Finding Hannah

by Fiona McCallum

  ‘Thank you. Now, I’ve taken up enough of your time, I’d better go and at least see what I’m in for.’

  ‘I’m happy to come with you if you’d like. Equally, if you’d prefer to be alone …’

  ‘I’ve taken up enough of your time. But, oh, I’ve just realised, I forgot to bring a key.’

  ‘No problem. We keep spares in the safe. Just wait here and I’ll get it.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Hannah said, painfully aware she was sounding like a broken record. But what else was there to say? She was grateful to Mrs Hobbes for making her feel so comfortable. As she sat and waited she thought she really would prefer to be alone to start formulating a plan for clearing out her parents’ villa.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ve just been reminded I have a meeting with some prospective residents now,’ Mrs Hobbes said, walking back in. ‘Here you are, here’s the key. Would you mind finding your own way? Or I could send Tilly with you …’

  ‘No, that’s fine. I’ll be fine,’ Hannah said, standing up on now shaky legs. ‘Thanks so much for this morning, Mrs Hobbes. I’ll be in touch to sort out all the details when I’m ready. I shouldn’t be long – maybe a week or so?’

  ‘Please, call me Joanne. And, as I said, there’s no rush.’

  Hannah nodded and smiled and resisted uttering the words ‘Thanks’ or ‘Thank you’ again – she was beginning to sound like someone with a limited grasp of the English language. She was also starting to feel pretty jittery, so perhaps had lost some of her grasp on it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hannah made her way slowly back to her parents’ villa, number eighty-three Lavender Lane, the key she clutched tightly cutting into her hand. She found herself enjoying the pain. She didn’t seem to feel much of anything beyond the strange hollow ache deep within her these days.

  She stared at her mother’s trademark welcoming red Christmas ribbons tied in big bows around each of the terracotta pots full of pansies on either side of the door. Her heart ached at seeing that the pavers underneath the pots were damp. If only it had been her mother out first thing in the morning doing the watering. She sighed heavily, and put the key into the lock.

  She carefully wiped her feet before stepping onto the plush cream carpet and, ignoring the closed bedroom doors, walked down the hall to the small but comfortable open-plan lounge, dining and kitchen area. She pictured her mother when she came in here for the first time and declared it quaint. ‘Manageable,’ her father had always called it.

  Bloody Christmas, she silently cursed, and glared at the small Christmas tree in the corner and the strands of coloured foil decorations looped between the windows and large glass sliding door. Other than that, the place was just as it had always been – impeccably neat and ordered, yet homely and lived-in. But as Hannah stood there it struck her just how quiet it was – to the point of eeriness. Deathly, she found herself thinking without irony.

  Daniel and Daphne weren’t raucous, except occasionally when entertaining, but the house seemed to have stopped breathing, as well as her parents. There weren’t even any birds to be heard in the tiny back garden. Hannah felt the urge to sit on one of the leather recliners and give into the weeping that was only just being contained beneath the surface.

  ‘Get busy, stay busy,’ she told herself. It was starting to become a mantra for her, she realised.

  She carefully packed away every remnant of Christmas.

  Now what, she wondered, looking around.

  Feeling overwhelmed, she wished she’d just stayed home and continued replying to the stack of sympathy cards. While that was confronting, it was at least contained and manageable.

  Perhaps this wasn’t the right day to be packing up her parents’ home. Perhaps it was too soon.

  About to turn and walk back down the hall and shut the door, she stopped herself. Putting it off wouldn’t help, would it? Best to get it over with. And no one else could do it. Joanne could probably organise someone to do any heavy lifting and cleaning, but no one else could decide what to keep and what to discard. Perhaps Auntie Beth could, but it wouldn’t be fair to put that on the old lady. Again she wished Sam was here with her. What would her advice be? After a moment, she was sure Sam would say to do it in baby steps – start small and with the less personal and build up.

  Perhaps some music for company would help. She turned on the radio that was always set to the ABC. Ignoring the nostalgic feeling that told her she shouldn’t change it, she tuned it to MIX – her preferred station in the car. Concentrating on the music, a cheery tune from the eighties she could sing along to perhaps, she felt a little better.

  ‘Right, let’s do this,’ she said aloud, gritted her teeth, and went into the kitchen area. The fridge – that was the most logical place to start. The milk would be rank by now.

  She opened the door and stared inside. And then she began to frown. That’s weird. There was no milk in the door, or cheese in the dairy keeper, and no eggs on the top shelf where her mother always kept the carton. And they were big milk drinkers so there was always plenty on hand. She opened the fruit and vegetable drawer, even though she could see that it was empty.

  Someone had already been in and made sure nothing would go off. Hannah checked the rubbish bin. That was empty too, and someone had put in a clean bin liner. She felt a surge of gratitude towards Joanne, who must have been responsible for the clean up. But she was a little disappointed that it meant she’d have to get straight on to tackling the more personal. She’d hoped to put that off for a bit longer, eased towards it. Small things, she reminded herself, and went over to the groups of framed photographs on the sideboard, china cabinet and occasional tables.

  Her mother had carefully selected the frames with this modern decor in mind, but they were not to Hannah’s taste. She started taking the photos out of them, being careful not to dwell on the smiling faces, and put the frames aside in a pile for the nearest op shop. She’d work her way back down the house towards her parents’ bedroom. A part of her wondered if she should do that first and get it over with – rip the Band-Aid off – but she was here now. She looked around, wondering if there was anything she wanted or needed. It was more a question of practicality than sentimentality.

  Her parents had been excited to start afresh. Having never splurged on much before, they had gone on a small shopping spree to furnish this place. Everything was bought new, not that there was room for too much. Hannah had been pleased for them, and had enjoyed shopping for new pieces of furniture and a few knickknacks with her mother, despite nothing being to her taste. She liked things with character and stories to tell; antiques or soon-to-be antiques – just what she’d grown up with and her parents had happily left behind when they moved. Daniel and Daphne had always been more sentimental about people and their relationships with them than about things.

  She bagged up the small items – books, DVDs, photo frames, etc – for the op shop, working her way back down the hall.

  Finally she stood at the closed door to her parents’ bedroom. She’d been coping so well. But with a sigh she realised she’d done the easy bit and couldn’t put off opening this door if she was going to finish the task. She was feeling pretty weary. Checking her watch she realised it was a little after one. Perhaps she should come back fresh tomorrow. Indecision gripped. If she could make herself do this, it would be done and she could start moving on. But it’s going to be hard and confronting. You’ve had it easy up until now, she heard her inner voice say.

  She was standing there deliberating when there was a gentle knock on the front door. Saved by the bell, she thought, with slight relief.

  She opened the door to find Joanne Hobbes standing there holding a tray with plates of sandwiches covered in cling wrap and bottles of juice.

  ‘Joanne, hi. Come in.’

  ‘I’ve brought some lunch in case you haven’t eaten.’

  ‘Thank you so much. I haven’t even given food a thought,’ she said, standing aside.

  ‘I th
ought you might need a break and some sustenance. If you’re anything like me, you get bogged down and forget to eat. And, of course, you might have been banking on there being something in the fridge,’ she added as she put the tray on the kitchen bench.

  ‘This is so lovely of you. And, you’re right on all counts,’ she added with a little laugh. ‘These sandwiches look fantastic. And thank you for cleaning out the fridge.’

  ‘Honestly, if you’d rather be alone, just say,’ Joanne said, hesitating.

  ‘No, please stay. I’d much rather have your company.’

  ‘Great. There’s plenty for two. Tuck in.’

  They unwrapped the plate of assorted sandwiches and undid the caps on the juice bottles and began to eat.

  ‘So, how’s it going?’ Joanne asked, looking around. ‘You’ve clearly made some headway.’

  ‘I’ve done the easy areas. Out here everything is so new it doesn’t really feel like it was theirs, if you know what I mean. You saved me, actually. I was just trying to work up the nerve to go into Mum and Dad’s room when you knocked. I’ve been putting it off by starting back here.’

  ‘Ah. Well, perhaps after some nourishment it won’t feel so confronting. I could stay and help if you’d like.’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that.’

  ‘You’re not. I’m offering. My afternoon is clear, and I wouldn’t mind at all. If it would help.’

  ‘I did want to ask you something. Do you think someone would be interested in the place being fully furnished, or do I need to completely clear it out? You see, I already have a fully furnished house and I’m not interested in anything that’s here.’

  ‘Well, that’s actually the second reason I’m here. Ulterior motive, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘The people I saw this morning asked if there were any villas available fully furnished. I hope it wasn’t too presumptuous of me to tell them that there might be one coming up soon – this one.’

  ‘Not at all. Oh, that would be a huge weight off my mind.’

  ‘Hannah, you don’t need to worry unnecessarily about all of this – we’re, I’m, here to help. You’re not alone. Sadly, being a retirement facility, we have to deal with this sort of situation regularly. You just choose what you want to take for yourself and then together we can decide what happens to everything else. How does that sound?’

  Tears welled in Hannah’s eyes at the relief of how good it felt to not be alone in this.

  After what seemed to be just a few minutes, they were wiping their mouths and placing crumpled-up paper napkins on their empty plates.

  ‘Right, shall we see what we’re dealing with in the bedroom and bathroom, or would you rather do it yourself?’ Joanne said, clapping her hands together and getting up.

  ‘I’d really appreciate the company, if you don’t mind staying.’

  Hannah followed Joanne down the hall. She paused with her hand on the door handle to Hannah’s parents’ bedroom and looked back with raised, questioning eyebrows.

  ‘Okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ Hannah said, nodding, before taking a deep breath.

  The room was just as she’d expected – bed neatly made and everything in its place. It was all so normal and, as with the rest of the house, gave no hint of the tragedy that had struck its occupants. And again she couldn’t even detect their scents. Hannah was a bit confused at feeling disappointed. What else she’d been expecting she didn’t know.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Joanne asked.

  ‘Yes. I think so. It’s just weird that everything has changed with them being gone, yet nothing has changed here. It’s messing with me a bit.’

  ‘I know what you mean. I think that’s the hardest thing about losing someone – that life just carries on as if nothing has happened, but almost nothing is as it was. It’s hard to come to terms with. I think that’s why grief often feels like you’re constantly taking one step forwards and two steps back.’

  ‘I’m finding that.’

  ‘I learnt to console myself that at least I cared enough to be sad. Just imagine being the sort of person who could pick up and carry on as if nothing had changed. I wouldn’t want to be like that and I doubt you would either – no matter how much it all hurts.’

  Hannah nodded. What Joanne said made a lot of sense. ‘So, what you’re saying is, “no pain, no gain”, right?’

  ‘Yes, I guess I am. I know you wish it didn’t hurt, but try to be grateful for it, because it means you’re kind and loving – the sort of person I know your parents were very proud of.’

  ‘Thanks, Joanne, that’s lovely of you to say.’

  ‘You’re welcome. I sometimes think I had to go through losing my Teddy in order to help others. I hope I don’t sound trite or holier-than-thou.’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘I’d just hate for it all to have been in vain. I guess we must hold onto comfort wherever we find it, no matter how tenuous,’ she said with a shrug, and smiled. ‘Right, how about I start by taking everything out of the wardrobes and checking the pockets and you see if there’s anything you want to keep?’

  Hannah appreciated Joanne’s no-nonsense direction as much as she appreciated her advice on surviving grief. The woman was incredible. Left to her own devices she might have still been standing there feeling weird and overwhelmed in four hours’ time. Instead she snapped to attention.

  *

  It was after five o’clock when Hannah hugged Joanne goodbye and backed out of her parents’ driveway. She was so grateful to Joanne for offering to take the bags to the op shop for her – even though she went right by one on her way home. She was struggling with the awful fact that the lives of her parents, and at some point her husband, were being relegated to black plastic garbage bags and pushed into a large bin to be picked through by strangers and then priced up ready to be picked through by another lot of strangers. To stand there and stuff them into the bins might completely do her in. Seeing all the bags in the hallway had been bad enough.

  At least someone less fortunate would make good use of her parents’ things, she told herself. It was exactly what her mother would have said, and had said, every year when they’d gone through their wardrobes. Daphne would have appreciated this act of practicality.

  As she drove out of the main gate and joined the traffic, Hannah felt a wave of sadness hit her that was so strong she gasped. It was all so final, so real. They were never coming back. She’d never visit them here again. And she might not see Joanne Hobbes, who had been so good to her, again either. Of course, Joanne was probably only doing her job, but still Hannah had really appreciated the support. From here on, all her dealings with the retirement village would most likely be done via phone, email or post.

  The now-familiar knot of sadness she’d come to accept was back with all its ferocity and caused her whole being to ache. She concentrated on the Melbourne traffic – still manic even on the weekend – while refusing to give into the tears. Actually, she realised, there were none. Hannah wasn’t sure what was worse, this ball of emotion sapping her energy or an exhausting bout of tears. She felt so weighed down by it all.

  As she drove the rest of the way home, barely aware of the heavy traffic around her, Hannah vowed that tomorrow she would finish writing to everyone who had sent sympathy cards. Then, with these things out of the way, she might be able to start healing. She didn’t think Joanne, and her friends for that matter, were wrong about grief being a long, slow process. But she hoped she was stronger and would deal with it better. There were always exceptions to everything, weren’t there? She liked to keep busy, was methodical, and thrived on being organised and getting things done – ticking items off the to-do list. Surely that would hold her in good stead. Settling back into work was another hurdle she was looking forward to ticking off.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hannah boarded the tram and pressed her Myki card to the reader and waited for the ding to sound. It was good to be amongst other commut
ers again – though thankfully at eight in the morning not too many – and feel normal in that sense. No one around her knew her or her story. Of course, there were those she recognised who caught the same tram at the same time day after day, and who acknowledged each other with a smile or nod or even a brief greeting or goodbye. Someone would occasionally comment on the weather or their frustration over the card reader not working, or say thanks for shuffling over that extra bit or getting up to let them off. But that was all about being polite, not personal.

  In her company’s building, while the lift was filled with familiar faces she smiled and nodded to, no one else got off on floor twenty-eight. Hannah was pleased to find she was the first to arrive at her side of the floor too.

  Good. So far, so normal, she thought as she put her handbag in the cupboard beside her desk and took her lunchbox to the fridge in the kitchen. If all went well, her boss, Craig, would be at his desk. She thought about how thoughtful he’d been to phone last night and found herself smiling at remembering their conversation:

  ‘Hannah, it’s Craig, I just want to check you’re absolutely sure you still want to come in tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll be there.’

  ‘Because I can easily get a temp in. You can take as long as you need.’

  ‘I know, and I appreciate it, Craig, but I feel I need to do this.’

  ‘It’s very soon, Hannah.’

  ‘Please, Craig. I need some normal.’

  ‘Okay. On one condition.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You don’t try to be tough – you tell me if it all gets too much and you need to take off.’

  ‘I’ll be okay,’ Hannah said, trying to convince herself as much as Craig.

  ‘Hannah …’ Craig persisted.

  ‘Okay, I promise.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure, I’ll see you when I see you, then.’