Page 54 of One Last Thing
Nodding, I push back my chair and stand up.
‘We’re going to go hang by the pool,’ Nico says, patting his uncle on the shoulder.
Half-listening, Mathieu flicks his hand in acknowledgement –Nico and I have always left them to it at some point, so it’s not an unusual situation – and I follow Nico back into the chateau. When I turn to go towards the pool, he reaches out and grabs my wrist to stop me.
‘Come this way,’ he says, his touch covering my skin in goosebumps.
He lets go as he turns to walk in the opposite direction and my hand feels cold and abandoned without his warm grasp. We stroll past other guests and staff through the maze of corridors until we come to the ballroom. Nico turns the old gold handle and pushes the heavy door open. He slips in and I follow, turning to him in confusion as he shuts the door behind.
‘I thought we were going to the pool. What are we doing in here?’ I whisper into the empty room.
‘Why are you whispering?’ He laughs.
His voice echoes around the walls and high ceilings. The chateau ballroom is huge but remains unused. Dust covers hide the grand piano and other furniture on one side of the room and despite the warm evening, it feels cold in here. It’s so beautiful, though: the smooth patterned floor, the gilded bronze lamps and chandeliers, the moon and sun emblems on the ceiling and the heavy gold-framed oil paintings on the walls. Nico doesn’t turn on the lights, but the room is bathed in a glow from the lights adorning the outside of the chateux that pour through the tall, arched windows.
I keep my voice low to answer: ‘I don’t know. It’s so grand in here, I feel like I can’t be too loud. It would be disrespectful or something.’
He shakes his head at my way of thinking but continues to smile.
‘Are we allowed in here?’ I check, rubbing my arms.
‘Not really. It’s not a strict rule, but—’ He shrugs.
‘So why are we in the ballroom?’
‘Because I hid this in here earlier,’ he says, making his way over to one of the heavy velvet curtains that fall by the windows at the side of the room.
Crouching down beneath it, he pulls out a bottle of champagne.
‘How did you get that?’ I gasp excitedly, wandering over to join him.
‘When my uncle was looking the other way. I thought we should toast the end of your holiday.’ He raises his eyebrows at me. ‘You want some?’
I nod nervously. He sits down on the floor to the side of the room, his back against the wall, and encourages me to join him. As I sit at his side, he expertly opens the champagne without spilling any –this is not his first time doing so–and offers me the first swig. It’s sharp and too bubbly, but I take a good glug as elegantly as I can muster and then pass the bottle back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, my eyes watering a little.
‘One day, I think we should have a party in this room,’ he says, offering me the bottle again. ‘My aunt says it’s a lot of work and time, but I think guests would love it. A huge party, tickets for everyone, not just guests.’
‘I think that’s a good idea. This room should be used. It’s so pretty.’
‘Are you any good at dancing?’
Having just taken another swig, I make a face as I lower the bottle and he laughs.
‘Me neither. We will have to learn,’ he says, resting his head back against the wall, turning it at an angle to look at me. ‘Are you sad to leave the day after tomorrow?’
‘I’m always sad to leave here,’ I admit quietly. ‘When do you go back home?’
‘In two weeks.’ His eyes fall to the floor. ‘I don’t want to go. I hate my mum’s boyfriend. He doesn’t want me there.’
‘I’m sure that’s not—’
‘It’s true.’
I frown at the pain in his expression, every part of me aching to reach out and hold him. Instead, I hold the bottle of champagne out for him and he takes it. After taking a drink, he rests the bottle on the floor in between his knees.
‘I’m sorry, Nico.’
He shrugs. ‘I’m lucky to spend my summers here.’
