Cooking Up Christmas. Katie Ginger

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.’

       Chapter 7

      Sandchester

      The paperwork was signed that afternoon and by the time Saturday evening came, the sky dark and the wind beginning to groan, Esme was officially the new tenant. When she went home and told her mum, she felt a small bubble of excitement about life for the first time since it had all come tumbling down around her. As much as her heart was still shattered into a hundred pieces, she wasn’t one for sulking or staying still. She was lucky to have the money from her parents; not many people would get such a chance, and she was determined to make the best of it. Having said that, her mum still had some reservations.

      ‘So you’re becoming a hermit?’ asked Carol, furiously cleaning the kitchen table, her features tight with worry. And considering she didn’t furiously clean anything unless she really had to, it showed the depth of her concern.

      ‘I’m not, Mum. I can still walk into town from there. I just need a torch when it gets dark.’

      ‘You’ll get murdered,’ Carol replied, her voice rising a little.

      ‘No, she won’t, dear,’ said Stephen. ‘There was more chance of that happening in London than there is here in Sandchester. She’ll be fine. Well done, love. Good work.’

      Esme smiled.

      ‘Are you sure about this?’ Carol asked, calming down a little. ‘I don’t like the idea of my baby girl being out there in the middle of the woods all on her own.’

      ‘Oh, Mum,’ Esme had replied, getting up from the breakfast bar and giving her mum a big hug. ‘It’s not in the middle of the woods, it’s just on the outskirts of town and I am sure about it. Even if I wasn’t, it’s too late now. I signed the paperwork earlier.’

      Leaving the cloth, Carol stood up straighter, a smile beginning to light her face. ‘Well, I suppose we’d better have a drink and celebrate then.’ Stephen opened a bottle of fizz and Esme couldn’t help but count her lucky stars at having such supportive parents. ‘To new beginnings,’ Carol said.

      ‘To new beginnings,’ Esme repeated and felt a little of her heartbreak soften.

      *

      Esme moved in the next morning with her few meagre possessions and set about cleaning everything. Everyone had offered to help, including Alice, but for some reason she wanted to do this on her own. When she’d moved in with Leo, he’d been so set on where everything had to go, and knowing how organised he was, she hadn’t argued. He’d always been fastidious and she didn’t want to disrupt his life as she was moving into his place. She wanted to slot into it gently because he’d said it became their place that day, but in reality, it had always been his. This was hers, and Esme wanted to clean the place herself with music blaring out, in a bid to stamp her authority on the cottage, and on her life. Somehow, it felt like an important marker, the start of a new phase, even though she hoped it was only a temporary stop, and she’d be back in London before too long.

      When her friends arrived late Sunday morning, when the sky was pale and filled with the watery winter sun, she could see their panicked faces through the windscreen before they’d even got out of the car. Mark, Helena and Lola climbed out, muttering to each other, but Esme couldn’t make out what was said until she opened the solid wood front door.

      ‘Sweetie, what have you done?’ asked Mark, walking over to give her a hug. A dark scarf was wrapped high around his neck making the bright blue of his eyes stand out against his beautiful olive skin. ‘You’re going to live in a gingerbread house in the middle of nowhere. Like a witch.’

      ‘It’s not that bad,’ Esme replied, crossing her arms over her chest trying not to shiver. She stood next to him facing the cottage and cocked her head. ‘Okay, so it is a bit crazy old lady, but it’s so sweet and cosy inside. And you’ll never guess what it’s called?’

      ‘What?’ asked Lola.

      ‘Mistletoe Cottage! How cute is that! It grows in the trees around here as well. Look.’ Esme pointed to a tall tree to the right of the cottage and the bright green mistletoe encircling its branches.

      Mark paused. ‘Are you telling me you know different types of plants already? You’re getting countrified.’

      ‘I’m