Hannah Emery - The Secrets of Castle Du Rêve - A thrilling saga of three women’s lives tangled together in a web of secrets

The English department was in a squat building that lacked the drama of the rest of the castle. That was a shame, Victoria thought as she stepped through the green swinging door. It would have been quite nice to have her romance begin in the mystical, shining castle, rather than a dreary hut that reminded her of her old school. When she reached the office with Harry’s name on the door, Victoria glanced behind her to check that nobody was watching, and pressed her fist quietly against the bright teak.

Nothing.

She leaned her head against the wood and listened hard. The faint rustling of papers came from within. He was in there, then. She knocked again, more of a rap this time: the knock of somebody who meant business. The sound of rustling was quickly replaced by the creak of a chair and two light footsteps. Then the door swung open.

His face was squarer than Victoria had remembered, but no less exquisite for it. His hair, which she had taken for black, was actually the dark brown of cocoa. He ran his hand through it and ruffled it slightly.

‘Victoria! What a nice surprise to see you here!’

‘I’m sorry to come uninvited.’

Harry frowned. ‘Not at all.’

‘It’s just that I was thinking about the Robert Bell talk. I wondered if you’d managed to get it arranged yet.’

Harry gazed at Victoria for a few more seconds. He ran his hand through his hair again, looked behind him into the untidy, square office that lay beyond the door, and then nodded.

‘Forgive me if I appear distracted. Seeing you just…I was very much in my own world before you came. But I have arranged the talk by Robert Bell,’ Harry continued. ‘It’s next week. I was going to come to the shop this weekend and tell you.’

Victoria looked back up at him. ‘Really?’

He smiled then, a generous, wide smile that took her back to the dream she’d had last night. It wasn’t so much a dream, more of an image that had endured in her mind for the whole night, of Harry taking her hand and smiling at her, again and again as she tossed around underneath her tangle of blankets.

‘Yes. I was looking forward to seeing you again. The talk is on Monday at four. If you get here a bit earlier, you’ll get a good seat.’

‘Then I will be here at half past three,’ Victoria said, feeling a strange excitement crackling in the air around them.

‘I’ll look forward to it.’ Harry looked for a few moments as though he wanted to say more, but then somebody came down the corridor, and Harry smiled once more, then disappeared back into his office, closing his door gently behind him.

On Monday night, Victoria’s father was travelling to London and staying overnight so that he could attend an auction in London on Tuesday. Normally, when he visited auctions, the time he was gone was filled with a crisp, brittle tension. If he was what he called winning at the auction, then a couple of days later he would return home drunk, buoyant, red-faced with alcoholic cheer. If he wasn’t winning, if some other sod had bought up the collection he wanted, the one that would make Lace Antiques get through another blasted winter, then he would crash home drunk, pale and angry. Sometimes, if she was up to it, Mrs Lace went with her husband to the auctions. She had her uses, being so beautiful. She could sometimes make the auctioneer overlook a nod or a tap on the opposite side of the room.

Tuesday’s auction in London was an important one, and Victoria’s mother found enough spirit in her to get out of bed, hang some beads around her neck that she said were lucky, pack her small, mint-green suitcase and disappear off with Victoria’s father.

‘We’ll see you tomorrow, darling,’ she said, disappearing through the shop’s front door in a cloud of Chanel No 5.

Victoria had already made the sign that she would put on the shop door whilst she was gone. She had sat crossed-legged on the floor in her bedroom when her parents had gone to bed the night before, writing in large black letters on a piece of card:

TAKEN ILL. PLEASE COME BACK TOMORROW.

She had been sick, she would tell her parents if they somehow found out the shop had been left closed this afternoon. She had suddenly been as sick as a dog, gone to bed for a few hours, but was much better now. Who could argue with that?

Now, she taped the sign to the glass on the front door, her fingers trembling a little with thrill at the thought of seeing Harry again.

The walk to the University was longer than Victoria had remembered, and her limbs were tight with anticipation by the time she arrived at the majestic iron gates. With a judder of nerves, she remembered that Harry hadn’t told her which room the talk was being held in. She looked at her watch. Ten past three. She was a little early, but Harry had told her to get a good seat and she simply couldn’t have waited any longer. She walked down the tree-lined driveway and looked around her, gazing at the high stone buildings and the squat little place where Harry’s office was, searching for some kind of clue as to where she should be. Perhaps Harry expected her to meet him in his office?

A group of girls went past, swinging their satchels from their shoulders confidently and chatting loudly about the dancing they had done the night before.

‘Excuse me?’ Victoria said. ‘Are you here for the Robert Bell talk?’

They continued on as though she hadn’t spoken, bags swinging, heels clicking. Apart from them, there was nobody else around.

Well, if nobody was going to speak to her, she had no choice but to just find Harry. The door to the English block clanged shut behind her as she peered down the corridor and saw that his office door was open this time. Quickening her pace, she reached Harry just as he was leaving his office and locking the door. He spun around, the white grin that melted Victoria’s insides broad on his face.

‘Victoria! I was just wondering if you’d arrive soon. You’re early, that’s good. You can come over with me and meet Robert, if you like.’

It was at this moment, a moment which should have been a pure beam of elation, that Victoria realised with a jolt that she’d forgotten her copy of The Blue Door . She could see it in her mind, lying under some papers on the counter at Lace Antiques. In fact, she hadn’t even picked up the book since the day that Harry had come in. How had she been so silly? She should have finished reading it and brought it with her for Robert Bell to sign. Now Harry would think that she didn’t appreciate meeting Robert. She looked up at Harry’s face, which was bright in expectation.

‘I’ve forgotten my copy of The Blue Door ,’ Victoria blurted out.

Harry turned back to his door and rattled his key back into the lock. He emerged seconds later and held out a worn edition of the book.

‘Here you go. Have my copy. I wasn’t going to get it signed, so you might as well.’

Victoria took the book from Harry, aware that their fingers were going to meet, aware that tonight’s sleep would again be a blur of Harry’s face, his voice, his scent.

‘Thank you, Harry. I haven’t had a chance to finish it, but I-’

‘Oh, don’t worry about that. Mr Bell won’t mind at all, as long as you’re enjoying it?’

They were walking now, out of the low building and into the warm, green air of summer. The castle spread out before them, its pale-gold stone gleaming in the sun.

‘Oh, I am. At least, I was. I haven’t read for a while. I’ve not been able to concentrate,’ Victoria said. It was as though Harry pulled her thoughts from her like a magnet. She shouldn’t have told him that, should she? Sally always said that you should make boys work for you. You shouldn’t let on that you liked them quite as much as you did.