33
T he house is tidy – that’s something. Janey walks in quietly, once she gets home from work, incredibly anxious, which is a ridiculous way to feel about walking into your own home. Although, after years of walking on eggshells with Colin, not a new experience.
Essie is in the kitchen. The kitchen is clean.
Essie has been scrubbing, something she thinks is not without irony.
She is trying to distract herself. She can’t make nice chat with Connor and she can’t listen to the hammering and whistling going on next door, so the vacuum cleaner seemed the best thing to drown everything out, including the commotion in her own head.
Today was startling, astonishing in so many ways. She cannot repeat it.
‘Hey,’ says Janey.
‘Hey,’ says Essie, staring at the floor.
‘I’m . . . I’m sorry we shouted,’ says Janey. ‘I’m sorry I shouted. I don’t want us to shout.’
‘I’ll . . . ’
Essie had called Connor, terrified of herself, absolutely terrified he’d be able to tell she’d cheated just from her voice.
He had asked what had brought it on and she had just said it was her time of the month.
He went to an all-boys’ school; he’s scared of periods.
‘Yeah, that’s just what Tris thought,’ he’d said. Then a pause.
‘I’m sorry,’ Essie had said again, heartfelt and guilty.
‘That’s alright, babes. Tris is really happy he’s taking over this deal from Dwight.’
‘I think Dwight is too.’
‘I think there’ll be some consulting work in it for you,’ says Connor. ‘If you like.’
And, all at once, her heart had leapt. And it had leapt even more when she’d checked her email, which she’d almost given up on, to find out she had an interview in the city for the Mergers and Acquisitions job.
She had put her noble thoughts about serving Carso to the back of her mind immediately.
She could make it okay. She could find her way back.
Back to the city. Back to her life. And her very suitable boyfriend, who did not live with his (delightful) parents; who was sweet, and thoughtful, and appropriate.
And okay, could not . . . could not . . .
she flushed even to think of it. Could not make her feel what Dwight had made her feel.
But that – that wasn’t everything. And if she is working on the project still, doing some consulting, well, she can oversee it, can’t she? Make sure it goes somewhere good . . .
‘I’ll be gone soon,’ she says now.
Janey’s heart is breaking. Her darling girl. And this gulf she cannot cross.
‘I don’t want you to go.’
‘Doesn’t feel like that,’ says Essie, shortly, her mind still beavering away. She has so much going on now. Her mum is still bleating about the car and this morning’s argument, not even noticing the seismic changes in Essie’s life.
Janey rubs her eyes. ‘I . . . ’
‘I’m going to Edinburgh next week,’ blurts out Essie. ‘I’ve got an interview and I’m going to stay at Connor’s.’
‘Okay, good, that’s great . . . ,’ says Janey, genuinely surprised.
‘I can’t believe you’re surprised,’ says Essie.
‘I’m not . . . honestly, I’m not. I think it’s wonderful.’
‘You weren’t expecting it.’
‘I can’t win,’ says Janey.
‘I didn’t realise it was about winning,’ says Essie.
*
They put on a property show and eat in silence, not even passing the usual remarks about how attempting to put in a circular all-glass extension is a disaster and a divorce waiting to happen.
Janey breaks first.
‘So Al tells me Dwight’s going into business with your city friends?’
‘Oh, my God, this town,’ says Essie.
‘I’m surprised . . . I thought he’d be small fry to them.’
‘It’s property, isn’t it?’ say Essie, not betraying that she’d thought the same thing. ‘Get in, leverage, take over the world.’
‘Hmm,’ says Janey. ‘I’m not sure Dwight is really the taking-over-the-world type.’
‘Dwight can do anything,’ says Essie without thinking, and Janey looks at her curiously. ‘He’s lucky to be in Tris’s fund,’ she adds, quickly. ‘It returns twelve per cent. Nothing does that.’
‘But doesn’t that mean Tris will own those houses, really?’
Essie scowls. ‘It’ll be fine.’
‘I don’t trust anything that I don’t quite understand,’ says Janey.
‘I can tell,’ says Essie, looking round the tiny room.
‘So you’re not going to go to Lowell’s, then?’
Essie frowns. Among everything else happening, she’d pretty much forgotten all about it. But she really, really needs some pin money though, for going back to the city.
‘What does he need me to do?’
‘Just help with the dogs, of course.’
‘Last employment: puppy-wrangler,’ says Essie.
‘Are you saying that in a happy way or a sarcastic way? I can’t tell with young people. And anyway, he might also need some babysitting.’
‘Better and better.’ But Essie’s face is losing its hostility as something occurs to her. ‘Are you going to keep a pup?’
‘Hahaha,’ says Janey. ‘Under absolutely no circumstances.’
‘If you had to choose, which one would you go for?’ says Essie, thoughtfully. It is a truce of some kind.
‘Bute,’ says Janey instantly. ‘I like a bit of booty on a girl.’
‘Don’t say “booty”,’ says Essie, habitually, and there is, finally, a semblance of normality in the room, and still so much unsaid.