3
Sandchester
Carol, Esme’s mum, sat opposite her at the large kitchen table. From the strange expressions she was making, Esme knew she was fantasising about ways to harm Leo Chalmers. Stephen, Esme’s father, sat quietly listening.
‘So that’s why I’m here, at half past eight on a Thursday morning,’ said Esme, examining her mum’s floral bathrobe tied around her waist. ‘I didn’t wake you up, did I?’
‘No, dear,’ replied Carol. ‘We were just having sex—’
‘Some tea,’ interrupted Stephen, glaring at his wife. ‘We were just having some tea. In bed. Watching telly.’ He scratched his head and a redness crept out of his stripy pyjama top.
Esme shuddered. Since she had left home after finishing university, and her younger sister had moved out eight years ago, her parents had very much enjoyed a more active sex life. More than once when she’d been home for Christmas, or down for some family occasion, Esme would hear them and bury her head under the pillow. After last Christmas, Leo had insisted they stay at the hotel outside town, even though it would cost them more money to get taxis to and fro. But that wasn’t going to happen now, she thought sadly. They wouldn’t relish the prospect of having their daughter back home anymore than she wanted to be there, but they were always supportive and just what Esme needed right now. Stephen cocked his head to one side and smiled at his daughter.
‘Don’t worry, dear,’ said her mum. ‘You’ll get back on your feet and if that Leo turns up here, I shall … I shall …’ She grabbed a dinner knife, covered in marmalade. ‘I shall stab him in the back for stabbing you in the back. I can’t believe his name’s Chalmers. Charm, my arse.’
Esme tried to smile, but tears were forming in her eyes again, even though she was sick of crying. That morning, climbing into the taxi at Sandchester Station, which was unstaffed because no one ever wanted to visit the boring little town, Esme had rubbed at her tired eyes. Turning up at her mum and dad’s house, at the age of 33, with all her belongings crammed into one suitcase, and a Christmas pudding under her arm, was thoroughly depressing. At least it hadn’t been raining. ‘He didn’t stab me in the back, Mum. And he didn’t say there was anyone else. He just said we were more like friends than, you know.’ She blushed and stared down at the table with its red check tablecloth.
‘Well, darling,’ Carol replied, taking her cup. ‘Your room is all yours until you find somewhere else.’
‘I don’t know how I’ll find somewhere else. I need a job first.’ She ran a hand through her un-brushed hair and her fingers caught in the knots. She’d never felt so low.
‘About that,’ said Stephen, pouring another cup of tea. ‘We were saving up some money for your wedding.’
‘Wedding,’ repeated her mother, nodding. She’d always had this weird habit of randomly repeating the last word of other people’s sentences.
‘But as things have changed, you could use it to put down a deposit on a rental if you like. I’m sure you’ll find some work soon, you’re so good at your job. But just remember one thing, Esme.’ She paused at her dad’s sincere expression. ‘Don’t ever go backwards. Always move forwards. Going back never helps.’
‘Never helps,’ repeated Carol. ‘That means no going back to that scumbag. Even if he comes crawling on bended knee with the biggest diamond you’ve ever seen. Men like that don’t change.’
‘How much do you have saved?’ asked Esme.
‘About three thousand pounds,’ Stephen answered.
Esme raised her head. ‘Really? Thank you. Thank you so much. ‘It was more than generous and enough to cover not just a deposit but the first few months’ rent too. Tears escaped from her eyes and she studied her parents. The wrinkles on her mum’s kind, round face crinkled and her dad’s mouth lifted into a grin. They were always so kind and supportive. Even if her mum did have homicidal tendencies and her father was now talking in pop-psychology book clichés, they were great parents.
‘Have you told your sister yet?’ asked Stephen.
‘No.’ Esme dipped her eyes as if she was six and had been told off.
‘Why not?’
‘She’ll be upset with me for losing my job. She’ll think I should’ve—’
‘She will not,’ interrupted Carol, now waving the marmalade knife at Esme. ‘Alice will be pleased you’re home and proud that you stood up for yourself, just like I am. We’ll go and see her after breakfast. Little Daniel will be so happy to see his Aunty Ezzy.’
After breakfast, Carol drove them to Alice’s house as if she were a Formula One driver in the last race of the season. Esme’s fingers ached and her knuckles were white from holding onto the seat. It had been like a terrifying ride at an amusement park. Her ears were ringing from the angry shouting Carol had given every other passing driver. The old Ford had taken ages to heat up as well. They’d sat on the driveway waiting for the windscreen to de-mist while rain began to pour. As November took hold, the weather was wet and cold but without the buzz that December brought. Christmas lights were on here too, but with far less glitz and pizzazz than London. The local radio station insisted on playing the odd Christmas song, and though Leo used to hate it, Esme didn’t. She loved Christmas and despite everything, this one at home with her family would be great. They’d eat, drink, laugh and just be together. She wouldn’t have to rush back early on Boxing Day morning because Leo couldn’t put up with her mum any longer.
Alice opened the front door and stared wide-eyed at her sister. They had the same red hair, inherited from their mother, though Carol now dyed hers platinum-blonde in an ill-advised attempt to reverse the aging process. If her hair had actually gone platinum-blonde it would have looked amazing, but it still went a bit orangey-yellow in places and no one was brave enough to tell her. Alice’s figure had grown plump since having Daniel, while Esme’s was slim and toned from regular trips the gym, but it was clear to anyone they were family. The London gym Esme and Leo had gone to had been swanky and exclusive – she’d have to start running again or something now she was home. She couldn’t afford a gym membership anymore. Yet Esme envied her sister for her absolute contentment with herself and her life.
‘Hello, sis,’ said Esme, as she approached.
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Alice, wiping her hands on a tea towel. ‘I didn’t think we’d see you till Christmas Eve.’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘Aunty Ezzy!’ called a little voice from behind Alice’s legs.
‘Hello, little man,’ she replied, whisking her 4-year-old nephew up into a huge hug. Daniel was gorgeous, with red hair and large blue eyes rimmed with thick lashes. Esme squeezed him tight. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’
‘Me too. Are you staying here?’ he asked, staring up.
‘Not in your house, I’m with Granny and Grandpa for a bit.’
Alice frowned and peered at their mum. ‘You two better come in and tell me what’s going on.’
*
Three cups of tea later and everyone in Esme’s life
