‘Okay, then we’re going out tonight.’
I groaned inside, but daren’t say no. ‘Okay, how about that night out we’d always planned in York?’ I asked, knowing full well she’d love to.
‘You mean the one with the trendy bars and cocktails?’
‘The very one.’
‘No, it sounds dreadful.’ She laughed. ‘Of course! I’ll book a cab from the Foxglove for half-seven. I’ll come to yours at five to.’
As I went into my bedroom to get ready, I almost cancelled. I sat on the bed and took deep breaths, trying to fight the sick, panicky feeling in my throat. What if Daniel and that woman were in the pub? I stomped over to my phone and scrolled to Jen’s number. Stop it. I forced myself to put the phone back down. I couldn’t hide for ever.
I’d never worried about my clothes before. Going out would’ve required no more deliberation than selecting something that was clean and ironed. Daniel would often suggest a top or dress for me, making it simpler still. Now, staring at myself in the mirrored wardrobe door I wondered why he’d stayed with me for so long. My once-firm figure was a doughy caricature of its former self, dimples had formed down the sides of my thighs, and my bottom hung a few inches lower than it used to. A squidgy paunch had formed around my belly button, and my breasts drooped, deflated.
How had I not noticed what I’d become? Tears pricked my eyes in response to a pain searing through my chest. The truth was I hadn’t needed to notice before because I’d been happy. I’d thought we both were happy.
I dried my puffy eyes and grabbed my faithful navy jeans. Size twelve. I couldn’t even remember making the transition from size ten to twelve. I wriggled into them, squeezing the zip up. I was glad I’d dared to be trendy by buying a high-waisted style, as it gave me the opportunity to tuck in my love handles, or simply ‘handles’ as I supposed they’d become. I pulled on a black shoestring vest and picked up a sheer black-and-pink floral shirt to throw on over it.
I felt drab. Normally I’d have colour from a spray tan, which I’d have showcased by wearing something bright, and my hair would usually be styled, but all that maintenance had fallen to the wayside. I ran the straighteners through my hair. The style was outgrown, shapeless, and touching my shoulders, doing nothing to frame my face. I was a sorry excuse for a beautician. I put on some black ankle boots with a small heel and sat on the arm of the sofa in silence, waiting for Jen.
When she arrived she exploded through the door like a firework, all cheery and full of chatter. After the stillness of the house before her arrival, it was a lot to bear.
‘Oh my word, Hannah, you look gorgeous!’ she shrieked. Okay, that was too OTT to give me even an ounce of confidence, but I was trying to be positive so I smiled.
‘Thanks, you look lovely too,’ I said, much more calmly.
‘So I was thinking, skip the Foxglove and we could head straight into York for some real bars.’ She was smiling brightly, her eyes wide. It almost made her look psychotic.
‘Jen, relax. It’s been six weeks. I have to return to normality at some point, and that involves going in the pub and you being normal. The Foxglove is fine; it’ll be nice to see a few familiar faces and besides, it’s just for one drink.’ My bravery was on the outside only.
‘What if he’s there?’ she asked tentatively.
‘I have to face him sooner or later. It’s a small village and both of our businesses are based here. Neither of us can just up and move away.’ I was trying to convince myself as much as Jen.
It was only a five-minute walk to the Foxglove and since it was chilly, we walked as quickly as we could across the newly iced cobbles. It left little room for chatter. The pub was lit up in the dark, cool air, all cosy and welcoming. It almost felt good to be back, almost normal, but with an overwhelming helping of emptiness. Opening the door, I was hit by the cosy warmth, the familiar smell of ale and pub grub. I can do this.
It was predictably busy, but there was a small table in the corner, which I pointed out to Jen. ‘You go and sit down, and I’ll get us a glass of wine,’ she said.
I made my way through the crowds, keeping an eye out for the table. That was when my eyes met a familiar homely set. Daniel. My heart pounded erratically as I panicked about what to do. I certainly wasn’t going to head over to him and provide the villagers with more gossip fodder. I quickly looked away and scurried to the table I’d spotted in the back corner of the pub and sat down, willing Jen to hurry up.
I turned my back to the crowds but after just a few moments, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I knew it wasn’t Jen as the bar was two-deep and even she couldn’t get served that quickly. I took a deep breath to steady my dizzy head before reluctantly turning around.
My words froze as my dry throat closed up. I stiffened, vaguely aware of my body trembling as adrenaline pumped around it, deafening me as it reached my ears.
‘Hannah, hi. There’s, erm, someone I think you should probably meet,’ he said. I swallowed hard, and it was only then I noticed that she was standing beside him. A jolt of pain shot through my chest. I needed a drink – something. Without thinking, I looked down at my bag and started rummaging in it for nothing in particular.
‘Hannah, we’re adults occupying a very small village. We’re going to have to be civil towards one another. Can I ask you to be a little more grown up about this and at least acknowledge us?’ His calm, even tone suggested he was putting on a front for his mistress, making me look like the stereotypical irrational ex. Maybe I did appear irrational, or even childish, but my lack of voice wasn’t for effect. I couldn’t respond. I felt like a rabbit caught between the headlights of Daniel and whatsherface. Jen, Jen, hurry up, Jen.
‘Come on, Daniel, let’s go,’ she said, placing a well-manicured hand gently on his arm. He turned to her and nodded. I was enraged. He’d started this, and now he was going to go just because she told him to? Finally, I managed to pluck up the courage to speak.
‘I’m sorry, Daniel, where are my manners? You took me by surprise, that’s all. Please, take a seat,’ I said in a silvery tone. I gestured to the vacant chairs around the table. She glared at Daniel; obviously, she’d expected a less than friendly welcome, and my initial response had played right into her hands. Daniel returned her glare and nervously sat down. I noticed a few of the village eyes had descended upon us but chose to ignore them. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure of this lovely little gathering?’ I said, smiling widely whilst my heart stomped around in my chest like a grounded, moody teenager.
‘I … I … er …’ Finally, Daniel was lost for words and it was a relief to feel like I was gaining the upper hand.
‘Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Why are you here?’ I tried again, almost enjoying watching him squirm.
She spoke. ‘He wanted to introduce me.’
‘Oh, and you are?’ I regarded her for the first time. Of course I knew who she was. I just wanted to make her feel irrelevant. I’d done right to avoid looking at her last time. She was stunning. She was taller than me, and her glossy blonde hair was so long and shiny. Her tight dress showcased an impressively pert chest that looked too large for her small frame. She looked like she came from a Mattel factory. What a weak, shallow fucking bastard he was. He could have at least been original.
‘I’m Kelly.’ She smiled nervously. ‘Daniel’s girlfriend.’ She glanced at him as she spoke.
‘Oh, Kelly, it’s so lovely to meet you,’ I replied with as much cheer as I could summon. ‘I’m Daniel’s wife,’ I added, keeping the smile plastered on my face and holding a hand out across the table, which she shook apprehensively. I struggled to retain my composure, to keep all my pieces from crumbling. I couldn’t let the two of them see what they’d turned me into.
In reality, seeing her, all shiny, polished, and new, made me feel even drabber and frumpier than I had when I was getting ready. I could practically feel the frump grow around my body – each dimple of cellulite popped, my thighs started to bloat and swell, and
the heavy sagginess of my breasts wore my chest down. My dull brown hair, which sat at a funny length, my pasty skin underneath the make-up, and my awful drab blouse that didn’t cling to any of the right places suddenly became the only things I could focus on. I wondered what the hell was taking Jen so long.
Finally Daniel spoke, breaking the silence. ‘So, I just thought you two should meet, since we were bound to bump into one another soon.’ He slid his chair back and stood up. Kelly followed.
‘Er, nice to meet you,’ she said hurriedly as they walked off. At least I managed to unnerve them a bit, I thought as I let my head slump to the table.
‘Was that…?’ I heard Jen’s voice.
‘Now you arrive.’ I lifted my head. ‘And yes, it was. Kelly she’s called, or bimbo-bitch-face if you prefer. I don’t care.’ I realized I was trembling.
‘Petulance isn’t very becoming, Hannah, definitely not at your age. It’s Daniel who betrayed you, not her.’ She cocked her head to the side in sympathy. ‘Although bimbo-bitch-face is probably fairly accurate terminology. What did they want?’
I couldn’t respond.
‘I bet you could do with another. We have time for a shot before the cab arrives,’ she said hopefully.
‘Actually, Jen, can you cancel the cab? I’m not feeling up to it. I’m really sorry but could we just go back to mine? We can watch Friends DVDs and eat junk.’ I’d used all of my energy on those two and quite fancied feeling frumpy and drab in private.
‘Of course,’ she said, her eyes filled with sympathy.
We walked back to my house arm in arm, stopping for supplies on the way. I started filling Jen in on my encounter with Cathy the cruise ship worker, to take my mind off Daniel.
‘That sounds amazing. If only I had a skill or talent that would get me a job on board,’ she mused. I wasn’t biting. Jen was the type of person who went on cruises, not worked on them. I knew what she was doing and, since speaking to Cathy, I’d thought about it too.
When we arrived, Jen went off to the kitchen to put everything out whilst I went upstairs to change into my pyjamas. I went into the en suite and sat down on the closed toilet lid, allowing my whole body to sag. Then I cried again. My tears were a cocktail of pain, rage, and humiliation. I wasn’t sure how I could face going out in the village again. My funds were dangerously low, and if work didn’t miraculously pick up soon there was a chance I’d lose everything I had left.
I had to keep going, pick myself up, and move on for the sake of my sanity, but how? I had no idea. I dried my eyes, got changed, and went downstairs to the lounge, where Jen had laid out a spread of Haribo, Doritos, and Heroes.
‘That’s a very sophisticated-looking buffet, Jen,’ I teased, going straight for the chocolate.
We managed to watch a good three episodes of Friends before Jen started.
‘So, why not get away from the village for a little while? It doesn’t have to be the cruise ship – just a holiday or something, a break.’
‘Because everything I have is here. I can’t just leave for a holiday whilst my business is in such a state. I can’t afford to anyway and I couldn’t go and work on a cruise ship. My life is here.’ I folded my arms across my body defensively.
‘But is it, really? I think it’s fair to say your life was here. There’s not all that much left, aside from your fabulous sister, of course.’ I looked at her for a moment, thinking about what she was saying. Did the rest of the village wonder why I was still hanging around? The embarrassment I already felt stepped up a notch at the thought of everyone pitying me and what was left of my life.
‘Is that what you think I should do? Leave?’ I asked.
‘I just think that you don’t get many opportunities in life where you can just up and leave, especially as you get older. This just seems like you’ve got a VIP pass.’
I paused to think about it.
‘Well at least let’s have a look into it,’ she coaxed.
‘Fine, I’ll humour you.’ I stomped over to grab my laptop. ‘You go and get more wine.’
By the time she returned I’d booted up the laptop and found a few webpages with helpful information, including the website of a company that operated on-board spas.
To be honest, it did look quite exciting – the oceanic setting, visiting new places whilst doing the job I’d always loved.
‘You’re grinning,’ Jen said. She’d caught me.
‘Okay, yes. I’m grinning. It does look pretty amazing. Take a look.’ I slid the laptop down the table so she could see for herself. She spent a few moments scanning the screen.
‘Oh, Hannah, just go for it. What have you got to lose? Look, there’s an option to request more information.’ Her fingers flew over the keys, and she looked up at me sheepishly. ‘Whoops, I’ve requested it.’
Chapter Four
‘Sell the house?’ I slumped back in the chair and glared at Wilfred’s ruddy face. When I’d called for advice, I was hoping he’d talk through options that would enable me to keep my home and business.
‘You need to rebuild your business to be able to afford your house, and looking through these figures, you’re quite a way off.’ He plonked a pile of paperwork on the desk. ‘You could sell off your business, but it won’t fetch much, and when that money runs out, you won’t have the income needed to be able to afford the house. My best advice is to sell the house, use the proceeds to supplement your income until your business builds back up, and rent a small flat. You may even need a part-time job in the meantime.’ Wilfred let out a deep sigh. ‘I’m sorry, Hannah. I know you’ve been through the ringer and that’s not what you wanted to hear.
I stomped out of his office and headed down the high street towards the hairdresser’s. It felt like I was on the AGV Italo to failure, desperate to get off – I was no longer in control. The only thing I felt I could take any charge of was my shapeless bob. I popped in on the off chance they could squeeze me in and luckily Sheila came to the rescue.
‘Of course, Hannah, after what you’ve …’ I held up a finger to cut the well-meaning hairdresser off.
‘I’m moving on,’ I said defiantly. ‘But I’m going to need new hair to do it.’ I grinned.
‘Good girl,’ Shelia said, patting my shoulder whilst guiding me to the chair. ‘So, what are we doing today?’
‘I was thinking a few highlights to brighten it a little and a bit of shape cutting back in?’
‘You’re in good hands,’ she said placing an apron around me.
Soon, she was painting colour on my hair. The familiar tingling sensation on my scalp felt good. A trip to the salon was long overdue.
‘Olivia over there,’ Sheila said, nodding towards a young girl sweeping up, ‘she’s just had the worst date ever, you know.’
‘It was the worst date ever. He took me to McDonald’s and we didn’t even eat in,’ Olivia said sulkily. ‘Anyway, I told him, if he wanted to get a girl like me on a second date that he should reconsider his restaurant of choice. Another one bites the dust.’ She shrugged.
I laughed. It felt good. I admired how people had the strength to stick up for themselves and move on. When I was her age, I’d have probably felt flattered that someone wanted to buy me McDonald’s.
Absorbing some of her attitude I said, ‘Hey, you know. I never did get revenge on Daniel. Maybe I should have done more to pay him back.’
Of course I was joking, but Sheila jumped in almost too quickly: ‘Ooh, I would have. Burnt his clothes perhaps? Packed him up a box of embarrassing belongings – you know, like haemorrhoid cream or something for jock itch – and sent them over to his new place or his office marked “important”. Or made him jealous by hiring a gorgeous male escort to take me to the pub whilst looking fabulous.’ She cackled.
‘You’ve put a lot of thought into this for a happily married woman, Sheila,’ I replied with amusement.
Sheila ran her fingers through my hair, eyeing the shape with a grin. ‘Preparation is key, my dear. N
ow sit tight, I’m going to run the curling wand through this – the wavy bob is so in at the moment.’
‘Personally, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing you care,’ Olivia chipped in.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘When I’ve split up with guys in the past, I’ve always just acted like I didn’t care. It always drives them mad to see me having fun, and always brings them back begging.’ She smiled smugly. It wasn’t such a bad idea.
Sheila teased the finished waves and added a bit of hairspray. ‘What do you think?’ she said proudly, holding a mirror behind me. My mouth dropped open. I looked like a celebrity.
‘I think I need you to move in with me and be my personal stylist. I love it.’ I swished my head from side to side to get a better look. ‘Thank you, Sheila. It’s just what I needed.’
‘And it’s on me,’ she said, smiling warmly. ‘Now get over to your salon and whack some make-up on. It’s quiz night tonight in the Foxglove, and you know who’ll be there don’t you?’
I gulped. ‘I can’t accept a freebie, Sheila,’ I protested. My precarious financial situation must have been the new village gossip.
‘You can and you will. I’ve been dying to do something different with your hair for years and now you look amazing – you’ll really make Daniel think twice when he sees you tonight.’
‘Well that’s very kind, but facing those two again is not something I want to do any time soon.’
‘You can do it. We’ll be in there at seven – have one drink with us, and book a taxi to take you somewhere nice at half-seven, just before the quiz starts. He’ll walk in as you’re leaving looking fabulous and wonder what he’s missing. We could even book you that male escort.’ She winked.
‘No thank you to the male escort – Tinbury isn’t ready for that.’ I shook my head at the silly idea.
I arrived home fully anticipating a night in front of the TV with a Chinese takeaway, but as I walked in I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. My hair looked gorgeous; it was just how all the celebrities were wearing it. It made me wonder what Daniel would think – he always loved a new hairstyle or colour on me, or new clothes. Perhaps ‘loves change’ should have been a warning sign.
The Holiday Cruise Page 4
