Finding Hannah

by Fiona McCallum

  At that moment the door opened and Hannah looked up to see a person bustling in wearing Lycra and a bike helmet.

  ‘Hi Brenda. I have two wooden apples for you.’ The young man took off his helmet and placed his backpack on the counter and began unclipping it. Brenda brought the other three over and lined them up. There were now five wooden puzzle boxes a little larger than the size of her palm complete with stalk and worm inside. They really were very cleverly made.

  ‘Perfect. I’ll take them.’

  ‘To Australia? Are you an Aussie with that accent?’ the courier asked.

  ‘Yes. Melbourne.’

  ‘One of the top ten liveable cities, if I’m not mistaken.’

  ‘It most certainly is.’

  ‘So what are you doing here in New York?’ he asked.

  ‘Just a holiday for Christmas.’

  ‘Surely not on your own, a gorgeous thing like you?’

  ‘I’m on my own, yes.’

  ‘Would you like a personal tour guide?’ he asked, moving closer. Hannah found herself feeling both amused and a little chuffed at his attention.

  ‘Benjamin, leave Hannah alone. She’s a strong, independent woman and she doesn’t need you fawning all over her,’ Brenda scolded, causing Hannah to smile. ‘I’ll just bubble-wrap these carefully for you. They aren’t too fragile …’

  ‘Well they won’t be when Brenda’s finished with them.’

  ‘… but you’ll need to pack them where they’re easily accessible as I believe your quarantine people will want to check they’re safe to bring in or if they need treating first.’

  ‘Oh, I hadn’t thought about that. I think they’re very strict with wood.’ Am I making a mistake buying these? ‘Though, I think if there’s a concern they just charge you and spray them with something,’ Hannah said. She remembered seeing it on the TV shows.

  Hannah paid then took a final look at the glass bowl. It wasn’t cheap at four hundred dollars and she’d already spent that on the puzzle boxes. She’d sleep on it and come back tomorrow if she changed her mind.

  ‘So, how long are you in our fine city?’ the courier asked.

  ‘Oh, another week.’

  ‘What are you doing for Christmas?’

  ‘Er, I um, haven’t decided yet.’

  ‘Benjamin! In the storeroom there’s a package for you to take back to Angela. Up on the top shelf. Now, please,’ Brenda added as Benjamin stood his ground. He let out a frustrated harrumph and walked away.

  ‘It’s calling to you, isn’t it?’ Brenda said, following Hannah’s gaze and nodding at the bowl. A beam of sunlight – one of the few Hannah had seen during her time here – suddenly shone through it, highlighting the already stunning colours.

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘She who hesitates can be lost,’ Brenda said, startling Hannah so much that she spun around to face her. It was the exact phrase her mother had used many times when they’d shopped together. One her mother had modified from the original of ‘He who hesitates is lost.’ Was she imagining it or did Brenda have a knowing expression on her face?

  ‘Oh, all right, why not,’ Hannah said, trying to shift the strange feeling of discomfort surging through her. How could this person know these things? Was it just coincidence?

  Around eight hundred US dollars all up. Just in this shop. Eek! Oh, what the hell, she thought as she accepted the handles of the large carry bag. It was quite heavy. She hoped the airline staff wouldn’t tell her off.

  ‘Now, don’t forget your map. And you know which way it is back to your hotel?’ Brenda asked, nodding at Hannah’s map still sitting on the countertop.

  ‘Oh. Yes, I need to turn right when I leave here,’ she said.

  ‘And, please, forget about what I said.’

  ‘Okay.’ Hannah had struggled to think of anything else.

  ‘I can lead you back to your hotel.’ Benjamin said, reappearing.

  ‘Off you go, Benjamin,’ Brenda said, thrusting his helmet into his chest. ‘I need you to take that parcel back to Angela. Now!’

  ‘Okay, I’m going. But remember, it’s the festive season, so you should be being extra nice to me,’ he said, taking his helmet. ‘Enjoy the rest of your stay. Maybe I’ll see you in your city one day,’ Benjamin added, smiling at Hannah as he left the shop.

  ‘It was nice to meet you, Benjamin. Enjoy your Christmas,’ Hannah called. ‘Thank you so much for the tea and the gorgeous souvenirs, Brenda. I’m sure my friends will love them as much as I do.’

  ‘Take care. Good things are around the corner for you.’

  As she walked out, Hannah’s feeling of confusion gave way to bemusement.

  What a crock. Absolute rubbish.

  But she did know who I’d lost. And she used Mum’s saying just as she did – and she knew it. I know she did. How else could she know these things if she isn’t psychic? And she was definitely holding something back.

  The encounter with Brenda continued to nag at her. Back in her hotel room she paced back and forth then she sat on the bed and checked online for the time in Melbourne. It was four a.m. – far too early to call anyone and see if there was anything going on she should know about. Next she brought up her favourite news site on her phone. Under Breaking News were severe weather and flood warnings for Melbourne and suburbs. Hannah nibbled on her lip. Maybe that was the black cloud Brenda had been referring to. Perhaps she could see things.

  What was the first thing she’d said? Something about outrunning things? Hannah tapped her lip, trying to think. Ah, yes, that you can only outrun things for so long – or something like that. Is that what she’d been doing with her life, with Christmas? Would it be better if she went home and faced it? What was she really avoiding anyway, Christmas was all around her here and she was fine with it. Her mind went back to what the nice man with the dog, David, had said to her. He was absolutely right; she had nothing to prove. To anyone. Not any more. She’d proven she could be independent, could survive alone, and perhaps even thrive if she counted being here. Good things are around the corner.

  Hannah felt her heart rate slow and a calmness take over. I need to go home, don’t I? she asked the silent room. But then she felt a little sad. For the most part she’d really enjoyed her time here and still hadn’t been to see a show on Broadway, the Statue of Liberty or had a close look at the Macy’s Christmas windows.

  Okay. If I can change my transfer to be picked up in half an hour I’ll go. If not, I’ll stay.

  She wasn’t sure where half an hour had come from, but it had, so that was the deal. The fact her fingers weren’t shaking when she dialled the number and someone answered straight away told her she was doing the right thing. Yes, a car was doing a drop off not far away and could pick her up outside her hotel in half an hour. Hannah suddenly wasn’t sure if she was pleased or disappointed.

  She bundled everything into her suitcase, surprising herself by remembering to put her change of light summer clothes into her carry-on. Stuff trying to fit her shopping in, she decided, she’d damn well take two carry-on bags like everyone else did.

  While she waited for the lift, Hannah took one last look out of the huge windows on the twenty-fourth floor. She had a view across the city to the Hudson River in the distance.

  Several times she’d found herself pausing on her way to and from her room and wondering if she was looking right at the point where the airline pilot, now nicknamed Captain Sully, had made his famous river landing. She liked to think so. She loved that story of incredible courage and composure.

  The lift arrived, pulling Hannah back from her reverie.

  ‘Goodbye, New York. Thank you,’ she whispered to the view, and stepped through the open doors.

  There was no one waiting at the hotel’s reception desk, which she took as another good omen. When she’d checked in there had been three lines five people deep. She quickly explained that no, she wasn’t unhappy with her room or stay but that there had been an emergency back at home in
Melbourne and she had to go. A white lie was easier than explaining further.

  She had just emerged into the cold wind outside when a black people-mover pulled up.

  ‘Mrs Ainsley.’

  ‘Yes. Hi, Frankie.’

  ‘You get in.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You leave New York early?’ he said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘’Tis okay,’ he said, nodding, as if trying to convince himself.

  ‘Yes, it’s okay,’ she said, smiling and catching his eye in the rear-vision mirror. ‘I’ve had a lovely time, but I have to get home.’

  Frankie replied with a shrug.

  And as he navigated the traffic Hannah sat back and thought that that about summed it up.

  At least she had some nice souvenirs, she thought, pulling her shopping carry bag closer to her. She really did feel sad to be leaving New York so abruptly but also happy to be going home – provided she could get on a flight …

  Chapter Thirty

  After a worrying wait in the check-in line, which seemed to take an age but was actually only a few minutes, Hannah was disappointed to learn she could only change her flight over the phone. Shaking, beginning to sweat and coming close to freaking out, she thanked the woman who seemed genuinely sorry she couldn’t help, got herself out of the way and dug out the number to call amongst her travel documents. Damn, she could have – should have – done this while sitting in the car.

  But Hannah received another buoying sign of good luck when she managed to get connected right away to a particularly efficient customer service representative and was able to get a seat on the six o’clock flight to Sydney, which she just had time to check in for. Even better, it was a cheaper fare so she received a small refund rather than being further out of pocket – even with the hefty fees for changing at such short notice.

  She let out a big sigh of relief as she left the check-in counter clutching her boarding pass. Now to get through security in time to catch it, she thought, joining the massive queue. Thankfully a lot of check-points were open and it moved reasonably quickly. She checked her watch. She had an hour before boarding – just long enough to check out the shops and buy another book to read.

  When she looked around for which direction to find her gate, Hannah noticed that right in front of her was a Metropolitan Museum of Art store. She’d enjoyed visiting their Fifth Avenue location, so she wandered over for a browse.

  ‘Hello,’ the assistant said, as she entered the store. ‘Let me know if I can help you with something.’

  ‘Thanks. I’m just looking,’ she said. She walked around the compact space and recognised pretty much everything from the other store. She moved to the front display counter. And then she saw it. A ladybug just like she’d imagined – bright, glossy enamel. Absolutely stunning!

  ‘Oh! A ladybug. Oh wow.’

  ‘Yes. Isn’t it beautiful? Would you like a closer look?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ Her chest was aflutter with excitement and she was surprised to find she could speak. She suspected she was gulping like a fish.

  ‘Oh my,’ she said, looking at the object sitting neatly in the centre of her palm. I’ve found it. I really have. Oh, Sammy, you’re going to love this. Hannah was starting to feel so overwhelmed – this time in a good way – tears began to fill her eyes.

  ‘It’s very good quality.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that.’

  ‘It actually comes apart – see, you could hide a few rings or earrings in it.’

  ‘It’s perfect,’ Hannah said a little breathily. ‘I’ll take it.’

  ‘Brilliant. I’ll just get one that’s already in a box. I think that’s all we have left, so it’s your lucky day,’ he said brightly.

  Oh, you have no idea.

  ‘Um, could I also take this one that’s been on display?’ Suddenly it felt important to Hannah that she and Sam have matching souvenirs.

  ‘Oh. Okay. If you’re sure?’ The guy was nice, but he was being quite slow. Hannah checked her watch. She wasn’t sure how long it would take her to get to the gate. She’d come this far, she couldn’t miss her flight now. She also wanted to get a new book to read.

  ‘Yes, quite sure. I’d actually better get going – I have a flight to catch,’ she said, handing over her credit card.

  ‘Okay. I’ll give you a twenty-five percent discount for the one that was on display.’

  ‘Thanks very much. That’s great.’ Please just hurry up.

  Hannah rushed towards her gate. She wouldn’t completely relax until she was there. She was relieved to see she still had twenty minutes until her flight began boarding and that there was a bookshop nearby. Everything was working out beautifully.

  *

  Picking up her Sydney to Melbourne connection had been seamless and the quarantine officers had approved her timber pieces without any issue, too.

  She was now sitting in a cab, rushing past the Melbourne suburbs that were a wet, distorted blur. The driver wasn’t up for chatting, but she had managed to discover from him that the rain had started at five that morning – five hours ago. So, it seemed the forecasters had got it right for once. Hannah hoped they were wrong about the extensive flooding.

  She had several missed calls from Sam to return, but she felt the need to be quiet right now and take it all in – what, she wasn’t actually sure. But she felt different in some way. No, she revised, not different. Shifting. She felt a strange sense that she was in the middle of something. She almost laughed and shook her head at herself. She was being silly. She was clearly overtired.

  As she pulled into her street her heart swelled at the familiarity. She loved this place, had done so her whole life. How could she have contemplated moving, even for just a second? Thank goodness for Beth’s sensible advice.

  Everything looked lovely and shiny with the rain. But the gutters were full, with water surging and lapping at driveways – at any moment these refreshing summer rains could become devastating.

  She sat in the cab for a moment staring at the front of her home, a strange and strong reluctance to not get out and return to normal life coursing through her. Here, right now, despite her tiredness, she felt a peacefulness the likes of which she hadn’t felt in ages, if ever. It didn’t even bother her that it was Christmas Day and she would be spending it home alone.

  ‘Miss?’ the driver said, snapping her out of her reverie.

  ‘Sorry. Here. On savings, thanks,’ she said, leaning forward and passing her key card through the gap between the seats.

  ‘Thanks very much. Enjoy the rest of your day,’ she said after the driver had placed her suitcase on the end of the brick path. ‘Oh, and merry Christmas,’ she added.

  ‘Thanks. And same to you.’

  Hannah longed to stand there and hold onto the last shreds of her strange but nicely altered state. And there was something particularly lovely about experiencing rain when the temperature was so mild. But when the gently falling drops turned into a downpour she let out a gasp, picked up her suitcase and raced to the front door.

  She sat at the kitchen bench feeling a little lost for a moment, listening to the rain beating forcefully on the roof before snapping to attention. She’d better make sure the stormwater drains around her house weren’t overflowing and causing damage in the downpour.

  With an umbrella and wearing a light rainproof coat, Hannah checked outside all around her yard for any signs that water may be getting into places it shouldn’t. Satisfying herself that everything was well, she walked across the street to Beth’s and let herself in the side gate. She knew Beth had a drain at ground level out by her garage that had become blocked a couple of times over the years and had caused her laundry to become flooded. Hannah was almost pleased to find it clogged and with water rising around it – her return home early was vindicated. Perhaps this was what Brenda had been referring to, she thought as she squatted and cleared the leaves, dirt and debris away with her hands and then waited for the
water to begin flowing freely again.

  *

  Hannah had just finished putting on a load of washing after taking a long hot shower, and was walking down the hall when she heard a strange sound. It was a squealing squawk, but didn’t sound like any of the birds in the area. Anyway, they’d be off somewhere sheltering from the rain, wouldn’t they?

  Needing to satisfy her curiosity, she went to the front door, opened it and looked out. She glanced left and right along both sides of the street. Another squeak, sounding very close this time, caused her to look down. There on her porch was a wet, dishevelled grey tabby cat. It was looking up at her with big, pleading eyes.

  It meowed again – a mere throaty squawk this time.

  ‘No, I’m not feeding you. And I’m not a cat person. Go away,’ Hannah said, and closed the door.

  She set about making a cup of tea. But when she sat to drink it she couldn’t settle. And there it was again, damn it. She wasn’t going to feed the cat – that was one sure way of encouraging every stray cat in the suburb to flock to her yard and call it home and make a mess with bins and kill off any birdlife or small native animals. But she probably should at least give it something to drink. She ignored the little voice that told her there was water rushing about everywhere – there was no way the cat could be thirsty. But she felt she should do something. She’d never had a cat turn up before.

  She took a breakfast bowl from the cupboard, filled it with water and went outside. The cat sniffed at it, looked at her, and then back down to the bowl.

  ‘Be grateful you’ve got water. I am not feeding you,’ she said, and went inside without a second glance. She sat back down in the kitchen and tried to ignore the uneasy feeling growing inside her that the cat was lost and needed help. It had seemed frightened, but hadn’t hissed or spat at her so it might be someone’s well-loved pet that had got lost or perhaps swept away with the water.

  ‘Okay, I’ll put out a towel for you to sit on and get dry, but that’s it.’

  She opened the door, looked down, and gasped.

  There sitting in front of the cat was a tiny tabby kitten with white paws. Another one dangled from the mother cat’s mouth. ‘Oh,’ she said. For the first time Hannah realised just how tiny the mother cat was – barely more than a kitten herself. And so thin that Hannah could see her ribs. Hannah’s heart stretched tightly. Now what am I meant to do?