Cooking Up Christmas

‘As well,’ Carol repeated. ‘Another woman,’ she said after a pause sitting back in her chair at the breakfast bar.

‘I don’t think there is, Mum,’ said Esme. ‘He told me he felt we’d just grown apart.’

Alice raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, you can stay here as long as you like, you know that. Though I can’t promise little man won’t wake you up at five-thirty every morning. Oh, and he likes to do that by jumping on your head.’

‘Thanks,’ replied Esme, grinning. The central heating was on and the house was lovely and warm. Being there with her mum and sister was like being given a great big hug. ‘Mum and Dad said they have some money I can use to get a little place while I find a new job.’

‘Do you think that’s a good idea? Taking on a place while you try and find work?’ Alice bustled around the kitchen cleaning the surfaces and loading the dishwasher.

‘Don’t worry, Alice, I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m going to write my cookbook while I look for work. If I don’t try now, when will I ever have the chance again? I need a kitchen to work in and I can’t use Mum and Dad’s all day with them pottering around me. It’ll drive me crazy. And them,’ she added, smiling at her mum. ‘I was hoping I could pick up a cheap little flat and freelance while I write.’

Alice paused and checked on Daniel who, at that precise moment, was trying to fit the television remote control into his mouth. ‘Darling, please don’t put that in your mouth, or anywhere else for that matter.’ He put it down and picked up one of his dad’s video games. ‘And don’t play with that, please? It’s Daddy’s. Why don’t you draw Aunty Ezzy a picture?’

‘Ooh, pictures,’ said Carol, excitedly. ‘I’ll go and watch him while you chat to Esme.’ She disappeared into the living room happy at the prospect.

‘Dad said rental prices are quite cheap at the moment,’ Esme continued. ‘Mum and Dad gave me enough to cover the deposit and about three months’ rent. I really think this is the time to at least try. I don’t have commitments like you and I need to make the most of this opportunity.’

Alice wiped over the worktop again. ‘You sound like Lola,’ she teased.

‘I know. Annoying, isn’t it?’ Esme watched her mum sitting happily with Daniel, kissing his head every few moments. ‘Don’t tell Mum, but I’m just trying to look on the bright side so she doesn’t worry too much. I’m pretty much falling apart internally.’ She gave a loud sniff.

Alice, who was just about to fill the kettle again, left it and came over, giving her sister a squeeze. ‘I know, Ezzy, but it’ll be okay, I promise. And if you’re sure this is the right thing to do, I might know someone who can help. Are you really determined to get a place?’

‘Definitely. If I live with Mum and Dad for more than a few days, I’ll turn suicidal.’

‘Okay, well, Joe Holloway might be able to help us.’

‘Joe Holloway?’ Esme stopped and cupped her hands around her mug. ‘Joe who we all fancied like mad at school?’

‘Yeah. He’s an estate agent.’

‘An estate agent? I always thought he’d end up like a spy or something.’

Alice rolled her eyes. ‘Anyway, you fancied him like mad when we were at school, not me. Rumour has it he’s still a bit of a ladies’ man. Loves a one-night stand.’ She sat opposite and took Esme’s hands. ‘Are you sure getting a place isn’t too risky?’

‘If the worst happens, I’ll only be renting so I can just move back home. I won’t end up in lots of debt. And what have I got to lose? I’m 33, Alice. I need to take this chance now. If I don’t, I’ll get back into the nine to five, and keep putting it off. You know what it’s like, there’s never a perfect time, is there?’

Alice didn’t have a chance to answer as Esme’s phone started ringing. It was Helena. ‘Hey, Hels, everything okay?’ There was a pause on the other end of the line. ‘Helena? Are you all right?’

‘Umm … not really, love, I’ve got some bad news.’

Esme’s heart sank. What else could’ve happened? It was only ten o’clock. What else could have gone wrong already? Was she being sued by Felicity? Oh, please God, don’t let her be sued by Felicity. ‘What is it?’

‘I’m so sorry, honey, but Mark just told me he thinks Leo’s moving in some new woman.’

‘What?’

‘I hate telling you this over the phone but Mark just rang him to arrange coming to get your stuff. He thought the quicker we get this all sorted the better. Leo said he needs as much out as possible in the next few days and Mark said, “Why? Have you got someone moving in already?” and he went really quiet and mumbled something, then said he had to go and hung up. We just thought you should know.’

Esme felt numb and her mind stopped working. ‘Oh, right.’ The trouble was it had been Leo’s place originally and she’d moved in three years ago, but it had never completely felt like home. Without thinking, he’d refer to it as his place and it had stung. Now he’d tossed her out and moved someone else in. The scumbag.

‘Mark’s going to get the stuff tomorrow; I think Eric’s helping. I’m so sorry, honey. It might just be a guilty conscience, but you know what Mark’s like. He’s got second sight when it comes to this sort of thing. He doesn’t normally get signs wrong.’

Esme nodded, but forgot to speak, her mind frozen. Like a fool she’d believed Leo when he said he thought they’d become more like friends and had sat here defending him to her mum and sister. Esme had hated the idea of their relationship ending but could accept it if growing apart was the reason. It felt more respectful somehow for them to have simply changed over time. But this? Cheating? This was just nasty.

‘Esme?’

‘Can I speak to you later, Helena? I’m with Alice right now.’

‘Yeah, of course. I’m so sorry, honey. We all love you and he’s a shit. Say hi to Alice for me.’ Esme hung up and told Alice.

‘That dirty rotten bastard,’ Alice shouted, then glanced over her shoulder to check Daniel hadn’t come into the kitchen. ‘He must have been seeing her behind your back for ages. You don’t just move someone in a day after you’ve chucked your current girlfriend unless something has been going on for a while. He must have had it all planned. What an absolute …’ She trailed away seeing Esme’s face.

A sharp pain shot though her temples and her head ached. Her heart thumped hard in her chest. At least it was still beating, she reminded herself. Even with all this. It was broken, but beating. Alice took Esme’s hands in hers and looked her straight in the eye.

‘I’m so sorry, Ezzy. But we’ll make this work, I promise. All of us together. We’ll make this work. And soon this’ll be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.’

Esme placed her hand on top of Alice’s, sniffing back tears. ‘I love you, sis. But we’d better remove all the sharp objects before we tell Mum.’ Alice nodded and quickly hid the knife block behind the bread bin.

As expected, Carol went off like a rocket and when later that day Esme told her dad, he pursed his lips in outrage, which was quite a lot from him. That night, in the little box room at her parents’ house, in her old single bed, Esme cried and cried until she could hardly breathe. A pile of tissues lay on the floor beside her and were scattered over the duvet. Her old Nirvana posters stared at her, Kurt Cobain’s eyes making her feel watched and judged. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, in the still, quiet house, in the still, quiet cul-de-sac, Esme fell asleep, wondering how she’d gone from living her best life to being at the bottom of the scrap heap without a hope in hells chance of climbing back up to the top.

Chapter 4 (#ulink_5e1d47f3-2b0a-5e01-a8e3-494c64b9e50b)

Sandchester

Joe scratched the back of his head, checked around for customers, and gave the photocopier a swift kick. The damn thing was playing up again and had been for ages. If the paper wasn’t getting stuck, it decided it had run out of toner and he had to get down on his hands and knees and wiggle different bits about until the annoying red light stopped flashing. It wasn’t that he knew what he was doing. It was just that being the youngest of the office staff by a good twenty years, it was supposed he knew more about technology than the rest of them. He didn’t.

Fridays at the estate agents were always quiet for some reason. Maybe people didn’t want the hassle of tidying their houses and making them presentable for viewings, and those who were buying left all the looking for Saturdays, when they could do so without worrying about taking time off work. Either way, he was fed up. He’d completed all the admin he had to do, and the four games of solitaire he’d just played on his computer had done nothing to alleviate his boredom.

The photocopier spluttered into life and kicked out the paper he had been waiting for, as well as a few extra sheets for good measure. He took them and ran a finger round the collar of his shirt. He was sweating. In November. The radiators were on full blast and old Mr Rigby, who owned the business, insisted on having a couple of heaters on as well. It was only about eight degrees outside, but it was as hot as Dubai in here – a place he would definitely rather be right now.

Even though he’d been back for a long time, he was still getting used to working nine to five back in England. After moving to Australia with his girlfriend, Clara, he’d worked a normal working week. But with long lunch hours, swims before work, and barbecues on the beach after, it had made the slog of the daily grind so much easier to bear. He stared out of the window at the threatening grey sky and pouring rain, and sighed. The landline on his desk rang and he hurried over to answer it. ‘Good morning, Rigby Estate Agents, Joe speaking. How can I help?’

‘Hi, Joe?’ said a singsong female voice.

‘Hi, how can I help?’ He didn’t recognise the voice.

‘It’s Annabelle.’

‘Annabelle?’

‘Yes, Annabelle.’ She sounded annoyed now. ‘We met in the pub the other night and then we … we went back to yours.’

‘Oh yes. I remember.’ He did, just about. He’d made sure they hadn’t swapped numbers, he didn’t want to lead her on, but if she’d found the work number and rung that, she clearly wanted more than he could give. He realised he’d been quiet for a while and glanced up to see Mr Rigby smiling at him. Keeping his voice professional, he asked, ‘What can I help you with?’

‘I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner sometime?’

‘Yeah, um, no, thanks.’ There was a sharp intake of breath at the other end of the line. ‘What I mean is …’ He leaned down behind his desk, pretending to look for something in the bottom drawer. He didn’t want the whole office to hear him and brushing off a lady could be quite difficult sometimes. He knew that from experience. Joe kept his voice low. ‘The other night was great, but I’m not looking for anything more right now. Nothing serious.’ It was a bit of a corny line but he’d used it before and it had worked fairly well. Plus he meant it. He wasn’t leading anyone on. He wouldn’t do that. He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping it would work again now. Annabelle said nothing and he could feel the anger emanating from her and travelling over the air waves.