Jaimie Admans - The Chateau of Happily-Ever-Afters

I’ll wait until morning and then start shouting for help. There’s got to be a neighbour somewhere nearby who might hear. Maybe Nephew McGit will hear and phone the fire brigade to break in and cut me free. Even letting him in is better than dying. Probably.

I must have dozed off eventually, despite the wooden board digging into my stomach, because the next thing I’m aware of is laughter. Laughter with a Scottish twang to it. And a shutter noise and flash of light.

‘Did you just take a photo of me?’ I shout at him, so annoyed that I suck in a mouthful of cobweb and choke on it.

He’s laughing so hard he can barely catch his breath to answer me. ‘I came in here to find nothing but a pair of legs sticking out of a wall. Of course I took a photo. Hold on a sec while I put it on Instagram.’

‘Don’t you dare!’ I kick out at him and miss. ‘You bloody loophole git!’

‘Or Julian, as people tend to call me,’ he says. ‘And it’s nice to see you don’t believe there’s any treasure and you weren’t looking for it.’

‘I wasn’t.’

He laughs again. ‘No? Then what exactly are you doing halfway inside a wall? Please do tell, because I can’t wait to hear the explanation for this.’

I huff and roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. ‘There’s something in here.’

‘Something that might be treasure?’

‘Maybe.’ I’m sure he can hear how sulky I sound, even though everything is muffled through the wall.

‘Ah-ha! So you do think there’s something in that riddle!’

‘No. I just saw something… and I thought… it doesn’t matter.’

‘Let me guess, you thought you’d lock me out to get a head start, and if you found anything, you’d hide it and pretend you hadn’t?’

‘No.’

‘Okay then,’ he says cheerfully as his footsteps head away. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

‘No, wait!’ I shout after him. ‘I might need a bit of help here.’

I imagine him folding his arms across his chest. ‘Why should I help you when you can’t even answer a question honestly?’

‘What, the treasure?’ I sigh. ‘Oh, come on, like you wouldn’t have done the same thing!’

‘I wouldn’t have made you sleep in your car all night!’

‘It’s August in France, for bollocks’ sake. What were you worried about? Freezing to death in a freak ice storm?’

‘It’s just not a very nice thing to do.’

‘Well, I’m sorry,’ I mutter, sounding the least sorry I’ve ever been. ‘Besides, I’ve been stuck in a wall all night. I think I got my comeuppance, don’t you?’

He laughs. ‘I don’t know. I could leave you there a while longer to find out…’

‘Julian!’

‘Julian what?’

I huff, more annoyed at my own stupidity than at him. ‘Julian, please, you’re my only hope.’

‘Now that wasn’t so hard, was it? Hold still. I’ll use this hammer to pull the other board out.’

‘Where did you get a hammer from?’

‘Hanging on the other wall. This is some kind of tool cupboard.’

Great. It’s a shame I didn’t see that last night. I could’ve used the hammer to pull the silver box closer and not got into this mess in the first place.

I don’t dare to take a breath as he prises the other board away and I can finally move for the first time in hours. I scramble and push myself backwards to get out of the wall, bringing a cloud of dust with me. Julian holds out his hand to help me up but I smack it away and struggle to my feet by myself. I don’t need Nephew-git’s help with anything else, ever.

Every part of me is stiff and aching from being stuck in place for so long, I’m covered in dirt and debris from the floor, and I’ve got cobwebs in places I didn’t know cobwebs could exist. I pull my hair out of the plait it’s in and shake it so hard that I start coughing and spluttering again.

‘Would you like some water?’ He holds a bottle out to me.

No, not from him. But the only tap I found in the château yesterday spurted brown goo at me and, of course, I didn’t bring any of my own.

I choke a garbled agreement and grab the bottle off him, not intending to be quite so snatchy.

I know he’s watching me as I pour water down my parched throat and I try to block him out. It’s not easy. Through the curtain of my hair, I can see his brown boots crossed over each other where he’s leaning against the wall, and despite the musty, damp wood smell in this room, his aftershave has somehow overpowered it. I glance up and he’s still looking at me. ‘You haven’t poisoned this, have you?’ I ask, wondering if he’s waiting for me to drop dead, and if it’s a question I should have considered before I poured half of it down my throat.

‘I suppose you’ll have to wait and see,’ he says with a shrug.

I start gagging and try to spit out what I’ve already swallowed, but he starts laughing. ‘I’m joking, Wendy. I considered it but I left the cyanide at home. Thought the French police might have something to say about it if I got searched on the ferry.’

‘Then why are you looking at me?’ I snap, annoyed at myself for falling for it.

‘I’m not. I’m looking at the centipede in your hair.’

I scream and start slapping wildly at my head.

He laughs that infuriating laugh again. ‘Bloody hell, it’s only a wee centipede. I’ll get it if you hold still.’

It’s not easy to stay still when every inch of your skin is crawling, but I try to stop flapping around as he strides across the room and reaches his big hand out. I squeeze my eyes shut and let him extract the wriggly thing from my hair.

Instead of stamping on the centipede like I thought he would, Julian crouches down and sets it back inside the hole I’ve just escaped from. ‘Couldn’t you have killed it?’

‘Why should I kill it? It’s been in this house a lot longer than you have. Why does it deserve to die because you’ve invaded its home?’ He stands back up and faces me.

I go to snap something in response but my eyes lock on to his blue ones and my train of thought stops abruptly. He’s right, isn’t he? Why should I be angry at him for not killing an animal, even an insect with far too many legs? It’s kind of nice, actually. I’ve never met anyone who would think twice about stamping on an insect before.

I try not to look at the hint of chest showing under the charcoal-grey shirt that’s so far open he may as well not be wearing one. I’ve never been particularly taken with muscular men, but no one can deny that his chest curves in all the right places.

‘Wendy?’ He clicks his fingers like it’s not the first time he’s said it.

When I look up, he’s smirking again and there’s laughter in his blue eyes. He knows exactly what my attention was on. ‘Hmm?’

‘I said, how far did you get in your search last night? Did you find anything interesting before you attacked the helpless, unsuspecting wall?’

‘Not very,’ I mutter, glaring at him, mostly because there’s no point in even trying to pretend I wasn’t looking for it. I’m just as bad as him. ‘We’ve got no electricity so it was pointless after dark. We’ll have to phone the electric company and get them to switch us back on. I expect it’s been shut off after so many years of the place being empty.’

‘Nah. No way does a place this far out in the countryside get electricity from the grid. There’ll be a generator outside somewhere that probably needs a good oil-up. I’ll see if I can find it later.’

I hadn’t even thought of that. And I’d thought I was being clever to deduce that the electric had been cut off. He’s undoubtedly right. Again. ‘How did you get in here anyway?’

‘I went for a walk and met our neighbour. Lovely old chap, lives at a farm about three miles down the road. Doesn’t speak a word of English, of course, but turns out he was good friends with Eulalie and her husband, and when she left, she gave him the spare key so he could keep an eye on things in exchange for grazing his sheep in our empty pastures.’