Katie Ginger - Cooking Up Christmas

Leo overtook a group of tourists and in his pocket, he tightened his grip on the ring he had bought Veronica. It wasn’t an engagement ring, though he had secretly looked at those too, but he didn’t want to rush too much. Poor Esme. From the look on her face that night, it was almost as if she thought he was going to propose or spring a romantic holiday on her. She’d always been fanciful though and would often let her imagination run wild. The day after they’d split, she’d come at the crack of dawn, even before he was up for the gym, and packed a suitcase, clearing out her clothes and special mementoes, like her memory box. She hadn’t said a word, just moved silently around the room. At first, he’d pretended to be asleep but, realising he couldn’t do that forever, he’d gone and hidden in the bathroom, thankful she had cleared that first. It wasn’t cowardly, he told himself. It was tactful and made things easier for her. It was the least he could do. She must be devastated. But she’d be fine. She was one of those people who’d always be fine. Later, she had texted saying Mark would come and get the last few bits when it was convenient, and he was to contact Mark directly to arrange it. She didn’t want to speak to him, or see him, and to be honest, he couldn’t blame her. He knew deep down he should have given her more time, but it was difficult to say no to Veronica.

Swerving to the right and cutting up a middle-aged man who was trundling along at a snail’s pace, staring up at all the Christmas lights, Leo charged down the tube station steps. The warm air rose up to grab him, a sudden contrast to the cold air outside. He was meeting Veronica soon and he couldn’t wait to give her the ring. He was sure she’d love it. Still, as sad as things were with Esme, at least now he was now able to move on and be with someone who got him. Someone who was just as ambitious as him. The type of person he was meant to be with. Leo smiled to himself. Veronica was equally as driven, strong and determined, but if she had one fault, it was that she was a little bossy. She had to be, he supposed, being his boss and leading the team, but sometimes she forgot to turn it off when they were together. Since yesterday morning, when he told her Esme had gone, taking most of her stuff, she’d been demanding Leo chase Esme to confirm when she’d remove the last of her things. He’d told her he couldn’t do it yet – it had only been two days since he’d ended it. To phone now would be callous in the extreme, but it hadn’t stopped her mentioning it again in the office this afternoon. Leo suspected Mark knew that he’d allowed someone else to move in already and would no doubt have told Esme. He was glad he didn’t have to face her at the moment when it would still be raw and hurtful for her.

A train pulled in and he jumped on. Leo was looking forward to going back to his flat and pictured the piles of Veronica’s things already dotted here and there – a spare bag, a book – happy that he’d done the right thing. Esme’s lack of ambition had been holding him back from his life goals for a long time now. Another reason why Veronica was the perfect partner for him. That and her insanely long legs. Together they could achieve anything. They’d started their affair six months before he’d broken up with Esme and a fleeting regret for cheating on her passed through him but quickly faded. Sometimes these things happened.

He was meeting Veronica at the flat and then they were going to a fancy restaurant where he’d give her the ring. Every time he tried to take Esme to a fancy restaurant she had this annoying habit of trying to figure out exactly what was in a dish and how she could cook it. It had been endearing at first but as things had started to go wrong, he’d found it boring. There was no way Veronica would do something like that. The new watch on his wrist shone as he reached his arm up to hold onto the bar. Whilst at the jeweller’s he’d bought himself a new watch. Well, why shouldn’t he? He’d been through a lot lately, he deserved a little treat.

‘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.