with the goings-on in the hotel that my own problems have been pushed to the back of my mind. Now, though, as it gets closer to midnight, and the day I’ll be leaving this place, those problems are back again, all jostling for position at the very front of my mind.
The credit card debt.
The job I hate.
The fact that I still have nowhere to live when I leave here, and no real prospect of being able to afford anything better than a shabby room in a flat-share somewhere on the outskirts of town.
Hunter.
It’s always Hunter.
It’s funny how a man I’ve only just met has somehow managed to worm his way into my head, until there are moments when he’s all I can think about.
It’s funny how just four days away from ‘real’ life can leave you feeling like a completely different person; and one who has no idea how she’ll somehow manage to fit back into the life she left behind.
It’s funny, yes, but it’s also crazy, because one thing I do know is that, no matter what happens next for either of us, it can’t happen for us together. There are too many miles between us, and too many unknowns for us to make even the slightest bit of sense.
But I wish it could.
I wish we could at least try.
I wish there was more time; time to find out if that spark between us could ever turn into something more, or time to just be together, without a looming departure date hanging above our heads.
I just need more time.
Time, though, is running out; as evidenced by the grandfather clock in the hall, which announces each hour with a DING-DONG, so loud we can hear it in the ballroom. By the time that clock strikes twelve, my time in the Chrysalis will be almost over, whether I’m ready for it to end or not.
‘Come on,’ I say, looking down at the magic jumper, which I’m wearing over the top of the same sequinned number I overdressed for dinner in. ‘If you’re planning to work some magic here, this would be a really great time to do it.’
But tonight, the sweater seems to be all out of magic.
So the night goes on, and the clock keeps striking, no matter how much I will it to stop.
Much to my relief, however, there’s no trace of animosity between the people from the village and those from the castle.
Villagers dance with hotel staff. Hannah and Rowan go skidding across the polished wooden floorboards in their socks, with a small gang of children following close behind them.
Izzie offers to read the Laird’s palm, and the Laird is only mildly rude in his response.
At one point, Dante comes staggering into the room, his dark suit draped with cobwebs, and a sprinkling of dust on top of his glossy head, like dandruff.
‘You!’ he says, pointing a shaking finger at Sabrina, who’s sitting with Luna, each of them treating the other with exaggerated politeness. ‘I thought you were supposed to be locked in the attic?’
‘I beg your pardon?’ replies Sabrina frostily, a semblance of her old self returning at the sight of her arch nemesis. ‘What would I be doing in an attic, of all places? Haunting it?’
‘I’ve been up there for hours,’ Dante splutters, ignoring the question. ‘I thought you might have gotten lost, or hurt. I’ve been beside myself!’
‘Gosh, how romantic,’ says Millie, sipping a cocktail in exactly the same shade of pink as her dress. ‘Look how worried he was about you, Sabrina! I wish I could get locked in an attic so someone could come and find me.’
‘I was worried she’d sue us if she’d fallen over and hurt herself,’ Dante snaps. ‘That’s all. I don’t care what happens to her other than that.’
‘I don’t care what happens to you either,’ Sabrina retorts, tossing her head like a capricious pony as she gets up to walk away. ‘I didn’t even notice you weren’t here.’
‘That reminds me,’ says Millie, touching me on the arm.
‘We never found out about that invisible woman you mentioned, Rosie? Was it a ghost, do you think? Izzie says sometimes the souls of people who didn’t do the things they were supposed to in life can become trapped, they can’t move on.
So they just keep doing the same thing over and over, and no one can even see them doing it. Isn’t that wild?’
‘Pretty wild,’ I agree, staring at the bubbles in my champagne glass. ‘That would be . . . that would be terrible.’
That is terrible, I mean.
And I would know, because she’s literally describing my life. But maybe it doesn’t have to be anymore.
Maybe it’s time I took Sabrina’s advice to eat the bloody cake while I still have the chance.
‘Whoever she was, I think she’s gone now,’ I tell Millie. ‘I haven’t seen any sign of her in days.’
Which is true, actually. I’ve organised this party, haven’t I? I’ve rescued a woman from a runaway horse. I’ve done my very best to build bridges between Hunter and the villagers.
I haven’t been invisible, is what I’m saying.
Actually, I think I’ve been pretty damn visible for once in my life.
And I think I’ve quite liked it, too.
‘Oh, that’s good,’ Millie says, relieved. ‘She must have figured out whatever it was she had to do to be free.’
‘Yes,’ I say slowing, my mind whirring as I put my champagne glass back down. ‘I think she did. It’s just whether or not she’s brave enough to actually do it that’s the question . . .’
Millie looks at me questioningly, but before she can ask what I mean, the sound of someone tapping a glass with their knife cuts through the air.
‘If I could have your attention, everyone, for just a few minutes,’ says Sabrina, who’s standing at the front of the room, in front of the fireplace, with a laptop set up in front of her.
‘It’s time to announce the results of our exciting influencer competition, and find out who’s going to be the face of the Chrysalis hotel. ’
She says this in the enthusiastic tone of a children’s TV presenter, but her words are met with a groan of disappointment from the villagers, most of whom have no idea what she’s talking about, and who just want to get back to the party.
‘Four days ago,’ Sabrina begins, pretending she can’t hear them, ‘five women entered the Chrysalis.’
‘And one man,’ yells Daniel Foster indignantly. ‘Why does everyone keep forgetting about me?’
‘Five women and one man entered the Chrysalis,’ Sabrina goes on. ‘Their mission? Change.’
She pauses, as if to give the audience a chance to react to this, but everyone just stares at her blankly.
‘Change comes in many forms,’ says Sabrina, tapping a key on her laptop, which makes a large screen come to life behind her, with a photo of the hotel on it.
‘Physical. Mental. Spiritual. The Chrysalis aims to facilitate them all, with its holistic approach to self-care, combined with the utmost in luxury accommodation.’
The screen behind her flicks through a series of slides showing various parts of the hotel, along with the dramatic landscape surrounding it, which I guess is supposed to represent the mental and spiritual changes Sabrina mentioned.
‘Over the last few days, our exclusive influencer team has experienced these changes for themselves,’ says Sabrina, tapping another key. ‘And just look at the results!’