The Single Girl’s Calendar

by Erin Green

  ‘Mum?’ Esmé stared about the foyer. ‘Kane said it was urgent, that I must make haste and now… where’s Dad? Is there an emergency?’ She’d dashed through town at break neck speed having left Asa at the tattoo studio paying for her additional ink. How rude was that? She’d quickly had dressing applied and thanked Asa, even she had to admit that the additional word ‘dream’ and the decoration now made a worthy enhancement to her skin.

  Sue patted her arm and gently led her away from the double doors to sit on the elaborate couch upon which she’d been waiting for twenty minutes since speaking to Kane, her eldest.

  ‘Mum, what’s going on? Is this about my argument with Kane?’

  ‘Kane? No. Now, I know you’ve had the most unpleasant month and no one more than me understands just how much that has affected your relationship with Andrew…’

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘Esmé, let me finish, please. Anyway, I wanted to show you something,’ said Sue, standing to collect her belongings.

  She led Esmé past reception, where Esmé had signed for a room just four weeks ago, down a long corridor to stand before a set of elaborate double doors.

  Esmé was still not comprehending how Kane’s urgent message equated to this calm situation but still, all seemed well.

  ‘Please just think about it,’ said Sue, opening both doors to reveal an exquisite dining room of white linen cloth, decorated with crystal chandeliers and an array of cream and apricot flower arrangements at the centre of each table. ‘Go on.’

  Sue led her inside to stand amongst the most perfect wedding reception breakfast that any bridal magazine could have photographed. A five tiered wedding cake stood in the corner complete with a silver cake knife and two empty champagne glasses ready for a toast.

  ‘Who’s this for?’ asked Esmé, looking around, her eyes wide and taking in every minute detail.

  ‘Well, it’s prepared for a wedding at four o’clock this afternoon, but I asked if I could show you exactly what this hotel’s wedding package looks like.’

  Esmé turned round on the spot, every surface displayed a detail that she’d dreamt of had Andrew proposed just four short weeks ago.

  ‘Stunning, isn’t it?’

  ‘Beautiful, everything is just as I’d dreamed… but I don’t understand.’

  ‘Apparently the bride’s having a horse and carriage, eight bridesmaids, three page boys, though I think one is plenty for carrying the rings… top hat and tails, champagne and a honeymoon in Rome…’ Sue’s voice faded to silence, as she watched Esmé turn around, taking in the spectacular room.

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘Esmé?’

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Now, please give him a chance to explain… hear him out… he’s been very busy and I have to say, I’m very proud of what he’s achieved in such a short time.’

  ‘Esmé.’ Standing in the doorway, dressed in a top hat and tails, complete with a carnation button hole was Andrew. His hair had been cut, his shave was impeccable and his eyes were locked on her. ‘Esmé.’

  Esmé’s heart rate sounded like a drum beat locked within her chest. Andrew looked impressive, so smart, so fetching and so over dressed for a Saturday afternoon.

  ‘Do you like it?’ he asked, as he approached and stood before her.

  ‘Yes, it’s lovely. I’m sure the bride and groom will be delighted but what’s this got to do with me, and my mum?’

  ‘Esmé, I have something to ask you.’

  Esmé watched in silence as he gently took her hand and slowly, but very deliberately, lowered himself onto his bended knee.

  *

  ‘A bloody house meeting on a Saturday evening, are you having a laugh?’ moaned Asa, plodding barefoot down the stairs having been summoned from the shower with barely enough time to pull on a pair of jeans.

  ‘It’s not my idea, Kane said it was important,’ answered Dam, leading the way to the morning room.

  As the door swung open Asa could see they had guests.

  At the table sat Jonah, Russ, Kane and another chap, who looked familiar but Asa couldn’t place him.

  Dam sat down, and Russ kicked out a chair for Asa.

  ‘I’ll cut straight to the chase,’ said the guest. ‘Esmé has decided to move out of this property and to return to our apartment at Symphony Court.’

  Kane lowered his head and stared at his hands.

  ‘Where is she?’ asked Asa, looking around the kitchen for the missing housemate.

  ‘She’s decided that she will move out immediately and so I’ve come round to discuss the finances as I understand that it could potentially leave you guys in—’

  ‘Hang on a minute, who are you?’ asked Asa, his lip curled in distaste.

  ‘I am her fiancé, Andrew.’

  ‘Fiancé?’ chorused several males.

  ‘I don’t think so!’ spat Asa.

  ‘This is Andrew,’ introduced Kane, his eyes firmly focussed on his hands.

  ‘The ex-boyfriend, as far as I know!’ said Asa, adding ‘You arrived one night and harassed her – I asked you to leave.’

  ‘Not quite, but yes, that’s probably how you’d remember it. Anyway, today Esmé accepted my marriage proposal and so, she’ll be—’

  ‘No way!’ Asa stood up, his chair scraped against the tiles. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Asa, sit down… it’s her decision,’ said Kane, not raising his head.

  ‘And you agree with this, do you? He cheated on her… she’s done pretty well the last few weeks and now, she is expected to revert back to what she had?’

  ‘Look mate, I really don’t understand what your problem is, but my fiancée and I will be getting married in sixteen days’ time, it’s the quickest I can organise things, given the special license, and I’m trying to be proactive to ensure you guys have a replacement housemate.’

  Kane shifted in his seat.

  ‘So you’ve organised this in secret and then sprung it on her?’ asked Asa.

  ‘Hey, now I really don’t think it’s your place to tell me what I’m allowed to organise for my fiancée. In fact, my soon to be mother-in-law also organised—’

  ‘Cut the crap! I don’t want to hear it. Dam, what have you got to say about this?’ asked Asa, standing at the edge of the table.

  ‘Isn’t it her decision?’ said Dam, with an embarrassed shrug.

  ‘He’s got a point,’ added Jonah.

  ‘Russ?’

  ‘Asa man… it’s her choice, at the end of the day.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Asa looked around the group of forlorn faces. ‘Nah! I’m out of here. You guys discuss whatever you want. Kane, welcome to the house, because it looks like your sister’s made way for you after all.’

  Asa stormed from the kitchen, knocking his chair over as he went.

  Chapter Forty-five

  Tuesday, 10th April

  The church was heaving with mourners. She’d expected a sea of black filling every pew, instead every colour imaginable was in front of her. Bright Hawaiian shirts worn by teenage boys, a rainbow of sparkles and sequins twinkled upon young ladies in prom dresses. Claret and blue football shirts dominated three rows on the far side. The navy blue berets of sea cadets, dark green and yellow of scout leaders and even a row of black leather biker jackets filled the rear corner of the church. The sea of colour was sporadically punctuated with formal black. Esmé sighed with relief, she hadn’t made a complete mistake by sticking with tradition.

  Clutching the order of service, Esmé squeezed through the crowd to find a seat by an archway.

  Flowers covered every surface: stone windowsills, pew ends, the altar table and decorative garlands hung between the large stone pillars alongside looped football scarves.

  ‘Amazing,’ sniffed the lady seated beside her, on viewing the floral decorations. ‘It looks more like a flower festival than a funeral.’

  ‘Simply beautiful,’ answered Esmé, unsure if such words were appropriate at a funeral.

/>   ‘He planned it all, poor lamb,’ added the lady. ‘They’ve done him proud.’

  ‘They have.’ Esmé swallowed the wave of emotion billowing inside her chest.

  It’ll be OK to cry when everyone else does – surely, before wasn’t the done deal.

  The dulcet tones of Sinatra began to croon ‘Come fly with me’ as the gathered congregation automatically stood in honour of the passing coffin carried high upon the pallbearers’ shoulders.

  *

  The service was beautiful, not a dry eye in the church. As the funeral procession glided towards the church doorway she stared at the intricate carvings on Stig’s wooden coffin. She replayed his cheesy grin and complex fist bump farewell in her mind. And, she smiled through the tears.

  ‘See you, Stig – farewell,’ she whispered.

  The family followed the coffin, their eyes red raw and hearts heavy with pain, in a slow shuffle into the April sunlight.

  Esmé walked amidst the crowd towards the exit and stood watching as the pallbearers organised themselves to cover the short grassy distance to the prepared plot.

  And, this is it. This is what it all comes to in the end for each of us. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

  ‘Esmé!’ cried a voice above the crowd.

  She hesitated as Asa, dressed in a black top hat and tails, cut a path through the crowd and chased her morbid thoughts sky high. Esmé hadn’t seen or spoken to any of the housemates since the Saturday afternoon she’d dashed out on Asa at the tattoo studio.

  ‘Beautiful service, don’t you think?’ he said, his voice was full of life, not sombre or muted.

  Shhhhh, mouthed Esmé, staring at his attire complete with pink carnation button hole.

  ‘Why? This is what Stig wanted… a glorious day, bright flowers and a crowd of wailing mourners as large as a football crowd – he’s got his final wish.’

  ‘How can you be so upbeat? And dressed like that at a funeral!’

  ‘How come you’re not?’

  ‘I’m at a funeral.’

  Asa leant in closer to whisper.

  ‘I’m not, I’m at his stag-do come wedding day.’

  Esmé winced.

  ‘You wouldn’t deny Stig his last laugh, would you?’

  Esmé moved her head away from Asa’s whispering mouth.

  ‘No? Well then… we do what we must and give the lad his last wish and let his funeral be a combination of the biggest parties he would ever throw… so here’s his year eleven prom, eighteenth and twenty-first birthdays, a graduation, his boys’ boozing holiday in Zante, a wedding, even his fortieth, fiftieth…’ listed Asa, adding, ‘Otherwise you deny him all the good times… like cancer did.’

  Esmé’s eyes welled, the other mourners shuffled along leaving her and Asa suspended by his last words.

  ‘Come here,’ he grabbed her hand and wrapped it around the crook of his arm. ‘I hear congratulations are in order.’

  Esmé blushed. She had hoped he wouldn’t mention it.

  In silence, they walked arm in arm across the grass, behind the pallbearers’ procession.

  *

  ‘Are you coming back for a glass of sherry and bite to eat at the hotel?’ asked Asa, as they walked away from the graveside.

  Esmé looked sheepishly at him.

  ‘I wasn’t planning to… there’s things I need to prepare for…’ she said, hesitantly.

  ‘So, you’re still going ahead with Saturday?’

  Esmé gave a nod.

  Silence lingered until Esmé couldn’t stand it any longer.

  ‘Look, I know you’re angry with me, I can feel it, but seriously, this is what I want. This is what I’ve always wanted.’

  ‘But he—’

  ‘Please don’t!’ interrupted Esmé. ‘That’s all forgotten.’

  Asa walked her to the car park and without another word, just a peck on her cheek, they said goodbye.

  Chapter Forty-six

  Saturday, 14th April

  ‘If any persons present know of just cause why they may not lawfully be married, speak now: or else for ever hold your peace.’

  Esmé stared at the wooden crucifix as the vicar’s words rang about the church of St Paul’s on a clear and beautiful spring day.

  She felt Andrew’s shoulders tense as the silence lengthened and the vicar looked intently around the wedding guests seated in wooden pews.

  The vicar gave a little cough before he continued.

  ‘I require…’

  Esmé sighed and Andrew relaxed.

  ‘Stop!’ a breathless voice rang out from the back of the church. ‘Esmé! Listen to me.’

  Everyone turned in unison to stare at the interruption – a man who was bent double like a marathon runner was positioned in the middle of the aisle, panting and holding aloft a small piece of paper in his right hand. His face was tattooed along one side.

  Esmé stared. Her hands fell to her tulle skirts and hastily fingered the delicate fabric.

  This was real. This was actually happening to her, it wasn’t one of the nervous dreams she’d been having for the last two weeks. The nightmares that her mother had said were stress related. This wasn’t a Friday night chick flick. This was her wedding day… and she was standing at the altar, in her dream dress, about to make her vows and now, everyone was staring at a guy who’d called out her name at the most inappropriate moment of her life. Feck!

  ‘Carry on,’ said Andrew, turning back to the vicar on seeing who had interrupted.

  The vicar raised his hand to dismiss the instruction.

  ‘I’m sorry, is there something you wish to say, young man?’

  ‘Yes, I need a minute… to speak to Esmé. Sorry, please… Esmé?’ said Asa, as he stumbled the length of the aisle. All eyes in the church watched his every move as he stood waving his piece of paper.

  ‘Esmé, ignore him, turn round,’ said Andrew, his brow furrowed in anger, as he reached for her shaking hand.

  She snatched her hand away and turned to face Asa. This wedding was everything she’d ever wanted and yet… her breath snagged in her throat, eager to hear his reasons.

  ‘Young man, what is it you wish to say?’ asked the vicar, stepping forward between the couple to address the newcomer.

  ‘Esmé… I found this.’ Asa held aloft the paper which the guests could see had a small amount of writing on it. ‘You left in such a hurry, you didn’t say goodbye to any of us and I found this in your room… alongside the torn calendar… but it’s important Esmé, so please, hear me out and then… then if you still want to marry him… then go ahead and do it.’

  Esmé was frozen to the spot, her painted eyes wide and staring at the emerald and navy ink swirled about the strong features of another man.

  Asa began to read aloud.

  ‘One, to fall in love again. Two, to get married. Three, to plan a family. You wrote this, Esmé, and dated it March of this year. Esmé, you titled it “my dreams” and… I’ve figured out that these were written to complete a task from the calendar your friend bought for you. The Single Girl’s Calendar that was supposed to help you overcome a broken heart. The broken heart that he caused! Remember?’

  Esmé nodded, her lips had gone dry and her fingers twitched uncontrollably upon her tulle skirt.

  ‘I found all your tasks lined up on your mantelpiece… the haircut, the make, bake or create, your donation, the clear your conscience task… it suddenly made sense to me, Esmé. Why you did all those random and erratic things… you were simply following the instructions in the calendar and trying to find the real you. And this piece of paper, Esmé, I truly believe is the real you!’

  Esmé looked towards the front pew where both her parents stood in shock alongside Kane and his son Toby. Carys’s mouth was wide open, her eyes stared.

  Asa continued. ‘Esmé… these dreams are what you truly want in life. But Andrew is never going to be able to deliver them to you, ever. He’ll say his vows, he’ll declare he loves you and yeah, in the
future he might even father your children but Esmé, he ruined it. Ruined it before he even started by breaking the foundation on which your dreams are built. Will you be happy hearing his vows knowing that he can cheat behind your back? Can you place a ring on his finger knowing that he can take it off whenever he chooses for a night with another Sadie? And can you honestly say that he’ll never disrespect his children in the same deceitful way he disrespected you?’

  The guests were on the edge of their pews now, silent and listening.

  Esmé glanced at Andrew, who was shaking his head.

  ‘Esmé, listen to me when I tell you… you marry him and you’ll never know peace, there will always be a doubt in your heart, a deep-seated niggle in your mind because he’s done it once before. He hurt you, Esmé. He knew it would but he still did it.’

  Esmé moved a step away from Andrew.

  Asa stepped forward and offered her the piece of paper, her eyes glanced at her own handwriting and she gently took it from his grasp.

  ‘You didn’t write his name beside any of your dreams, Esmé. So, I’m begging you, please don’t do this… leave now, with me and I’ll make all three dreams come true! Me and you, Esmé… could live a little dream – together. So please, I’m begging you… let it be me.’

  A hushed murmur ran through the church pews.

  Esmé scanned Asa’s upturned face, his deep dark eyes and the surrounding ink of peacock feathers.

  ‘Esmé?’ said the vicar, ‘have you anything you’d like to say?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ came her hushed voice.

  *

  Asa drove the one hundred and eighty-five miles on the A74 as fast as he could. One thought raced and repeated through his head for every moment of every mile.

  She chose me!

  Beside him, Esmé sat quietly watching the miles glide by. In the passenger seat, her tulle skirts billowed about her knees. She wasn’t quite sure how she’d left St Paul’s church without signing the register as Mrs Nixon, but she had. Was Carys still holding her fresh bouquet of orange blossom and lily of the valley? Had smelling salts brought her fainting mother round?