Finding Hannah

by Fiona McCallum

  ‘Well, that was interesting,’ Jasmine finally said after they’d navigated the winding, narrow streets of the suburb and were on a main road.

  ‘Yes, just bloody brilliant.’

  *

  ‘Looks like they’ve given up on you,’ Jasmine said when they returned. They’d lingered over their lunch, which Hannah had been too distracted to fully enjoy, had wandered through a couple of stunning interior-design shops and then had stopped by the supermarket on their way back. It was now dark – still Hannah’s least favourite part of the day.

  ‘Good,’ Hannah said, letting out a small sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure how she’d feel knowing strangers were lurking outside her house while she tried to sleep. She reminded herself this wasn’t Hollywood. And these were media, not paparazzi.

  ‘Do you want me to come in with you?’

  ‘Thanks, but I’ll be fine.’ The truth was Hannah would love nothing more than for Jasmine to come in and never leave. While she was getting used to being on her own and was no longer afraid, she couldn’t say she enjoyed it. ‘I’m really sorry I was such bad company.’

  ‘You weren’t. A little distracted at times, maybe, but it’s okay – and totally understandable. You just call if you need anything. I can send big, burly Craig around if they come back and start giving you grief.’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll let you know. You’re the best,’ she said, hugging her friend.

  As she waved Jasmine off and walked up the path, Hannah found herself imagining the media misconstruing Craig’s presence and painting her as the widow who’d moved on too quickly. She shook her head at the absurdity of her thoughts and then almost snorted. She wouldn’t put anything past them. She hadn’t thought for a second they’d turn up here, but they had. She shouldn’t be so cynical, but it was hard not to be. The whole world knew that negative and sensationalist news sold. They’d probably left her alone for so long so they wouldn’t look too bad.

  Hannah had just finished putting her few groceries away when the home phone rang.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hi, Hannah, it’s Raelene. How’s things?’

  Hannah immediately tensed a little. Tristan’s parents were creatures of habit. They only ever rang on a Sunday evening. Today was Saturday.

  ‘Pretty good, thanks.’ It was Hannah’s standard answer. People didn’t really want to know how you actually felt, even family. It was only a figure of speech and it wasn’t fair to lay the catalogue of your woes at their feet.

  ‘Look, we just wanted to call and warn you. We’ve had the media here trying to question us.’

  ‘Me too. They were here this morning. I found it a little confronting, to be honest.’

  ‘That’s understandable.’

  ‘Apparently legal proceedings are starting. Did you know?’

  ‘Yes. I thought you didn’t want to know any of the details. That’s why we …’

  ‘I don’t. It just came as a bit of a shock.’

  ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘There’s no need for you to apologise. Why are they interested in us, anyway?’ Hannah asked.

  ‘A few of them came to the house after the funeral. We sent them away.’

  ‘Oh. Thank you. I had no idea.’

  ‘That was the point, dear,’ Raelene said.

  ‘So why are they back now?’

  ‘I think with the trucking company in the frame it’s going to become a pretty big story,’ Raelene said. ‘They always like some human emotion to colour the technical details and evidence. So be prepared.’

  ‘Were you interviewed, um, last time?’

  ‘Yes. And it was clearly a slow news week because they pestered us. Sat at the gate until we said something. I got really annoyed with them, which of course got reported. There was the most dreadful picture of me in the paper – I looked like a crazy woman. I can laugh about it now – well, almost …’

  ‘I was polite, but I told them I have no comment.’ Hannah sent a silent blessing to Jasmine for her wisdom.

  ‘As you have every right to. But I’m sure they’ll be back. And don’t burn the bridge, because one day you might just want to tell your story.’

  ‘I have no story.’

  ‘Well, you do as far as the media is concerned. You’re a …’

  ‘Please don’t say victim,’ Hannah said with a groan.

  ‘All right. But, sweetheart, you are a casualty in all this. It’s changed your whole life. And you’re doing really well. It’s entirely up to you if you speak to them or not. Whatever you decide, we’ll support you.’

  ‘I don’t have anything to say to them.’

  ‘That’s okay. And you can always change your mind later. As we’ve said a million times, you have to do what you feel is right for you, not anyone else. Look, I’m sure you’re exhausted from having to think about all this. I know we are. I’ll leave you now. And if you need us, just call.’

  ‘Thanks so much. Having your support means the world,’ Hannah said, choking up.

  ‘And you mean the world to us. If you want to escape, you’re welcome to visit. We’re in beautifully warm, sunny Townsville at the moment. I hear Melbourne still hasn’t got into the swing of spring yet.’

  ‘Okay, don’t rub it in. It was a maximum of fifteen degrees here today,’ she said with a laugh, grateful for the opportunity to talk about lighter topics. If she didn’t have to work on Monday, she might seriously consider it. The lingering cold weather wasn’t really bothering her, she was gloomy enough as it was, but perhaps a change of scenery would help. ‘Have you seen anything interesting this week?’

  ‘Lots of sunshine!’ There was a voice in the background. ‘And Adrian says more bloody flowers,’ Raelene said, laughing.

  Hannah smiled. Adrian was always ribbing Raelene good-naturedly about how all she wanted to see everywhere they went were gardens and Raelene was always ribbing him about him only wanting to see museums.

  ‘I’d better let you go before it turns into a domestic,’ Hannah said.

  ‘Good idea.’

  ‘Thanks so much for the call.’

  ‘You’re welcome. And just remember, like with everything you’ve been through this year, there is no right or wrong. You just do what feels right to you. Nothing you say can change what’s happened.’

  ‘Thanks. I will.’

  *

  In the morning, Hannah woke feeling groggy and headachy, but with an idea. During her tossing and turning throughout the night she’d decided that perhaps a change of scenery was what she needed. When she thought about it, she and Tristan would have had at least two weekends away by now – for their anniversary and his birthday. She wasn’t sure she could quite muster the courage to take a week off work and not have that security anchor, but she could stay in a city hotel for a few nights for a change.

  The more she considered it the more excited she became. She and Tristan had spent a couple of weekends playing tourists in their own city. They’d had a great time. It wouldn’t be the same without him, but she could at least try. A little voice inside her said she owed it to him – and her parents – to move on. Begin to live again. She could almost hear them all lecturing her: Enough is enough, Hann. You need to get back out there and learn to smell the roses again.

  She stretched, responding to the strange feeling of awakening spreading through her. She got out her laptop, brought up the hotel booking site and put in today’s date for check-in. She hesitated over the check-out date. Was a week in a nice hotel over the top? Most of them were more than two hundred dollars a night. She’d never splurged like this in her life. Should she spend so much? At this stage it was only a date, a number – it could be changed. At least it was a starting point.

  The masses of options that turned up were almost overwhelming. There were pages of lovely hotels for great prices. How could she choose? And then she remembered Jasmine saying she always used the surprise hotel feature if it was available. She’d explained that that way she couldn’t be
disappointed with her choice – because she hadn’t actually chosen. Why the hell not? And why not a week? I can afford it, Hannah thought, in a wave of bravado, and clicked on the option.

  She felt pleased with herself as she printed out the booking sheet, but also sad that she’d be staying at The Hotel Windsor without Tristan. They’d stayed there on their wedding night. Again she found herself wondering what Sam would make of this coincidence. Even Hannah had to admit it was a little spooky that the surprise hotel turned out to be The Windsor – it was like drawing a name out of a hat.

  She was relieved to see there was no media waiting outside her house when she made her way with her suitcase to the yellow taxi waiting at the kerb. She knew she’d probably packed far too much for just a week, only a few suburbs from home, but didn’t think it would matter.

  ‘Hello. The Windsor Hotel, thank you.’

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Hannah was prepared to drop her bag off and go exploring, but was pleasantly surprised to find her room was ready early and she could head on up. Walking along the long corridor from the lift, past the sweeping staircase with its landing of beautiful old tessellated tiles, she was again saddened at remembering her last visit with Tristan. But she also felt comforted at finding everything just the same. And while the grand old hotel had all the modern conveniences, it also had a lovely warmth and ambiance that you didn’t tend to find in the modern four- and five-star hotels.

  She slid the card into the reader and opened the door to her room. As she took in the patterned carpet and matching curtains with their swag and tails, she let out a contented sigh. It was exactly as she remembered from five years ago.

  She put her case in the small walk-in robe, tucked her key away in her handbag and left. If she sat on the bed and allowed herself to think too much she might become mopey and never leave.

  *

  She returned the doorman’s friendly greeting and stood on the footpath for a moment as she decided whether to turn left or right. To her left, the free city-circle tram was approaching on its clockwise lap. She checked for cars and raced across to the stop. She hadn’t caught this tram for years and had never done a full lap. But today she was pretending to be a tourist and was happy to step up into the old rattler.

  She settled into the last available seat amongst people talking in different languages and snapping away with their cameras and taking selfies with their mobile phones.

  Hannah didn’t do selfies and hadn’t been on Facebook for months. After using it to contact people en masse for the funeral and wake – which Sam had taken charge of anyway – she’d only logged in a couple of times. She’d found it too sad and depressing to see everyone posting the same news and everything going on as usual, regardless of what she’d lost and how much her life had changed. A couple of times she’d even considered closing down her account, but it was a good link to people she wasn’t in contact with day to day. And now that she was starting to get out more, perhaps there might actually be events posted she’d be interested in going to.

  Hannah resisted getting off and walking down Flinders Lane to check out the many art galleries for Sam. She didn’t want a mission, just wanted to wander and see what she found. Perhaps she’d go there next Saturday.

  The biggest change Hannah saw was at the west end of the city, which had been densely developed with tall apartment blocks since she’d last been there. There were also restaurants and a shopping precinct. Hannah wondered what it would be like to live in a high-rise city apartment in the Docklands area.

  While she didn’t really enjoy tending to her large garden, she did enjoy sitting out in the backyard. Here there were outdoor communal areas for residents, but while Hannah thought that was all good in theory, she wondered how many people really wanted to sit with strangers. She wouldn’t mind betting, not many.

  The other thing she realised she liked about having a yard was sleeping in sheets that had been hung outside in the sun to dry. She smiled at conjuring up the smell of warmed linen. It was one of her favourites. Did they smell the same out of a dryer?

  The tram rattled on, stopping and starting, people getting on and off. Hannah found the movement, the noise, and the commentary mesmerising and the sun streaming in the window was making her sleepy.

  She didn’t think she’d actually fallen asleep, but was surprised to realise she was nearing the end of her lap. She got off one stop before where she’d got on and, after overcoming the shock of the icy blast of air that hit her, headed down La Trobe Street and then towards the Queen Victoria Market, which she hadn’t been to in years.

  The stalls weren’t as interesting as she remembered, but she found some Italian coffee and pastries.

  Realising she hadn’t checked her phone for hours, she began digging for it in the bottom of her bag. Just as she turned it on it began to ring. ‘Jasmine mobile’ was brightly lit on the screen.

  ‘Hi, Jas. How’s things?’

  ‘Good. Are you okay? It’s just I’ve tried calling a couple of times. I was worried after yesterday so I popped around, too.’

  ‘God, sorry. I’ve had it turned off in case the media might have somehow got the number. I’m fine. I’m actually in the city playing tourist.’

  ‘Oh, what fun.’

  ‘Yes. I decided to be brave and book myself into The Windsor for a few nights.’

  ‘Good for you. Well done. Ooh, I’m jealous, though, I’ve always wanted to try their high tea.’

  ‘Would you fancy doing that with me next Saturday?’

  ‘I’d absolutely love to, but I’m afraid next Saturday’s out for me. Anyway, I don’t like your chances – they’ve been known to be booked out for months.’

  ‘Oh, well, another time. Hey, sorry about not letting you know I was away.’

  ‘Don’t be silly – you’re a grown woman, Hannah, you can do exactly as you wish. So, what have you seen and done?’

  ‘Nothing special, just checking out the usual sights, really. But I’m having fun being in a different environment.’

  ‘Listen to you being so adventurous.’

  ‘I’m not sure wandering the streets of Melbourne counts as an adventure, but I am enjoying myself. And, you know, it’s not as bad doing it on my own as I thought it would be.’

  ‘That’s wonderful to hear. I’m proud of you. So, tell me where you are and what you’re doing right now – other than talking to me.’

  ‘I’m actually standing outside a real-estate agent’s office reading the ad for a fabulous looking warehouse conversion.’

  ‘God, you Melbournians and your obsession with real estate!’

  ‘I bet it’s the same in Sydney. Anyway, you’re one of us now, don’t forget!’

  ‘Haha, you’re probably right about that. And, yes, yes I am!’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not signing up for anything.’

  ‘It’s brilliant to hear you sounding so upbeat, especially after yesterday. I’ll let you go. Enjoy apartment hunting.’

  ‘Hang on, aren’t you one of the many telling me not to make any major decisions in the first twelve months?’

  ‘It doesn’t hurt to look. And I’m not about to let you sell your gorgeous house without some serious grilling. I’d better go. We’re heading out for a curry.’

  ‘Enjoy. Thanks for the call. And, s …’

  ‘Don’t you dare apologise again, Hannah. As long as I know you’re okay and having fun, I’m happy. Enjoy!’

  ‘Thanks. Speak soon.’

  Hannah hung up feeling good. She took a snap of the advertisement of the warehouse with her phone before moving off on a lighter step. There was so much to see in the city – she hadn’t even visited any of the interesting laneways yet. She was almost disappointed that she’d be back at work tomorrow.

  When she returned to her room, Hannah was exhausted. She toyed with getting into her pyjamas and ordering room service for dinner and staying in, even though it was only a quarter to six. The meals on the menu sounded
divine. But she told herself that this trip – if she could call it that – was about pushing at least a little beyond her comfort zone. She decided that if she braved the hotel restaurant on her own for dinner she was allowed to eat in her room every other night that week if she wanted to.

  *

  Having showered and changed, Hannah waited at the restaurant’s reception desk, feeling nervous and self-conscious. The room was practically empty. She wasn’t sure what was worse – to sit alone in a full restaurant or an empty one.

  ‘Table for one?’ the smiling young woman asked.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Do you have a reservation?’

  ‘No. Is that okay?’

  ‘It’s fine. No problem at all. Come this way.’

  Hannah noticed a man sitting alone at a small table as she was led to another small table in front of him. She stopped short when he spoke.

  ‘Excuse me. If you’re dining alone, would you like to join me?’ He stood up and laid his white linen napkin on the table.

  ‘Oh. Well. I …’

  He raised his hands as if in a gesture of surrender. ‘Please don’t think I’m hitting on you. I can see you’re married. It’s just that I prefer not to eat alone, if it can be helped,’ he said, smiling kindly at her.

  As Hannah looked down at her wedding ring a jolt ran through her.

  ‘It’s entirely up to you. And there would be no hard feelings if you’d rather not …’

  She took in his appearance: wedding ring, late thirties to early forties, dark hair beginning to grey, brown eyes, average height, well-cut suit, nice blue and white shirt in large check, no tie. He didn’t seem like a serial killer. And she was in a public place.

  ‘Thank you. Some company would be good. I’ll sit here, if that’s okay,’ she said to the waitress.

  ‘Great. Welcome. Brad Thomas,’ he said, holding out his hand.

  ‘Hannah Ainsley,’ she said, accepting his grasp.

  As she sat, Hannah felt a surge of gratitude to this man for his forwardness. He was much braver than her. She hoped his wife wouldn’t mind if she knew.