Finding Hannah

by Fiona McCallum

  ‘Come on, you can’t stay here. Any second and all that champagne and lolly water will need somewhere to go,’ he said, smiling sympathetically.

  She nodded, clasped the hand he held out to her, and allowed herself to be eased up. A small part of her didn’t want to leave. How the hell was she going to face everyone out there? The full impact started to hit Hannah. It was one thing to have a meltdown in the toilet cubicle of a bar, but another to go back out looking like she had.

  She washed her hands and stood feeling helpless in front of the basins, trying to avoid the mirror. Craig stood beside her looking a little helpless. She began praying he wouldn’t wrap his arms around her – she might never let go.

  The door opened and Caitlin appeared clutching Hannah’s handbag, her own slung over her shoulder.

  ‘Here you are,’ she said, handing it to Hannah.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Right, we need to get you home,’ Craig said.

  ‘I can go in a taxi with her,’ Caitlin offered.

  ‘No, I’ll take her in my car. We’re not far from the office.’

  ‘Okay. There’s a back way out – I asked that lovely barman. Here, I’ll show you.’

  They helped Hannah out into a grimy narrow alley. She almost dry retched at the stench of decaying food and rubbish that hung in the air.

  ‘Queen Street is that way.’ Caitlin pointed.

  ‘Thanks, Caitlin,’ Craig said. ‘Can you just go back to the group and convince them everything is okay. If you have to, tell them Hannah got a bit upset, but leave it at that. I’m sure they’ll understand.’

  Caitlin gave the dazed Hannah a quick hug, handed her bag to Craig, and disappeared behind the door she’d kept propped open with her hip.

  Hannah nodded her thanks, but couldn’t speak. She felt stunned and incoherent, just like when the police had visited on Christmas Day.

  Chapter Eighteen

  She stared out of the window of Craig’s BMW, vaguely aware they were not driving towards her suburb. Then they pulled up in front of a house she didn’t recognise and Craig was helping her out of the car.

  He guided her to the front steps and put his key in the lock just as the door opened to the warm, friendly face of his wife Jasmine, dressed in a bathrobe. Oh no, could it get more embarrassing? Hannah didn’t know Jasmine well even though they’d met several times over the years. She’d been at the funeral with Craig and the house afterwards, too, hadn’t she?

  ‘Oh. What’s happened?’

  ‘Hannah’s upset. I didn’t think it wise to take her home where she’d be on her own.’

  ‘No, of course not. Bring her in, the poor thing.’

  Hannah was still in a trance-like state as she was ushered into the house, down the hall, and into a bedroom. She heard hushed voices and activity in the hall. She sat down on the bed and caught her reflection in the mirror of the wardrobe and couldn’t even bring herself to care that she looked a fright. Tears still streamed from her swollen eyes and down her raw, red cheeks.

  Moments later she looked up to find Jasmine placing a pile of things, including a towel, a feminine hygiene package and toothpaste and toothbrush on the bedside cupboard.

  ‘There’s an ensuite just through there,’ Jasmine said, pointing to a door beside the wardrobe. ‘Make yourself at home.’

  Hannah nodded and opened her mouth to thank her. But instead of words, a gulp came out, followed by a fresh rush of tears. Jasmine patted her hand. ‘I’ll get you a cup of herbal tea to help you sleep.’

  Jasmine soon returned with a glass of water in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.

  ‘Here’s some paracetamol in case you get a headache, if you haven’t already got one. They might help you sleep, too,’ she said, giving Hannah two tablets and the glass.

  ‘Thank you.’ Hannah swallowed the tablets, handed the glass back and then accepted the tea. She was still seated on the edge of the bed where she’d first sat down.

  ‘We’ll be just across the hall if you need anything. Hopefully you’ll sleep well and things won’t seem so bad in the morning.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Hannah finally blurted as Jasmine was leaving the room. The woman turned.

  ‘You really don’t need to apologise. Would it help to talk about it?’

  ‘I don’t think I can.’ Hannah whimpered like a child.

  ‘And that’s okay. You sleep well and I’ll see you in the morning. We can talk then. Or not, it’s entirely up to you.’

  Hannah slipped in between the sheets. She’d used the bathroom, but hadn’t got changed. She was exhausted and just wanted to curl up, go to sleep and never wake up.

  *

  Daylight filtered into the room, and Hannah woke, propped herself up and looked around. It took her a moment to remember where she was. Snippets of the night before came back to her. She’d been in the bar and then in the toilets. Craig had brought her home to his place. God, how embarrassing. And now even more awkward. How could she go into the kitchen and face them? She knew they were up because she could hear them down the hall and the sound of a coffee machine. She felt terrible and completely mortified. And then the reason for what had set her off seeped back in. She buried her face in the pillow.

  A moment later there was a gentle knock on the door.

  ‘Hannah, are you awake?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. She hoped Jasmine wouldn’t hear her and would return to the kitchen, but to not answer would be too rude.

  The door opened slowly. ‘How are you doing?’ Jasmine asked.

  ‘I’m okay. Thank you so much for everything.’

  ‘Don’t mention it. I brought you a coffee. Craig thought you liked it white with one, so I hope I’ve got it right.’

  ‘That’s perfect.’

  ‘Don’t be mad at Craig for telling me, but he explained what upset you. I’m so sorry. That on top of everything else …’

  ‘I feel ridiculous getting so upset. Being a single parent is not something I’d ever choose. I hadn’t given a thought to being pregnant – it’s too long since Tristan and I … well, you know …’

  ‘The body reacts to stress in all sorts of ways,’ Jasmine said, sitting down at the foot of the bed. ‘Maybe subconsciously you’d hoped you were pregnant, even if you wouldn’t want to raise children alone. To carry Tristan’s baby would keep him with you in some sense and you wouldn’t have to completely say goodbye. I get it. I think it’s reasonable to be shocked and upset to find out you’re not pregnant, even if it’s something you didn’t know you wanted. I imagine it will be like having to start your grieving all over again.’

  Hannah caught the wistful tone in her voice and looked up. She could see her own sadness reflected in Jasmine’s dark eyes staring back at her. She looked around and for the first time properly took in her surroundings. The room was a nursery. The walls were painted in lavender with a mural of Beatrix Potter animals. There was a white cupboard with a change-table on top, matching cot, bookshelves with stuffed toys and children’s books, and beside it, near the window, was a rocking chair. Hannah’s heart went out to the sad woman sitting beside her.

  ‘How many babies have you lost?’ she asked in a whisper.

  ‘Two. I’m hoping for third time lucky,’ she said, smiling sadly.

  ‘Oh, Jasmine. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.’

  ‘Thank you. We’ve kept it to ourselves. But it’s nothing compared to what you’ve been through, and are going through. I have so much else – my health, a good life, a wonderful husband, beautiful home … If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. I think that if you don’t have hope and faith in at least something you don’t really have anything.’

  ‘I still can’t believe how upset I was last night,’ Hannah said a few moments later.

  ‘I can.’ Jasmine took hold of Hannah’s hand and squeezed it. ‘How are you feeling now?’

  ‘A bit better, I guess. Though I can’t imagine ever not feeling damaged and sad. I’m beginn
ing to think you actually can die from a broken heart, and that it’s a very slow, painful death.’

  Jasmine nodded and gave Hannah’s hand another squeeze.

  ‘How do you …?’ she began to ask, but at that moment a large dog rushed into the room and startled Hannah by hopping onto the bed beside her.

  Hannah tried not to recoil.

  ‘This great lump helps,’ Jasmine said, giving the happy looking dog’s ears a rub. ‘Though he is very naughty, aren’t you, Dougal? But, honestly, there have been days when if I didn’t have him needing me to feed him or let him out I would have never got out of bed.’

  Craig appeared in the doorway. ‘Dougal, come on out of there. Darling, Hannah doesn’t like dogs.’

  ‘Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’

  Hannah opened her mouth to protest, but what could she say? It was the truth. And here she was being practically pinned down by a large, hairy beast. And it was drooling. Urgh! What was it with dogs trying to befriend her?

  ‘How are you doing?’ Craig asked.

  ‘Okay. A bit better. Thanks so much for everything. I’m so sorry to …’

  Craig held up a hand. ‘Hannah, it’s fine. I may be your boss, but I hope you count Jasmine and me as friends too. Now, do you think you’re up for some breakfast, because I don’t have too long before I head off to golf.’

  Hannah had a quick shower before making her way down to the kitchen where she was greeted with the sizzle and aroma of a fry-up. She’d remembered how she’d once yearned so much for a hot, greasy breakfast she practically ached. She’d always enjoyed good food and thankfully managed to keep within a healthy weight range. But since the accident she could barely find the energy to eat, let alone with any enthusiasm. These days she really just ate out of habit. She braced herself to put on a decent acting job as Jasmine invited her to sit down.

  ‘How much time do you want to take off from work?’ Craig asked. ‘Whatever you need.’

  ‘I don’t want to take any time off.’

  The thought of being at home alone all day with nothing to do terrified Hannah.

  ‘At least take the week off,’ Craig said, as he tucked into his bacon and eggs.

  ‘But …’

  ‘No need to get a medical certificate, I’ll clear it with HR,’ he said.

  ‘Please don’t make me,’ Hannah said, shocked that she’d uttered the words aloud. ‘I’m really sorry I had a meltdown, but I’m fine. I have been fine, haven’t I? It hasn’t affected my work. Please, I need my job. It’s all I’ve got.’

  Craig stared at her. ‘Hannah, I’m not firing you. I just think you need to take some time off.’

  ‘No, I need to keep busy. If you think I’m not pulling my weight …’

  ‘Of course not. You’re brilliant and I’d be lost without you. I’m just trying to help.’ He rubbed a hand across his face. She knew the mannerism well. He was out of his depth.

  ‘All of my friends are still away on holiday or back at work. What would I do on my own all day?’

  ‘Visit art galleries, shop, window shop, go and see movies …’ Jasmine said, lighting up. ‘You could do a short course of some sort. I’m doing interior decorating two afternoons a week.’

  ‘Jas has also been known to paint rooms and pull carpet up while I’ve been at work.’

  ‘I did the nursery, but next time I’ll get someone in who knows what they’re doing and has all the right tools.’

  ‘Yes, it’s one thing to keep busy, but overdoing things isn’t good,’ Craig said. ‘Though it didn’t help that Jas changed her mind about the colour and ended up painting it twice.’

  ‘I rushed in, desperate to be in charge of something, anything. Grief is so unpredictable and all-consuming that I think when you can finally breathe a little and think beyond the sadness for a few moments you become desperate for some semblance of normal. That’s how it is for me,’ she added with a gentle shrug.

  Hannah looked at Jasmine. She liked that Jasmine seemed genuinely kind and caring but pulled no punches.

  ‘You should be a counsellor,’ she said.

  ‘That’s what I keep telling her, but she wants to be paid to shop,’ Craig said.

  ‘Oh ha-ha,’ Jasmine said, and threw a tea towel at Craig’s head.

  ‘Well, I appreciate your advice,’ Hannah said. ‘I was actually thinking about doing some painting, changing the look of the place a bit. But now I think I’ll hold off.’

  ‘Obviously it’s entirely up to you, but I’d recommend sitting on your colour choice – or whatever else you have in mind – for a few weeks, months even, to make sure you love it. And, seriously, get someone in to do it, if you can afford to. Now is not the time to add more stress to your life. No matter how easy these things seem in the beginning, it tends to never end up that way. I blame those reality TV shows!’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever watched one.’

  ‘Well, don’t start, they lure you into a false sense of security and that never ends well. You know,’ Jasmine went on thoughtfully, ‘there’s another way to keep your mind occupied without turning the house upside down and taking on a large project.’

  ‘Oh? What’s that?’

  ‘Travel. Ooh, I love going away. Lounging around in four and five star hotels …’

  ‘But it wouldn’t be any fun travelling alone. And I’ve actually never even been on a plane.’

  ‘Really? Wow. Well, you don’t have to fly to travel. Even just a night or two in a swish hotel. I love travelling on my own. No one to answer to. Sorry, darling.’

  ‘I think that’s my cue to leave,’ Craig said, pushing his chair back from the table and taking his plate to the sink. ‘Do you want a ride home, Hannah? Your place is pretty much on my way, so it’d be no trouble.’

  ‘Oh, well …’ She was enjoying Jasmine’s company too much.

  ‘No, stay. I can take you home later, if you like – I’ve got nothing on.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks. I’d like to stay for a bit, if that’s all right. And when you drop me off you can tell me what you think of the paint colour I’m considering.’

  ‘Brilliant. Have a good round, darling,’ Jasmine said as Craig kissed her on the cheek.

  ‘See you Monday unless I hear otherwise, Hannah. Let me know if you change your mind. Take care and don’t let her corrupt you,’ he said, pointing at Jasmine.

  Hannah smiled after him while trying to ignore her feelings of envy at seeing their affection towards each other. Oh, she’d give her right arm for another hug from Tris.

  ‘You know, travelling on your own is not nearly as scary as you’d think,’ Jasmine said. ‘It’s really not a whole lot different to normal life – all the other things we do on our own; going to work, getting groceries … And there are tour groups you can join that pair you up with someone.’

  ‘I really don’t do much on my own. I love movies and I go quite a bit, but I’ve never been to one on my own.’

  ‘Yes, it can be confronting at first. I often go to the movies on Saturdays when Craig’s off playing golf. I’m a little older than you and the trouble with being my age is all my friends have kids or teenagers they’re driving around over the weekend. I’ve got used to doing things on my own. And I was single for years before meeting Craig so had it all down to a fine art. It can actually be quite liberating once you get over society’s view that if you’re alone you’re automatically a loser. But it does take time. What else do you enjoy?’

  ‘I can’t remember what I used to do on weekends, um, before. It reminds me of them and how much everything has changed. And that hurts too much.’

  ‘I can imagine. It’s good to think about happy times, but I understand if it’s still too painful or you don’t want to talk about it with me.’

  Hannah felt bad. Jasmine had been so nice she didn’t want her to feel as if she didn’t want her as a friend. She’d have to make an effort.

  ‘We always seemed to be busy,’ Hannah said, thoughtfully. ‘Frid
ay nights we often went out to drinks with people from work. Sometimes we’d go to dinner afterwards or just head home with takeaway. We both love – loved – Indian curry and Thai.’

  ‘Craig and I do too. What else?’

  ‘Saturday mornings we’d do a fry-up at home or head out for breakfast and then go grocery shopping. We enjoyed going to the markets and wandering around. Sometimes we’d invite people over for dinner.

  ‘Tristan played golf most Saturdays too, and while he did I’d often hang out with Mum and Dad, take them to do their groceries, or go out with Mum shopping or with girlfriends. Or I’d stay home and get the washing done or clean the house. God, we sound like a middle-aged couple, don’t we?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter how you sound. And your weekends don’t sound much different to ours.’

  ‘What if we were really boring? What if I was, am, boring and too much like my parents? What if Tristan wanted to do more and I held him back?’

  ‘He was a grown man, Hannah, if he wanted to do something else, he would have, or at least he would have talked to you about it. Perhaps he was simply content. Did he ever say you were boring?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘He wouldn’t have married you if he thought that. Hannah, there’s nothing wrong with contentment. Perhaps your predictability and stability is what Tristan loved most about you. From what Craig has said, he was really easy going too.’

  ‘He was, except sometimes when it came to golf – he’d get in such a rage when his slice kicked in he’d become a different person.’

  ‘Ha, don’t they all? It brings out the monster in Craig all too often.’

  ‘I really don’t get the appeal of golf.’

  ‘Me neither. I went out and walked around with Craig to show an interest when we first got together, but it was too boring for me.’

  ‘I did too. So did my friend Sam.’

  ‘Suckers, all of us,’ Jasmine said, grinning.

  ‘Yep,’ Hannah agreed.

  They lapsed into silence.

  ‘Food was our thing – it was a huge part of our life. And entertaining. We made a great team,’ Hannah said wistfully.