by Katie Ginger
The gang arrived early the next morning as promised, in a small white van. Esme hadn’t slept for worrying about her sweary debut, so getting up before dawn and making pancakes was a welcome distraction from tossing and turning in bed. She’d gone into overdrive trying to keep her mind occupied and made enough pancakes to feed the town, and some sausage breakfast muffins too. She saw the van pull into the drive and added some fresh whipped cream on top of the hot chocolates, then unlatched the front door. Helena, Mark and Lola came in one after another as Esme walked back to the kitchen, untying her apron.
‘Yoo-hoo?’ called Mark, walking in first. Lola came out from behind Helena and ran over to hug Esme.
‘Right,’ Helena said, in her usual professional manner. ‘Let’s eat, then we’ll see what the damage is.’ She gave Esme a kiss on the cheek just as Lola let go.
‘How are you, honey?’ asked Lola. ‘I thought you were fantastic, by the way.’
Esme tried to smile. ‘Did you bring wine?’ she asked Mark.
Mark stared at her and tutted. ‘You can’t drink wine at nine o’clock in the morning. That would make you a lush and tell me you have a problem.’
‘So you didn’t?’ asked Esme, giving her most pathetically sad look and sticking out her bottom lip.
‘I said you can’t drink wine at this time of the morning – I brought Buck’s Fizz. Much more respectable.’
Esme grinned. ‘Well done. I’ll get some glasses.’ She was beginning to feel better already. ‘I did make some hot chocolates too if you want them, but if not, don’t worry.’
‘Is it your special one?’ asked Lola. ‘With a bit of cinnamon and chilli like you used to make at uni?’
‘Yep, with whipped cream on top.’
‘Then give me one now!’ Lola turned to Mark and Helena. ‘This is the only thing that got me through my exams.’
‘We’ll take one too, please,’ replied Mark, his eyes searching the kitchen for them. Esme placed them on the countertop and they tucked in. Mark sat back with cream on his top lip. ‘Yours are the best hot chocolates I’ve ever tasted.’
‘Better than sex,’ agreed Helena.
‘For you, maybe,’ teased Mark, and Helena scowled.
They went to the sofa and Esme brought over a huge platter full of pancakes, a bowl of fresh strawberries and two jugs – one with white chocolate sauce, the other with homemade caramel.
‘Load up the beast then, and we’ll see what we’re facing,’ said Lola, already tucking into chocolate pancakes covered in caramel sauce. For a tiny, petite human being, she could certainly tuck a good plate of food away. Esme turned on her laptop while everyone settled with plates on their knees. She opened her blog and turned the screen to face them.
‘Gosh, some of these are quite fierce,’ said Helena, helping herself to some of Esme’s delicious white chocolate sauce.
‘I know,’ Esme replied. She hadn’t felt like eating anything before, but now everyone was here she felt calmer and helped herself to a small stack of pancakes, adding some strawberries to offset the rich chocolate.
‘This woman needs to get a life,’ said Helena. ‘She’s called you “the devil incarnate”, which is a bit extreme. I think if we were going to compare you to the devil you’d be like … his understudy or something.’
Mark giggled. ‘Assistant Manager, maybe?’
Esme eyed them and sarcastically replied, ‘Thank you very much, you two. I knew there was a reason I invited you down.’
Helena pointed at the screen with her fork. ‘There’s a nice one from Penny85 though.’
‘She’s commented before,’ said Esme. ‘She asked me where I got my inspiration from and she’s started lots of conversations.’
‘She said it was great to see someone normal, doing normal things, while cooking something amazing. That’s nice.’
‘I wouldn’t call you normal,’ said Lola, a smear of caramel sauce on her chin.
‘That’s because you’re mean,’ Esme replied. ‘Buck’s Fizz?’
Everyone nodded with mouths full. She popped open the bottle and poured. ‘You’re my marketing guru, Lola, what do I do? By the way, you’ve got caramel on your chin.’
Lola wiped it away with her fingers. ‘Ooh, look, Penny85 got stuck into this person. She told them to calm down and said if she’d set a tea towel on fire she’d have said a lot more than just shit. I like Penny85.’
‘Me too,’ said Mark.
‘I think you should just keep going, Esme. Maybe in your next blog post say you’re sorry you swore and you’ll put the time back a bit for the next broadcast. That would be safer. You do get a little bit sweary sometimes—’
‘I do not,’ replied Esme.
‘Yes you do. When we went out last Christmas and you twisted your ankle in those three-inch heels I warned you not to buy, you said more swear words in thirty seconds than I’ve ever heard in my entire life. Plus, I’ve never heard anyone call a pair of shoes “bastard foot prisons” before.’
‘All right, thank you.’ Esme found herself smiling again. Her friends always had that effect on her, even though they teased her mercilessly.
‘Anyway,’ continued Lola, ‘say you’re sorry and move on. Most of the comments are nice. You can’t quit because a few people got a bit grumpy.’ Esme thought about it as Mark nodded in agreement.
Then Helena leaned forwards and said, ‘On the plus side, your numbers have massively increased.’
Esme read the hit counter. At least a hundred more people had checked out her blog, even if they hadn’t left a comment. Some had even signed up to her mailing list.
‘Before you do another broadcast,’ said Mark, snatching the last pancake with his fork, while Helena glared at him open-mouthed, ‘you need to get some Christmas decorations up and make it all sparkly and Christmassy. It’s all about staging you know. I can’t believe you haven’t done it already. Normally you’re the first one to have decorated. It’s only a week till Christmas. How come you’ve got a bare tree and no other deccies?’
Esme felt her cheeks burn the same red as her hair. ‘Umm, Joe got it for me.’
‘Joe?’ screeched Lola. ‘Joe Holloway?’ Everyone else was smirking at her.
‘Yes, but it was just to help me settle in. He’s been through a bad break-up too and I think he sympathises. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I wasn’t going to put any decorations up this year,’ said Esme, avoiding everyone’s horrified gaze. ‘I can’t really afford any and I don’t want to ask Mum and Dad for some of theirs. They’ll start worrying. Plus, asking my parents for their cast-offs is just depressing at my age.’
‘It’ll be more depressing without any decorations,’ said Mark. ‘And won’t they notice when they come round?’
‘They won’t. I don’t invite them. They came in once and it was so cold Mum cried. After that, I felt so bad knowing she’d be worrying about me I’ve done everything I can to keep them away.’
‘Okay,’ said Mark, hesitantly. ‘When do we get to meet this Joe?’
Esme ignored their glancing at each other. ‘You can’t. Maybe I can get a string of fairy lights for the kitchen though, so it looks good on camera.’
They nodded and Helena reached forward. ‘How are you finding being home, honey?’
‘Some bits are great,’ Esme said. ‘I went to watch Daniel’s nativity play at his nursery the other afternoon. It was lovely. But sometimes I just feel so lost.’ Helena squeezed her hand.
‘Come on, don’t let this knock you. Time to pick yourself up again, love.’ She gave her arm a squeeze. ‘You’ve had a rough time, but that’s life. You’re made of sterner stuff. And this really isn’t that big a deal.’
‘But try not to set anything on fire next time,’ said Mark. ‘If you can possibly help it.’
Esme picked up her glass. ‘I promise I’ll try.’
It was just after lunchtime when they had finished assessing the damage from the vlog and moving in Esme’s chest of drawers. It was now squeezed i
nto the far corner of her bedroom so she had to stand on the bed to get round to the window but she didn’t care. The dark mahogany had travelled with her when she and Lola rented their first flat and she’d negotiated keeping it when she’d moved in with Leo. Leo would have had the maintenance man destroy it if he’d had half a chance. But it was safely back with her now, and whether it fitted in her new cosy cottage or not, she wasn’t going to let it go. After that was done, Mark, Helena and Lola wandered into town while Esme penned a heartfelt apology to her readers. She didn’t want to go with them and risk running into Joe. Her friends were an intimidating bunch. And she was sorry. Not for setting the tea towel alight – these things happened in the kitchen, even professional ones – but for swearing in front of children (even if she hadn’t realised they were watching).
*
Grandma’s Kitchen
To all my lovely followers, please know I am so sorry for setting a tea towel on fire and swearing like a trooper during my first live vlog. I have a nephew and I’d be mortified if I turned on a programme and the presenter started swearing in front of him. To the lady whose child copied me, I am so terribly sorry that your baby saw me swear. I know it didn’t seem very professional and I’ll try not to in the future, but I think it’s important that my vlogs aren’t all perfect and flawless. As much as I want them to be about the food, I want them to be about connecting with people too – connecting with you – and I don’t want to pretend to be something I’m not. I’m quite clumsy and always have been, so sometimes things might go wrong and I might make mistakes.
My lovely friends who have joined me today have said that I do get a bit sweary sometimes, so I will try not to cuss in the future. But as I can’t promise, I thought I could move my live broadcasts back a bit. Maybe to nine o’clock? Then there shouldn’t be any little ears around if the odd naughty word pops out when things inevitably go wrong again.
If it’s any consolation, the tea towel that was murderously set upon by the gas hob was a bit old and manky anyway. Nevertheless, it’s had a proper burial in the back garden. I hope you’ll accept my apology and join me for my first Christmassy broadcast, on Monday, at the new and safer time of nine o’clock!
*
Esme imagined her readers smiling as they read her words, and found she was smiling too. Hopefully they would feel the sincerity of her words. She closed the laptop and made a cup of tea to warm up. Was it just her or was the cottage even colder than usual today? She lit a fire and enjoyed the warmth as it permeated through the kitchen and living room.
After a while, as the afternoon sky became dense and the first signs of impending darkness appeared, she heard her friends arriving, laughing and giggling as they walked up the path. She’d worried they’d got lost they’d been so long, but as she went to the window she saw them carrying cardboard boxes, gasping for air and laughing so hard they couldn’t walk in a straight line. Esme went to the front door and opened it to see Mark and Helena bent double, giggling and trying not to drop their half of the large cardboard box. ‘What on earth have you lot been up to?’ asked Esme, smiling at the contented looks on her friends’ faces.
‘We brought you some Christmas decorations,’ announced Mark. He straightened and wiped a thin sheen of sweat from his forehead. ‘And they are gorgeous. Your cottage is going to look amazing by the time we’ve finished.’
Esme ran out and hugged them one after another. ‘You guys are amazing. Thank you.’ The wide grin hurt her cheeks. ‘Come on, let’s get inside – it’s absolutely freezing.’ She took a box from Lola. ‘Where did you get these from, Lola? They look just like Mum and Dad’s old ones.’
‘They are,’ she answered nonchalantly, as Esme walked back inside, nudging the door closed with her hip.
Esme narrowed her eyes. ‘Did you take everyone to Mum and Dad’s?’
‘Yes. Your parents are amazing and Mark hadn’t met them yet.’
‘You were right,’ offered Mark, and Esme turned to him, confused. ‘Your mum is completely mental. Now I know where you get it from. Oh, and thanks for telling your mum I’m single again, she’s now trying to set me up with every gay man in Sandchester.’ He chuckled. ‘She even started asking Lola if she thought so and so might be gay, just in case.’
Lola smiled and began taking decorations from the box. They were just plain baubles, but Esme knew there’d be some of the precious glass ones in there somewhere. Her mum didn’t use them anymore with Daniel being so young, but Esme knew if Carol had had a hand in this, she’d have popped them in there, knowing how much Esme had always loved them.
‘Your mum loved Mark,’ said Lola. ‘She wants to adopt him.’
‘She’s welcome to,’ Esme replied.
‘Though in between setting him up with the neighbours, she did say it was a shame he was gay because he’d be perfect for you.’
‘What?’ Esme shouted. ‘God, they are so embarrassing. Mark, I’m so sorry. They’re not homophobic. They’re just idiots.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Mark replied. ‘I know what she meant, I wasn’t in the last bit offended. Who could be with your mum and dad? She said that if there was no chance of me changing my mind, she knew this very nice young man she could set me up with when I next come down! Believe me, your parents are fabulous.’
Relieved, they all set to decorating. Esme unpacked the baubles from the box, examining each one in turn, remembering it from her childhood. Helena cranked up the radio while Mark danced around with tinsel on his shoulders like a feather boa. Lola watched them, crafting a makeshift wreath for the front door from greenery she’d collected on their walk.
‘Look,’ said Mark, hanging a bunch up in the kitchen.
‘What’s that?’ asked Esme.
‘Mistletoe!’
‘Mistletoe? I don’t need mistletoe in the kitchen. I need it strategically placed throughout the house, leading to the bedroom in case any fit strangers stop by.’ She had a sudden image of her and Joe kissing and studied the bauble in her hands in case her cheeks betrayed her embarrassment. ‘I should have made some mulled wine and mince pies.’
‘Could you do it now?’ asked Lola. ‘I can grab the booze from the van.’
‘I thought you only brought Buck’s Fizz?’ asked Esme, looking at Mark.
‘Only for this morning,’ he replied, with a mischievous glint in his eye. ‘There’s about six bottles of wine out there.’
Esme grinned and walked to the kitchen to check the ingredients for mince pies. She didn’t buy mincemeat, normally making her own. Not from her family cookbook but from her tried and trusted Delia Smith one. No one else’s recipe measured up to good old Delia’s. But with everything going on she hadn’t done it yet. She did, however, have nuts, dried fruit and some brandy. She could definitely create something with that, and she always had butter, flour and sugar in abundance. Esme grabbed her apron and got to work.
Mark opened a bottle of red wine while Helena draped every available surface in fairy lights and before long Esme’s mince pies were baking in the oven and a saucepan full of mulled wine simmered on the hob. The aroma made them giddy, as only Christmas smells of cinnamon and all-spice do, and the cottage looked glorious. The fire gave everything a warming orange glow, and the twinkling fairy lights made Esme feel like she was in a make-believe world all of her own. And the tree, nestled in the corner next to the fire, was beautiful. White lights glittered and made the mix of old wooden and glass decorations shine. Esme’s heart was full. She was just thinking of the flaky pastry and warm, tangy filling, when there was a knock at the door. Mark, Helena and Lola turned to Esme who shrugged, not knowing who it could be. She pulled the heavy wooden door open. It was Joe, looking handsome in a long navy pea coat with his dark hair ruffling in the wind.
‘Hello,’ said Esme, using the door to shield him from her friends prying eyes. She wasn’t sure he was ready for all of them at once. She hadn’t introduced Leo to them for over a year, and even then, he’d seemed quite shell-sh
ocked afterwards.
‘Hi. I thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing.’ He looked down at the floor and shuffled as if he didn’t think really think he should be there.
Mark edged his way over to the window to peer out and Esme glanced in his direction and scowled. From the corner of her eye she saw Mark turn back from the window and mouth the words, ‘He is gorgeous.’ Esme tried to ignore him.
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she replied, turning back to Joe. ‘Thanks for stopping by, but really I’m fine.’ She began slowly closing the door. ‘See you later.’
‘Oh, right,’ said Joe and Esme’s heart lurched at his bereft expression. Before Esme could do anything more, Mark leapt over the back of the sofa to join her at the door, pulling it wide open.
‘Hello. I’m Mark. One of Esme’s friends.’
Joe paused then gave a polite smile and in a quiet voice said, ‘Hi, I’m Joe.’
‘Don’t worry, sweetie,’ said Mark. ‘I’m as gay as can be. I won’t be swiping Esme away from you.’ Esme cringed. Sometimes he was worse than her mother. When Mark normally turned up with one of his beautiful female friends, their would-be boyfriends became discouraged, thinking he’d bagged them first. So Mark had taken to just blurting out that he was gay, believing that if they were man enough to stay after that, then they were a bit closer to being good enough for his friends. If they flinched, they were out. It was a technique that had worked surprisingly well in the past. ‘Come in, come in!’ he continued.
‘Oh, okay. Excellent.’
Mark shoved Esme out of the way and welcomed him inside.
Excellent? thought Esme. What did he mean by excellent? Joe walked into the living room and removed his coat, introducing himself to Helena and reminiscing with Lola, who he remembered well from school.
Mark leaned in towards Esme. ‘Where have you been hiding him, you sneaky little minx? He’s gorgeous.’
‘He’s just my estate agent. I knew him at school.’
‘Estate agents and old school friends don’t buy you Christmas trees unless they want to get in your knickers.’