‘Esmé! You scared the life out of me. I thought you were upstairs when I heard the vacuum running. Have you had a good weekend?’
Esmé burst out crying at the sight of Asa, who casually strolled into the lounge just after half four on Sunday afternoon.
‘Hey, what’s wrong?’
‘Bubble bath, Toby… pyjama top and Bagpuss,’ she sobbed, her hands pointing in all directions as tears ran down her face.
‘Slow down, I don’t understand…’ soothed Asa, his bare skin slightly tanned from the weekend outdoors.
‘And Rita, she waved from the gate… and Toby, biscuits… crumbs everywhere… gambolling and tears and then… on the ceiling, she sat there looking at me – he lied, the bastard, he lied.’
‘Who lied? Toby?’
‘Jonah!’ screamed Esmé, her face crumpled again beneath huge tears. ‘Giant Rose at the top of the staircase and I… I… I…’
‘The tarantula… he kept it?’ asked Asa, his tone agitated and annoyed. ‘So, why’s the vacuum running?’
‘I zapped her!’
‘No!’
‘Yes,’ sobbed Esmé, nodding frantically. ‘I daren’t turn it off.’
‘You seriously think it would survive the Dyson?’ asked Asa. ‘I’ll take a look, shall I?’
‘Please… before he comes in to find her, find me… find us.’
Asa calmly entered the hallway as if nothing was wrong; the other guys were carrying their baggage and belongings from the camper.
Esmé came from behind the lounge door, her tear-stained face greeting Russ, Dam and Kane.
‘Who’s left the vacuum running?’ called Jonah, barging through the front door laden with his bags.
Esmé swallowed the urge to confess as Asa’s eyes flashed a warning.
‘Esmé’s trying to run up the leccy bill again?’ laughed Asa, as he ran up the staircase to sort out the vacuumed corpse.
‘I was just tidying the house ready for your return, home sweet home and all that,’ laughed Esmé, her arms waving around, vaguely suggesting polishing and dusting.
‘I vote we hire a cleaner then… you’re obviously not up to the job even with an entire weekend to complete the task,’ laughed Jonah. ‘The floor tiles are still dirty.’
‘Kane?’ Asa nodded towards Esmé, ‘Would you?’
‘Come on, Esmé, tell me what’s happened… non-stop party time, hey?’
Asa darted up the second staircase and switched off the device. Silence descended for the first time since Saturday night.
‘Esmé!’ Asa leant over the banister, calling downstairs ‘You’ve done an excellent job of eradicating dirt on the landing, full marks!’
*
Esmé held her breath as Jonah went about unpacking.
Any minute now he’d notice the empty tank.
It took two hours, several rounds of coffee and the first half of a film before Jonah poked his head around the lounge door to enquire if Dam was still around?
‘He went to see his parents, why?’ asked Russ, looking up from the action movie.
‘Nothing.’
Three sets of eyes turned as Jonah’s nonchalant tone died.
‘Doesn’t sound like nothing to me,’ added Asa.
‘I’ve mislaid something, that’s all.’
‘Anything of value?’ asked Russ.
Esmé sank lower in her seat.
Jonah pulled a face.
‘Kind of, though maybe not to everyone.’
‘I think you have some explaining to do, son,’ said Asa.
‘I explain to no one, surely you know that.’
‘The tarantula… you lied!
‘Oh shit!’ muttered Jonah. ‘Look I can explain… it wasn’t fair for you lot to force me to hand her over…’
‘Jonah, you git!’ snapped Russ, glancing from Asa to Esmé. ‘Seriously, all this time? You know she has a phobia.’
‘Sod off, Russ, you’re one to talk about coming clean.’
Esmé watched as Russ’s face froze in terror.
‘Fuck you, Jonah. If you’d sink that low, then do it.’
‘Alright… thought not,’ sniggered Jonah, seeing the fear in his mate’s face.
‘Enough!’ shouted Asa, ‘You boys need to calm it or take it outside… I think she’s had enough this weekend.’
Esmé stared from one male to another trying to glean information.
Jonah left the lounge and slammed the door.
‘Esmé, ignore him. It’s emotional blackmail to make you suffer,’ said Russ.
‘I owe you an apology too, Russ. I was a little off with Rita when she collected Toby this morning…’
Asa stared at Russ.
‘Well… yes… that may be, but she shouldn’t have behaved as she did,’ answered Russ, staring at the tv. ‘I’ll mention it when I see her.’
‘But it must have been an emergency otherwise she’d…’
‘Anything to add, Asa?’ said Russ, his gaze fixed to the plasma screen.
‘I think… that Jonah is right. We shouldn’t comment on things we know little about.’
‘Good dodge there,’ laughed Russ.
Esmé sat looking from one to the other as they spoke.
Were they having a laugh at her expense? Or was there something else?
*
Esmé felt awful all Sunday afternoon. At six o’clock, having been reassured by the other guys that Jonah really was to blame, she selected today’s task from the uncompleted ones lined up on her mantelpiece.
Day 18: Clear your conscience
Esmé eyed the task knowing she’d feel better afterwards. Something good had to come out of an entire weekend.
She found a piece of paper. Dated and addressed it.
7 Montague Road,
Edgbaston,
Birmingham.
Dear Jonah,
I am so sorry for killing your pet spider… I just wanted to say…
Esmé stopped, the words didn’t flow. And so far, were also untrue. She wasn’t sorry for killing it, she was glad it was liquidized by the powerful vacuum. He shouldn’t have lied.
How can I clear my conscience – when I don’t feel guilty?
She took a second look at the tasks lined up on the mantelpiece – ‘Plan and host a dinner party’ caught her eye. She’d need to organise, prepare and shop but that would be better than writing Jonah a fake apology letter. It would say ‘sorry’ to Jonah and ‘thank you’ to the others for being so supportive. And, given the recent vibe between the guys – a dinner might improve the house dynamics as the surfing weekend obviously hadn’t managed to.
Either way, she could cook a wholesome meal tomorrow night, they hadn’t sat down as an entire group since the house meeting.
Esmé pushed Jonah’s letter aside. So, how could she clear her conscience? She gulped, as a tsunami of guilt was remembered. She had a niggling conscience about one thing, she could definitely write an apology letter and clear herself of that awful deed. She’d send it to the address she remembered, just a few streets from her parents’. If the family had moved, then so be it, she’d still written and sent the apology.
7 Montague Road,
Edgbaston
Birmingham.
March 2018
Dear Maxine,
You probably don’t remember me but I used to sit next to you in year five during Mrs Salter’s English class in primary school. It’s OK, if you don’t remember, I’m not offended. But I remember you. You were the girl that always had fresh plaits, tied with coloured ribbons, every school day. I noticed. I noticed how my plaits were messy and untidy with strands poking out and wispy bits sticking out but yours, yours were perfect.
I’m sorry if I was mean to you. I was jealous. Your plaits signified the time and attention spent each morning combing, dividing and plaiting your beautiful blonde locks. I imagined your mum to be very organised and mumsy doing your hair each morning. Whereas my mum was simply too busy keeping our heads above water to re-plait my hair every day. It was washed on a Sunday, plaited on a Monday, slept in for the Tuesday. Re-plaited on the Wednesday and maintained until Friday. Hence the wispy bits that stuck out. My mum simply wasn’t a plaiting hair mum, I know that now.
You’re probably wondering why you’ve received this letter, it isn’t a crank one asking for money. But forgiveness. I’d like to ask for forgiveness for the last day of term in year five. You might not remember it, though something tells me you will. We’d been allowed to bring our favourite toy into school. So, amongst the Kerplunks and the Buckaroos was the electronic Simon game you played with your friends. Why did they make us do that? The class was always bored stiff by break time. Anyway, I watched you, stared at you, pretended to be you with your beautiful plaited hair and your Tommy Cooper golf game and… I snapped. I couldn’t help myself. It’s the closest thing I’ve come to an out of body experience, seriously. I felt as if I was floating on the ceiling, viewing myself playing Kerplunk by pulling plastic straws from the canister. I watched myself stand, walk to the plastic trays and retrieve a pair of scissors. Not the safety scissors.
I walked sensibly, I didn’t run while holding the blade as Mrs Salter had taught us. I don’t know what came over me but the touch of your hair was so tempting – that’s one thing I do remember. Cutting through the chunk of your plait was like a Queen cutting through a twisted rope to open a shopping centre.
You screamed non-stop for forty minutes. I remember your mother collected you from the head teacher’s office, where she’d given you a Spangle sweet to calm you down. I watched from the medical room, as you walked along the drive holding your mum’s hand, your plait trailing from the other. I didn’t receive a Spangle from the head teacher.
I know that nearly twenty years have passed, but I don’t ever remember saying sorry… I’m not sure if you understand but now, as an adult I understand the pain and upset I caused you.
Truly sorry,
Esmé Peel x
‘Are you for real?’ laughed Russ, handing back the letter to Esmé.
‘Yeah, why not?’
‘Because she’ll think you’re a crackpot for sending it. All kids do stuff like that – it’s expected.’
‘That may be so, but that incident has haunted me and on occasions has kept me awake at night so I feel it is time to say sorry.’
‘Is that the worst thing you’ve ever done?’
‘Apart from the spider incident, yes.’
Russ laughed.
‘Send it if you want but don’t blame me if your name gets bandied around on Facebook with a load of nasty comments. You’re asking for trouble sending that.’
‘You’re supposed to be supportive, helping me to gain independence and closure not laughing your tits off at my letter of apology.’
‘Esmé… no one cares what happened when we were kids. You’d be better off not sending it and tell yourself that she forgave you a long time ago.’
‘But did she?’
‘Probably.’
Probably wasn’t good enough at three in the morning when Esmé woke feeling that beautiful twisted plait with its pink satin ribbon between her hands and the scissors cutting through it in chunks.
‘The guilt still niggles at me.’
‘Fair play to you, are we talking about Maxine West?’
‘Yeah, she used to live near our street.’
‘While you’re at it, could you mention that I’m sorry about the one night stand we had about six years ago after Jonah’s birthday party. I really meant to stay all night but I couldn’t sleep afterwards. I knew the whole morning routine would be as awkward as hell so thought it best to nip out with the dawn chorus. Cheers!’
Esmé stood open mouthed as Russ dashed along the landing to his own floor.
‘Cheers, Esmé. I owe you one.’