The Fern Coat
May 2025
Esther hadn't seen a tree in weeks.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She passed by them every morning and evening on her way to work, drinks, dinner, brunch and the theatre. But she didn’t pay attention to them, for they were city trees, so they didn’t count. Like most city dwellers with a busy schedule and no time to spare, Esther walked briskly everywhere, eyes forward or looking down at the pavement for practicality and survival. You’re never safe from a dog poo or a feral Lime bike rider in London. She moved fast, faster than her tall and lanky male friends. Sometimes people couldn't keep up with her, and truth be told, she struggled to keep up with herself, too.
She came home around eight, after what she’d describe as a great evening for mid-week drinks with her colleagues, and she wanted her mood to stay up. The damp door closed behind her as she took off her heavy coat, bellowing her usual ‘heeey’ to Daniel, who was on the sofa watching a BBC documentary. His feeble ‘hi’ back was unusual but not surprising, so Esther chose to ignore it and went straight to the kitchen to pour herself a pint of water.
This contrast wasn’t new. Esther liked to go out and bond with people, and ‘only connect’ from Howards End was her favourite literary quote, effortlessly remembered from English Literature classes. Daniel, meanwhile, preferred to cultivate the cocoon he called his ‘personal space’, and if he had a quote, Woolfe’s ‘room of one's own’ would be fitting. The mismatch only got heavier as the years went on. It's okay, though, we're different people, Esther told herself more and more frequently.
As she gulped a second pint of water, Esther suddenly heard the television switch off, interrupting her stream of consciousness. Daniel appeared in the kitchen, looking tense. His arms were crossed and his eyes avoidant yet resolute, like he’d rehearsed something all day. Oh, what is it now? she wondered.
I read your diary, he said.
At that moment, it felt as if the small Mile End flat was teetering at the edge of a cliff, as their relationship came apart. The sudden chill that penetrated Esther’s bones was colder than the streets she had just come in from, yet she felt that she’d be happier out in the wet wind, with leaves blowing in her hair. So, instead of meeting his gaze, she looked out the kitchen window at a rogue tree branch thrown about by the wind, thinking it could save her.
A couple of hours later, she was out of there. The entire thing hadn’t taken long. Though obviously shaken, she was strangely relieved. When Esther first met Daniel, she admired him for his intellect and his unapologetic sense of self. He was unbothered by what other people thought of him, even though she, of course, thought about how others viewed her every waking minute of the day. Like all things, she eventually grew tired of his idiosyncrasies... but found no 'good reason’ to break up. He hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. So, instead of getting angry, resentful or distant, she just got bored… and after a year of this forlorn status quo, she met Soraya.
A beautiful, enigmatic and provocative master’s student at UCL, Soraya came across Esther’s path at a gallery, and she instantly thought she was too cool and far too attractive for anyone’s sanity. She knew that if she weren't with Daniel, she'd spend the night with her, and unfortunately for him, Soraya initiated, and Esther couldn't—or rather wouldn’t—resist. Her arm touch and green eyes led Esther into an exhilarating affair, as exciting as you can imagine, and she had to confide in someone. Unfortunately, that someone was her diary... which Daniel went through after weeks of sensing something was afoot.
The conversation that ensued shed no tears and raised no voices, but it concluded in an expected separation. After putting up some customary resistance by bringing up the invasion of privacy Daniel had committed, Esther eventually conceded that, ultimately, she was in the wrong. Rather than spend the night in the same space as her soon-to-be ex, she said sorry, grabbed a few things, and left.
Esther felt powerful in her heavy coat. Her friends called it her ‘bad bitch coat,’ and instead of musing about the recent disintegration of her relationship and living situation, she mused about how good she looked as she crossed the Holborn intersection. She’d thrifted it in Edinburgh one Summer, during a big sale, and when she wore it she felt invincible, like a Gilded Age socialite walking through the streets she owned.
Arriving in zone one, she could have changed from the Central to the Piccadilly line and gotten off after one stop. This would have saved her fifteen minutes of walking, but for some reason, she wanted to gather momentum by passing through the Russell Square greenery. Damn it, she thought. Forgot it was closed. With her detour thwarted, Esther upped her pace in frustration.
Soraya’s flat was one of the nicer accommodations University College London provided, much nicer than what Esther had when she was a student. Lamps provided a diffused light that made the innumerable plants, candles and books look like props placed around by a set dresser. Soraya made tea in the kitchenette, musing about how she, the twenty-one-year-old student and Esther, the twenty-eight-year-old consultant, could, would and should move in together. But that wasn’t the kicker. As her younger lover went off on a rant, she took a closer look at the décor and noticed that: Every. Single. Plant. Was. Plastic. The unclear yet visceral reaction this produced made her brain swirl. She needed an excuse to leave this flat… and this affair.
The next morning, after a sleepless night of finding a way out of this, Esther was back on the streets of London, having broken two hearts in the space of twenty-four hours. While Daniel hadn’t raised his voice at all, Soraya had yelled. A lot. About Esther being a manipulator and a liar. Man, lesbians really are intense, she thought, before realising how deeply prejudiced that was. She let out a loud slur, stopping dead in her tracks in the middle of the pavement, to the apathetic surprise of a few passers-by. Her busy brain was coming to a boiling point and she needed to step away.
The streets on which she felt invincible less than ten hours ago were now coming straight at her. Going off the high street, she went down a smaller lane, then into a quiet square. Leaning against a house’s railings, she took a breather and stared into the void. After a few minutes, she remembered the Heath. There, she would be safe.
Once a grazing ground for cattle, Hampstead Heath now provides North Londoners with unbroken views of the city, wild trees, calming ponds and small forests, a break from the bustling metropolis, without the need to actually leave. Without much money to her name, Esther initially had to find the cheapest university accommodation, which also happened to be the most remote, a solid twenty-minute walk from the tube. But to her surprise, her halls happened to also be ten minutes away from the Heath. Sadly, no student will ever live there again, as they have now been turned into luxury flats… which North London so desperately needed.
After walking aimlessly through the alleyways and bushes of the Heath, Esther found a fallen oak tree, left there to continue its long existence on the damp green earth, now scurried on by hyperactive children and wayward adults like her. Although she still felt deflated and defeated, she knew that here, at least, she would have fauna and flora free of stone and concrete.
She sat on the trunk for a long time. She took in her surroundings, letting the relative wilderness and damp green oxygen relax her. Breathing in and out, all the ups and downs of the last twenty-four hours washed over her, exacerbated by the city's grey and claustrophobic concrete jungle of stress. Looking up at the tree leaves that sheltered her, she tried to bring herself back to her early years in London, full of naiveté and forgiveness… and then she understood that she needed to talk to Tony.
After what seemed like an eternity —twenty seconds—he answered. They hadn't spoken in years, literal years. So, what was there to say? ‘Sorry’ would've been a good start, but neither Esther nor Tony had done anything to each other. Their falling out had ignited numerous rumours and theories in their circles: someone started a relationship and dipped; someone bitched about the other behind their back; or gone on holiday with a new friend without telling them; and so on. Much to the forum's disappointment, it was purely and simply two close friends who had lost touch.
Esther didn’t have anyone in London she felt truly comfortable with. She had friends here she'd known for years, so seniority wasn’t an issue, but she needed someone who wouldn't judge her, or at least not too much. And it wasn’t like she could still confide in her diary…
Esther told Tony everything, and each detail, twist and turn got a raised eyebrow, a chuckle or a little gasp. He was very expressive and genuine, and she had missed sharing her adventures with him. The tree had gotten colder, and her bum was frozen, so she removed her heavy coat and sat on it. After she finished her story, a short silence followed, during which Tony looked at her through the phone without saying anything.
Am I a bad person? she asked.
He smiled, but not in a mean way, more like a concerned parent waiting for their child to calm down and stop being overdramatic. I think you just got bored. It suddenly wasn't exciting for you, so ‘fight or flight’ kicked in, right? he asked. She was both pleased and annoyed at how dead-on he was. What makes you say that? she asked. You get bored, dude. I feel like you got bored of me, too. And that's why we’re here. He confessed. Pardon? she retorted. I thought you were tired of me! And they both laughed, hundreds of miles away from one another. They said sorry, without knowing why, and without having to explain what for.
Esther felt so much better, but something was still stuck in the back of her throat, and Tony must have sensed it, for he went on: It was funny, the details you included in your spiel. Like what? she asked, genuinely curious. The plastic plants and flowers in her room. That was your trigger. Of all the things that could set you off… and upon hearing this, without fully understanding why, Esther finally cried, pouring out all the tears she’d carried since yesterday.
After wrapping things up with Tony, she got up from the tree and turned to look down at her coat, like a child looks at his old toys. She emptied its pockets and left it there for another promising young woman to find. In its place, from now on, Esther would find a slot in her busy schedule to spend more time with the trees.