‘So, I’ve got these three properties that are in your price range,’ said Joe, handing Esme the details on a freezing cold Saturday morning. ‘They’re all vacant so we can see them today.’
Esme took them and peeked at Joe over the top of the paper, pretending to read. He had been gorgeous at school, in that bad boy kind of way, with black hair worn long at the front so it flopped into his sea green eyes. He’d looked like something from a boy band. His untucked shirt always hung loose and his school tie was short and fat, like the cool kids wore them. Esme would go the long way round to science so she could pass him on her way and see him leaning back against the wall with one leg bent. Now, he was handsome in a mature I-know-what-I’m-doing kind of way. His hair was cut short and his eyes, though ringed gently with crow’s feet, were intelligent and kind. His grin was still wide, pulling up slightly more at one side, but he had straight white teeth and a chiselled jaw. Esme had met him at the estate agent’s at nine o’clock and been nervous since she got up. And not just at the idea of finding a new place to live. Doubts were still ringing in her brain that she was making another huge mistake, going from one terrible decision to another. But she was also anxious about seeing Joe again. She’d wondered if he was still as handsome and if his face had aged well, but he wasn’t on Facebook and Esme hadn’t wanted to ask Alice for fear of teasing.
‘Which one did you want to look at first?’ Joe asked, putting his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a well-cut navy suit with a pale blue shirt and dark blue tie.
‘Oh, umm …’ Esme checked the details again and tried to ignore the blush creeping up her cheeks. The first property was a small flat on the seafront in a converted Georgian house. It had sconces and high ceilings, and great views onto the beach. The second was an even smaller flat above a takeaway pizza place at the horrid end of the high street – Esme put that one to the back. The third and final property was a shabby-looking cottage on the outskirts of town, with views over the fields.
‘Shall we go to the seafront flat first?’ said Esme. ‘It looks fabulous.’ She imagined large sash windows with a built-in seat where she could sit and read her cookery books or watch winter storms roll in from the sea.
‘Sure thing.’ He grabbed his coat and opened the door for her. Esme retied the belt on hers as a cold wind blasted in.
The sky was a dense pale grey from the rain clouds gathering to bring another damp, cold day. A strong wind blew her curls over her face and she tugged her hat down onto her head to keep them at bay. She’d been back home for three days now and her head and heart still ached for Leo and the life she’d left in her favourite city on earth – London. Would she ever get that life back again?
Last night she’d disappeared to her room after dinner like a sulky teenager, and dredged through her phone, staring at the photos of her and Leo together, hoping to spot signs of when things had begun to go wrong. No clues had been forthcoming. He was always smiling and had his arms around her. She’d been completely blindsided by their break-up; had no idea it was coming. She’d trusted him when he’d said he was working late because they were busy at work. She’d even been pleased for him, knowing how much his career meant to him. But now she knew he’d been lying. They’d been together for five years and she’d been so sure he’d propose soon. Then last month, after checking their internet history when looking for a recipe she’d come across but forgotten to bookmark, she found he’d been looking at jewellery, engagement rings to be precise, and had assumed it couldn’t be long. She’d thought that his secrecy was him planning something big. She’d been so stupid.
Glancing towards Joe as he strode to his car, Esme gave herself a mental shake. Today she had to try and look forward, look to the future. And there was always something fun about nosing around other people’s houses. This excitement, mixed with her nerves at being in such close proximity to Joe, knotted her stomach as she climbed into his waiting car.
*
Joe watched Esme yank the green beanie hat down onto her head and wondered what on earth she was doing back in boring old Sandchester. Usually couples looking for holiday homes viewed everything together – quite nauseating. All the lovey-doveycuddliness as they ‘ummed’ and ‘awwed’ over period features or places that were within easy reach of the motorways or train station. Perhaps her other half was one of those uber-busy, suited and booted, successful types. A doctor saving lives, or a surgeon elbow-deep in brains curing epilepsy. Maybe he was a scientist building space rockets, or perhaps creating a vaccine for space flu. Whatever he did, Joe bet it was essential or pioneering, or life-saving. Something epic that made his being an estate agent seem normal and boring. There wasn’t a ring on her finger, though. No big shiny diamond or wedding band, so they hadn’t got that far yet. Not that it was any of his business, he reminded himself.
Keeping his eyes on the path avoiding the puddles, he unlocked the car. He’d forgotten how pretty Esme was. In fact, she was even prettier now than she had been back then. In her teens she’d been gangly — all arms and legs that didn’t seem to work properly. She’d been clumsy, he remembered with a smile. Now she was much more in proportion, had grown into herself. ‘So, how’s life?’ he asked, climbing into the driver’s seat.
Esme hesitated. ‘Oh, you know … fine.’
The radio kicked out a Christmas song and Esme shivered. Joe reached over and turned the heater on. From the pause, he guessed she didn’t want to talk about it to him which he could understand. He was a stranger.
‘What about you?’ she asked, staring out the window. ‘What have you been up to since school?’
His mind flew to Clara and a sharp pain shot into his heart. ‘The usual stuff,’ he replied, ensuring his voice was level and calm. ‘Uni, a bit of travelling. I went to Australia for a while.’ That was it. That was all he could manage. Before she asked anymore questions, he said, ‘So you want to see the seafront property first? It’s great, but it’s not super-huge. With the budget you’ve got, I’m afraid you won’t get lots and lots of space.’
‘That’s okay. I just need a decent-sized kitchen, that’s all.’ Her voice carried a slightly resigned tone. Joe glanced at her. She had a pretty profile and the mass of red curls were poking out from under her green beanie hat, emphasising the beautiful deep colour of her hair.
‘So you still love cooking and all that sort of stuff?’
‘Yep, I do.’ Esme smiled. ‘Cooking always makes me feel better.
‘You were the only one who paid attention in home economics.’
‘I don’t know why you lot hated it so much.’
He shrugged. ‘We were 15 and knew about microwavable burgers. To us, there was no point in cooking anything else.’
Esme laughed. ‘I suppose not. Though microwavable burgers are super-gross.’
‘They really are,’ he said, laughing too. ‘I have no idea why I ate them. It was like meat-flavoured cardboard in actual cardboard.’
As they sped through the town, from the corner of his eye, Joe saw her watch out of the window. ‘The town hasn’t changed much, has it? Esme asked, glancing towards him.
Apart from some new-build housing developments, it hadn’t. The streets were lined with boring bungalows and quiet suburban cul-de-sacs. A few new coffee shops had opened up on the high street but that was about all. It wasn’t a match for Oxford Street. On the radio the DJ announced another Christmas song. Some people had already started decorating. and here and there large inflatable Santas loomed out of front gardens or from behind hedges. He thought it was a bit early, personally.
Joe drove along the seafront, following the sea to the far end of town and pulled up in front of a beautiful Georgian house that had been divided into flats. Esme climbed out of the car and stood back to admire the large black front door and sash windows. ‘All you have to do is cross the road and you’re right on the beach,’ said Joe. The grey clouds had followed them from the town centre and a light rain began to fall. He pulled out the keys and opened the main door. ‘It’s the top flat.’
Esme climbed the stairs two at a time, almost beating him to the top and he was hopeful she’d like it. He found the front door keys and led them inside. They walked down a small hall, so small in fact, they nearly had to go sideways like a crab, emerging into a tiny sitting room, off which was an even smaller kitchen. Esme’s face clouded. Joe knew that look but gave her a moment to look around. ‘What do you think?’ he asked, when she came back into the sitting room after checking out the rest of the flat, but he could already guess the answer; her eyes weren’t sparkling as they had outside.
‘I don’t think the kitchen area is quite big enough for what I need.’
‘What do you need it for exactly?’ asked Joe, looking confused. He’d assumed this was some kind of weekend or holiday flat where even the most ardent of bakers would lay off the self-catering.
‘I’ll be doing a lot of cooking. So I need some decent workspace.’
‘Right.’ Joe nodded. That was weird. Most people did the minimum amount of cooking in their holiday homes, preferring to eat out. But then Esme had always been different. Looking around, the cooker was squeezed into a corner, the fridge stuck out and there were only three cupboards and a tiny bit of workspace. They’d called it a galley kitchen in the details but even that was pushing it. ‘Are you going to be here a lot then?’
Esme looked down at the floor, her cheeks colouring. ‘I’m, umm, I’m having a bit of a change of direction.’
That didn’t sound too good, but he didn’t want to pry. ‘Oh, okay.’
She was walking around the tiny kitchen opening and closing the cupboard doors. ‘I, umm, I left my job in London and then … then my boyfriend and I broke up, so I’m back here for a bit. I’m trying to make a new start.’
Joe raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t imagined it was anything so bad and was even more surprised that she’d told him so openly. Then he remembered that she’d always been honest and outspoken at school. ‘Sorry. That’s really tough.’
Esme scratched her head underneath her hat. Her eyes were so sad and her pale skin resembled porcelain. A part of him wanted to make her feel better, to let her know she wasn’t alone in her heartbreak, but he couldn’t get the words out. ‘Which one would you like to try next then? I’m guessing this is a no-go?’
Esme gave a polite smile. ‘If this were bigger, it’d be perfect. I’d love to live by the sea.’
‘The only thing I’ve got like this that’s larger is double the price.’
Esme frowned. ‘I know I’ve got limited options.’
‘What about the flat in Palmerston Road? The one above the pizza shop?’ He tried to sound cheerful but was pretty sure it wouldn’t be her thing.
‘I have to be honest, I’m not keen on the pizza place.’
‘It’s not actually in a pizza shop,’ replied Joe, smiling.
‘Above it, then. I bet it smells of greasy pizza all the time,’ Esme said, aimlessly walking to and fro.
‘It doesn’t. It’s quite nice inside. It’ll just get a bit noisy when the pubs kick out. It’s the best pizza place in town.’
Esme’s eyes widened and a smile lit her face. ‘Are you speaking from experience?’
‘I am.’ He grinned.
‘Well, I’ll make a note to try it, but I don’t really want to live above it. Besides, I make a mean pizza myself with fresh tomato sauce, basil, olives and sautéed artichokes. It’s really good.’
The thought of it made him hungry. ‘That sounds amazing. I’ve never had things like that on a pizza before. I stick with pepperoni, or tuna if I’m on a diet.’
Esme giggled. ‘I don’t think pizza is a diet dish even if it has tuna on it.’ A slight glow came to her cheeks and she turned one of the brochures over in her hands. ‘What’s the deal with this cottage?’
‘Ahh, now, that’s a bit of an oddity.’ Knowing the state of it, he hesitated. ‘It’s only just come onto the books, so we haven’t had a chance to clean it yet. It belonged to an old woman who passed away. The family are looking for a buyer, but they’re happy to rent it too, just so long as the building’s in use. It doesn’t have central heating, but it is full of character. It’s surrounded by the countryside and I think it’s one of the most unusual properties we’ve ever had. Want to have a look?’
Esme nodded. ‘It sounds interesting.’
‘It just needs a little bit of TLC.’
‘Don’t we all?’ A shadow came over Esme’s face. How she was so positive when she’d had such a terrible time, he didn’t know.
A moment’s silence fell between them and Joe read the brochure for the flat above the pizza shop. To be fair, it did look a bit grubby and the kitchen there was tiny. The owners obviously thought their tenants would survive on pizza from downstairs. He made a mental note to redo the photos when he was finished with Esme. She wandered to the window and took one last look out to sea before following him out of the flat.
Joe drove them to the outskirts of town, leaving behind the unremarkable new-builds and ordinary streets lined with terraced houses. The roads gave way to a narrow country lane, widening here and there for cars to pass. Before long, field upon field lined the sides of the road. Some held horses covered with heavy blankets and they seemed happy enough roaming about in the cold; others were bare and the smell of damp mud followed them. They turned off the main lane and drove down a narrow dirt track until the cottage came into view. They drew closer and Joe saw a smile creep over Esme’s lips.
As decrepit as it was, it was pretty and picturesque, as it said in the brochure. A rose bush climbed up either side of the front door and though no flowers were growing at this time of year, it didn’t look bleak. Small, hardy bushes of rosemary grew around the walls of the house here and there, haphazardly marking the boundary. A couple of tiles were hanging at odd angles on the roof, and the nearest neighbours were a mile and a half east. If she was going to be clattering around in the kitchen at all times of the day or night, which he suspected she would be, there would be no one nearby to bother her. ‘What do you think?’ asked Joe, pulling on the handbrake.
‘It’s like a fairytale.’ Esme grinned at him and climbed out the car. She walked to the door and pulled back some of the bare branches of a rose bush climbing up the outside to reveal a name plaque. Mr Rigby must have missed it when he came to value the property and take the photos. ‘Mistletoe Cottage,’ Esme read aloud. From her tone he wasn’t sure if she liked it or not, then turning back, she grinned.
‘Yeah, that’s the name of the place. Listen, I know it’s quite isolated but all the local supermarkets deliver out here, as well as the takeaways, not that you’ll be needing those.’ He pulled up the collar of his coat as a gust of wind swept around them, but at least the drizzle had eased off. ‘Also it’s only a twenty-minute walk into town.’
‘What’s over there?’ Esme asked, pointing to a large wood on the brow of a nearby hill.
‘That’s Parkin Wood. It’s a great place to walk. There are tracks to follow and streams and stuff. There’s nothing scary over there.’
She nodded and turned again to look at the cottage. ‘I like it.’
‘Just remember what I said about the inside, okay? It’s not modern and new and shiny. It’s all a bit old and dusty.’
Esme frowned. ‘That’s not very estate agenty of you, is it? Aren’t you supposed to be glossing over all the terrible things and telling me it’s a great opportunity or something like that?’
‘It’s a bit late now,’ he said with a smile. ‘You already know about the ancient decor and no central heating.’
‘That’s true.’
His voice softened. ‘If you like it, then great, but I’m not going to give you the hard sell. You need to know warts and all what’s going on with this place.’
She turned to look at him and he was caught by the sincerity in her eyes. ‘Thank you, I appreciate it.’ Just as a blush rose up her cheeks, she looked away. ‘Can we have a look inside?’
‘Of course.’ Joe fumbled in his pocket and found the correct keys. He opened the front door and held it for Esme to enter, then switched on the light as it was so dark. Esme gasped.
The open-plan living room was full of old furniture. Two large comfortable-looking sofas sat around a Seventies coffee table in front of an open fire. In the corner, an old lamp with a rose-patterned fringed shade stood next to the window. Only a wooden workbench separated the kitchen and living room. On the other side of this, a long unit with an old-fashioned butlers sink sat underneath a huge window with views out to the back garden. Esme went and peered out. It was hard to see where the garden finished and the fields began; all around there was nothing but green.
Esme glanced at Joe and he saw the light in her eyes. They were a beautiful amber colour, like golden syrup, and her pale skin glowed luminescent in the winter light. Something happened to his heart and he felt it beat for the first time since he and Clara had split up. He shook his head to chase the thoughts away. ‘Do you like it?’
‘It’s amazing,’ Esme replied, looking around her.
‘It comes with all this stuff, too. You wouldn’t need any furniture.’ Esme focused on the tiny fridge making a strange humming sound. ‘Well, maybe a new fridge. Is this enough workspace for you?’
‘Yes, definitely,’ she answered, running her fingers over the heavy wood of the worktop. Her elegant fingers traced the nicks and dents made over time.
‘Did you want to see upstairs?’
Esme nodded and followed Joe up the rickety wooden stairs. The top floor had two bedrooms and a small bathroom. To say it was dated was an understatement. The bathroom furniture, while clean, was avocado green, and the tiles were salmon pink. The two bedrooms were on the small side; it would be a squeeze to get anything other than a double bed in them. Giant cobwebs lined the corners of every ceiling. The place needed a good clean but was structurally sound. Esme darted here and there while Joe struggled to keep up. ‘What do you think then?’ he asked when, on the landing, she finally stood still.
‘I love it,’ she muttered more to herself than him, then cleared her throat. ‘I love it.’
‘Are you sure?’ Joe asked. She’d had such a rough time, he didn’t want her making a mistake.
‘I am,’ she nodded, enthusiastically. ‘It just feels right. It’s hard to explain.’
Joe stood watching her. The look on her face showed how much she loved it. Her eyes gleamed and she was unable to stay still. She walked back downstairs and he trailed after her. ‘You do remember it hasn’t got any central heating, don’t you?’
‘It’s fine. I’ll just wear lots of jumpers.’ Esme read the brochure again. ‘I’m going to do it. I’m going to take this one.’
‘This one is much cheaper than the rest,’ said Joe, reminding himself he was working. And yet, he wavered, not wanting to add to her already difficult life. ‘Are you sure? You can always have a second viewing another day, if you want?’
Esme gave a wry smile. ‘Why are you trying to dissuade me?’
He clutched the keys and dropped his eyes to the floor. ‘I just want you to know what you’re getting into. We can make some bad decisions when we’re recovering from a broken heart.’
Esme smiled. ‘I’m sure, okay? If there’s one thing you should know about me, Joe Holloway, it’s that I know my own mind. Heartbreak or no.’
‘Yeah, I remember from home economics,’ he replied, smoothing down the back of his hair. ‘You used to argue with the teacher all the time.’ Her using his full name, like the teachers had at school brought a strange tingle to his chest and without really thinking he placed his hand there. ‘Come on then, let’s get the paperwork sorted.’