‘Mind if we sit with you?’ he asked.
‘Of course not,’ Hannah lied with as much grace as she could muster. She would rather wrestle an angry porcupine, but there wasn’t a lot she could do without being downright rude, and that wasn’t in her nature no matter how drunk she was.
Martine didn’t look much happier about the situation than Hannah, but she perched herself on the seat that had previously been occupied by Ross. Hannah glanced across the dance-floor. Ross had taken a breather too, and was standing on the other side of the room, clutching a glass of what looked like Coke and deep in conversation with his dad.
Martine smiled sweetly at Mitchell. ‘Be a love and get me something to drink, would you?’
He nodded. ‘What do you want?’
‘Oh, anything… you know the sort of thing I like.’ She waved her hand vaguely like a lord dismissing his servant. Mitchell frowned.
‘I don’t think I do.’
Martine’s smile slipped. ‘I’ll have a spritzer. Make sure it’s a good wine, I hate that house rubbish.’
‘Would you like a drink?’ Mitchell turned to Hannah. She shook her head. Actually, she really did want another. Perhaps another three or four in quick succession would blur the edges of this prickly situation, but she didn’t feel right accepting his offer.
‘I’m ok, thank you; I’ve got one here.’ Hannah gestured to the almost empty glass.
‘What is it?’
‘I think it’s Bacardi, only to be honest I’ve forgotten. But please don’t worry.’
‘You seem to have another one lined up anyway,’ Martine cut in. ‘Did you forget that too?’
‘So I did.’ Hannah emptied the contents of the almost finished glass into the new drink before taking a large gulp.
Mitchell threw one last uneasy glance at the two women before making his way to the bar.
‘He’s finding all this very difficult,’ Martine said in a low voice as she watched him go.
‘The memory loss?’ Hannah asked, a little taken aback by Martine’s sudden candour.
‘Amongst other things, yes. He’s not himself at all. In the old days he’d bury his problems in work and I’d never even know about them. Now he just mopes.’
‘I suppose that’s understandable,’ Hannah said, wondering what else she was supposed to say. What had made Martine tell her that? And was her idea of moping everyone else’s version of normal? It didn’t seem very charitable coming from a doctor who, perhaps, ought to understand Mitchell’s situation better than most.
‘Do you know, you made quite an impression on him at Christmas?’ Martine continued.
‘Did I? I don’t know why. I mean, I do, but it was nothing really. I just happened to be in the nearest house to the road.’ Drink always loosened Hannah’s tongue, and all the questions she had wanted to ask the last time they’d met were in danger of tumbling out if Mitchell didn’t come back soon. She chewed her lip as she searched the dancers for Gina.
‘You’re enjoying the evening?’ Martine asked, breaking in on her thoughts.
‘It’s been lovely,’ Hannah replied. Where are you Gina? She scanned the dance-floor again, looking for anyone to save her. If Ross was still free, perhaps he would dance with her. Even his dad would do right now. If only she hadn’t stopped dancing in the first place she wouldn’t be stuck having this excruciating conversation.
Hannah had to endure another ten minutes of ever more stilted small talk in which she found it harder and harder to hold back the questions that jostled noisily inside her brain. More than anything, she couldn’t believe that Mitchell’s memory was still so fractured that he had no recollection of his wife’s favourite drink. What did that mean? This was his wife, supposedly the most important person in the world and, since they had no children, the centre of his universe. If he still couldn’t remember her, what did that say about their marriage? Or perhaps it was merely as simple as forgetting a favourite drink, just like Jason often had with Hannah. More importantly, the fact that Hannah was even contemplating this revealed more than she wanted to know about her own emotions and her attraction to Mitchell.
Thankfully, his return with a spritzer for his wife and a glass of water for himself ended further rumination.
‘Are you driving?’ Hannah asked, nodding at the water.
‘Yes, but I’m not all that bothered about alcohol anyway.’
‘You never have been,’ said Martine, with such irritation in her voice that Hannah found herself staring in shock.
Mitchell was thoughtful for a moment. ‘I think I was abstaining though recently… for a good reason… before the accident.’
‘Don’t let’s talk about that now,’ Martine cut in. She had been happy enough to discuss it with Hannah in his absence, so why the sudden change of heart?
‘You weren’t drinking either…’ Mitchell added slowly, as if piecing together a puzzle.
‘Of course I was,’ Martine replied impatiently. ‘I like a nice drink and I don’t see why I shouldn’t have one after a hard day. Do you?’
Mitchell stared at her. Then he seemed to blink and shake himself. ‘I suppose not. I must still be mixing things up.’
‘Have you gone back to work?’ Hannah asked him, scrabbling around for a topic that wouldn’t supercharge the already tense atmosphere.
‘I went into the office… but I didn’t really know what to do once I was there. It was sort of familiar and yet I didn’t have a clue. Like a name on the tip of your tongue… you know?’
‘He has this fantastic right hand man, though,’ Martine added. ‘Graham. He’s running the ship until Mitchell is well again.’
‘I am well,’ Mitchell said. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me.’
‘Physically, no, there isn’t,’ Martine stated.
Hannah quickly took a gulp of her drink to stop herself from commenting. Physically he was very, very alright… and that was why she found it so hard to be around him – at least when he was with his wife, although God only knew how much more dangerous the situation might be without her there.
‘Mentally…’ Martine continued, ‘well, all I can say is that I’m a GP and I still don’t know what’s going on in your head. I’ve never come across anything like it.’
‘Is this rare then?’ Hannah asked, before she could stop herself.
‘I’d say,’ Martine replied. ‘A lot rarer than films and books would have you believe, especially almost total memory loss like this. It’s more common for short-term memory to suffer than established memories, and even then it will generally only last for hours – days at most – in a lot of cases.’
Hannah nodded. She wanted to ask so much more but she didn’t think her questions would be welcome. She also wanted Martine to disappear in a puff of smoke so that she could throw herself at Mitchell and ravish him… but that was just because she was drunk.
Martine stood up, and Hannah was filled with panic as she realised that, in a roundabout way, she was about to get her wish. She knew that being left alone with Mitchell would be a lot more awkward than the erotic daydream that kept plaguing her suggested.
‘I’m just popping to the ladies,’ Martine announced. Mitchell looked at Hannah.
‘Don’t you normally go in pairs?’
It took a great deal of restraint not to tell him how that particular phenomenon only applied to women who liked each other. Martine offered him a withering look.
‘I suppose it was a bit of a lame joke,’ Mitchell said as she stalked off.
‘Why do you let her talk to you like that?’ Hannah asked, and the sharpness of her tone shocked even her. ‘Was it always that way?’
Mitchell frowned. ‘I don’t have the vaguest idea. But I don’t think the Mitchell Bond who ran his own property development company would let his wife boss him around.’
In spite of his certainty, he looked lost and vulnerable and Hannah regretted her question. She had to keep reminding herself what he must be going through, and wha
t a strange and terrifying experience it must be to lose all sense of oneself. And perhaps Martine only spoke to him that way because she was tired, and it must be very hard for her – his not remembering anything about her… It was hard to imagine what that must be like.
‘I think about Christmas day a lot,’ he said.
Hannah’s head flicked around to see that he had a peculiar look on his face as he gazed at her.
‘In what way?’
‘I can’t explain it – I wish I could. It makes me feel…well, it gives me a nice feeling to think of it. Your little house… it was such a happy place.’
‘That might be down to all the brandy we downed that day,’ Hannah smiled. ‘You’re confusing happiness with drunkenness!’
‘Maybe, but I liked it. And you… you were so sweet and kind… like a guardian angel or something.’ He gave an awkward laugh. ‘I sound like a nutter, I know, but I can’t help feeling that some higher power meant me to fall onto your doorstep that day – I mean yours and no one else’s.’
‘Perhaps you were there to save my life. You did jump in front of a car for me, after all.’
‘Or perhaps you were meant to save mine,’ he said softly.
‘Anyone would have done the same.’
‘I’m not talking about the injury,’ he said, holding her in a gaze that suddenly made her feel as if she might combust. She tore her eyes away from his. Was this a joke? What was he trying to say?
‘I… I don’t know what you mean,’ Hannah said.
He paused. ‘I’m not sure I do either. Everything is confused and muddy all the time, but then I think of you and it’s all clear. You’re the only part of the last few weeks that makes any sense.’
‘I suppose it’s because I’m the first person you met after the accident. I’m like the first new memory that you’ve saved on a blank slate.’
Mitchell smiled. ‘Like I’ve imprinted on you or something? I sound like a duckling.’
‘I suppose you do,’ Hannah smiled.
‘But I almost wish I could have that day back,’ Mitchell continued. ‘I mean, I know it was horrible and stressful, but in a weird way it was nice too. Everything was simpler because you were there. I wish you were around now too.’
Hannah’s glass stopped halfway to her lips. ‘I um… I have to find Gina… excuse me…’ She stumbled as she shot up from her chair. This conversation was getting dangerous and it couldn’t continue. Frantically she searched the dance-floor for a sign of her sister. There was no Gina, but there was Briony, chatting to the vicar beside a table of nibbles. They both turned at her approach.
‘I’m so sorry to interrupt,’ Hannah began, ‘but have you seen my sister anywhere?’
‘Not for a little while now,’ Briony replied. She peered more closely at Hannah. ‘Are you alright?’
‘Yes… I’m not sure. Probably overdone the gin.’
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
‘No… thank you. I just need Gina.’
‘Have you checked the ladies’?’ Briony added helpfully.
‘Oh, right, good idea… of course.’ Hannah rushed off in the direction of the loos, but a quick inspection revealed an absence of Gina. Hannah dashed back out onto the dance-floor. She glanced across at her table to see that Martine had returned and was now in animated conversation with her husband. They both looked at her, and then continued their discussion in earnest, Mitchell not shifting his gaze. Martine’s hands flapped as she talked and she was obviously agitated about something. Hannah didn’t care; she just needed to get out. As she scanned the crowd on the dance-floor again, Briony tapped her on the arm.
‘You’re worrying me, Hannah. Do you need to go home? Ross hasn’t been drinking so he could drive you.’
‘I know,’ Hannah replied. ‘He was taking us home anyway but I don’t want to drag him away early. I just need Gina, that’s all.’
‘She wasn’t in the loos?’
Hannah shook her head.
‘Maybe she went out for a bit of air?’
It was then that Hannah realised she couldn’t see Ross either. This fact obviously hadn’t occurred to Briony, but then, why would it? Your timing is bloody perfect, Gina.
‘I’ll check outside. I expect you’re right – she probably just needed to cool down.’ Hannah made her way to the ballroom doors, sobering up at a rate of knots now that she felt the evening unravelling around her. What had Mitchell been talking about? Why was he saying things like that to her, just when she was beginning to get him out of her head? Why had he turned up tonight at all? It was like fate was trying to throw them together. But that was stupid – she didn’t believe in all that crap anyway. And yet it seemed that wherever she was he was there too or, at least, some reminder of him. God only knew what he’d meant by the things he’d said, and Hannah could only hope that he wouldn’t repeat any of it to Martine. Hannah didn’t like her but nobody deserved that kind of betrayal.
Out in the lobby there was still no sign of Gina or Ross. Hannah considered going to reception to see if they’d booked a room but stopped herself. The drink had pickled her brain – even Gina wouldn’t be that blatant.
Paul Hunter came back into the lobby through a set of French doors that led out to a veranda. Hannah could smell cigarette smoke as she met him.
‘Was Ross outside with you?’ she asked.
‘No, I haven’t seen him for a while now,’ he replied, looking slightly puzzled by the question. ‘He did go out to his car though, and I haven’t seen him since then.’
Hannah thought back, trying to remember where they’d parked earlier in the evening.
‘Do you want him for anything in particular?’ Paul asked. ‘Anything I can help you with?’
Hannah forced a smile. ‘No, thanks. There was just something I needed to ask him … I don’t suppose my sister was with him?’
‘No. I thought she was with you.’
‘She isn’t… but I expect I’ll find her shortly. Thanks.’
Paul went back to the party, and Hannah made her way to the front doors. It looked as though Gina was behaving herself after all and she felt more than a little guilty that she had doubted her. Either that or Gina had given up on Ross and acquired a new target… If she could only find him, Ross might know either way. And if not then perhaps he’d be kind enough to take her home. She did need to find Gina to let her know, though.
Outside, the cold air hit her, making her shiver. Apart from a cluster of smokers on the veranda, also shivering as they chatted, their laughter ringing through the frosty air, the grounds were deserted. Hannah followed the path that led around the hotel to the carpark at the back. Hannah wandered between the cars, arms clamped around her trying to keep warm and wishing she’d grabbed her coat before she’d rushed out.
Finally she spotted Ross’s car but he was nowhere to be seen. Then, through the gloom she realised that the bright blob she could see through the windows was his blonde hair. So he was in his car and… oh hell! Gina was in there with him and whatever they were up to, had nothing at all to do with fundraising.
‘Shit!’ Hannah muttered. On a different night in a different mood she might have been mildly amused by her discovery. Tonight, she was just mightily pissed off. There was nothing else for it – she was going to have to make her own way home somehow.
Back inside, Hannah collected her coat from the cloakroom before realising that her handbag was still underneath the table in the ballroom where she’d stowed it. That meant she was going to have to face Mitchell and Martine again if she was going to get it, but without it she wouldn’t have her front door keys. Shit, shit, shit. They’d probably want to know why she was leaving so early. There would be awkward questions. But it wasn’t like she had to answer them, was it? Stuff them, if Hannah wanted to go and collect her bag it was her business. Still, she folded her coat up as small as it would go and stuffed it under her arm as she headed back into the ballroom.
‘Is everything ok?
’ Mitchell asked as Hannah arrived back.
‘Of course… why wouldn’t it be?’ Hannah ducked under the table. Shit… where was that handbag? Scooting underneath, she felt around, until her hand touched leather and she grabbed it, tucking it under her arm and bumping her head on the table on the way back out. As she emerged she saw Martine reach for her drink to steady it as the table gave a precarious wobble.
‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ Martine asked, smoothing away an annoyed frown.
‘Yes… I um… I just need… it was lovely to see you both, really, but…’ Why did she think it was necessary to give them a reason for leaving? She had no idea whether Mitchell had meant what she thought he had, and if he had, what on earth could she say with Martine sitting there? It was far easier simply to leave. One thing was certain; her life would have been easier had Mitchell not ended up on her doorstep that day. Perhaps, had she known then what she knew now, she might have slammed it shut in his face. Something was leading me to you…. that was what he’d said, wasn’t it? Well that something could bloody well piss off because she didn’t need that sort of complication in her life.
Without another word, she hurried out into the night.
*
The temperature seemed to have dropped by degrees in a matter of minutes as Hannah huddled into her coat, wishing she’d opted for a thicker one. Frost glinted on the grass that lined the roadside and her breath curled into the air. The road leading directly away from the hotel was well lit, but as she walked further on, the gaps between streetlamps became longer and longer, until she found herself in eerie pockets of blackness, thankful for the meagre light from her phone that she had now resorted to using in order to prevent her breaking an ankle on the road. Sobriety had hit too, and she was beginning to wonder if this was the stupidest thing she’d ever done. Gina would be furious, despite the brief text to let her know that she was heading home and would sleep on the sofa to let Gina in when she arrived back (if, indeed, she did arrive back that night). Hannah couldn’t help but feel vexed about that situation, if the truth was told. She had no right to be angry about Gina and Ross getting together – they were both consenting adults, of course – but she couldn’t help but feel that they might have been a bit more discreet, bearing in mind that the party was full of people Ross and Hannah knew, including his doting parents. She expected Gina to know better, but then, wasn’t she acting just as stupidly right now? Drink and betrayal did funny things to a person.
I'm Not in Love (Once Upon a Winter Book 2) Page 6
