by Erin Green
In no time, she was surrounded by the happy chatter of numerous diners – none of whom even noticed her.
Esmé savoured the final mussel.
Why did seafood always leave her wanting more? But the thought of her carbonara with a green salad was enough to make her mouth water.
‘Has madam finished?’ asked the nimble waiter before her own could scurry to collect her empty dish.
‘Yes, thank you, could I order another vodka and orange please?’
‘Certainly.’
Esmé sat back drying her fingertips. She could get used to this life, folk fetching and carrying, scurrying back and forth in the name of excellent service. She’d leave a generous tip, she believed in rewarding good service but… she stopped and stared across the restaurant.
The maitre’d was walking a couple through the tables in her direction. The woman was stunningly beautiful, her mane of teased blonde ringlets swept her shoulders, she had an hour-glass figure and a cleavage to die for, and behind her walked Jonah, his smug expression announcing how delighted he was to be walking behind, checking out her assets.
Esmé lowered her head as they swept past.
Their arrival had ruined her night.
He was the last person she wanted to see, well other than Andrew.
The maitre’d seated them at a nearby table. Thankfully, Jonah’s back was positioned towards Esmé, and she silently gave thanks for small mercies.
As their waiter handed them the menus, Esmé saw that the woman’s foot had escaped her shoe and was easing along the inside of Jonah’s leg.
Esmé peered through her asymmetrical fringe, fascinated. Jonah pulled his chair a little closer to the table and repositioned the linen cloth that covered his lap.
Had they no respect?
Esmé’s main course was delivered, but it couldn’t compete with the entertainment provided by Jonah and his date. All the neighbouring tables were transfixed. A pair of high heels lay abandoned beneath their table, visible to all, as the frantic movement of the white table cloth on Jonah’s lap left little to the imagination. Jonah’s face must be cataclysmic with pleasure.
Their waiter focussed upon his service and delivered their ice bucket and champagne order.
Esmé absorbed every detail to recall once home, she would savour the giggles that would arise from sharing this gem.
Their champagne cork interrupted all conversations, her delight clear to everyone. As apparent as her wedding ring.
Jonah might be a perfect man with his model looks, perfect complexion and dress sense but was clearly a dog when it came to morals: lying, cheating and skulduggery. Though the woman was equally to blame.
Why would any man choose to dally with a married woman when he could have a wealth of single women without the threat of being cited in a divorce or a good thumping?
Esmé cringed.
Had Andrew behaved like this with Sadie? Out and about around the city before falling into their bed?
Esmé pushed her empty plate aside.
Was it too much to ask that a single guy meet a single girl? Add a splash of romance, lots of kissing and a good dollop of lustful passion – wasn’t that a recipe to be content with?
How would she ever know which men were genuine and who were players?
Esmé watched as Jonah’s laughter grew louder with each glass of champagne, his hand beginning to rove around the woman’s left thigh as his manners were sent packing.
She was contemplating her coffee choice when a commotion at the front desk interrupted the restaurant’s ambience. A young man in a leather jacket dashed past her table.
‘Melissa, would you care to introduce us?’ He stood before Jonah and his wife, and stared between the pair. Esmé watched the woman’s feet rapidly re-appear beneath the table to be thrust into her expensive shoes.
‘Gareth, what are you doing here?’
‘I was just about to ask you exactly the same thing… and this is?’
The young man thrust his hand into Jonah’s personal space demanding it be shook.
‘Gareth Thompson, and this is my wife, Melissa, though it appears you two have already met. So, what’s on the menu?’ He grabbed the nearest chair and plonked himself down alongside the startled lovers. ‘Champagne! Excellent. Bring me a fresh glass,’ he called to the waiter. ‘So, what is it we’re celebrating?’
Jonah looked around the restaurant as Gareth helped himself to his bottle of bubbly. Melissa sat open mouthed and squirming, unlike the other diners and some of the staff, who were all enjoying the show.
Esmé ordered a liqueur coffee with accompanying mints – the entertainment was worth staying for.
The nimble waiter delivered a leather-bound wallet to her table with a generous smile and a fresh rose.
Esmé smiled politely.
The wallet revealed an itemised bill alongside a piece of paper torn from a small note pad.
You have a beautiful smile. Don’t dine alone, dine with me. Roberto. Tel number 0770 6442
Esmé looked up to find Roberto watching her from across the room. She blushed and re-read his note.
Her fingers trembled with excitement as she fumbled through her purse.
Should she leave a tip? Would it look condescending after his act of chivalry?
She placed a handful of money inside the wallet and indicated that she wished to pay. Roberto darted across the restaurant to retrieve it.
‘And madam’s answer?’ he whispered.
‘Madam is unsure what her answer should be…’ replied Esmé, a fleeting glance at his bare left hand suggested he might not be married.
‘Madam simply needs to phone, when Madam has a free evening,’ he said, his steady gaze holding her attention.
Esmé blushed. She was taking a chance but maybe single girls needed to take chances in order to live a little. She pocketed his telephone number, she could decide if and when she was free.
Chapter Eighteen
Day 9: Dare yourself – face your fear
Friday night arrived before Esmé could catch her breath. What a week it had been? A list of self-promises floated around in her head during the lengthy bus journey home: a combination of a bubble bath, a face pack and a magazine would help sooth her tired bones.
On arrival, the noise emitting from number seven Montague Road suggested her housemates’ activities would not be conducive to a tranquil evening.
As her key slid into the lock a barrage of Toby’s screams filled the air. In the hallway, the little boy was running around waving a toy aeroplane above his head.
‘Nawwwwwwww!’ he screamed, running at Esmé, his aeroplane heading towards her face.
‘Hi. Steady on, you’ll have my eye out, Toby.’ Esmé said, as the boy swung around the tiled floor.
‘Hiiiiii,’ said Toby, in a sing song voice, as he circled his plane for another attack.
‘Toby, come here,’ called Kane, entering the hallway from the lounge. ‘Oh, hello, you’re early.’
‘Nice aeroplane,’ said Esmé, turning to Kane. ‘Are you here again?’
‘Love you too, Sis.’
‘Toby, go and find Russ,’ said Kane, as he ushered the boy towards the lounge.
‘Kane, you should call Russ daddy or dad when Toby’s about.’
‘Why should I call him daddy if he doesn’t choose to himself, he’s Russ?’
‘Because it’s modern father bullshit – that’s why. Parents should be called dad, papa or pops, he’s supposed to be a parent not a best buddy.’
‘OK, lecture over. I’ll tell Daddy Russ.’
Esmé headed straight for the staircase. ‘I’ll be upstairs, should any one call.’
‘With more flowers,’ laughed Kane.
Esmé stopped mid-stair.
‘What?’
‘You might want to take a look in the morning room before you—’
‘You had better be joking?’ Esmé raced to the morning room, flung the door open and was greeted by a s
ight befitting another annual Interflora convention. ‘For fuck’s sake!’
‘Oy, mind your language, there’s a kid about!’ snapped Kane from the hallway.
‘Says you, Mr Potty-mouth,’ chimed Esmé, allowing the door to close behind her.
On every flat surface was a pastel coloured flower box from which a rainbow of fresh flowers sprang. Tall artistic designs sat alongside traditional posies, alongside single stemmed roses, dramatic arching orchids and delicate unknowns with their strange shapes and colours.
Esmé was speechless, moving slowly around the arrangements.
This must have cost him a fortune. It’s wrong, it’s almost cruel to allow him to continue wasting money.
She grabbed her mobile from her back pocket and dialled his number.
‘Andrew, you need to stop with the flowers.’
‘Why?’
‘Face facts,’ there was that word again. ‘… I’m not coming back. I’m happy here.’
‘Without me?’
Esmé gulped.
Was she truly happy without him? It wasn’t her original plan but she’d coped for the majority of the week.
‘Esmé, don’t answer but think about it, maybe we needed this space in our relationship. There’s no need for us to be over, we could still date – you living there, me here. I could get a lodger to share the expense of the apartment and then we’d find a way to make this work for us.’
‘I’m happy as I am.’ The words spilt from her lips and surprised even her. ‘Sorry, but yes, I’m hurting. Yes, I’m sad and tearful when I think about us, and then angry when I remember you and… her. But in the gaps in between when I am not thinking about us, I have enjoyed doing my own thing every day without having to consider another person.’
‘Cheers Esmé, you know how to kick a guy when he’s down!’
‘Andrew, I was your girlfriend for seven years and arranged everything around you, my work life, my home life and this week… after what you and she did – not me, you and her! I have had a week of just being me. And yeah, I’ve coped. Sorry if that wasn’t what you wanted to hear but you should have thought about that when you were rolling about with Sadie.’
There was a lengthy pause.
‘The flowers need to stop, Andrew… and purely so you know, Sadie paid me a visit at work yesterday.’
‘Don’t bluff me.’
‘Very girly-girly with long blonde hair, which was tied in a ponytail, she wore a cotton summer dress even though it’s spring, ballet pumps and she carried a…’
‘Esmé stop… I believe you… I never asked her to visit.’
‘But Andrew, you lied. She lives on the ground floor, she’s not a work colleague.’
‘I want you to know—’
‘Andrew, you called her the minute I was gone. She signed for the gourmet food… did you enjoy the steaks? Cooked medium rare – just how you like them?’
‘Esmé, listen!’
‘Bye Andrew, I’ll be in touch about the apartment.’ Esmé hung up the call, killing his final sentence.
*
‘Any idea when the morning room will return to normal,’ asked Jonah, swanning in as Esmé leant against the kitchen sideboard.
‘In about a week when they start to die, I should think.’
‘We can’t have that – you need to move this shit out of here.’
Esmé pulled a face at him, and peeled her body from the furniture.
‘Do I look like a magician that can make things disappear – so please, give me a break.’
‘Seriously, the whole house can’t move for flowers. A break-up, wasn’t it?’
‘No, I died. People are sad.’
‘Boy, you’re arsey tonight!’
‘Maybe you need to put your brain in gear before speaking and secondly, I may have good reason to be arsey with you?’ Esmé contemplated mentioning the restaurant visit, or could that wait for another day?
‘Moi?’
‘I made you dinner the other night and you didn’t even hang around to eat it, remember?’
‘Oh yeah. Apparently Kane said it was delicious.’
‘Hmmm. So, are you cooking for us both tonight?’
Jonah screwed his face up.
‘Nah, nah, nah, It’s Friday. I’ve got plans.’
Esmé left the morning room, she’d been had but never mind, it wouldn’t happen again.
*
Esmé lay on her bed listening to the sounds of the house around her. Everyone seemed to have plans. She heard Asa plod up the staircase and enter his room next door. Sounds of him opening and closing wardrobe doors and cupboards followed. Jonah had begged the use of their bathroom as Dam was getting ready in theirs below. From their bathroom, she heard the shower running, Jonah’s muted singing and the hot water pipes gurgling deep inside the walls.
Was singing in the shower a male thing? Andrew never sang in the shower, or had he? She couldn’t remember. Was this her new game in life? Continually comparing every new male to Andrew?
Esmé stared at her new ceiling, the shadows and abstract light danced upon the white pimpled plaster.
She viewed the bedside clock: eight thirty. Another hour and surely the house would fall silent as they each left to embrace their respective Friday nights out.
What a difference a week and a day had made?
Esmé replayed the sequence leading her from Symphony Court to the hotel, The Single Girl’s Calendar, the new haircut, her mother’s warm kitchen with bacon butties and banter and then the offer she couldn’t, and hadn’t, refused. So much had happened in such a short space of time.
Her gaze came to rest upon her single girl’s calendar still propped on top of the mantelpiece. Day two had told her to ‘step out of your comfort zone’ while today’s door had demanded she ‘face your fear’ – she’d definitely done both throughout this week.
A series of banged doors and jovial shouts confirmed that the males had left the building, in her mind’s eye Esmé could see each of them striding along Montague Road.
‘I’d better empty the morning room,’ said Esmé, leaving her room and plodding downstairs.
Within minutes, she’d selected and re-positioned appropriately sized arrangements around the house. A large display for the lounge’s bay window, a dramatic centre piece for the dining room and an abstract floor standing display for the hallway. Still, the morning room remained full of flowers.
‘This is hopeless,’ she whinged.
‘You off out?’ came a voice from behind her.
Esmé whipped round to see Asa, dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt, obviously not going out, stride into the morning room.
‘Sorry, you made me jump – I thought everyone had gone out.’
Asa shook his head.
‘Has Toby gone?’ A flush of guilt consumed her, she hadn’t given him another thought after initially arriving home.
‘What?’
‘I thought I heard everyone go out but Toby was here earlier… has he gone too?’
‘I believe he’s gone visiting.’
‘Makes sense. I didn’t know he had a little one before I moved in.’
‘Hmmm, I keep out of it. From what I hear there’s been loads of issues with the mum… and her family… anyway, what’s your plan, Stan?’
‘For my evening?’
‘No, the flowers?’
‘You noticed as well? Jonah complained earlier.’
Asa raised an eyebrow, and walked around the morning room staring at the remaining arrangements.
Esmé watched him, prepared for a verbal sting or a smart alec answer.
‘Seriously, what’s the plan?’ His eyes stared at her, patiently waiting.
Was he enjoying her struggle? He’s going to mock anything that I suggest, so why bother?
‘Aren’t you heading out too?’
‘Later, probably,’ he said. ‘So, the flowers?’
She had to come clean.
‘I. Don’t. Know. I gav
e some to work colleagues, the receptionists… I nearly offered Sexy Sadie an arrangement the other day but held back as she truly doesn’t deserve one.’
‘Who?’
‘The woman Andrew cheated on me with… never mind, it’s a long story.’
‘All this…’ he waves his hand at the flowers. ‘is linked to your break up?’
Esmé nodded.
‘Now, I get it… poor sucker he’s got it bad.’
‘Work, my parents’ house and now, here… I just want him to stop, it’s not in his nature to be generous or spend money on stuff like this.’ Esmé’s voice cracked, as huge tears spilled over her lashes. ‘I can’t bear to look at them.’
‘Hey, don’t cry, it’s not that big a deal. Order three taxis to arrive as soon as possible – I know where we can take these.’
*
‘Hamstead Road, Handsworth, please?’ said Asa to the taxi driver.
‘Where?’ asked Esmé, steadying numerous arrangements with her feet, whilst her arms were wrapped around another balancing on her lap.
‘You’ll see.’ Asa sat back, staring at the darkening sky as the taxi pulled away from the kerb. Two more taxis filled with flowers followed in convoy.
Within no time the three taxis pulled up in a neat line alongside a set of green railings on a busy road.
‘Unload, quickly now,’ said Asa, standing each arrangement on the pavement beside the taxis. ‘I can’t believe you’ve talked me into this, on a Friday night, too.’
‘I didn’t, you offered, remember? Now please hurry up, the meter is ticking,’ huffed Esmé. ‘There’s nothing like freely volunteering to help and then complaining and withdrawing your offer at the first available opportunity, is there?’
‘Me, volunteer? Never,’ He muttered, diving for another wobbly arrangement from the floor of the first taxi.
‘You did and you know it!’ said Esmé. Once all three taxis were emptied Esmé stood staring at the display of flowers arranged haphazardly upon the pavement.
‘We’ll keep this taxi, go and pay the other two and let them go,’ instructed Asa. Esmé darted along the pavement to taxis two and three to pay them.