Chapter 4
4
As the drinks flowed, Esme relaxed into the evening. She chatted with Paisley, the gift shop manager, and Noah, the chef from the café. The former navy chef was stocky with broad shoulders and dark hair cropped close to his scalp. He was always clean shaven and smartly presented and took great pride in his work. During the previous summer he had embarked upon a project to open the café up on an evening and it had been a great success. Lady Olivia was full of praise for her team and Noah was thought very highly of.
It was clear to Esme that Noah was besotted with Paisley. The petite blonde was quite the firecracker, and to Esme she epitomised Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream quote, ‘Though she be but little, she is fierce’ and there was no doubt that that was what attracted the tough tower of a man. He gazed at her with such longing and puppy dog eyes that Esme felt quite sorry for him. She had spent many a lunchtime chatting to Paisley since starting work as Olivia’s PA and had enjoyed the feeling of a friendship beginning to blossom. On these occasions Paisley often showed Esme the new stock she had bought in before the rest of the staff saw it, insisting Esme had impeccable taste – something that no one had ever said about her before.
For the first time since drama club at school, Esme felt like she was part of something meaningful and fun. All her old drama club friends had gone off to pursue their dreams and she had sadly lost touch with them. She tried not to be envious and that was a little easier now she worked at Drumblair, but she still often wondered how different her life might have been if she’d accepted the place on that acting degree course at the Royal Conservatoire in Glasgow.
As the night wore on, Esme really was beginning to wonder why she hadn’t made more of an effort to attend staff nights out, in spite of her finances. Everyone had made her feel so welcome and had insisted that she was part of the group now, so she would be expected to attend every such gathering. It felt good to have friends again; something she had never really experienced during her adulthood.
Throughout the evening, she caught Judd watching her in her periphery; not in a creepy way, however, more as if he was intrigued by her, which she found flattering but reminded herself she was off relationships for the foreseeable future. On a couple of occasions, Parker nudged her and whispered things like, ‘He keeps looking at you. I think he’s smitten.’
They talked about the castle and their individual roles and Esme was fascinated with Judd and his knowledge about flowers and plants.
‘Did you know each flower has its own meaning? It’s called the language of flowers,’ he said oozing with enthusiasm. Esme had heard something about that but didn’t know a great deal. Judd went on, ‘Back in the Victorian era, and before that even, people used to give flowers with hidden meanings.’
Esme shook her head. ‘What kind of hidden meanings?’
‘Well, for example, if you loved someone you would give them red chrysanthemums. If you felt affection for someone you would give them morning glory. But a dark crimson rose would indicate feelings of grief.’
He impressed her with his knowledge, and she was quite surprised at it too. Not that she wanted to stereotype but he didn’t appear the type to know about such things. ‘Oh, wow. I had no idea it was all so in-depth.’
He nodded. ‘Yeah, you could really use it to your advantage, either in a good way or bad.’ He cringed. ‘I have a tendency to go quite deep when I’m interested in something.’
‘Well, I can understand how it would be interesting,’ Esme replied with a smile.
The subject rolled around to DIY and their varying levels of expertise or lack thereof. Noah was renovating a flat in an old former bank in the centre of Inverness and Paisley was suffering while her landlord fitted a new kitchen to her little cottage.
Judd turned to Esme and asked, ‘So where do you live, Esme? I’ve seen you being dropped off or walking up from the bus stop at the end of the lane so it must be a fair trek.’ His words slurred ever so slightly, which was endearing in a funny way. He was definitely chattier after a few beers. She felt her cheeks warming and she chewed her lip for a moment. He frowned and then widened his eyes as he gaped around at the rest of the group. ‘Shit, I’m not trying to stalk you or anything. I’m pretty rubbish at small talk to be honest, you ask Noah. I always seem to say or ask the wrong thing, sorry.’
Noah laughed and slapped him on his back. ‘Aye, he’s really bad at it. First time I met him he asked me why I always look so pissed off. Talk about blunt.’ He shook his head and grinned at Judd, who cringed.
‘Yeah… sorry about that. You’re a serious-looking dude, but you’re all right under the hard exterior.’ Judd chuckled.
Feeling guilty, Esme shook her head. ‘Oh, no, it’s fine. I wasn’t thinking anything bad at all. It’s just a bit embarrassing. I still live with my folks.’
Judd’s brow crumpled in apparent confusion. ‘That’s not embarrassing. It’s practical. Getting on the housing ladder is no mean feat these days.’
She knew he was right in a way, but still would rather it wasn’t the case. ‘I was supposed to move out when I returned from travelling but… it didn’t quite work out. So, a temporary thing has become a lot more permanent than I’d hoped.’
‘You’re looking to move out then?’ he asked with a tilted head, genuine interest in his focused gaze.
She nodded. ‘At some point soon, yes. My mum and dad are a little… how do I put it? Overprotective, let’s say.’
Judd gave a small smile. ‘But that’s because you’re precious to them, that’s all.’ His statement was so matter-of-fact and, again, she knew he was right.
‘I know. I just had a lot of independence when I was…’ She stopped mid-sentence, realising the untruth she was about to speak. ‘Well… maybe not independence as such… It’s complicated.’ Esme took a large gulp of her drink, hoping that the conversation would end there.
‘Don’t worry, I know all about complicated.’ He looked as if he was about to say more but seemed to think better of it and closed his mouth.
‘Have you looked at many places yet?’ Noah asked.
‘Not in person. But the ones I’ve seen on the internet haven’t been suitable so far.’
Judd huffed. ‘Oh yeah, I know. I was looking for ages and the only places I saw were either shoe boxes or filthy. And I know I’m not the tidiest person, but I refuse to live somewhere with mould growing on all the walls.’
Her eyes widened and she pointed randomly. ‘Yes! And the ones that claim to have garden access have a patch of cracked concrete slabs with weeds growing in between.’
Judd laughed. ‘And the ones that say open-plan living, dining, kitchen which actually means the sofa is a foot away from the sink. They really do exaggerate the features of these shiteholes. Pardon my language.’
Esme giggled. ‘It’s a minefield. I fear I may be stuck at my folks’ for a while yet.’
‘Come on, missy, taxi’s here and poor Gladys will be desperate for a widdle,’ Parker said as he returned to Esme’s side.
Esme cringed. ‘Sorry, guys, we’ve got to go.’
Judd smiled. ‘No worries. It’s been really nice to chat to you this evening. I hope you get sorted with somewhere soon. See you on Monday when the madness really starts.’
‘Don’t remind me. The number of menu changes I’ve had to make has been ridiculous,’ Noah said with a shake of his head.
‘I’m just hoping that Hugo Delaney falls madly in love with me and whisks me away to his penthouse in New York,’ Paisley said dreamily about the actor playing the lead role opposite Ruby Locke.
A look of dismay flashed across Noah’s face. ‘Isn’t he a bit old for you?’
‘Pfft. Age is just a number when you’re as gorgeous as he is.’
‘It’s all Botox and fillers, Pais, take it from someone who studies these things,’ Parker said with a chuckle. ‘Now Zachary Marchand is a different case.’
‘Ooh, no, he’s too pretty for my liking,’ Paisley said, scrunching her nose. ‘What do you think, Esme?’
‘I’m saying nothing,’ Esme replied, laughing. ‘Anyway, see you all Monday.’ They all hugged and Esme turned to follow Parker.
‘Judd definitely fancies you,’ Parker said as he linked arms with her.
‘Even if he does, and he doesn’t by the way, but even if he does it’s not happening. I’m sworn off men. Well, straight men, anyway.’
They climbed into the taxi and Parker swivelled in his seat. ‘Do tell. Who broke your heart? Who do I have to set Gladys on? Because she will do some serious damage to their ankles!’
Esme giggled; the fresh cool air that had hit them as they left the pub had made the alcohol whizz straight through her bloodstream, not stopping until it hit her brain. ‘It’d be a bit tricky seeing as he’s all the way over in Australia.’
‘Oooh, did you meet him on your travels?’
She sighed. ‘I did. I thought I was the love of his life but…’
‘Aww, no. Did he turn out to be a total shit?’
‘You could say that.’ She pulled out her phone and rifled through the photos, showing her friend and, as she did so, she relayed the gory details of her failed relationship with Rhys. She knew she probably should have deleted the pictures, or at least uploaded them to the cloud and removed them from her phone so the constant reminders weren’t there every time she looked at it. But the truth was she hadn’t been ready to completely let go. Until the letter.
Parker looked at the photos of the supposedly loved-up couple and listened intently as Esme – surprisingly coherently, and even more surprisingly without crying, in spite of the alcohol she had consumed – regaled him with the atrocious way she had been treated. Of course, like any decent friend would do, he gasped in shock and scrunched his face in disgust in all the right places.
Once she had finished the terrible tale, he scoffed. ‘You deserve so much better than that ageing pseudo-surfer boy and his stupid floppy hair. He should go and throw his head on the barbie with the shrimps! I mean, who the hell does he think he is? Jason Donovan when he was in Neighbours ?’
Esme scrunched her nose. ‘Who?’
Parker gasped. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never watched reruns of Neighbours . The most famous Aussie soap of the eighties.’ Considering she’d been born in the year 2000, she vaguely recalled the name but wouldn’t know the man if he slapped her in the face. Her expression must have spoken volumes. Parker tapped on the screen of his own phone and held up a photo of a blond man she didn’t recognise. ‘No bells? Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat ? Kylie Minogue? Margot Robbie? Although, admittedly, she was added to the cast a bit later.’ He shook his head. ‘Anyway, never mind. Let’s just say it’s a good thing Rhys is a gazillion miles away because if we bumped into him his nose might have a collision with my fist.’
Esme giggled at his assertion. ‘Come off it, Parker, you’re the least aggressive man I know. I think your idea of setting Gladys on him was more realistic.’
He feigned shock. ‘Hey, just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I can’t stand up for myself. I work out, you know, and it’s wrong to stereotype people.’
Esme pursed her lips and tilted her head. ‘Says the man who just did the exact same thing to my Australian ex.’
He held out his hand in a swiping motion and tilted back his head. ‘Ugh, whatever. Anyway, hand me your phone. From now on you’re going to start every day with a reminder from Mother.’ Esme handed over her phone and another scrunch of her face elicited a further look of exasperation. ‘Queen Taylor herself.’ He shrugged as if it should have been completely obvious he was talking about his idol Taylor Swift. ‘In fact…’ He tapped at the screen again. ‘Not only your alarm, but if that shithead ever calls you again, his new personalised ringtone will remind you that you’re never ever getting back together with him. You can call me and Miss Swift the Rhys Police.’ He chuckled at his own joke.
* * *
The following morning, Esme awoke in the spare room of Parker’s parents’ house. Her head was throbbing in time with the thumping of her heart and her mouth was as arid as the Sahara Desert. Perhaps the shots of tequila when they’d arrived back at Parker’s had been the final straw because she couldn’t remember much about the night after that. Although distinct snippets returned, like flashbacks of her dancing around the kitchen with Parker singing Taylor Swift’s ‘We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together’ at the tops of their voices. She remembered it feeling like a kind of affirmation, entirely fuelled by alcohol, but it had felt good. Cathartic even. But now, in the cold light of day, she was mortified. God, his neighbours must have heard everything. It’s a wonder they hadn’t called the police to put in a noise complaint.
As she glanced around the room she hadn’t really taken in last night, she realised she was surrounded by so much clashing floral chintz and frills that it appeared the 1980s had thrown up the contents of its interior design disasters in there. Even the box of tissues on the bedside table had a floral cover over it. The framed pictures of clowns were a little disconcerting and she was glad she hadn’t noticed them last night or sleep would have definitely evaded her. She wondered if maybe she had accidentally clicked her heels together and ended up back in 1985. Perhaps Jason Donovan would walk through the door any second singing ‘Especially for You’, a song Parker had introduced her to the night before, and insisted on serenading her with – seriously, those poor neighbours.
There was a knock on her bedroom door, bringing her back to the present. ‘Come on, sleepy head. I’ve made fresh coffee. And it’s a bright day today so I thought we could take Gladys for a walk by the river before you head home. Blow away the cobwebs.’
Esme sat up and rubbed at her temples. ‘I think my cobwebs would need a force ten gale. How can you be so fresh after the amount we drank last night?’
Parker shrugged. ‘Good genes, I guess. I’ve made toast if you want some.’
Esme nodded but quickly regretted the action as the motion made her head swim and it took her fragile stomach along for the ride. ‘I’ll be down in a minute,’ she said carefully, holding still so as not to shake her brain around too much.
‘Okay. I’ve left you a bath towel in the bathroom. It’s the one with the frilly lace edging,’ he told her with a roll of his eyes. ‘Honestly, my folks give a whole new meaning to the phrase time warp and sadly I don’t mean the Tim Curry kind. The shower over the bath is pretty self-explanatory. See you downstairs.’ He was far too jolly; annoyingly so in fact, Esme decided.
Once she had showered, she felt a little fresher and on her arrival downstairs she was greeted by Gladys’s excited yips and frantic tail wagging, along with the earthy aromas of freshly brewed coffee and only slightly burnt toast. Surprisingly her stomach growled, and she sat at the little kitchen table to eat.