Esmé inserted the Yale key and twisted. Had it only been two years since this key was her actual door key? Willclare Road, a wide leafy residential street of red brick homes where the pavements are dominated by oak trees and lined with parked cars.
Given the events of last night, was this now home?
Her heart was racing. This wasn’t the plan she’d made last night. The plan was to wait another day before telling her parents and yet here she was, thanks to that sassy calendar reminding her that today wasn’t day one of singledom – that started last night – today was actually day two!
After her emergency hat purchase Esmé had browsed the busy stores of the Bullring, only to sidestep the flow of shoppers and lean against the railings by the top of the escalators to retrieve the calendar from her shopping bag.
Esmé’s finger nail dug deep at the serrated edge of door two, and prised it open. She scoffed the tiny slab of chocolate before reading the task.
Day 2: Step out of your comfort zone and try something new
Wasn’t walking out on a cheating boyfriend enough? What about her unscheduled stay in The MacDonald Burlington? Or could returning to her parents’ home represent something new? The scratchy orange futon in her mother’s spare room definitely couldn’t be described as a comfort zone.
Esmé quickly re-read the back of the calendar packaging. There was no mention of backdating tasks. Did she have to apply Carys’s stringent rules for the entire month?
Esmé quietly entered the hallway and closed the front door. She needed a moment to ready herself for this family announcement. She looked around at the familiar gold flock wallpaper, the dainty telephone table and the lopsided Yucca plant – nothing had changed.
The forever home of the Peel family. A national statistic of two parents and two children, living, breathing, fighting and laughing within these four walls for nearly thirty years.
From the kitchen drifted a rabble of voices offering familiar warmth as she took off her coat and dragged the woollen hat from her hair. On passing the hallway mirror she stared at herself open mouthed.
‘A bad idea, I hate it. Step two of getting over a slime bag should be regrowing your hair, which explains why step one is getting it cut – it gives a girl focus,’ muttered Esmé at her reflection. She quickly pulled a few blonde strands down to frame her face and jammed the woollen hat into her pocket.
Esmé kicked off her shoes in a teenage manner and plodded towards the commotion in the kitchen.
She hesitated, her hand on the kitchen door handle. She felt sick. Never had her left hand, fourth finger, felt so bare.
Despite the rental situation, her mother adored Andrew. At times, she sided with him rather than Esmé. It was one thing to take a boyfriend into the bosom of the family, it was quite another to adopt him in favour of your own daughter. Lord knows what would be said when she broke this news. Esmé needed to play this carefully.
She and Andrew were finished. She wanted it to be dignified, she wanted a clean break. As long as his testicles fell from his body after having caught a serious, yet incurable, STD which he had instantly shared with Sexy Sadie during their love tryst. What she didn’t need was her mother berating her for losing the only decent man that had walked into her life, and how she’d obviously disappointed him to the point where he had to look for another woman.
What am I doing here?
‘Sod off, you never said that!’ came the muffled voice of Kane, her older brother, through the kitchen door.
Great! I don’t need an audience for this.
Esmé conjured up a brave face and entered the kitchen. A large kitchen that had seen homework tantrums, late night cheese on toast making and the aftermath of many Sunday morning hangovers around the scrubbed wooden table that held pride of place.
‘Get real, man… surely you can wait another week?’ chuntered Kane, seated at said kitchen table in jeans and a faded Jack Daniels tee-shirt.
‘My hands are tied, you know that… you knew that last week and the week before,’ retorted Russ, his best and oldest friend, seated on the Formica worktop and slapping his hands on his spread knees.
‘Bollocks! Do it for me, please.’
‘Hi,’ interrupted Esmé, staring between the two men but ending up face to face with Sue, her surprised mother, turning from the stove as she tended a grill pan of spitting bacon. ‘Only me.’
‘What a nice surprise! What the bloody hell have you done to your hair?’ screeched her mother, her own auburn hair tied back in a knot.
‘Scalped, more like,’ snorted Kane.
‘I fancied a change!’ said Esmé. ‘I’ll have you know the stylist who did my hair has just won a national prize at…’ Esmé had forgotten his credentials but it suddenly mattered that others knew he had some kudos. ‘I may go back and have a colour tint applied in a few weeks…’
‘Hello, Esmé,’ said Russ, and his dark monobrow moved as he spoke, before proceeding. ‘Kane, you knew the deal, man – I was honest and upfront and now… this.’
‘Mr Gallagher… long time, no see,’ said Esmé to Russ, before returning to Kane’s remark. ‘I fancied a change, if you must know.’
Esmé took in Russ’s profile and a fleeting blush came to her cheeks, how had her brother’s best mate grown from a gawky, spotty teenager into a sturdy man with a five o’clock shadow at just three in the afternoon.
‘You look like a boy – is it finished?’ asked her mother, pointing at her fringe. ‘What’s Andrew say about that?’
‘It’s the new me!’ said Esmé in a bullish tone, though deep down she agreed with them.
Esmé looked around at the faces – did they all really need to hear her news first hand?
‘He loved it,’ muttered Esmé, annoyed with herself for bailing out and avoiding the truth.
‘Really?’ snorted her brother. ‘It’s hardly feminine.’
Russ stared at her as if he could see through her lie.
‘How long’s it been since you had a girlfriend, so don’t give me the male talk about what’s desirable and what’s not!’
‘Get over yourself, woman… I’ve got eyes in my head and that… doesn’t do anything for the old libido.’
‘I’m glad, given that I’m your sister!’
‘Sod off,’ scowled Kane.
‘What’s happening?’ asked Esmé, as she slumped into the seat opposite Kane and looked between the two friends. Never in all their years of friendship had she heard a cross word between the two and yet, a definite undercurrent was brewing.
‘Nothing,’ snapped Kane.
‘We were securing a deal but it looks like it has fallen through,’ muttered Russ, his eyes flicking a glance towards Kane.
‘Intriguing.’
‘He hasn’t got the deposit for his share of the rent,’ explained Sue.
‘Leaving me and the other guys in the shite.’
‘Two more days, that’s all I need,’ muttered Kane.
‘You said that two days ago and two days before that… and now look at us.’
‘Bollocks, you could lend it me if you weren’t so tight but nah, you’d prefer to cut me out.’
‘Stuff you, Kane. We’ve had a month’s notice. We all attended the viewing, we all agreed and still…’ Russ held his hands up for effect.
‘Moved out, have you?’ asked Esmé. Ironic, I’m about to reverse the process and beg to return like the prodigal daughter.
Russ nodded before adding, ‘Trying to.’
‘About time, too,’ added Sue, removing the grill pan from the heat and forking the cooked bacon onto white rolls.
‘Cheers Sue, I bet my mother’s thinking the same, though she’s pretending to be heartbroken.’
‘Don’t kid yourself, Russell. I’m sure she’s heartbroken at the thought of less washing, less ironing and an end to the stream of blondes sneaking down her staircase at the weekend,’ laughed Sue, squirting brown sauce onto each cob.
‘What’s the set-up?’ asked Esmé.
Kane shook his head.
‘A house share across the city,’ explained Russ.
‘Where?’ asked Esmé, eyeing the plates her mother handed to each bloke. Had she eaten lunch?
‘Edgbaston,’ added Kane.
‘Montague Road, it’s a renovation job on a Victorian property… the landlord has done it out pretty smart. Swish-like. There was supposed to be five of us but this waster can’t get his act together,’ explained Russ.
‘Waster? Sod off… I’ve got a crisis,’ growled Kane, between mouthfuls of bacon.
‘You’ve always got a bloody crisis and it’s usually financial – that’s why I kept reminding you.’
Silence descended as the two men bit into their butties. Esmé watched as her mother pandered to them. If only she knew that while she fussed in her motherly way over these oversized boys Esmé’s heart was lying shattered and broken on her freshly mopped tiled floor thanks to Andrew’s cheating libido.
‘Esmé, you want some putting under?’ asked her mum, pointing to the grill pan.
Esmé shook her head; eating was not on the agenda while her stomach somersaulted at each imaginary flashback of Andrew and a blonde on her Egyptian cotton. Esmé gulped down the lump in her throat. This was too much to bear.
‘Where’s Andrew?’ asked Kane. Her mother looked up from the sink.
‘I have absolutely no idea. Probably in bed with a woman called Sadie!’ Esmé said, as calmly as she could muster.
The silence was deafening. The trio stared, unable to fathom who should take charge of the conversation. Sue was dumbstruck, her bottom lip trembled.
‘I thought that you and he…’ said Russ.
‘You said he liked your hair,’ said Kane.
‘Yes, so I did. And yeah, I lied, but so did he. Apparently, we’re not and haven’t been… what’s the word?’
‘Exclusive?’ offered Russ, finishing his first cob.
‘Exclusive… I was thinking faithful, but hey, apparently not. Anyway, forget him. How much?’ asked Esmé hastily.
‘Esmé!’ exclaimed her mother, her wet hands dripping on the kitchen tiles. ‘Where’s Andrew?’
‘A grand and a half, which was to cover the basic deposit, rent for the month and the electrical stuff we’ve had to buy for communal living… kitchen stuff, kettles, pans and a cheap plasma tv for the lounge… don’t shake your head, Kane. I told you everything as it was agreed, so don’t try blaming me.’
‘Have you moved in then?’ asked Esmé.
‘Me and two others moved in last Friday, this weekend Kane and Dameer were supposed to pay up and move in, but it looks like the rest of us will have to cough up more cash if this one bails – the others aren’t going to be happy.’
‘But Russ, if you lend it to me,’ whined Kane, between mouthfuls of bacon.
‘I’ll do it,’ said Esmé, her voice eager and refreshed.
‘Cheers, Sis.’ Kane said through his stuffed mouth, adding. ‘Nice to see someone would lend me that much.’
‘Nah, I mean I’ll move in, if you’ve bailed.’
‘Get stuffed, Esmé!’ snorted Kane.
‘Would you?’ asked Russ, choking on his bacon cob. ‘It would save us having to pay more each month.’
‘Esmé!’ snapped her mother, slamming the fridge door as she tidied her kitchen.
‘Another time, Mum… I’m getting myself sorted here.’
Amidst a chorus of ‘you can’t do that’, ‘your father will go mad’ and ‘that’s great stuff,’ Esmé gave a valiant nod.
This felt right. It was hasty, but it solved an immediate problem and meant she didn’t have the undignified prospect of sleeping in the old box room on a creaking futon.
‘Will this afternoon be OK for the money? I’ll fetch it now if that’s OK with you, Russ.’ Esmé stood, eager to complete her mission.
‘Hang on a minute!’ shouted Kane.
‘Perfect. I’ll tell the guys we’ve got a woman joining us,’ smiled Russ, as he polished off his second cob.
‘They won’t be happy,’ interrupted Kane, licking his fingers and scowling. ‘Dam’s family will object.’
‘They won’t be happy having to fork out extra to cover your ass either, so what’s the difference?’
‘Call me when you’ve told Dam or better still… Asa, then we’ll have a chat about you lending me the money, Russ.’
‘Kane, mate.’
‘On second thoughts, they’ll probably offer me a loan rather than have a girl bunk up with them.’
‘Right, I’ll be off then, could I bring it round to you in an hour or so, what number was it?’ asked Esmé, ignoring the protests.
‘Number seven, Montague Road, just off Portland Road,’ instructed Russ, jumping down from his Formica perch. ‘I’ll be in, I’m still unpacking boxes.’
‘Esmé?’ said Sue. ‘What’s happening with Andrew?’
‘It’s a long story, Mum, but we’re through and this… this sounds perfect for me stepping out of my comfort zone and trying something new. See you all.’ Esmé grabbed her woollen hat from her pocket and pulled it tight about her ears.
She turned to leave, eager to get to the bank before closing time.
‘I never thought I’d see the day when my little sister did the dirty on me,’ said Kane, standing up in annoyance. ‘Twice in one day.’
‘Kane, get over yourself… if you wanted it badly enough you’d have got the cash ready,’ answered Esmé, over her shoulder.
Kane shrugged and pouted.
‘Gazumped me with a deposit and then disrespects me in a Villa hat!’ he scoffed, turning up his nose.
‘A what?’ Esmé stared in bewilderment from the half-open door.
‘Since when have you been a Villa fan?’
‘That’s a travesty when your dad and him are true blue noses,’ added Russ, pointing to Esmé’s woollen hat.
Esmé dragged the hat from her head and viewed the large badge sewn on the rear side. Shit.
‘Esmé, I want to talk about Andrew – where does he stand with all this?’
‘Another time, Mum. I’ve got to go!’ Esmé shoved the offending football hat into her handbag, pecked her emotional mum on the cheek and walked confidently from the family home to return to the city centre.