His Frozen Heart

Ellie

What ever happened to romance? I can't help but wonder as I stare across the table at my date. I've been on seven first dates this year, and never a second, and it appears that this one will end the same way.

He was pleasant enough to look at, with gelled brown hair and a nice smile, and a good dresser but his personality left something to be desired. We had been sat here for the best part of an hour and the guy had barely stopped talking; my head was filled with his constant chatter about his job as a stockbroker, his fantasy football team and his car.

I knew within the first fifteen minutes that we had nothing in common, but my manners refused me to do the one thing I was desperate to do: get up and run out of the restaurant as fast as my legs could carry me...not that this guy would pause to give me the opportunity to make my excuses, so I sat politely as he talked with his mouth full, slowly sipping my wine and counting down the seconds until I could put on my pyjamas and read a book.

"Emily?"

I shake myself as I realise, I had missed a question in amongst his rambling. I wanted to correct him that my name was Ellie, not Emily but I didn't see any reason to at this point.

"I'm sorry?"

"Do you want to split a desert?" I guess ignorance really is bliss.

"I um..." I desperately searched my mind for an excuse. "It's getting late, and I need to go to bed."

"Do you want company?" He said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. He couldn't be serious, could he? Did he think this was going well?

"Thank you for the offer, but no. It was lovely to meet you, Mark." I said quickly, dropping some money on the table to cover my meal, and briskly walking out of the restaurant.

When I finally make it home, I shut the door and lean back against it releasing the breath I had been holding in with a shaky chuckle.

"I take it the date didn't go well?" My roommate, Hannah says from the couch.

"How do I let you talk me into these things?" I say, kicking off my heels and slumping onto the couch.

"Because you haven't had sex in so long that you're practically revirginized." She teases. I cringe at her bluntness, but she is not wrong.

I met Hannah in one of my favourite independent galleries. She works there and we would always talk about the artwork, and we became fast friends. Turns out she was in need of a roommate, and I was in need of a place. It's been nine months living together and it's been great. She is outspoken, bold, and confident. In other words, she is my complete opposite, but she is trying to bring me out of my shell. She was the one who convinced me to sign up for a dating app, and so far, it hasn't been successful.

I know the idea is old fashioned, some would even say offensive, but I dream of the men from my childhood fairy tales and romance novels. All I want is to find the sort of romance I read about in books, the sort of romance by parents had, that my aunt had, and I know they say you have to kiss a lot of frogs before finding a prince, but I'm so sick of the frogs.

I recount the date with Hannah, and she tries, but fails, to hold her laughter in.

"Hey!" I throw a pillow at her. "Just because you're in a relationship doesn't mean you can laugh at my misery." I say with fake outrage. Hannah has been dating her boyfriend Paul for around six months and they are extremely happy. Paul practically lives with us and he's a great guy.

Save for Hannah, it has been a really disappointing year. I lost my job, albeit a mundane job that I hated but the steady paycheque was comforting, and I haven't had a decent date in forever. My father passed away a few years back and I had savings from my inheritance but after several months the savings were dwindling. It wouldn't be long before I would be in trouble. Hannah has turned in my CV to the owner for me and promised that it would be held on file for when they were hiring, but I'm not holding out hope.

"Girl, you need a vacation."

"You're kidding right? I need money for a vacation. I barely have enough for my half of the rent." I whine.

"Things will turn around." Hannah comforts me. Always the optimist that one. It's infuriating sometimes.

My phone ringing drags me out of my pity party and as I tentatively pick up the phone, I am surprised to hear my aunt's voice.

"Ellie, sweetheart, I'm sorry to call so late," she says hesitantly, "but I need your help."

My aunt and I have always written letters to each other, even when I was young; she told me once that it was a shame that letters were a dying art form and that the written word holds more significance than anything in a text or phone call because you have put more thought into every word on the paper than the gibberish that expels the mouth; which is why she has only ever accepted letters from me, and why when I picked up the phone I was shocked to hear her voice.

My aunt and I were incredibly close when I was younger but since she moved abroad twelve years ago, although we write to each other regularly, we haven't seen each other since my father's funeral.

She moved to France after she met the love of her life on vacation and in a whirlwind romance decided to stay with him and get married. Pierre passed away just a few years later but she didn't return to England, instead moving into an estate in a small town called Riquewihr to be a housekeeper.

Although I miss her deeply, and I worry about her being alone, her letters always reassure me that she is happy. I can almost hear her laughter jumping off the page as she tells me about her newest adventures.

My aunt explained that she recently broke her leg during a dance class in an effort to keep young, and as per doctors orders she needs to stay off her feet for three weeks and then only use crutches for a further four weeks after that. She has asked that I take over her duties as housekeeper while she recovers. She promises that it will pay and that I can stay with her.

My aunt has never once asked me for a favour and so, although I have never left London let alone the country, I pack a suitcase and I buy my ticket online, wincing as I watch my bank balance take a plumet.

I say goodbye to Hannah and Paul, promising to call when I arrive, and head to the airport. While I wait to board my flight, I use the time to scroll through job adds online. I apply for a few different jobs; the majority in offices which I've done before, but I don't have any passion about. They are just a means to pay my bills and that's it. I also apply for a few jobs that I am actually interested in, in some museums and galleries, but that I probably won't hear from, given that I have no experience.

After three hours in the middle seat of the aeroplane I grabbed a taxi to the estate, but I was shocked when we arrived in front of a 6ft brick wall with impressive black gates and an intercom box.

"Are you sure this is the right address?" I ask the taxi driver and I look down at the address on the paper in my hands. When my aunt had said that she had moved into an estate to be a housekeeper I hadn't quite known what to expect, but it certainly wasn't this.

"Yes, the Frost estate, mademoiselle. That will be twenty-eight euros." I pass thirty euros through the divide before existing the taxi, smiling at the blue sky as I welcome the warm wave of heat to wash over my face as my eyes adjust to the bright light of the sun.

I take a deep breath allowing the clean air to flow through my lungs, willing the butterflies in my stomach to settle before I reached out and pressed the button to the intercom.