Ophelia Night - Almost Gone

“So there you are!”

He yanked her out—she clutched at the bed frame, cold steel scraping her hands, and began to scream. Her terrified cries filled the room, filled the house …

And she woke, sweating, screaming, hearing Jess’s worried voice. “Hey, Cassie, are you OK?”

The tendrils of the nightmare still lurked, waiting to draw her back in. She could feel the raw grazes on her arm where the rusty bed frame had cut her. She pressed her fingers there and was relieved to find unbroken skin. Opening her eyes wide, she switched on the overhead light to chase the darkness away.

“I’m fine. Bad dream, that’s all.”

“Do you want some water? Some tea? I can call the flight attendant.”

Cassie was going to refuse politely, but then she remembered she should take her meds again. If one tablet didn’t work, two would usually stop the nightmares from recurring.

“I’d love some water. Thank you,” she said.

She waited until Jess wasn’t looking and quickly swallowed another pill.

She didn’t try to sleep again.

During the plane’s descent, she swapped phone numbers with Jess—and just in case, she took down the name of the family Jess would be working for, and their address. Cassie told herself it was like an insurance policy, that hopefully if she had it, she wouldn’t need it. They promised each other that the first chance they got, they would tour Versailles Palace together.

As they taxied into Charles de Gaulle Airport, Jess gave an excited laugh. Quickly, she showed Cassie the selfie her family had taken for her while waiting. The attractive couple and two children were smiling, holding a board with Jess’s name on it.

Cassie had received no message—Maureen had just said she would be met at the airport. The walk to passport control seemed endless. She was surrounded by the babble of conversations in a host of different languages. Tuning in to the couple walking alongside her, she realized how little spoken French she was able to understand. Reality was so different from the school classes and language tapes. She felt scared, alone, and sleep deprived, and she was suddenly aware of how crumpled and sweaty her clothes were, compared to the elegantly clad French travelers around her.

As soon as she had her bags, she hurried to the restroom, put on a fresh top, and fixed her hair. She still didn’t feel ready to meet her family and had no idea who would be waiting. Maureen had told her the house was over an hour’s drive from the airport, so perhaps the children hadn’t come along. She shouldn’t look out for a big family. Any friendly face would do.

But in the sea of people watching her, she saw no recognition, even though she’d placed her “Maureen’s Au Pairs” backpack prominently on the luggage cart. She walked slowly from the gate to the arrivals lounge, looking anxiously for someone to spot her, wave, or call out.

But everyone there seemed to be waiting for someone else.

Grasping the cart’s handle with cold hands, Cassie zigzagged around the arrivals hall, searching in vain as the crowds gradually dispersed. Maureen hadn’t said what to do if this happened. Should she call someone? Would her phone even work in France?

And then, as she made one final, frantic pass round the floor, she noticed it.

“CASSANDRA VALE.”

A small notice board, held by a lean, dark-haired man in a black jacket and jeans.

Standing near the wall, absorbed by his phone, he wasn’t even looking for her.

She approached uncertainly.

“Hi—I’m Cassie. Are you…?” she asked, the words trailing off as she realized she had no idea who he could be.

“Yes,” he said in strongly accented English. “Come this way.”

She was about to introduce herself properly, to speak the words she’d rehearsed about how excited she was to be joining the family, when she saw the laminated card on his jacket. He was just a taxi driver; the card was his official airport pass.

The family hadn’t bothered to come and meet her at all.

The cityscape of Paris unfolded as Cassie watched. Tall apartments and somber industrial blocks gradually gave way to treed suburbia. The afternoon was cold and gray, with patchy, blowing rain.

She craned to see the signboards they passed. They were heading toward Saint Maur, and for a while she thought that might be their destination, but the driver passed the turnoff and continued on the road out of town.

“How much further?” she asked, attempting conversation, but he grunted noncommittally and turned the radio up.

Rain pattered on the windows and the glass felt cold against her cheek. She wished she’d taken her thick jacket from the trunk. And she was starving—she hadn’t eaten breakfast and there’d been no opportunity to buy food since.

After more than a half hour, they reached open countryside and drove alongside the Marne River, where brightly painted barges provided a splash of color in the grayness, and a few people, swathed in raincoats, walked under the trees. Some of the trees’ branches were already bare, others still clothed in russet-gold leaves.

“It’s very cold today, isn’t it?” she observed, giving conversation with the driver another try.

His only response was a muttered “Oui”—but at least he turned the heater on, and she could stop shivering. Cocooned in the warmth, she slipped into an uneasy doze as the miles flew past.

Sharp braking and the blare of a horn startled her awake. The driver was forcing his way past a stationary truck, turning off the highway onto a narrow, tree-lined road. The rain had cleared and in the low evening light, the autumn vista was beautiful. Cassie stared out the window, taking in the rolling landscape and the patchwork tapestry of fields interspersed with huge, dark forests. They passed by a vineyard, the neat rows of grapevines curving round the hillside.

Slowing his speed, the driver passed through a village. Pale stone houses with arched windows and steeply sloped, tiled roofs lined the road. Beyond, she saw open fields, and glimpsed a canal lined by weeping willows as they cruised by a stone bridge. The tall church spire drew her gaze and she wondered how old the building was.

This must be close to the chateau, she guessed, perhaps even in its local neighborhood. Then she changed her mind as they left the village behind and wound further into the hills, until she was totally disoriented and had lost sight of that tall spire. She hadn’t expected the chateau to be so remote. She heard the GPS give a “Lost Signal” notification and the driver exclaimed with annoyance, picking up his phone and glancing closely at the map while he drove.

And then, a right turn through high gateposts and Cassie sat straighter, staring down the long, gravel driveway. Ahead, tall and elegant, with the setting sun highlighting its stone-clad walls, was the chateau.

Tires crunched on stone as the car stopped outside a high, imposing entrance and she felt a stab of nerves. This home was far bigger than she’d imagined. It was like a palace, topped with tall chimneys and ornate turrets. She counted eighteen windows, with elaborate stonework and detailing, on the two stories of its commanding frontage. The house itself overlooked a formal garden, with immaculately trimmed hedges and paved pathways.

How would she relate to the family inside, who lived in such grandeur, when she had come from nothing?

She realized the driver was tapping his fingers impatiently on the wheel—he clearly wasn’t going to help her with her bags. Quickly, she climbed out.

The unforgiving wind chilled her immediately, and she hurried around to the trunk, manhandling her suitcase out, across the gravel, and into the shelter of the porch, where she zipped her jacket up.