Esmé couldn’t sleep.
Having returned to Montague Road with Carys, who’d had a guided tour whilst waiting for her cab, and generously helped tear the protective cellophane from her friend’s new mattress. Esmé was now alone. Lying on a bare mattress, dressed in her pyjamas and wrapped in a giant lilac fleece felt somewhat make-shift but it was only for a night – it was no worse than camping. At least she had a roof over her head. Having been so impulsive earlier, it felt right to finish the day in her new home.
She repositioned her head, without the support of a pillow her neck was beginning to ache, and Andrew came to mind.
Why had he waited all day and evening to contact her? How had he filled the hours? Had he spent the day explaining to his family? Explained to hers? Nope, Kane would have said if he’d ventured to Willclare Road, but still.
And now he wanted to talk. To tell her that her belongings were piled inside a large yellow skip? Or that he and Sadie had spent the day in Vyse Street choosing a solitaire ring?
How much of their seven years had he been faithful to her? When he’d slagged off Myles for cheating on Carys, was he at it too? The questions roamed round and round as Esmé tossed and turned, trying to fall asleep.
‘Focus on the here and now. Here in this room is my new life. A brighter life. A calmer life. A sweeter life. A slightly empty and unplanned life but one I chose,’ she whispered into the darkness.
A new improved version of Jonah filled her mind. He hadn’t really changed, broadened across the chest and shoulders but his smile, his perfect skin and charisma were unchanged from his teenage years. Boy, after all these years he still had the charm that turned her stomach to mush.
Esmé sighed. How had she ended up moving into a house with Jonah Jones? Her teenage self would be in seventh heaven, if only she’d known what the future held.
There, that feels better.
‘A life that I can unpack in the coming days. A life that won’t cheat behind my back, nor disrespect my choices…’ Her breathing calmed down and her eyelids began to flutter.
Crash! A noise outside in the garden caused her to start and sit bolt upright. Silence. Esmé sat motionless, listening, her ears strained to hear the unfamiliar sounds in the unfamiliar darkness. She flicked her mobile on to check the time: 1.27 a.m.
It could be one of the guys returning from his Friday night out, Jonah hadn’t returned to the group after she’d taken Andrew’s call. Had she heard Russ and Dam come in having left them in the Ivy Bush?
Esmé kicked off her lilac fleece and slid from the bare mattress. At the large window, she moved the heavy drapes aside and stared into the night and the garden below. Empty. Her nose touched the cold glass in an attempt to see directly below her window.
Was there a drain pipe? A rambling clematis which could put her at risk of climbing intruders? Why hadn’t she thought to check during daylight hours?
There was a long scraping sound. The sound of a metal chair leg being dragged on slabs?
I’ll wake Russ.
Esmé left her room and dashed down the stairs to the lower landing. A row of closed doors greeted her.
The second door is Dam… Esmé stared at the other four doors, but which is Russ’s? The end one must be the bathroom for this floor, so two out of five are accounted for, but still, which one should she hammer on first?
She placed her ear to the first of the three choices. She couldn’t hear anything, no snoring nor breathing. She repeated this at the second door. Nothing.
She nipped along the landing to listen at the third and final door. Instantly stepping back in surprise at the murmuring and groaning emanating from the other side.
Someone’s definitely awake, and with a guest.
I can’t disturb them and how embarrassing would it be if it proved to be a tom cat or a hungry fox sniffing around the bins.
Esmé quietly backed away from the bedroom door and tiptoed down the final staircase to the hallway, after which a quick dash across the cold tiles led her to the kitchen door.
The moonlight softly lit the kitchen-come-morning room through the glazed back door making the electric light unnecessary. She stood barefoot, ears pricked, listening to the sounds of the garden. Nothing. Had the fox gone? Had the tom cat found a mate? She neared the kitchen area’s main window next to the sink unit but the large roller blind was pulled down and she wasn’t tall enough to lean across to peer out behind it. Listen was all she could do. A whistling noise came from the open fireplace.
Esmé turned to listen.
And breathe. How pathetic am I? It was probably the wind as it rattled down the old chimney in my room.
Russ said everything was in working order so the chimney wouldn’t be blocked up.
She could return to bed, no drama.
First she took one of the many coffee mugs from the draining board and boiled the kettle. Helped herself to the semi-skimmed milk in the fridge and sugar she found in a top cupboard, vowing to replace them once she’d been shopping in the morning.
She rinsed the coffee spoon beneath the scalding tap and settled herself in the adjoining morning room, sinking into the wide two-seater couch.
This was nice, a beautiful moonlit night and total silence. Esmé glanced at the clock: quarter to two. If she still couldn’t sleep after this drink, she could doze here and watch the sun come up on a brand new day. What bliss?
An image of Andrew lying awake burst into her head. The rhythmical sound of the apartment’s dripping bath tap quickly followed, along with the thumping of the radiator in their bedroom.
Esmé sipped her coffee.
If I hadn’t found the earring, how long would Andrew have kept his secret? A week? A month? A year? And all the time I’d have been living my life hoping that each holiday would bring a proposal and a diamond ring when in reality we’d be a day nearer to…
Esmé listened as a scraping noise filled the morning room. Was this the equivalent of the apartment’s dripping bath tap? The noise continued. Esmé looked around the room, leaning forward to view the section of kitchen through the archway – was there anything dripping? Had the fridge door sprung open? Nothing.
The noise became louder: footsteps on gravel. Having peered through her bedroom window she knew the layout of the garden, there was no denying someone was outside.
Now what?
A tall dark shadow swept past the morning room’s window blinds.
What should she do? Where’s the nearest police station? What’s Mr Joshua’s emergency number?
The back door handle rattled back and forth.
Esmé’s heartbeat was as loud as a dinner gong.
She placed her cooling coffee mug on the tiled floor and stood, reaching for the ornamental poker from beside the fireplace. Her fingers tightened around the metal rod, it didn’t feel snug in her grip but its sharp edges were reassuring.
One good swing.
Esmé froze as the scraping noise continued outside the kitchen window.
Oh, no, they’re checking out the windows now.
She leant forward enough to see the roller blind on the main window by the sink. A large shadow loomed like a shadow puppet monster, and a hand lifted towards the top window latch before reaching through and unhooking the large side window catch. The roller blind buckled and bulged as the figure heaved itself up and climbed through with ease.
She was transfixed by the clambering shape of a pair of jeans and a sports jacket, as it descended backwards over the sink unit and onto the sleek marble effect work surface.
Keep calm and breathe. One good clout will do the job. Make it good, make it swift, make it hurt!
The figure stepped through the kitchen archway. Esmé launched, bringing the iron poker down repeatedly on the offender’s head and shoulders.
‘Woo! Woo! Woo!’ shouted the figure, buckling to its knees to lie supine upon the tiled floor, elbows bent, hands raised to protect its head.
‘Take that, and that!’ screamed Esmé, as she belted the fallen figure with the iron poker. Her knees pinned the intruder to the floor and her free hand clutched his clothing.
The electric light suddenly snapped on revealing a startled Dam standing in the doorway wrapped in a navy dressing gown.
‘Quick Dam, call the police, we’re being burgled!’ shouted Esmé, as she continued to rain blows upon the figure beneath her.
‘Get this crazy wench off me, Dam! Before I retrieve that poker and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine!’
Esmé paused, the poker halted in mid-air.
The intruder knows Dam. Shit!
She stared up at Dam’s frozen stance and then at the curled up person clutching his head, anticipating a further onslaught. Dam’s look of horror dissolved into laughter.
‘Oh man, that’s the funniest thing I have ever seen,’ he laughed, stepping forward and removing the poker from Esmé’s fist. ‘Seriously, where’s a video camera when you need one?’
‘Fuck you, Dam!’ came a voice from the floor.
She released her hold on his clothing and stood back. Her hands shook and her heart pounded.
‘You’re quite safe, I’ve disarmed the female,’ said Dam, as he wrapped a protective arm around Esmé’s shoulders and the intruder slowly unfurled and got to his knees.
‘Esmé, this is Asa, and Asa, this is Esmé – Kane’s little sister and replacement who moved in today and who…’
‘You’re a savage one, aren’t you?’
‘You scared me!’
She watched as the guy removed his beanie hat and his dark eyes stared at her. A sharp gasp escaped her on seeing the colourful tattoo in emerald and navy that crept from beneath his sweatshirt collar and spread across the left side of his features from jawline to temple and disappeared into a dark crew-cut.
‘I’m so sorry… I thought,’ stammered Esmé, embarrassed and unsure of where to look for fear of causing more offence than she already had.
Asa staggered to his feet and stood tall, blocking the artificial light supplied by the fluorescent tube.
‘No problem. I’m used to being used and abused by women, though usually I’ve dated them first but hey doll, if you want to skip the introductions… be my guest.’
Dam roared with laughter.
‘Shut it, Dameer. It might have been nice if my friends had briefed her a little but obviously not,’ said Asa, who stepped nearer and turned his tattooed face towards her. ‘Go on, you can look. It’s not rude to stare if you have permission.’
Esmé instantly averted her eyes to stare at the tiles.
‘Asa, don’t,’ interrupted Dam.
‘It starts at my lower back and snakes up my neck and yes, across my face. You’re not being rude, you’re being curious – here, get a decent look.’ Asa pushed the side of his face nearer to Esmé, who ducked beneath Dam’s arm to swiftly remove herself from Asa’s advancing tattoo.
‘I don’t need to see, thanks,’ blurted Esmé, as she squirmed away from the coloured mass.
‘Stop it, Asa. You’ll scare her,’ ordered Dam, holding a hand to Asa’s chest. ‘I take it you’ve just finished your shift and forgotten your key again?’
‘You know me, Dam – I always love to make an entrance. It must have dropped out of my pocket during the day. I’ll get another tomorrow,’ said Asa, adding. ‘Lady, you’ve certainly learnt how to crack a poker over a guy’s head. Did they teach you that at school while us lads were playing rugby?’
Esmé watched as he rubbed his scalp and then leant against the sink unit, arms outstretched supporting his weight, eyes closed and head bowed.
‘Sorry, but can I get you anything? Pain killers?’ she asked.
‘Vodka?’ he muttered.
She glanced at Dam.
‘He’s joking, don’t let him fool you. I say, we all go to bed. We’ll laugh about this in the morning,’ said Dam.
‘I need coffee first,’ muttered Asa, raising a hand to wave. ‘See you.’
‘OK. Well, I’m leading this one back to her room and we’ll see you in the morning so enjoy your coffee.’ Dam gently led Esmé from the morning room.
‘Is he always like that?’ she asked as they walked through the hallway.
‘Nah, but if you catch him on a bad day there’s no telling what mood he’ll be in. Honestly, he’s one of the nicest guys you could wish to meet but that… that was pure comedy seeing you knock ten bells out of him while he scrambled around on the floor. Wait till I tell Russ.’
Having climbed two flights of stairs, Esmé stopped outside her room as Dam turned and began to descend back onto the first floor landing.
‘What’s with the tattoo on his face?’ asked Esmé.
‘Oh that. That’s a long story… which is his to tell. Goodnight.’
She watched as Dam retreated partway down the staircase to his own landing.
‘Dam.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Thank you.’
‘No worries, sleep tight, Esmé.’