The Starter Home

by Bryony Fraser

  ‘Oh yeah, I had that after a run the other day.’

  ‘Iffy gave me that!’

  ‘I think you’ll find Iffy gave me that.’

  I crossed my arms.

  He held his hands up. ‘Fine, sorry, my mistake.’

  ‘You don’t even like chocolate!’

  ‘I needed an energy boost. It was a really long run.’

  ‘You could have eaten literally anything else.’

  ‘Whoops. If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t even very nice.’

  I resolved to harness my hormonal fury for revenge.

  Two days later, Jack managed to seriously pull a muscle on another run, and was advised to rub some vile-smelling ointment into his thigh each morning before his shower. I’m not saying I definitely squeezed a whole tube of hair removal cream into his ointment tube, then squished it all around to mix it – but I’m also not saying I definitely didn’t.

  This morning, there was a satisfying amount of screaming coming from the bathroom.

  The week after, all my chargers went awol for the whole week. I was reduced to calling my sisters on the landline.

  * * *

  ‘So who’s next then?’ Kat stirred her drink with her straw and smiled innocently at me.

  We were at the opening of a new bar and I’d made the effort to dress up, on Kat’s orders. We’d got two seats at a high table in one corner, but the bar was already rammed.

  ‘What do you mean, who’s next?’

  ‘Come on, Zo. Look around you! We all love Jack, but it’s probably time you got back on the horse, isn’t it? Before it dries up entirely.’ She banged her handbag somewhere between my thighs.

  I choked. ‘I really don’t think it’s the right time for me to start dating.’

  ‘You’re missing out. Every day you’re alive is a day you’re never going to get back.’

  ‘Is that supposed to be a pep talk?’

  ‘I’m serious. All these opportunities, and you’re just ignoring them all. You’re divorcing, we get it, and what’s the best remedy for heartache?’

  ‘A medically induced coma?’

  Kat rolled her eyes. ‘What about that guy over there? In blue. The one in the hat.’

  ‘He’s wearing a hat. Indoors. Nope.’

  ‘Well, that knocks about eighty per cent of our options tonight.’

  ‘Good!’ I took a swig. ‘Only twenty per cent left for me to reject.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be so fussy, sis. You’re not getting any younger.’

  ‘I’m twenty-nine, Kat. Also, this is not the nineteenth century.’

  ‘What about him? In the red trousers?’ She looked at me, laughing. ‘Ok, fair enough. The bartender?’

  ‘Stop, stop. This is insane. We’re still living together, Kat!’

  ‘You’re going to be living together for ages, according to you. What are you going to do, become a nun?’

  I tried not to think about George’s face. And his arms. ‘My wedding bouquet’s probably still blooming, for god’s sake.’

  ‘Alright,’ Kat shrugged. ‘I’m just saying, maybe Jack’s going to get the wrong idea if you don’t start seeing someone else.’

  ‘And if I do, he might get an even worse wrong idea. That I was seeing someone else all along?’

  ‘Fine. Maybe not tonight. But I think – for both of your sakes – you need to seriously consider getting back out there.’

  ‘Kat, this is a horrible discussion that I’m ending now. Anyway,’ I said, watching her out of the corner of my eye, ‘I’d much rather hear about your new job. Since that night at the bar with your team, I’ve not heard a thing. How are you finding it?’

  Kat turned away. ‘It’s fine. Bit awkward to discover your boss is your sister’s best friend’s ex, but it’s fine.’

  I looked down at my drink, remembering my lie to her at the bar that night.

  ‘He’s not mentioned it, so neither have I. It’s fine.’

  ‘But what about the rest of the job? How’re the colleagues?’ I took a sip of my drink, keeping my eyes down. ‘How’s … Chuck?’

  ‘You’re being weird again, Zo. Did you have a crush on him back in your teens or something? He’s a bit … creepy, isn’t he? Ugh, please don’t make me think about you fancying him.’ She shivered dramatically.

  ‘Creepy? But … it’s ok, isn’t it? What do you do? What’s your job? What do you have to do every day?’

  ‘It’s a job! It’s just a job, dude.’ She was eyeballing me like she was trying to burn a hole in my forehead. ‘Stop grilling me. It’s a job. I go there, I do work, I come home again. Just … stop.’

  With both work and relationships declared off topic, we finished our drinks quickly and headed to our separate homes. I texted Esther: Is it just me or is something up with Kat? Any news on Chuck? I think we need to keep our eyes peeled xxx

  If I couldn’t even look after Kat, what hope did I have?

  The end of term saw two departures from our Science department, so we headed out for curry and karaoke; it ended in kebabs, something I realised when I woke up in bed fully dressed and face-first in a greasy tray.

  Various images were filtering through: singing, arm in arm with Miks and the deputy head; the night bus; selfies at the kebab shop with a group of teenage girls – oh god, please don’t let them have been my students; lying on grass, somewhere. Upstairs Jan calling my name? Was that a dream?

  Where was my phone? Christ, where was my bag?

  I found the phone down the side of the bedside table, mayonnaise smeared up the back. But my beautiful Chanel bag was nowhere to be found.

  I’d had it in the evening.

  I’d had it on the bus.

  I must have had it coming in, because I’d clipped the house keys inside so I wouldn’t lose them.

  And only one other person had been in the house since then.

  I scoured the bedroom and bathroom, then stormed through the rest of the flat as best I could while suffering under a clumping, sharp-hooved hangover. Not in the kitchen. Not in the lounge. Nowhere.

  ‘Where is it?’ I growled.

  ‘Where’s what?’

  Jack was eating breakfast, hunched over a casserole dish of Cheerios, eating them with a giant yellow plastic ladle. He looked up at me, then his eye was caught by something on my hand. Or rather, not on my hand.

  ‘Right. You’ve taken your rings off, then,’ he said quietly.

  I put my hands behind my back, vibrating with rage.

  ‘Don’t change the subject, Jack. You know.’

  He slurped dramatically.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Jack, where’s my bag?’

  He slurped again. Then he slowly lowered the ladle into the soupy cereal and beamed at me wickedly.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. His eyes flicked for a moment to the back door, then we both rushed towards it, him beating me there by a fraction of a second. He stood in front of me, blocking the way.

  ‘Zoe.’ He looked suddenly guilty. My heart pounded. And then I saw it, through the window of the back door.

  Stranded.

  Stained.

  Soaking.

  My handbag. With a howl of horror, I pushed Jack out of the way and slid the door open, rushing over to my beautiful bag. The leather was dappled with rain, where it wasn’t streaked with mud. I let out a sob, and picked it up by one handle, at which point a squirrel, who must have thought she’d really lucked out with new digs, leapt from the warmth of the bag and launched herself at my face.

  I screamed.

  The squirrel screamed.

  I could hear Jack doing something in the doorway, before I became aware of him putting one hand on my breastbone and pulling the squirrel off with the other.

  The squirrel scampered away.

  Jack was biting on both his lips, desperately trying to keep a straight face.

  ‘What the HELL did you do that for?’

  He looked stunned.

  �
��Did you want the squirrel on your head?’

  ‘You know that’s not what I’m talking about. Why would you put my bag out in the rain? Jack, it’s my one nice thing that I own. Why would you do that?’

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, I know you think it’s just a handbag. Haha, Zoe’s parents spent all their money on something to carry her lipstick in. I know you think it’s stupid, but it was the only really special thing I owned, and you thought it would be funny to just chuck it into the garden and wreck it—’

  ‘Whoah, hold on a minute—’

  ‘What, you didn’t think it was stupid to spend that much on a bag? You didn’t make fun of it?’

  ‘Zo, I might have said—’

  ‘No. You did. And now it’s ruined. I hope you’re pleased with yourself.’

  ‘Hang on a minute—’

  ‘No! I will not hang on a minute! You doing something so petty, so spiteful, has lost you the right to demand a single second of my time, Jack. I never thought you were perfect, but I thought you were above this. Chucking my bag in the garden? Thank god we’re getting a divorce, is all I can say.’

  Jack’s face hardened.

  ‘I feel exactly the same.’

  He stomped back into the house, tipped the rest of his breakfast back in one, grabbed his stuff and left, shutting the door behind him as gently as he could, considering we were in the middle of yet another fight.

  I wasn’t sure how we’d got here again. We’d both agreed to split up – technically, this was an amicable divorce – yet we couldn’t even be in the same room as one another, and to top it all, I now had a wrecked handbag. I couldn’t work out where I was going wrong.

  SIXTEEN

  Four years earlier

  They’d only been in their new flat for six months, and Zoe’s heart would still flutter when she arrived home each night. But when she came in after work one evening, her heart’s fluttering turned to pounding when she saw Jack on the sofa, his head in his hands.

  ‘Tough day at work? Jack?’

  He didn’t move. Zoe sat down beside him, and he twisted slightly away from her. She put her head against his back. ‘Jack? What’s happened?’

  After a minute, he said in a choked voice, ‘Mum’s left my dad.’

  Zoe didn’t know what to say, mainly because in that moment she didn’t know who she should be cheering for. Who was the villain here? She put an arm around Jack, saying, ‘I’m so sorry. I’m really sorry, Jack.’

  He twisted to put both his arms around her, crushing her to him, and she realised he was trying to keep from crying. She leant into him, rubbing his lower back and letting him squeeze her.

  After a while he pulled back from her, rubbing his face with both hands.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Dad called. He said he’d found a letter from her saying that she couldn’t stay any longer, that she should have left a long time ago. The anniversary party’s off, obviously.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘He didn’t really want to discuss it. Understandably.’

  ‘Have you heard from her?’

  ‘She called me too. She wanted me to know that she loved me very much, and that it wasn’t anything to do with me. Like I was just a kid, or something.’ He rubbed his face again and hiccupped.

  ‘She said she loved you?’ Zoe suddenly realised how serious Linda must be about leaving.

  Jack paused for a moment. ‘Yeah. I don’t know if she’s ever said that to me as an adult before. Maybe not even when I was little. I don’t know. Anyway, what’s she calling me for? I don’t care if she loves me. I care if she loves Dad. Why would she leave him? Why would she do that?’ He hiccupped again. ‘I thought they were happy enough. Not perfect, but no one’s relationship is perfect, is it? Do you think I should try and see her? Why would she do this?’

  She kept rubbing his back, and spoke as gently as she could. ‘I don’t know, Jack. They’ve been married a long time. Maybe she just wants to live on her own for a bit.’

  ‘So you think it’s just a temporary thing?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe not.’

  ‘Why would she leave him?’

  ‘I don’t know, Jack. I don’t know your mum.’

  ‘Well clearly none of us do.’

  She put her head on his shoulder again. ‘People have to make the decision that’s right for them, Jack. Maybe she just wasn’t happy. Maybe she was lonely. We don’t know what was happening in their marriage.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t she be happy?’

  Zoe sat up and looked into Jack’s face, seeing all the hurt and betrayal and shock in it. She knew that if this were anyone else’s parents, Jack would see the absurdity of these questions. But if she imagined it was her parents splitting up, her mum who had upped and walked out, leaving only a note for her dad … She could well understand those feelings, that pain, that wish to lash out and punish someone who loved her, who she loved, who she’d trusted to stay in a happy bubble with her dad. She shook herself.

  ‘I don’t know, Jack. The only people who have those answers are your mum and maybe your dad. If you want to ask them that stuff, they can tell you. But I can’t, and you’ll drive yourself round the bend trying to second-guess them.’

  He flopped back further on the sofa, legs spread, arms by his side, and stared ahead out him out of the window. He sighed. ‘I just don’t get it, Zo. You should have heard Dad’s voice. I’ve never … He just sounded like a wreck. I’m so worried for him. Men that age, they don’t bounce back from things like this. All on his own in that big, cold house. While she swans off to god knows where.’

  ‘Do you know where she’s gone?’

  ‘No. And I don’t care.’

  ‘Jack.’ She spoke gently, putting her hand on his.

  He shook it off. ‘Why should I care? She chose to leave. Neither Dad nor I have any responsibility for her now. She can just live with the consequences of her actions for once.’

  Zoe couldn’t imagine a time where Linda hadn’t been living with the consequences of her actions. She thought that thirty years of living with your consequences sitting silently every morning at the breakfast table might be more than most people could stand. But she also knew that she couldn’t share those thoughts with Jack, not at the moment. Maybe one day he’d see it for himself, but right now wasn’t the time to bring it up.

  ‘Jack? Do you really not care where she’s gone?’

  ‘I don’t know. She’s probably gone to my aunt’s house or something. I don’t think she’s sleeping on the street, if that’s what you’re accusing me of.’

  ‘Jack, I’m not accusing you of anything. Do you want me to call her? Do you want us to go to your dad’s this weekend?’

  He shrugged. ‘No. Don’t call her. She doesn’t deserve us worrying about her. We can’t be running after her when she’s the one who’s done this to Dad.’

  Zoe breathed slowly. ‘So shall we go and see him this weekend? Or sooner? One evening after work? I reckon I can head off early one day if you want to drive over there.’

  ‘No. He says he doesn’t want us worrying. That he might come over here if he needs the company.’ He sighed again, a soft hiccup in the middle. ‘Honestly, Zo, you should have heard him. He just couldn’t talk … at all.’

  Zoe didn’t dwell on any thoughts of Graham’s inability to talk about anything, ever. She lay back against Jack and put an arm across his stomach. ‘I’m sorry, Jack. This is just a horrible situation for everyone.’

  Jack tipped his head against hers, seemed to soften a little. ‘Well,’ he said softly, ‘it’s her fault. And we won’t ever forget it.’

  Zoe hoped she wasn’t included in that we. She didn’t feel like Linda had committed the worst crime in the world. Hell, Zoe didn’t even know if she wouldn’t have done the same thing.

  SEVENTEEN

  Now

  I was still mourning my lost bag (I’d had Esther come over and carry it off in a black bin bag, to be di
sposed of humanely – I couldn’t face how ravaged it was, nor the thought of finding it full of baby squirrels) as I sat hunched over my desk, pounding my keyboard with Jack-shaped rage.

  The night before he’d been standing at the fridge, peering into it moodily. I watched him while I banged down a mug, boiled the kettle, slammed bread in the toaster and murderously chopped up an orange.

  ‘Any plans tonight?’ I eventually asked. ‘Any more of my stuff you want to wreck?’

  ‘Oh. Yeah. Tonnes of it. I’ve written a “To Destroy” list on my phone with some reminders to go off whenever you’re not home.’ He closed the fridge and turned around. ‘By the way, I meant to leave you a note, if I didn’t see you. I’m off to New York for a while.’

  ‘How long is a while?’ I didn’t sound as casual as I’d wanted.

  Jack gave a bitter smile. ‘Only a week or so. Don’t get your hopes up, it’s not a permanent move. I’m heading off on Tuesday – it’s the Gillett people, they want me to see some stuff there.’

  ‘Oh.’ I understood. Jack’s bosses were paying him to fly to New York and hang out with the CFO, Jessica, who I’d bet my Chanel ex-handbag would be on that same trip. ‘Have a great time.’ I turned away, picked up my food.

  ‘Yup,’ Jack said.

  ‘Cool.’ I carried my breakfast to the sofa, keeping my head down. ‘Hope it’s productive.’

  At my cubby in the Science office, I tried not to grind my teeth as I thought about the fun he’d be having, whisked away to New York on some kind of work jolly with the Gillett bigwigs. I didn’t even know when he was due back.

  I was suddenly aware of someone standing over my desk. George. I hadn’t seen him since he’d sort-of asked me out, and although I hadn’t been avoiding him as such, his whereabouts in the office had certainly had an effect on where I chose to eat my lunch. Or whether I took a break duty. Or how long I spent looking for something under my desk.

  But here he was, smiling that smile and proffering some books.

  ‘Zoe, hey! I hope this is ok, but … I’ve just got a couple of books that I thought you might like? I was clearing out from my move, and thought … I don’t know, if you don’t want them, that’s fine …’