by Erin Green
‘So, he didn’t complain about a female moving in?’ she asked, as they climbed the second staircase, which was identical to the first in every manner.
‘Oh no, he wasn’t bothered, he’ll be spending most of his time between here, his parents and university – I doubt you’ll see much of him. Dam’s fine about it, his parents might not be pleased, but hey.’
Ascending the second landing a sense of déjà vu consumed Esmé, she half expected to see Dam dash from the second door along as he’d done minutes before on the landing below.
‘The bathroom for this landing is here,’ said Russ, indicating the first closed door. ‘Asa has claimed the room next to yours, so you’re not alone up here.’
She didn’t recognise that name, but clocked him as housemate number three.
‘Less bodies to share the bathroom then.’
‘Exactly, there’s three of us on the landing below. And this…’ said Russ, leading Esmé up the final few stairs to the second landing. ‘… is your room.’ He swung the door open and snapped the light switch on to illuminate the most delightful room Esmé had ever seen.
A huge metal bedstead dominated the middle of the room, adorned with a bare mattress still wrapped in thick plastic. A white marble fire surround and hearth, deep sash windows and ornate ceiling roses portrayed a tasteful renovation.
‘It is beautiful!’ cried Esmé, dashing to the centre of the room. ‘And all mine.’
‘Sure is, now you can see why your brother got the hump.’
‘Served him right, he shouldn’t keep relying on others to sort his life out.’
‘But that’s Kane, through and through, deep down I knew he wouldn’t produce the dough on time.’
‘And he chose this room?’
‘Oh yeah, dashed up the staircase ahead of everyone else and bagsied it three weeks ago when the estate agent brought us round for a viewing… a decent choice really.’
‘Hmmm, I am surprised. Kane has more taste than I gave him credit for.’
‘A decision based purely on the size of the room, I think. So, don’t remove him from the Neanderthal category just yet,’ laughed Russ.
Esmé began opening and closing the doors of the fitted wardrobes and shelving units which spread along an entire wall. She could see herself living here. See herself filling this room with her belongings, spending time creating an afterlife from Andrew, being alone when she chose and amongst housemates when she wished.
Four men. What the hell had she done? Come Monday, Marianne and Penny would never believe her story.
Her shoes sank into the thick carpet as she crossed to the rear window and peered outside onto a large garden of sweeping manicured lawn with a colourful rockery, a cascading pond and even a hammock swinging lazily between two aged trees.
‘The landlord hasn’t scrimped on the renovations, has he?’
‘It’s cost him a pretty penny, I’m sure. Mr Joshua reckons everything works perfectly, though to be fair none of us have lit a fire yet,’ explained Russ, pointing to the fireplace and blackened grate.
‘It’s just beautiful, Russ – thank you for letting me take his place.’
‘His misfortune is your lucky day.’
‘And the other guys don’t want to switch rooms?’
‘If Jonah knew this room was going begging, believe me, he’d have had it last week,’ said Russ, turning round to leave the room. ‘But he’s settled where he is.’
‘Jonah? From St Joseph’s?’ Esmé tried to steady her voice as her eyes widened at hearing his name. Jonah Jones! Surely not.
Russ smiled.
‘The very one… funny how the ladies never forget Jonah.’
‘I haven’t seen him in years… Mum barred him from our house for being a bad influence on Kane.’ Her heart beat fluttered uncontrollably, taking her back to a school girl crush.
‘She wasn’t far off, he is that sort… he’d pinch and crash cigarettes from his mates but never got caught round the back of the bike sheds smoking them. Funny, because we always did!’
Esmé laughed.
‘I haven’t seen Jonah in years, has he changed much?’ she said, suddenly aware that any comment may reveal her teenage secret.
‘The same as he ever was, so don’t hold your breath,’ joked Russ.
Deliciously sexy then, thought Esmé, as the image of a nineteen year old Jonah filled her head after an absence of ten years. Boy, had she made a prat of herself swooning after him at every opportunity.
‘He doesn’t still wear a vintage army trench coat by any chance?’ she asked optimistically, choosing not to enquire about Jonah’s knee high laced boots. His style was like no other individual in their street, his long mane of blond straight hair was constantly flicked and thrown over his shoulder and as for his fashion sense – boy, he was on another level compared to the crowd who wore chinos and loafers.
‘Not any more. Anyway, he’s a model now… catalogue and poster stuff mainly but… ackkk, he’ll bring you up to date with his career,’ said Russ, leading the way to the landing. ‘Happy?’
‘Absolutely… but Jonah can have the room if it matters that much,’ said Esmé quickly, hoping she sounded nonchalant.
Earlier on her return journey into the city centre, she had tried to predict from Kane’s line up of friends who was likely to be sharing the house. Russ obviously. Dameer was now confirmed. She’d imagined their mate Matty but she’d heard he’d married a Swedish girl and moved abroad. Or Andy H, though hadn’t he had a biking accident and needed a specially adapted home nowadays? Jonah Jones being part of the posse would prove interesting. Asa’s identity as the fourth guy no longer mattered, Esmé was to be housemates with Jonah Jones.
Back in the day, he’d stand inside their hallway, leaning against her mum’s flock wallpaper, waiting for Kane. Waiting for ages as it usually turned out, for Kane was always disorganised or late. Regardless of how much notice Esmé had before his arrival to apply blue eye shadow and plenty of cloggy mascara, she felt dumbstruck whenever he stepped inside the house. It’s amazing how many times a teenage girl could dart back and forth up thirteen stairs for essential items from her bedroom while her dream date stood in the hallway. Seventy was the record. Hadn’t it become a household joke? Hadn’t Kane banned her from talking to him at one point? All she’d wanted at the time was a date with Jonah Jones.
Russ led the way downstairs. Esmé followed in his wake but her mind had regressed ten years to the giggly teenager.
Let’s hope my hormones have settled, she thought. Otherwise my thighs will be toned to perfection with the workouts up and down these stairs.
‘Are the others at home?’
‘Nah, Jonah’s probably out with a lady friend and Asa works most of the time.’
Esmé noted the fourth name again.
‘Thank you, I can’t wait to move in.’
‘You don’t have to thank me, you did us a favour. Who knows what Asa’s face would have been like if I’d returned to say we needed to put up another three hundred and seventy-five each… Jonah would have probably gone ape-shit too.’
‘Thank you.’
‘The guys will give you a hand up the stairs with any heavy stuff.’
‘So, who’s the fourth guy?’
‘Asa Henson… you won’t have met him before.’
Esmé nodded as Russ hesitated.
Russ lowered his voice and continued, as they descended the staircases.
‘I think he’s the nicest guy in the world, honest, trustworthy, a top bloke – though don’t tell your brother that,’ added Russ.
‘I won’t.’
‘Not everyone gets Asa. Dam’s with me. Jonah thinks he’s a total loser… but you’ll need to figure him out for yourself.’
‘A bit like marmite then?’
‘Exactly! Anything else you’d like to know or do you want your deposit back?’
‘No thanks, I’m as pleased as punch.’
‘Even with the return o
f old Jonah Jones?’
‘Yep, though don’t tell my mother, he’d be banished from this house too.’
‘Deal. Come on, let’s show you the rest of the house.’
Esmé automatically followed Russ’s eager gait.
‘Actually no,’ she stopped, pointing back up the stairs. ‘I’ll catch you up in a second, Russ.’
‘OK. I’ll be downstairs… organising your door keys.’
Esmé dashed back up both flights of stairs and entered her new room. Slightly breathless from the exercise and excitement, she pulled her single girl’s calendar from her handbag.
‘You had better sit somewhere special,’ she whispered, placing the cardboard box on the mantelpiece, before stepping back to admire the tackiness of her first possession.
She picked up her handbag and chased after Russ.
On the way, she whispered to herself, ‘one thing is certain, I’ll be the first to volunteer to take responsibility for buying toilet roll,’ she laughed. ‘And if Russ hurries up and organises my key… I could move in tonight rather than return to the hotel.’
Who’d have thought stepping from her comfort zone would be so easy. Far easier than being the sensible and cautious Esmé of yesteryear or was that just yesterday?
She gave a beaming smile. Task one’s haircut may have been a disaster but task two’s comfort zone had worked out perfectly.
Chapter Eight
‘Hi Esmé, it’s Russ… we’re in the Ivy Bush pub… if you care to join us for a drink.’
Esmé listened to her voice mail and didn’t need asking twice. She was grateful that her first night at Montague Road wouldn’t be spent home alone.
It wasn’t a pub she frequented but, much like the area, it was one she knew well. Esmé deleted his message and immediately called Carys.
‘Hey babe, you’ll never guess what I’ve done?’ It took five minutes to bring her friend up to date and arrange to meet at the Ivy Bush. ‘You might as well meet the guys too.’
*
‘Loving the hair, lady,’ said Carys, as she and Esmé met outside the corner pub just before nine o’clock.
‘I’m not so sure myself, I’m hoping it grows on me by Monday morning otherwise I’ll be wearing head scarves to work.’ Esmé tugged at her fringe as she spoke in a poor attempt to lengthen it.
‘Please tell me that Andrew won’t be joining us,’ said Carys.
‘Seriously, are you kidding? He hasn’t called or contacted me. He hasn’t a clue what I’ve done or even where I have been for the last twenty-four hours… so no, as painful as it is to admit, he’s shown his true colours.’ Esmé checked her phone for the time. ‘It’s an entire day since I left Symphony Court and I’ve heard nothing.’
‘Good riddance, then.’
‘Exactly. Come on, let’s introduce you to my new housemates.’
Esmé led the way though the glazed double doors of the Ivy Bush, where a noisy yet pleasant atmosphere greeted them. The bar was heaving with bodies and voices were shouting over the jukebox despite the early hour. Esmé clutched Carys’s hand as they wove their way through the crowd towards Russ and Dam seated by the window. A selection of empty and half-full glasses filled their table.
‘Esmé!’ shouted Russ, immediately standing to make room at the table. ‘Dam, move your feet from the chair.’ Dam, still wearing his ‘Time Lord’ tee-shirt, slid his feet to the floor.
‘Hello, I thought I’d bring my friend, too.’ Esmé did a quick introduction before she settled at the table. Russ dashed off to collect two glasses of white house wine from the bar.
‘No Jonah tonight?’ asked Carys, failing to restrain a wry smile.
‘He’s here, somewhere… don’t worry, he’s never far away where alcohol is concerned,’ laughed Dam, searching the crowd for his friend. ‘He pops up like a bad penny.’
‘Carys remembers Jonah from your FIFA playing days at our house,’ added Esmé, pretending not to scan the crowd for a familiar face.
‘Great days, shame we outgrew the technology… gaming isn’t something I focus on nowadays,’ said Dam, emptying his coke glass.
‘What is it you do?’ asked Carys.
‘I lecture at the university, and you?’
‘I sell advertising space to local businesses – have you seen the billboards above the station?’
Dam nodded.
‘That. Not the most interesting work.’
‘It pays the bills, Carys,’ added Esmé. ‘I’ll switch for a day – you can sell sticky back plastic and I’ll phone round securing local advertising.’
‘Is that your job?’ asked Russ, returning with a tray of drinks, before squeezing himself back behind the table.
‘Yep, stationery… I used to be obsessed by it but nine years at Stylos has successfully cured me,’ joked Esmé, having thanked Russ for the drink.
‘Just to businesses or the general public too?’ asked Dam, sipping his fresh pint of coke.
‘Both, the boss isn’t fussy as long as stationery sales are being—’
‘Well, look who it isn’t?’ called a voice, interrupting the conversation. ‘Kane’s little sis, Emma! How are you?’
The girls turn to view Jonah, his long blond hair cascading over the shoulders of his leather jacket, his ripped denims displaying tanned thighs. With his chiselled jawline, cleft chin and piercing blue eyes he could justify his role in the Davidoff advert.
‘It’s Esmé, actually,’ said Esmé, shaking his extended hand. ‘Nice to see you again, Jonah.’
‘Once seen never forgotten, hey?’ laughed Russ, sipping his pint of Guinness.
‘Oy, less of your cheek, Russell. And who is this little lady?’ Jonah points to Carys and winks.
‘My friend Carys, Carys this is Jonah Jones,’ said Esmé, adding ‘We were just talking about her job in advertising and—’
‘Blar, blar, blar… bloody advertising, it doesn’t get you anywhere nowadays… networking with the big boys is the answer,’ said Jonah, pulling up a spare seat beside Esmé and settling himself. ‘I’m still modelling… your brother might have mentioned it, anyway I’ve found that…’
Esmé lost track of time listening to Jonah talk about his modelling career, his desire to be signed by a leading agency and his pursuit of high quality shots for his portfolio. Within no time, she’s learnt that he’s been all over the world: Milan, Paris and most recently New York City, on an all expenses paid photo shoot. She couldn’t take in all the details as she couldn’t drag her focus away from his fine features. It was so unfair when men had wonderfully thick eyelashes, along with flawless skin. Esmé felt quite plain in comparison.
The bustle of the pub continued around them, the jukebox churned out endless hits and Carys was busy talking to Dam and Russ. At one point a fresh glass of wine was nudged against Esmé’s hand as Jonah kept her spellbound.
Good company, good surroundings and good conversation. This felt good for a Friday night.
‘Emma, I think your mobile is ringing,’ said Jonah, as he tapped Esmé’s forearm.
‘Oh sorry, sorry… I was quite… and it’s Esmé, not Emma.’ Esmé opened her mobile to see Andrew’s number illuminating the screen. Shit!
On seeing Esmé’s expression drop, Carys leant over to view the caller’s details.
‘What do I do?’ whispered Esmé.
‘Go outside and answer it,’ said Carys.
‘But it’s taken him until ten o’clock to even contact me.’
‘Yep, but now that he has, you need to speak to him, go on… I’ll come out with you if you like.’
Esmé silently mouthed her apology to the three men before heading for the exit with Carys in tow.
‘Hello?’ The cold air and the noise of the traffic hit them hard as they exited the Ivy Bush.
‘Esmé, is that you?’
‘Yes, what do you want?’ Carys stood close and Esmé tilted the phone so they could both hear.
‘Esmé… please don’t.’
‘Me don’t? What about you?’
‘Look, we need to talk… I want to…’
‘Andrew… it’s not convenient right now.’
‘But I’ve waited all day to speak to you and now…’
‘Hey, you don’t get to call all the shots, you know. I gave you plenty of chances last night to explain and you were hardly forthcoming. I had no choice but to leave.’
‘We both needed time to cool off but now we need to talk, Esmé.’
‘Andrew. No!’
‘Tomorrow then. I’ll come around to your mum’s.’
‘What makes you think I’m staying there?’
‘Esmé, don’t make this difficult.’
‘Seriously, you think you know everything don’t you, well, I’ve news for you, Andrew – you know nothing. Today was supposed to be our seventh anniversary and you ballsed it up the night before.’
‘I can explain, just—’
‘No. I heard everything I needed to last night… you cheated, not me. Goodbye!’
Esmé killed the connection and burst out crying. Carys wrapped her arms around her friend and they leant against the pub wall.
‘Was it too much to ask? This is actually worse than Marianne’s ultimatum, at least Jimmy’s faithful and committed to her, by his own admission he just can’t do the wedding bit,’ cried Esmé. ‘All I’ve ever wanted was to fall in love, get married, have a family and live happily ever after – instead, I’m twenty-nine and back where I started all those years ago!’
‘Shhhh now, it’ll be alright. You’ve found somewhere to live, a couple of decent guys to share with and you’ve got me.’ Carys rubbed her friend’s back as she spoke.
‘I know, but just hearing his voice, hearing him say my name and knowing that we’ve got to unpick our lives from each other’s after seven years… oh Carys, this isn’t over by a long way, is it?’
‘Nope, it’ll take time but you’ve made huge steps today, giant steps in fact, and tomorrow you’ll take some more,’ she whispered, adding ‘Unless you want to try again with him.’
Esmé’s head lifted to stare at her friend.