The Starter Home

by Bryony Fraser

  ‘Ooh, I’d forgotten about this!’ Liz said, getting back off her chair to stroke my Chanel handbag. She explained to Henry, ‘Zoe’s parents gave it to her for her wedding.’

  ‘In fashion, are they?’ Henry said with a smirk. Liz flinched slightly, then her face settled again.

  ‘Every woman wants a Chanel, don’t they?’ She smiled at me. ‘God, it really is gorgeous.’

  ‘You’ll be giving her ideas, Zoe,’ Henry said, picking his teeth with a cocktail stick as he looked around the bar.

  ‘Is Jack on his way?’ Liz asked.

  I was so repelled by Liz’s date for the night that I’d briefly forgotten that I didn’t have one at all. ‘No, he can’t make it. He sends his apologies, but he’s a bit under the weather. Too much work on at the moment.’

  ‘Sounds like bullshit,’ Henry smirked again. ‘Just didn’t fancy a night out with his wife’s cronies, I bet.’

  The truth of this made me blush. Thank god the bar was too dark for Henry to tell. But Liz understood, and took my hand. ‘Do you still want to eat, or shall we reschedule?’

  ‘I’m here now! Let’s have a nice time.’ My eyes landed on Henry. ‘Or we can at least try the food,’ I said brightly, swallowing my dislike of our company.

  A tall, slim waitress took us to our table, where the fourth place was whipped away like a rebuke. Henry looked the waitress up and down, then said he just needed to visit the little boys’ room, we’d have to excuse him, and followed her away.

  ‘Please, please tell me the sex is amazing, at least,’ I said to Liz as soon as he was out of earshot.

  Her mouth turned down at the corners. ‘I had a theory that if I dated the worst man I could find, it might make me less fussy about only-slightly-flawed men.’

  ‘He really is the worst. In that way, you’ve done pretty well.’

  ‘Think about it, Zo. I broke up with Adam because he put on slippers the second he came in the house.’

  ‘Is that really why? That’s … that’s a fairly reasonable habit.’

  ‘No, I mean he used to take his slippers with him. To other people’s houses. The first time he met my mum, he took his slippers out of his bag before he’d taken his coat off.’

  ‘We’ve all got peccadilloes. Rather that than the toxic wasteland of this guy.’

  ‘I know! I know that now! But I broke up with him over it! And before that, do you remember Phil? I dumped Phil because he ate with his mouth open.’

  ‘No, that’s gross. I’m with you there.’

  ‘He’d just had dental surgery! He only had to do that for a week, and I dumped him for it.’

  ‘Mmm. Did he know that was the reason?’

  ‘I told him it was some other feelings stuff, but I knew he could see me flinching every time he ate. It was like going out with a massive bull.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ I gave a heavy wink.

  ‘Poor Phil. He was really nice. And Adam was really, really nice.’ She sighed. It seemed like we both missed Adam, although she was the one who’d been with him for the last three years. ‘Anyway, I read this article in a women’s mag, about how once you date someone who’s totally wrong for you, it’s not actually a bad thing, because it can help you sort out in your mind what it is you actually want from a relationship. Particularly in your twenties, it can be hard to know what’s just sexual attraction, what’s just a reflection of how you want the world to think of you, and what you actually need.’

  I nodded slowly, chewing on a breadstick.

  ‘I mean, you’re lucky – you found your better half. You knew what you wanted. But how do I know what works for me?’

  I took a sip of my water. ‘Did Adam make you happy?’

  ‘So happy!’ she smiled. ‘But I decided one day that I couldn’t bear the thought of going to someone’s house in our thirties, or forties, or fifties, and Adam bringing out his woolly slippers. How humiliating it would be. I didn’t really think about how kind he was, or how funny, or how much my mum liked him, or my friends. Or me.’

  ‘He was pretty good.’

  ‘Exactly. I just thought, at the time, that any imagined embarrassment over slippers was more important than how happy we were together, right then.’

  ‘And now you’ve got Henry.’

  ‘Yes! And he makes me so unhappy, almost all the time. He’s going to be the perfect cure. And here he is.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Henry said, pulling out his chair and sitting so wide-legged I wondered if he was about to start playing a cello for our entertainment.

  ‘Liz was just saying how perfect you are,’ I smiled.

  Henry snorted. ‘Bloody hell! I turn my back for two minutes and you’ve got her making wedding plans. Sorry, you’ve got the wrong guy.’

  Liz patted his knee and smiled back at me. ‘No, I think I’ve got exactly the right one.’

  We stayed for only two courses – Henry didn’t want dessert, although I think he’d actually got some ideas in his head about how lucky he was going to get with Liz that night, after all that talk of the right one. Liz gave me a hug and asked me to send her love to Jack, that she hoped he felt better. I said, ‘Thanks, I will,’ and wished her luck with her theory. I left feeling utterly miserable, and sat miserably on the Tube home, before walking miserably up our street and into the flat. I thought all the way home about the crack in our relationship that I’d crowbarred wide open this evening. I wasn’t sure yet whether it was about to let in a tidal wave of pain or some sweet fresh air. And I didn’t know either, really, how much I’d meant what I’d said, but I’d take my lead from Jack. If he was ready to talk about it, it’s probably best that we did.

  Jack was still on the sofa.

  ‘Feeling any better?’ I tried to sound sympathetic.

  ‘Oh hey, Zo!’ He sat up and smiled at me. ‘How was it?’

  ‘Fine. Liz sends her love,’ I said flatly.

  ‘Nice one. She alright?’

  ‘She’s got a prick of a new boyfriend.’

  ‘How bad?’

  ‘He wore his sunglasses on his head all night.’

  Jack bit his fist.

  ‘She’s got a theory about being more tolerant of partners once you’ve gone out with someone terrible.’

  ‘Is that about Adam?’

  I sat on the coffee table. ‘Liz reckons we’re lucky, having found each other already.’

  ‘And did you say, “Yeah, it’s lucky how my husband’s really making me know how important being sociable is, for my next husband”?’ I blinked at how accurate that was. Jack laughed, seeing my face. ‘Oh my god, I was joking!’ He pulled me off the table and onto the sofa, lying me down alongside him. ‘Look. I saved you some pizza.’ Inside the box were two slices of jalapeño pizza, which he fed to me while we watched the end of a terrible film, everyone firing guns and exploding.

  He kissed my hair. ‘Did you mean what you said earlier?’

  ‘No. Sorry.’ I buried myself against him. ‘Hormones or something. I didn’t mean it at all.’

  ‘Phew,’ he said, kissing my hair again. ‘I’m sorry too. I love you, Zo.’

  Maybe I had made a mistake with what I said earlier. I just needed to relax. I pulled his arms a little tighter.

  As we relaxed into the sofa, there was a buzz from the front door.

  Outside, Esther and Ava were waiting for me, looking worried.

  ‘What’s wrong? Is it Mum? Dad? Kat? What’s happened?’

  Esther said, ‘Is Jack home?’

  ‘Yeah, we’re just watching a film. This is a bit late for you two to be out, isn’t it? What’s going on?’

  Ava linked her arm with mine. ‘Nothing. Don’t panic. It’s ok.’

  I brought them both into the flat and put on the kettle; Jack waved through the hatch, but saw from their faces they weren’t here for small talk.

  ‘Right, kettle’s boiling, you’re inside. What’s going on?’

  Esther leant against the kitchen counter. ‘It’s nothing
disastrous. But you know we had that thing at Kat’s work this afternoon? The family day for her ad agency?’

  Ava chipped in: ‘It was nice, Zo, the company looks like it’s a good fit for her.’

  ‘Only …’ Esther looked at her, then at me. ‘Only we met Kat’s boss. The guy who’s just bought the whole company.’

  ‘And?’ I said, feeling baffled.

  Ava stepped closer to me. ‘And it was Chuck, Zo.’

  SIX

  Seven years earlier

  For the next week, Zoe didn’t hear from Jack. Her studies kept her busy; there were family birthdays; a night out with her sisters.

  But she didn’t for a single moment stop thinking about him. Family mealtimes reminded her of dinner with his parents. She picked at her food, until she could see her mum and dad regarding her, and each other, with meaningful looks. Every university lecture was spent wondering if she’d find him outside afterwards – just as she’d waited for him – but he was never there. The night out with her sisters ended early when a guy had approached their table, asking Zoe if he could buy her a drink, and she had stared at him mutely, calculating all the ways in which he wasn’t as good as Jack. Eventually Kat had stuck her in a cab and sent it back to Mum and Dad’s. On that taxi ride home, she was glad she’d deleted him from her phone to stop herself from tumbling headfirst into something she didn’t understand – she couldn’t call even if she’d wanted to. Which she did. And which was, she thought, even more of a reason not to call. If she was this obsessed with him already, it was a warning bell to stay well away, to protect him from that kind of suffocation.

  Until Tuesday morning, when she got a text from an unrecognised number, saying, simply, Call me please. Only, she recognised it. Her stomach dropped through the floor. What the hell had happened? A death? An STD? Oh Jesus, did he have a girlfriend he’d forgotten to mention?

  It rang once, before Jack’s voice said with plain delight, ‘Hey!’

  ‘What? What is it? What’s wrong?’

  ‘What do you mean what’s wrong? You called me.’

  ‘You said I had to call you. What’s happened?’

  There was a pause. ‘Oh god. No, I didn’t—’

  ‘You didn’t mean to send that message to me. Ok, fine, no problem.’ Zoe swallowed hard.

  ‘No! No, I very much did mean to send it to you – I just didn’t think – I hadn’t thought how it sounded. I’m really sorry. I didn’t – it’s not an emergency. I just … I was just asking please if you might call me again.’

  It was Zoe’s turn to pause. ‘Oh. Right.’ She felt herself blushing. ‘Why?’

  Jack didn’t pause at all now. ‘Because I missed you. I wanted to talk to you again. Maybe even to see you again?’ There was a silence. ‘Unless … Have I judged this all wrong? God, I’m so sorry, Zoe, I thought we’d both had a good time. Sorry. Sorry. I won’t … I won’t call you again. Sorry. I just wanted to say that I’d had a really nice time with you. So … thank you. Ok. Bye.’

  ‘Wait!’ The call was still connected. ‘Jack?’

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘I did have a nice time. With you. A really nice time.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘But? I don’t think there is a but. And that’s the but.’

  ‘I … Ok. So do you fancy a drink? It’s fine either way, I don’t want to—’

  ‘Yes.’ Zoe let out a relieved sigh, and felt her shoulders drop three inches, feeling a hundred pounds lighter. It felt like time to stop protecting herself. ‘Please. Yes. I would like a drink, thank you.’ She was smiling again. ‘I’d really like that a lot.’

  ‘Good.’ She could hear the smile in his voice too.

  She hugged the phone a little. ‘Good.’

  They met at a bar around the corner from his work, where he knew the staff. They greeted him with high fives and hugs, and Jack introduced Zoe to them all.

  ‘And this, Zoe, this is one of the most talented people you’ll ever meet,’ he said, nodding at an older woman with cropped grey hair. ‘Nic, this is Zoe. Zoe, Nic.’ They smiled at each other. Jack added in a stage whisper, ‘She literally makes the best cocktails I’ve ever had. It’s actual witchcraft. And I mean that in the best possible way.’ Zoe looked curious, and Nic nodded slowly.

  ‘It’s true. For them, slugs and toads and frogspawn. But for you … a vodka martini?’

  ‘Oh my god, yes. Please.’

  She nodded at Jack. ‘I’ll let you off the cauldron sauce for once. Same for you?’ He nodded back, with a huge grin. ‘Go on, you two, take a booth. We’ll bring them over.’

  They took a small booth in the corner, where no one would be passing by. It was cosy, but not so cosy that Zoe couldn’t put a little distance between her and Jack as they sat down. His face flickered with disappointment for just a moment. ‘Are we … is everything ok?’

  Zoe picked up a cocktail stick from the miniature barrel in the middle of the table and chewed on it briefly. ‘It’s all ok. I suppose that I missed you too.’ Jack’s grin returned. ‘But I don’t get what’s happening here.’

  ‘It’s a cocktail bar. They’ll bring us drinks and we give them money,’ Jack explained.

  ‘Seriously. What is this? Why did I miss you so much? Why did I think about you all day every day? What even is this? Who are you?’

  ‘You thought about me every day?’ Jack’s grin crept even wider across his face.

  ‘I don’t understand what’s happening. I’m serious.’ They stared at each other, saying nothing.

  Nic herself arrived with their drinks, and added two bowls of olives to their table. ‘Compliments of the manager,’ she said, before slipping away with the infinite discretion of an experienced bar worker.

  Jack reached for an olive but knocked over the barrel of toothpicks in his haste. ‘Jesus Christ, I’m nervous,’ he muttered. After hurriedly putting them back in their pot, he glanced up at Zoe, turning his glass round and round in his hands. ‘Hold on, can we go back a bit, to these feelings you’re having. These are … good feelings? Bad feelings?’

  ‘Good. They’re good feelings. But I don’t know anything about you, I’ve known you less than a month and I don’t understand how this works.’

  ‘Zoe,’ he said gently. ‘I’m not going to talk you into having a relationship with me.’

  ‘I know. I don’t want you to.’ She sipped her drink. ‘Oh my god, this is amazing.’

  ‘I told you.’

  ‘Seriously. How does she do that?’

  ‘I wish I knew – she won’t tell me.’

  Zoe took another sip. ‘Jesus. And no, you don’t have to talk me into anything. I definitely don’t want you to.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But I just … I want it on record that I am freaked out by this. Even if it seems wonderful, I don’t know what to do with it. And that’s even more terrifying. That I might … break it, or something.’

  ‘Then how about we start again? Let’s have this as a proper, formal date – you ask questions about me, I ask questions about you, we drink more cocktails, I reveal the most embarrassing misadventures from my schooldays, you reveal how completely perfect you are—’

  ‘Don’t,’ she interrupted. ‘I like the rest of it, but let’s not pretend either of us is perfect. Those kinds of discoveries are the stuff I’m afraid of. Realising too late that the person you’re with isn’t the person you’ve held them up to be. So let’s realise it now.’

  ‘Fine. Absolutely. You are a typical flawed human, who may just, after lots of questions and conversations and misunderstandings and cocktails, turn out to be perfect for me.’ Jack smiled at her again. ‘And vice versa.’

  Zoe shrugged and took another sip. ‘Ok. Why not. Let’s start at the beginning. Surname?’

  Jack smiled at her.

  They went to their separate beds that night, and after their next date at the weekend. That date saw them talking over dinner about school and family. Jack did have some excellent misadventures to recount, many o
f them involving his oldest friend, Iffy, whom Jack had promised to introduce to Zoe as soon as she was ready. Zoe promised Jack could meet her sisters as soon as she thought he was ready. They discussed work plans, ambitions, favourite books, favourite drinks, loathed film stars, good shoes, emergency hangover breakfasts, pets they’d never had, songs that made them cry, TV that made them laugh. They never seemed to run out of breath, even when the maître d’ had to interrupt them to serve them their bill, as the restaurant was closing. Another great date.

  At the end of their next formal date – dinner and a movie again – Zoe went back to Jack’s room and remembered another reason she liked him so much.

  And after that, they were very rarely apart.

  SEVEN

  Now

  February was starting like February always does – grey, damp, and miserable, like a shampooed Blue Persian cat. We had no plans to look forward to, and no money to undertake any plans with, anyway.

  I was lying on the sofa, painting my toenails a sympathetic sludgy grey colour. Belatedly, I was realising it made my feet look dead. As I heard the clunk-pfffshh of the washing machine going on, I called out to Jack, ‘Did you put it on thirty?’

  ‘Why does it have to be on thirty?’ Jack yelled back.

  I bit back a scream, forced a smile and tried to keep my tone as light as possible. ‘Do you remember, my yellow top can’t be washed above thirty.’

  Jack came and sat next to me, narrowly avoiding my freshly painted toenails. ‘Don’t worry, there wasn’t any of your stuff in that load anyway.’

  I gave him a sideways look. ‘Are you sure? Because when I put my top in the laundry basket last night there were only about six other things in there. Unless you’ve been secretly soiling your clothes in your sleep.’

  He screwed up his nose. ‘Pleasant image. No, I always just leave your clothes out of my washes – I don’t want to mess them up.’

  ‘Jack!’ I took a deep breath, lowered my voice. ‘I appreciate you don’t want to wreck my clothes. And I really appreciate that you’re trying to be thoughtful and do the right thing. But, as we’ve discussed more than once – probably a few hundred times in fact – if you’re putting a wash on, and it’s not even full, and we live together, AND WE JUST AGREED TO BE MARRIED FOR THE REST OF OUR LIVES—’ I took another deep breath. ‘Then, darling, please can you just look at the label, like I do when I wash anything, ever, of yours, and avoid boil-washing it? And just put my clothes in … with yours. I’m sure they won’t get germs from each other.’