Chapter 33
33
I don’t know who I think I am, sprawled out on a sofa in Caleb’s chalet, surrounded by an assortment of jewellery. Some of it I really like, other pieces I’m embarrassed to be wearing even as someone else. Actually, I’ve just answered my own question. Who do I think I am? I think I’m Annabelle Harvey-Whitaker, clearly.
Each piece has a story, or so Caleb tells me – that’s what it says in the info sheet he has that came with the jewellery. Not many of them have a story with a happy ending, clearly, because I don’t know anyone who would wear half of these.
Perhaps I have a dirty mind (I definitely do, which makes it ironic I can’t write spicy scenes) but the longer I look at certain pieces, the more I’m starting to see things.
‘Whatever they are paying you to make your girlfriend wear what looks like anal beads, it isn’t enough,’ I joke, striking a dramatic pose with the garish necklace dangling around my neck.
Caleb laughs as he snaps away with his camera, taking close-up shots of my neck and chest.
‘It could probably pay for that dinner we had last night… another ten times,’ he says with a wink. Then he takes a photo of my dropped jaw.
‘Oh my gosh, I love these beads on me,’ I say, sarcastic as you like, as I strike another pose.
Caleb laughs, lowering the camera momentarily. He narrows his eyes at them.
‘They do kind of look like anal beads,’ he admits. ‘But you’re rocking them.’
‘I was starting to think you got them out of the wrong bag until I saw the matching earrings,’ I reply. ‘Then again, who knows where they’re potentially supposed to go.’
Caleb chuckles, clearly having just as much fun as I am with this. He steps back to get a wider shot, and I do my best runway model impression, swaying my hips and pouting ridiculously – even though I’m facing away from the camera, to keep my anonymity.
‘Seriously, though, this stuff is a mix of fabulous and fabulously terrible,’ I say, adjusting the necklace so it sits less awkwardly on my collarbones. ‘But this is kind of fun, isn’t it? Playing dress-up. You must have a right laugh, doing this stuff for a living.’
‘Yeah, although it’s definitely more fun doing it with someone else,’ he tells me with a smile. ‘Who knows what I would have done with that necklace, if you weren’t here.’
I laugh.
‘Okay, I am not a necklace kind of guy, but if you can snap some photos of me in this chain, I think we can call it a day,’ Caleb says, handing me the camera. He holds up a sleek silver chain with various charms hanging off it then pulls a face as he puts it on.
I take the camera and grin.
‘I don’t know, I think it kind of suits you,’ I tell him, adjusting the lens like I know what I’m doing. ‘But maybe that’s because it’s more subtle than the one I’m wearing.’
‘Speaking of subtle,’ he starts, shifting his weight and turning his head for a better angle. ‘Have you managed to get any writing done?’
I laugh, nodding as I snap a few shots.
‘Yes, well, I did a little last night,’ I reply. ‘Do you know what, it’s weirdly fun, trying to do a bad job on purpose.’
‘Really?’ Caleb raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.
‘Yeah, it’s strange,’ I continue, lowering the camera for a moment. ‘It’s like an extra challenge, trying to take the piss out of myself. It’s easy to write all the clichés and use all the plot devices that drive readers mad, but I think the thing that I’m loving the most is just creating absolute chaos.’
‘And how do you create chaos in a book?’ Caleb asks curiously, resuming his poses with a mix of seriousness and playfulness.
‘Almost everyone’s name begins with a J,’ I tell him proudly, framing another shot. ‘Jane, Jade, John, Jack – Gemma, so that it isn’t obvious – Jacob, Jenny. Jade and Jane are sisters, and Jack is in love with Jade, no, wait, with Jane, but he’s in a relationship with a girl called Jenna. I keep switching tenses, and having characters head downstairs to the loft, and you would be surprised how many different ways there are to type the word “okay”. Honestly, it’s a mess.’
Caleb shakes his head, laughing.
‘I have a headache just thinking about it,’ he says. ‘Honestly, it sounds infuriating to read. So, good job there.’
‘It’s kind of liberating too,’ I tell him. ‘Like, there’s no pressure to get it right. It’s the opposite, actually. The more chaotic, the better – I’m even finding that I’m doing a good job by accident, from time to time.’
‘Sounds like a nightmare and a dream at the same time,’ he says with a laugh.
‘All right, I think we’ve got enough shots. You can ditch the ugly chain now,’ I tell him, pulling a face.
My phone starts ringing, the screen lighting up with a FaceTime call from Tom.
‘It’s my brother,’ I tell Caleb, holding up the phone as if to explain the interruption. ‘Things are a bit weird at home at the moment.’
‘Take the call,’ Caleb says, waving me off with a smile. ‘I’ll sit at the table, out of the way.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, grateful for his understanding.
I swipe to answer the call and Tom’s face appears on the screen, looking as exasperated as ever.
‘Hello,’ I say brightly.
‘Amber! Honestly, they’re driving me crazy, I can’t believe you’ve left me with them,’ he begins, not wasting a second on pleasantries.
‘What now?’ I ask, already bracing myself for the onslaught of family drama.
‘They’re like… competing for my affection, like I’m a kid they’re fighting over, both trying to get onside, to turn me against the other.’
‘Oh boy,’ I blurt.
‘And the fact that it’s Christmas is only making them more nuts,’ he continues. ‘They’re trying to one-up each other with the Christmas decorations too. Mum’s got this ridiculously huge wreath for the front door, which Dad hates because he says it makes the door too heavy. So Dad went and bought a Santa that inflates to the size of a small car, and put it right next to Mum’s parking space because he knows she struggles to park in tight spots. And now Mum’s talking about getting an electric diffuser with cinnamon in it, because she knows it messes with his sinuses. She’s basically soft poisoning him, Amber!’
I can’t help but laugh.
‘But she’s the one who finds him the most annoying, when he has a blocked nose, and he acts like he’s dying,’ I point out.
‘Yep, well, they’re competing over Christmas dinner too, so you have that to look forward to,’ he informs me. ‘Mum says she’s doing a turkey crown, Dad says it’s Christmas and that we should have a “real” turkey, so apparently we’re having one of each, and we can all say whose is best.’
‘Stunning,’ I say sarcastically. ‘I’m sorry you’re dealing with them on your own.’
‘Yeah, I’m sure you’re sleeping easy at your five-star resort,’ Tom teases, a hint of a smile breaking through his frustration.
‘Actually,’ I begin, hesitating slightly, ‘I’m not sleeping easy.’
Well, technically I’m not falling asleep easily, but he doesn’t need to hear that I’m having the best sleep of my life in my super-amazing bed.
‘Can’t sleep without your beaver cream?’ Tom jokes, offering up an in-joke to lighten the mood.
I freeze, my eyes darting to Caleb, who is watching me with mild curiosity, then back to my screen. I can feel my face turning red because obviously I get the joke – he’s referring to the lavender balm I used to use to help me sleep, when I was worrying about my GCSEs, that was called Badger Balm, but he used to call it beaver cream as a joke – but Caleb won’t know that, and we all know what ‘beaver cream’ sounds like.
‘What? Why are you being weird? Is someone there?’ Tom asks, noticing my reaction.
‘No,’ I say firmly, but he’s already peering closer at the screen.
‘There is, I can see someone, reflected in the mirror behind you,’ Tom says, squinting to get a better look. ‘There’s a man there, I can see him. That or you’ve got one seriously chill ghost.’
I glance over at Caleb, who stands up and walks over, clearly deciding it’s better to just say hi than to let Tom think some random has his sister held hostage or something.
Caleb stands in front of the camera and waves.
‘Hi, I’m Caleb,’ he says.
‘Oh, hi,’ Tom says, taken aback. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise Amber had company or I wouldn’t have ranted about our parents for so long.’
‘No worries,’ Caleb replies. ‘I sympathise if I’m being honest with you. Not many people know this but my parents broke up when I was a teen.’
‘Shit, that’s rough,’ Tom replies.
‘It was a long time ago,’ Caleb says. ‘But I know what it’s like, when your parents split, and to go through it without any siblings, or close family, so I have two things to tell you both. The first thing is that, when my parents broke up, the main thing I remember is that they both stopped trying. When people run out of love for each other, they run out of everything. They don’t care, they check out. People who don’t want to make things work don’t try to push each other’s buttons like that. I don’t know your parents, so I might be wrong, but they sound to me like two people trying to get a reaction out of each other, and people only do that when they want something.’
‘Huh,’ I say thoughtfully.
‘That’s a good point,’ Tom chimes in. ‘They’re not avoiding each other. If anything, they’re spending more time together than usual.’
Caleb smiles.
‘The two of you have each other,’ Caleb continues. ‘So long as the two of you stick together, and stay on the same page, you’ll be fine, whatever happens with your folks.’
‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Tom says with a half-smile. ‘I’m sorry to hear that you don’t have any close family, I can’t even imagine that. It must be tough.’
‘It is sometimes,’ Caleb admits. ‘But it makes me appreciate the connections I do have, even more.’
I feel a rush of warmth at Caleb’s words. He’s not just some shallow influencer; he’s genuinely thoughtful and caring. He’s a real person, not just a series of pretty pictures, and it sounds like he’s really been through it. It’s like I’m seeing a whole new side of him.
‘Thanks for the pep talk,’ Tom replies, his voice sincere. ‘I’ve spent the past few days thinking that my family was imploding.’
‘No worries,’ Caleb says, smiling. ‘It’s good to remember that family isn’t just about who you’re related to by blood. It’s about who’s there for you, who supports you. You don’t need a family tree to find people like that.’
By the time the call ends, Tom seems like a new man.
‘Thanks for opening up to him like that,’ I tell Caleb. ‘Honestly, I think it meant a lot to him.’
‘I figured,’ Caleb replies. ‘I’m selective, when it comes to who I open up to.’
‘It sounds like you’ve been through a lot,’ I point out. ‘Going through that at such a young age – at least Tom and I are adults. Or claiming to be.’
Caleb laughs.
‘What actually happened is that my dad left, when things got tough between him and my mum, and he never came back, never bothered on birthdays or Christmases, and we were cut off from his side of the family,’ Caleb explains. ‘My mum didn’t really have any family either, and she died just before my TV debut.’
‘Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,’ I tell him.
‘She had… she…’
Caleb sounds like he has a bit of a lump in his throat.
‘It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me,’ I insist. ‘We’ve got plenty of time to talk.’
‘One of the reasons I wanted to do the show was to raise money for her,’ he says. ‘Anyway, she passed before I had the chance, but I honour her memory by raising money and awareness for charities that will help people who were in the situation we were in.’
‘That’s so incredible,’ I point out. ‘She would be so proud of you, if she could see what you were doing.’
He takes a deep breath, as though he’s recomposing himself.
‘I hope so,’ he replies. ‘It certainly makes the anal beads a lot easier to wear.’
I laugh.
‘I think you’re right about my parents, you know,’ I tell him, taking his cue to move the conversation along. ‘My parents have been referring to whatever they’re going through as pre-divorcing.’
‘Yeah, they clearly don’t want to split up,’ he points out. ‘Perhaps when you get home you can work out what’s the matter, and help them work around it.’
‘Gosh, I hope so,’ I reply with a sigh. ‘Anyway, thanks for cheering Tom up, at least. Even if it just helps him to keep sane until I get home.’
‘You’re welcome,’ Caleb replies.
It’s nice, to see Tom and Caleb getting on so well – he didn’t have to open up to him like that – and I’m amazed at how Caleb has instantly put Tom’s worries to bed. Bloody hell, even I feel a bit better, after hearing his words.
‘You know, you’re pretty deep, for an influencer,’ I point out.
‘None taken,’ Caleb jokes – implying I should have followed my statement with: no offence.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it,’ I reply, laughing awkwardly. ‘I meant it as a compliment.’
‘I was on this planet for a long time, before this was my job,’ he points out. ‘I was a teacher, actually, not too far into my career, but it wasn’t an easy job to keep up, not when your mum is ill. I’ve always wanted to help people, I knew that much, so I started training to be a grief counsellor, but ironically, when you’re grieving yourself, it’s not that easy. I got lucky, with the timing of the show, because it set me on a different path. I do still like to help people, though, so sometimes I can’t resist sticking my beak in, offering people advice if I think I can help.’
I smile at him.
‘I get that,’ I tell him. ‘The reason I wanted to write funny books was to make people happy. I always thought that if I could make people smile, even when they were going through a shit time, then I would leave this world a little better than I found it.’
‘That’s great,’ he tells me. ‘That’s my motto too. And I’m sure you do make people really, really happy.’
‘Oh, yeah, I make them happy enough, just not horny enough,’ I joke. ‘It’s always worth it, for the lovely emails and messages I get from people who do enjoy what I do, but you are always going to have people who don’t get what you’re going for. Lots of people say they enjoy my books, but then follow it up with a comment saying they’re not complex, or deep – as though I don’t work hard to keep them that way. I don’t want to make people think, I don’t want to be the reason for anyone’s existential crisis, I don’t want to make them sad, I don’t even really want to make anyone all that horny. I just want to make people smile. To make their dark days lighter. Sometimes it’s just not that deep.’
‘It was reading that got me through losing my mum,’ he tells me. ‘Crime books. Nothing too heavy, or deep, just mysteries that needed solving, and detectives picking through the clues to figure it all out. It took me out of my reality and into somewhere I could breathe.’
‘People who don’t read don’t get it, but there’s a lot to be said for not getting lost in a book, but hiding away in one,’ I reply.
Caleb smiles at me.
‘Anyway, I’m just happy to help,’ he says. ‘It was nothing.’
Maybe there’s more to this influencer gig – and to Caleb – than I first thought.