The Single Girl’s Calendar

by Erin Green

  ‘I am being.’

  She turned away.

  ‘He’s checking out the competition before he makes his move… then he’ll know how to play it to win you back, see?’

  ‘I thought us women were supposed to be complicated creatures.’

  ‘Not compared to us men.’

  ‘Do you reckon he’s gone?’

  ‘Probably… but he’ll be back like a tom cat scenting his patch.’

  ‘Err, that sounds horrible…’

  ‘Depends if you want his attention or not, doesn’t it?’

  ‘We’re finished… so he can go spray elsewhere for all I care.’

  ‘Hmmm, I believe he already did that!’

  ‘Yes, and I found her earring in our bed!’

  ‘Are you coming in?’

  ‘Nah… I’ll stay out here for a moment.’

  Asa returned to the house.

  Esmé watched as he disappeared from view, then re-appear through the kitchen window on his way to the lounge.

  ‘Esmé!’ a whisper came from the direction of the shed.

  She jumped.

  ‘Esmé… here!’

  ‘Andrew?’ Esmé peered into the darkness to witness a dark figure emerge from behind the shed. ‘What the hell?’

  ‘Shhh… he’ll come back otherwise.’

  ‘Good. It’ll prove how accurate he was.’

  ‘He knows nothing… come here?’ Andrew beckoned her to join him.

  Esmé shook her head.

  ‘I’m busy… if you want to speak to me do it in the correct manner.’ Esmé turned on her heels and darted inside.

  Esmé stood in the kitchen window staring out, knowing perfectly well that Andrew could see her – just as she had Asa. She grabbed the roller blind chord and gently lowered it, blocking out the garden view.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The throbbing at her left temple was intense when she opened her eyes.

  Please no, not a migraine.

  Esmé scrunched her eyelids closed and pulled the duvet over her head. Her right hand fumbled around on the bedside cabinet feeling for her mobile and within minutes she’d sent a groggy text to Stylo Stationery and the office girls excusing herself from work.

  A series of electronic bleeps ‘wishing her a swift recovery’, pierced the duvet darkness and tweaked at her migraine.

  Esmé lay on her back to see if the head pain eased. No. Her right side. Her left side. Nothing helped.

  She needed tablets before she was sick.

  She visualised the route she needed to take. Down two staircases, through the hallway, morning room, kitchen and into her cupboard above the fridge. The very thought of the effort made her feel sick. Her mouth filled with watery saliva, her stomach rolled and jumped. Throwing the duvet back, she slowly moved, her eyes firmly closed, from the bed towards the bathroom. With every step her head pulsed with pain.

  She cried when the bathroom on her landing was locked.

  She banged on the door, the noise ricocheting around inside her head.

  ‘What?’ came Jonah’s voice from within.

  ‘I need…’

  ‘What?’ the door was wrenched open and Jonah stood finishing his facial routine by side slapping his face. ‘What?’

  ‘Shhhhh please, I’ve got a migraine… I need…’ Her stomach lurched, and she ran past him to kneel before the toilet.

  ‘You going to be long?’ he asked, watching the curled figure in fleece pyjamas retch.

  Esmé didn’t answer but continued to vomit.

  ‘Great!’

  Esmé heard him bounce down the staircase to his own landing.

  ‘She’s chucking up and I’m going to be late now.’

  Uncaring bastard. This wasn’t his bathroom anyway.

  Esmé wiped her mouth with toilet roll, flushed the pan and eased herself onto the hard floor, awaiting the next bout of sickness.

  ‘Are you alright?’ asked Dam, his face appearing around the door frame. ‘Need anything?’

  ‘My tablets are in my kitchen cupboard… if you wouldn’t mind fetching them.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Esmé felt a weight lift from her, all she needed was two tablets with a little water and then sleep… if she could rest she’d feel fine, delicate but fine, when she woke for the second time migraine free.

  Sitting on the cold bathroom floor, eyes squeezed tight, it felt like hours before Dam returned.

  ‘Here… I brought some water,’ he said, nudging her gently.

  Esmé opened her eyes a fraction solely to view the offered box, before closing them against the dim light. She popped two tablets from the blister packet and swallowed them with water, her eyes firmly closed the whole time. Dam remained by her side and watched.

  ‘Thank you, Dam.’

  ‘Do you need a hand?’ he asked.

  ‘No… I want to stay here for a while and wait for the tablets to kick in, but thank you. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Honest, I’ll be fine now I’ve had those… but thank you.’

  ‘See you later,’ he said, before Esmé sensed he had disappeared.

  She dragged the hand towel from the hoop beside the sink and pushed it beneath her head.

  Don’t think about the germs, the dried saliva or toothpaste resting beneath my head.

  Esmé lay down gently and the coolness of the wooden floor was welcome after her bout of sickness sweats.

  She lay completely still, reciting nursery rhymes in her head as a means to distract herself from the thumping pain.

  *

  ‘Esmé!’

  The alarmed shout woke her with a start, and a second later she cringed with the pain.

  ‘What are you doing down there?’ asked Asa, crouching beside her.

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Just gone four o’clock… what are you doing?’

  ‘I woke up with a migraine, then I was sick. Dam fetched my tablets and then I was sick again and then I just lay here because I couldn’t be away from the toilet because the sickness just carried on and—’

  ‘OK, shhhhh,’ soothed Asa, feeling her forehead. ‘Does your head still hurt?’

  Esmé squeezed her eyes tight and nodded.

  ‘Have you taken the tablets?’

  ‘I took two with Dam earlier but I was sick almost immediately so I must have brought them back up but then I didn’t know whether to take any more or not, I don’t want to overdose by taking more but my head still…’

  ‘OK, I hear you. Have you been here all day?’

  Esmé gave a sorry nod, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

  ‘Don’t cry, it’ll be fine.’

  ‘But I haven’t eaten, or drunk anything and now look, I’m shaking and my mobile phone is in my room and…’ Esmé dissolved into sobbing gulps.

  Asa gently rubbed her back until she calmed down.

  ‘When were you last sick?’

  ‘Ages ago, I think.’

  ‘So, let’s get you back into your bed,’ he said, raising himself from her side. ‘Here, take hold.’ He held out his hands for her to clasp.

  Esmé gave a feeble pull but remained on the floor.

  ‘As weak as a kitten, hey?’

  Esmé felt his arms wrap around and beneath her, then she was lifted from the wooden floor.

  ‘I don’t usually do this… so don’t start any rumours, right?’

  Esmé gave a snort.

  ‘Like that, is it?’

  Esmé felt the warmth of his torso through her pyjamas as he carried her. A gentle sway and he navigated them back to her bedroom. He gently placed her onto the bed before throwing the duvet across her.

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ muttered Esmé, relieved to be back on a comfy mattress.

  Asa dashed out, returning seconds later.

  ‘Here, lift your head.’

  Through squinting eyes, she could see he was hold
ing two tablets and a glass of water to her mouth.

  ‘Just sip then swallow the water.’

  Esmé followed his instructions before lying back on her pillow.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘For what?’ asked Asa, standing clear of the bed.

  ‘This.’

  ‘This is nothing.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Believe me. Hopefully the tablets will start to work. I’ll be back in a minute.’

  Esmé nodded and began to count in her head, one, two, three, four…

  She heard the bedroom door open and close.

  Five, six, and seven…

  *

  ‘Esmé?’ whispered Asa.

  Esmé squinted to see him holding a wooden tray.

  ‘Here, try to sit up, even if you keep your eyes closed.’

  Esmé blindly shuffled to raise herself into a slumped position as he placed the tray across her lap.

  ‘Some toast and sugared tea.’

  ‘I don’t think I can.’

  ‘You need to, just a few mouthfuls will help,’ he said, seating himself on the edge of her bed.

  Esmé took the offered toast and bit into the doughy delight, the salty butter dancing on her tongue. Eyes shut tight, she focussed on each chew.

  Asa sat in silence watching.

  ‘I bet I look a right mess, don’t I?’

  ‘Beautiful.’

  ‘In my pyjamas… I haven’t even brushed my hair.’

  ‘As I said, beautiful.’

  ‘You’re taking the rip. You’re such an arse, you know that?’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’

  Silence descended.

  ‘How long has this lasted?’ he asked, breaking the silence.

  Esmé explained about getting Jonah out of their bathroom this morning by being sick, how Dam had collected her tablets for her.

  ‘You’ve been there all day?’

  ‘I slept for some of the day.’

  ‘But even so, that’s not on. Did the guys just go out to work?’

  ‘Yes, but it wasn’t their fault.’

  ‘Have they checked on you? Phoned you during the day?’

  Esmé shook her head, as she finished the first triangle of toast.

  The change in his mood was immediate, even with her eyes closed Esmé could imagine his furrowed brow, his glaring eyes and stern expression.

  Within fifteen minutes, Esmé couldn’t eat any more toast.

  ‘You’ve done well, at least your body now has carbs and fluids so the shakes should stop soon. I’ll be downstairs, call me on my mobile if you need anything, OK?’

  Esmé shuffled down to lie flat beneath the duvet.

  She felt his seated body lift from the mattress and heard him approach the doorway.

  ‘Asa.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘My pleasure, phone if you want any more toast.’

  ‘Maybe you’re not such an arse after all,’ she muttered into the darkness.

  ‘Cheers, thanks for that.’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  Esmé listened as he chuckled to himself going down the staircase.

  *

  After another lengthy sleep, Esmé woke to find her migraine had eased. A quick look confirmed it was gone ten o’clock.

  She gently prised herself to a sitting position, then gently again to standing, for fear that any sudden movement would re-ignite the migraine, and made her way towards her single girl’s calendar.

  She leant against the mantelpiece searching for day thirteen. Once open, she hesitated before opening the foiled chocolate.

  What if it triggers another migraine?

  But still, she unwrapped the tiny slab and ate it quickly as if speed were of the essence.

  Day 13: Re-read your favourite children’s book

  That was an easy task. She knew exactly where her favourite book was.

  Esmé grabbed her mobile and called her brother.

  ‘Kane, are you at home?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Great, will you do me a favour?’ she asked, continuing before he could refuse. ‘Go into my old bedroom, on the small bookcase you’ll find a Ladybird book, a hardback cover. Bring it around here a.s.a.p., would you?’

  Esmé crawled into bed and awaited her book delivery. She knew Kane wouldn’t argue or fuss, or have trouble finding the treasured possession from her childhood.

  *

  ‘Seriously, I’m running book errands?’ said Kane, arriving in her bedroom some twenty minutes after her call.

  ‘Thank you, love you, bye!’ called Esmé, snatching the hardback book from his hands.

  ‘That’s it? Well, bye!’

  The door closed as Esmé snuggled down with The Princess and the Pea. She stared at the illustrated cover, distinct in design and soothingly old fashioned. A large Ladybird bug sat proudly in the corner.

  Did all olden day queens wear such magnificent ruffles as day wear or were they purely for special occasions or when helping a young woman to bed? I bet they never found an earring between their sheets.

  Esmé disappeared into a world full of colour images, silvery greyhounds and dashingly handsome prince charmings, complete with sheer tights and pageboy haircuts.

  She loved reading as a child but it had faded from her life much like the long neglected friends and exercise classes.

  Esmé couldn’t remember the last book she had read.

  As she turned the pages the years rolled back – all she needed was a glass of cold milk and a couple of gingersnap biscuits and she’d be seven years old again.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Day 14: Make a gesture of friendship

  ‘Esmé, hello my sweet… your hair looks lovely,’ cooed Grace, opening the front door.

  ‘Thank you, I fancied a change from platinum blonde… I’ve never been a true red head before,’ she giggled, stepping inside. ‘I’ve made you a sponge cake, too.’ Esmé placed the cake tin in her hands.

  ‘Come in, perfect timing for a cuppa.’

  Esmé quickly removed her boots and followed Grace into her warm cosy kitchen.

  ‘Day off work?’

  ‘Sickness really… I had a migraine yesterday so was ill all day, today I feel washed out and delicate so didn’t feel ready to return.

  Grace busied herself with the kettle and china cups as Esmé settled at the kitchen table.

  ‘You should have called. I’d have nipped round to make sure you were OK.’

  ‘Thank you, the blokes were useless… apart from Asa, who found me lying on the bathroom floor when he returned from work so made me tea and toast and fetched more tablets.’

  Grace turned from the sideboard and grinned.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve got a soft spot for him, that’s all,’ smiled Grace, adding ‘… big piece or small?’ moving the cake knife back and forth in an arc above the Victoria sponge.

  ‘A decent piece,’ laughed Esmé.

  The two sipped their tea, ate cake and tried to refrain from succumbing to a second helping.

  ‘I shouldn’t really, as I’ve made another one for us next door… so you should enjoy this one,’ explained Esmé.

  ‘Thank you… so tell me, what’s with the hair colour?’

  Esmé touched it nervously.

  ‘I felt washed out after yesterday’s migraine, I’d bought the hair dye a few days ago so with the whole day to myself, I thought why not.’

  ‘Why not indeed, it accentuates your blue eyes,’ said Grace.

  ‘Do you think so?’

  Grace nodded, adding. ‘What do you think Jonah will say?’

  ‘He probably won’t even notice.’

  ‘He’ll notice – believe me.’

  Esmé sipped her tea and smiled.

  *

  ‘Tadah!’ sang Esmé, presenting her Victoria sponge to the men after everyone’s evening meal was cleared away.

  ‘I love cake,’ said Dam, taking
a plate and holding it towards Esmé. ‘The one thing my mum never makes is cake.’

  ‘Seriously, I thought your mum was the best cook ever,’ said Russ.

  ‘She is but it’s more savoury food than baking.’

  Esmé divided the sponge into five equal parts as best she could, then dug deep to separate each piece, lifting Dam’s onto his plate.

  ‘Look at that!’ he exclaimed in excitement.

  ‘Calm down man, it’s only bloody cake,’ muttered Jonah. ‘A Victoria sponge shouldn’t have cream, just jam.’

  ‘Are you a bloody expert?’ said Esmé, sparkling with energy.

  ‘There’s a baker on Paris Road that will sell you one for just a quid,’ added Jonah, eyeing her up and down.

  ‘Not one like this they won’t,’ argued Dam, tucking in as fresh cream squirted at the side of his mouth.

  ‘Such a pig,’ muttered Jonah.

  ‘Oy, cut it out!’ snapped Russ.

  Jonah shrugged. Dam’s tongue poked out licking at the escaped cream.

  ‘Jonah?’ Esmé indicated to the cake.

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘You don’t want a piece?’

  ‘I don’t do cake… all that fat and cream sticks to your guts… and your ass.’ His eyes travelled downwards over Esmé’s figure, before faltering to a smile.

  Esmé’s smile faded.

  Russ looked at her and turned away. Dam focussed on his cake.

  ‘One piece won’t hurt,’ she said.

  ‘Not for me. You lot can load up on calories but I’ve got a body to think about and if this bad boy gets fat… I’ll be out of a job, so no, thank you,’ he said, adding. ‘Dam won’t say no to another piece, will you Dam-my-man?’

  ‘I’ll have his share, if he doesn’t want it,’ shouted Dam, as Russ began to protest.

  ‘This is exactly what I can’t stand – vultures around food… grabbing and snaffling cake which turns you from a mean machine like me into Mr Blobby… like these pair. Enjoy!’

  Dam gleefully grabbed his second piece.

  ‘You git, you could have shared,’ moaned Russ, staring as Dam tucked into Jonah’s share.

  ‘You can have my piece,’ offered Esmé, plating up seconds for Russ.

  ‘You sure, don’t you want it?’

  Not now, after hearing Jonah’s opinion.

  ‘Nope, I ate a piece earlier with Grace – I made her one too, you see.’