Finding Hannah

by Fiona McCallum

  Pretty much. ‘Please don’t apologise, Jas, one of the things I like about you is you don’t give me that look of pity so many people do, so please don’t start now. It is what it is. Don’t let me bring down your special day. Cheers,’ she said, raising a glass of champagne.

  ‘Cheers. Oh, what fun,’ Jasmine said, looking around her at their elegant surroundings. ‘So, have you ventured down for dinner or stayed in your room?’

  ‘I ate in last night, but I braved having dinner down here on Sunday.’

  ‘Well done, you. And it wasn’t too terrifying?’

  ‘No. I came armed with my book – thanks so much for that tip, by the way. But you’ll never guess what.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘There was a man eating alone and he asked me to join him – which I did.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘He was nice and, thankfully, he didn’t try to flirt with me. Anyway, he’s married and just wanted the company. We had a lovely time. You know, it was really nice to talk to a man, and one who didn’t know my history. Of course I had to tell him and of course I had to endure the sympathy. But it wasn’t too bad. It can’t have been – we sat here until almost ten o’clock. I couldn’t believe it. And then when we said goodbye he gave me the biggest, nicest, lingering hug. I know it sounds creepy, but it wasn’t. The thing is, Jas, I didn’t realise how much I’ve been missing touch. You know, not in the way girlfriends hug. I can’t really explain it.’

  ‘I think I know what you mean. So has it awakened a yearning in you?’

  ‘Not for sex, if that’s what you mean. God, no. I can’t imagine ever wanting to do it with anyone else, let alone actually doing it. It was like Brad blew on a tiny warm coal in my heart that I didn’t know was there. But it’s left me aching – a different sort of ache – a longing for more. Not more of Brad – well, maybe more hugs. Anyway, he lives in Sydney.’

  ‘Well, I think if you’re starting to feel something good deep within it means you’re healing.’

  ‘I suppose. But what do I do about it? It’s like an itch that needs to be scratched.’

  ‘Er, find a way to scratch it,’ Jasmine suggested. ‘What about joining an online dating service?’

  ‘And, what, putting on my profile “No sex, just wants to spoon and hug”? Yeah, right.’ Hannah looked at Jasmine with raised eyebrows.

  ‘How about: “Fragile widow seeks an affectionate man for friendship and outings”?’

  ‘Wouldn’t that be weird?’

  ‘It’s your profile. It’s entirely up to you what you say you’re looking for. That’s the point. It can be like a shopping list.’

  ‘How romantic,’ Hannah said, rolling her eyes as she lifted her glass to her lips again. ‘Anyway, aren’t those websites full of desperados and creeps?’

  ‘Don’t tell anyone, but Craig and I met online.’

  ‘Oh. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to …’ Hannah’s eyes were wide with wonder.

  ‘It’s okay. And you’re almost right, there were a lot of creeps to sift through. I went on some pretty ordinary dates, I can tell you. That was years ago, so it might have changed now. Don’t you dare let Craig know I told you. Look at me, half a glass of bubbles and I’m spilling all our secrets.’

  ‘I won’t tell anyone.’ You have no idea the secrets I’m holding as PA – I’m a veritable vault.

  ‘The thought of meeting a stranger in a restaurant is terrifying. Far too scary,’ Hannah said, taking another sip of champagne. ‘Oh, my god, this is amazing,’ she said, sighing.

  ‘Don’t try to change the subject. And yet, just a few nights ago that’s exactly what you did, Hann,’ Jasmine said.

  ‘God, I did too. But only by accident.’

  ‘It still counts. Promise you’ll tell me if you ever do feel ready, and I’ll help.’

  ‘I still can’t believe that’s how you and Craig met,’ Hannah said, shaking her head.

  ‘Well, he’s not a bar type of guy and wouldn’t have wanted to meet that sort of person, and I’m the same.’

  ‘Weren’t there any decent guys in Sydney, though? Moving cities is a pretty big move and a risk.’

  ‘I was ready for a change.’

  They watched with wonder as a waiter placed a three-tiered plate stand laden with delicacies on the table between them.

  ‘Thank you,’ they both said.

  ‘How beautiful is this? It looks almost too good to eat. Almost,’ Hannah said.

  ‘Yes, it’s a real work of art. And I bet everything will taste divine,’ Jasmine said.

  ‘The question is, where does one start?’

  ‘At the top, with the scones while they’re still hot. The instructions on their website say one is meant to start at the top and work one’s way down,’ Jasmine added, putting on a prim voice.

  ‘Instructions? That’s too funny. But helpful.’

  ‘Yes, heaven forbid we do the wrong thing – like touch the sides of the cup with your spoon when stirring.’

  ‘That’s a rule? Seriously?’

  ‘Apparently. It was on their video. And no pinkies sticking out.’

  ‘Right. Got it. Clever you, I didn’t even think to check how to do it all properly.’

  ‘Well, you probably don’t need to.’

  ‘I don’t know about that – I was ready to tuck into the sandwiches, being savoury, and then working onto desserts, which I now know is wrong, don’t forget.’

  ‘Come on, let’s dig in,’ Jasmine said, taking one of the scones.

  ‘I’m not sure “dig in” is the appropriate term to use at a high tea, but yes, let’s,’ Hannah said, grinning and following suit. ‘We have to decide what sort of tea we want, too – there’s a menu.’

  ‘Oh, decisions, decisions,’ Jasmine said.

  ‘Yes, it’s a tough life.’

  ‘These are amazing,’ Jasmine said, after taking a large bite of her scone covered with thick layers of jam and cream.

  ‘Mmm, incredible.’

  *

  ‘What beautiful warm weather,’ Jasmine said as they walked out of the hotel and into the sunshine. They’d spent two hours devouring everything on the three tiers and a pot of tea each. ‘Are you happy to go for a look down Flinders Lane? There are a few galleries I want to check out.’

  ‘It’s your birthday, so we’ll do whatever you want to do.’ Hannah had been secretly pleased when Jasmine had turned down the suggestion of going and having their nails done, or any other type of pampering.

  They were about to walk down the steps into a basement gallery when Hannah was startled to see Sam, with a twin on either side, coming towards her.

  ‘Sam!’ she cried, pulling her friend into a hug.

  ‘Hello, Auntie Hann,’ Oliver said.

  ‘Hello, boys.’

  ‘Can we have a hug too, please?’ Ethan asked.

  ‘Can you ever,’ she said, squatting down and wrapping an arm around each of the boys. They seemed to have grown a lot taller.

  ‘Sorry, Jasmine,’ she said, releasing the boys. ‘Sam, you remember Craig’s wife, Jasmine, don’t you? She was at the, um …’ Funeral. Hannah couldn’t bear to say the word aloud.

  ‘Yes. Hello. Lovely to see you again,’ Sam said, holding out her hand.

  ‘Oliver and Ethan, this is my friend Jasmine,’ Hannah said.

  ‘Hello. Nice to meet you,’ they both said, holding out a hand.

  ‘So what brings you guys into the city?’ Hannah said, looking from the boys to Sam.

  ‘We’re having a cultural experience,’ Oliver said.

  ‘Yes. And we’re being very good and not touching everything. We’re allowed to have another ice-cream soon,’ Ethan said.

  ‘Another one, you’re a bit lucky,’ Jasmine said.

  ‘Well, we are being very good,’ Oliver said, indignantly.

  ‘I bet you are.’

  Hannah almost laughed at picturing the poor gallery owners’ faces when they saw two small boys entering their precio
us spaces.

  ‘Are you having fun?’ Hannah asked.

  ‘Yes, I saw a blue poo,’ Ethan said.

  ‘I think it was actually meant to be a glass paperweight,’ Sam explained.

  Hannah tried not to laugh.

  ‘And what about you, Oliver, are you having fun?’

  ‘Yes. I had an ice-cream with sparkles and a donut for breakfast.’

  ‘Please don’t call human services,’ Sam said, shaking her head with consternation.

  ‘And then he farted,’ Ethan said, and giggled.

  ‘So did you, stupid head.’

  ‘Enough. What are the rules?’

  ‘Seen and not heard,’ they said.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Impressive,’ Hannah said, grinning.

  ‘Yes, well, we’re about to call it a day. I’m not sure what I was thinking bringing them along. I had an urge to get out and the sun was shining.’

  ‘You’re an artist, aren’t you?’ Jasmine asked. ‘What are you working on?’

  ‘Well, I try. I’m just getting back into it semi-seriously after having the boys. One day I’d love to actually make some money with my art.’

  ‘She’s being far too modest,’ Hannah said. ‘Sam’s very talented.’

  Sam shrugged. ‘What is it you do, Jasmine?’

  ‘I’m studying interior design. Like you, I hope one day to earn a living from it. What medium do you work with?’

  ‘All sorts. That’s the problem, I can’t seem to settle on just one thing. I’m all over the place. I came to the galleries today to get some inspiration and see what’s selling.’

  ‘A stall at one of the decent art and design markets would be good for building your profile,’ Jasmine said. ‘I have a friend who sells her photographs at the Sunday Arts Centre Market at South-bank and does really well. I think she’s on the committee, too. Maybe she can help, or at least give you some tips. I could give her a call, if you like.’

  ‘Oh, um, er, okay. Thanks very much. So, what are you up to, anyway, Hann?’

  ‘It’s Jasmine’s birthday and …’

  ‘Happy birthday.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘We’ve just had high tea at The Windsor – for lunch.’

  ‘You lucky things. I hope it lived up to all the hype.’

  ‘It certainly did,’ Jasmine said.

  ‘Yes, it was incredible,’ Hannah said.

  ‘It’s so good to see you, I’m sorry I’ve been so out of touch lately. I’m a bit scatty when I’m in creative mode. Though I fear I’ve been even worse than usual. Poor Hann knows to just drop the odd text and not expect an instant reply,’ Sam explained to Jasmine.

  ‘It’s fine. Really. I would have called if I needed you or Rob.’ It’s probably actually been good for me to be forced to be more independent, anyway. ‘How is he?’

  ‘He’s good. No, actually, he’s a bit stressed. Something’s going on at work, but I’m not exactly sure what it is. I’m not a very good listener at the moment,’ Sam said. ‘Anyway, it was great to see you both. I’d better get the little munchkins home while they’re still able to walk.’

  Hannah’s heart nearly melted when she looked at the two boys sitting quietly, side by side on the top step with their hands clasped in their laps.

  ‘Hey, speaking of birthdays, Hann, what are you going to do for yours? Do you still want to come for a quiet evening? You and Craig would be welcome too, Jasmine.’

  ‘Sam, it’s months away. You’ve got to get through the Spring Racing Carnival first.’

  ‘Yes, don’t remind me.’

  ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you, Hannah, if you do anything special for The Cup,’ Jasmine asked. ‘And what about you, Sam? What do you do on Cup day?’

  ‘Avoiding it like the plague while I pray for the horses and jockeys,’ Sam said.

  ‘Sorry?’ said Jasmine.

  ‘We’re pretty much anti-horse racing, generally, and Sam’s quite involved with the campaigns to end the use of whips and jumps events,’ Hannah explained.

  ‘Oh. Right.’

  ‘Best you don’t get me started. I’m a bit vocal about it.’

  ‘Okay. Fair enough.’

  ‘We went to one of the races while we were at uni and a horse broke its leg and had to be put down right in front of us,’ Hannah explained. ‘It scarred me for life. I can’t bear to watch a horse race now – even on TV.’

  ‘I can’t even watch the highlights on the news, even when I know it all ends okay,’ Sam said.

  ‘God, I’m not surprised. How awful,’ Jasmine said. ‘Sounds like watching the interest rate announcement is a much better bet,’ she added, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

  ‘Yes, much. I can see we’re going to get along just fine, Jasmine,’ Sam said, smiling. ‘Now, I’m changing the subject. So, Hannah, about your birthday. It’s in six weeks – a Saturday this year.’

  ‘Since when do you think that far ahead?’

  ‘When I have two little boys I have to remember to get off to school next year and who need uniforms and goodness knows what else bought for them first.’

  ‘Oh. Right. Well, don’t worry about me.’ The truth was, Hannah had been trying hard not to think about her first birthday without Tristan and her parents. Please just let it go. ‘I’m hoping you might still be madly creating. I wouldn’t want to impose.’

  ‘Darling, you’re not getting out of having a birthday, if that’s what you think you’re up to,’ she said.

  ‘Well …’ Hannah said.

  ‘We know it’s going to be hard, but you can’t spend it alone, hiding away. I’m talking the usual low-key approach, maybe even as low as spaghetti on toast if you want.’

  ‘Oh, how can I resist?’ Hannah said.

  ‘Could I maybe do something?’ Jasmine offered. ‘If you’re busy, Sam, and it wouldn’t be intruding?’

  ‘Hey, I know,’ Hannah said. ‘Since you’re both clearly not going to let this go and I’ve become so brave and can stay at a hotel on my own, why don’t I do it. A proper dinner party perhaps. Or maybe a high tea. Just for the girls. I could invite Joanne from Mum and Dad’s village – she’s been wonderful …’ The idea was taking shape in her mind and Hannah was becoming excited. She could do this. It was time to get herself back out there. Putting on a nice lunch would be a great start. And perhaps a good distraction from her actual birthday.

  ‘It’s your birthday. But do you think you’re up to doing all that?’ Sam asked.

  ‘You know, I think it’s time I learnt to be.’

  ‘Well, if you find you’re not, we can always relocate or I can take over,’ Jasmine offered kindly.

  ‘Thanks. So, it’s on – December third. I’ll send invitations and do it all properly. It will be fun,’ Hannah added.

  ‘Can we come too?’ a little voice said.

  ‘Yes, can we?’ said another little voice.

  ‘Um.’ Hannah hesitated. What she had in mind was a ladies’ luncheon, but how could she disappoint the two angelic faces staring up at her?

  ‘You won’t like it. There won’t be any other little boys there,’ Sam said.

  ‘But Auntie Hannah will be there.’

  ‘Yes, and we love Auntie Hannah.’

  ‘Thanks, boys. And I love you too, oh so much. We’ll see. I might need some dashing young waiters.’

  ‘Careful,’ Sam whispered.

  ‘Can we go now please, Mummy? I’m tired,’ Oliver said.

  ‘Yes, please, I’m tired too,’ Ethan said.

  ‘Too tired even for ice-cream?’

  ‘I think I am, actually,’ Oliver said.

  ‘Yes, probably,’ Ethan said.

  Hannah smiled. When the twins were being precocious, which they often were, they sounded so much older than five, and so very cute.

  ‘Oh, dear. We’d better have ice-cream at home with Daddy, then, hadn’t we?’

  ‘That’s a very good idea, Mummy.’

  ‘Yes, please.
’

  ‘That’s my cue – I’d better get these darlings home before they turn feral. See you soon,’ she said to Hannah and hugged her tightly. ‘So lovely to see you again Jasmine. Happy birthday.’

  ‘Thank you. I’d love to see some of your work sometime – no pressure, when you’re ready to share it,’ Jasmine said.

  ‘Okay. I’ll let you know. It’s a little too soon yet.’

  ‘I understand.’

  Hannah and Jasmine watched as Sam made her way along Flinders Lane with the two boys in tow. Then they walked down into the gallery.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Back at home, Hannah was in a spin. Sebastian, the real-estate agent, would be here any moment to give her house a quick once-over and she couldn’t stop thinking about the city warehouse apartment she’d viewed – twice.

  On her way back to The Windsor from work on Wednesday she had noticed that it was open for inspection and she had ventured into the alley to take a look. Purely out of curiosity. It had been so beautifully done and so quirky – nothing like the house where she’d always lived – that she hadn’t been able to resist. She’d liked it so much she’d gone again yesterday morning before meeting Jasmine for lunch.

  ‘Ooh, back again, Hannah, that’s a good sign,’ the real-estate agent said.

  ‘Oh, no, I’m just looking. I’m not a serious buyer.’ She’d wanted to make it clear that he shouldn’t waste his time on her, but he wasn’t having it. His raised eyebrows and knowing expression said, ‘Yet, here you are.’

  He’d disarmed her and she’d begun babbling.

  ‘I think it would be too big an adjustment for me to live in the middle of the city.’

  ‘Oh, and where is it you live at the moment?’

  ‘Hawthorn.’

  ‘Lovely.’

  ‘Are you in an apartment, townhouse, freestanding home?’

  ‘A bungalow, actually.’

  ‘My favourite,’ Sebastian said and began rubbing his hands together. ‘I must see it.’

  ‘Oh. But I’m quite sure I’m not interested in selling.’

  ‘I do sense you are curious though, Hannah. Am I right?’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘It’s always good to know the value of one’s investment. There’s absolutely no obligation. I can pop by for a quick visit tomorrow morning, if you like. Say, ten o’clock?’