‘No,’ she said.
‘Oh!’ he laughed. ‘God, no… that came out all wrong; I didn’t mean anything by it!’
Hannah relaxed and smiled. They were both nervous and people said and did odd things when they were put on the spot. Perhaps she ought to give him the benefit of the doubt. ‘Would you like to eat?’ he added. ‘Let me buy you dinner.’
‘That would be nice, thank you.’
They took a seat away from the bar in an area at the back set out for diners. As they perused the menu, they chatted about how bad the traffic had been on the ring road, the cost of filling his car with petrol, the mother’s cat that had needed a visit to the vet that morning… well, it seemed that Chris chatted and Hannah mostly listened. At least it filled the space where there might be awkward silences instead. She was almost relieved when the food arrived and he had to take a breather to eat.
‘I realise that I’ve talked your ears off and you’ve barely told me anything at all,’ he said as he sprinkled salt over his food. ‘That’s very rude of me. My friends all say I have a gob on me.’
Hannah cut into a wedge of salmon. ‘Oh, that’s okay. There really isn’t that much to tell.’
‘There must be something. You haven’t been living as a hermit, have you?’
‘Almost,’ Hannah smiled. ‘Tell me about your job. What is it you do?’
‘I’m a property developer,’ Chris replied. Hannah’s fork stopped in mid-air as she stared at him. ‘Nothing big time,’ he continued, ‘I just buy one house at a time and do it up so I can sell it on and buy the next. They get a little bigger each time and the profit goes up a fraction but I’m basically a one-man band. I suppose the title of property developer is a bit grand really. More like DIY enthusiast.’
Hannah shook herself. The coincidences kept getting weirder. A property developer? Just like Mitchell… No, brain! Hannah thought, we’re not going there again!
‘What do you do?’ Chris asked.
‘Digital design… book covers, company logos, letterheads, blog headers… that sort of thing. I’m a bit of a one-man band too.’
‘It sounds interesting.’
‘I suppose it is if you love art and design like me, but it’s not for everyone. It’s a growth area, though, and it pays the bills.’
‘That’s the main thing, isn’t it?’ He swallowed a mouthful of his steak. ‘So… dare I ask why you’re on your own?’
‘You mean how many crap relationships have I been through already? Well, it’s no secret that I’m forty-two, so that’s probably more than I care to count up over the years. I’m not a fruitcake just yet, though, and I haven’t boiled anyone’s pet rabbit, so there’s hope for me yet.’
‘God, no! I didn’t mean that at all!’
Hannah took a sip of her wine. ‘It’s just how things have worked out for me, I suppose. Wrong places, wrong times, wrong men. I’ve been on my own for a while now, and I quite liked it that way. But lately I’ve been feeling it more – life passing me by and no one to share it with. I’m not sure I want to grow old alone.’ She took a bigger gulp of her wine. Damn it, that was probably a little too candid. She always did give out more information than she ought to, especially when booze was involved. He would definitely think she was a fruitcake now.
‘My wife ran off with another woman,’ he said.
‘Oh…’
‘Turns out she only married me because she wanted her parents to think she was straight. But then it all got too much, living the lie, and now she’s shacked up with a florist called Cindy.’
‘Oh… my… I’m…’ Hannah glanced around the restaurant. What the hell did she say to that? It certainly made her problems look simple. But when she looked back at him he was grinning.
‘It does rather surprise people when I tell them,’ he said. ‘But I think I’m over it now, and at least past the point where I assume that all women are going to announce they’re gay as soon as I get close to them… Well I hope not, anyway. That would be a bit damaging to the old ego.’
‘I suppose it would,’ Hannah replied, relieved that he did seem pretty okay with it after all. ‘Did you never suspect anything?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know… I keep asking myself how I missed it. I suppose the possibility just never crossed my mind so I wasn’t looking for it.’
‘Well you wouldn’t, would you!’ Hannah looked up at him and suddenly they were both laughing, the ice well and truly broken.
As dates went it hadn’t been too bad in the end. Hannah hadn’t exactly been blown away, but Chris had been good company and the meal was nice – much nicer than the interior of the pub had suggested it might be. He had said he would call her again, and had even offered to let Gina have first refusal and a good price on a house he had just renovated in a suburb of Millrise that Hannah knew Gina really liked. All in all, a good result, Hannah felt, and she was glad she’d been prevented from escaping after all.
The following morning, the sun was bright, the day crisp with a dry frost, and after putting in a couple of hours of early work, Hannah decided it was about time she tidied the garden. There was the Christmas tree to pull up for a start, which wasn’t a job that she looked forward to. She had potted it out in the hope it might take (as she did every year) and sadly, it hadn’t (as was the case each year), and she couldn’t leave it out there going brown and making her garden look like a tree graveyard. Despite this new defeat, she smiled to herself as she pulled on her gardening gloves. She could imagine the look of righteous glee on Gina’s face: I told you it wouldn’t grow… I told you to bin it.
By the time Hannah had got the offending tree to the composter, she was sweating in a most unglamorous fashion. Pulling off her fleece hoodie, she tied it around her waist, and spotted a hunched figure with a little dog on a lead, coming down the lane in the direction of her house.
‘How are you, George?’ Hannah called cheerfully. ‘Out for a stroll?’
George waved back as he veered from the path towards her gate. ‘I’m glad I’ve caught you; I wanted to have a word with you, actually.’ He leaned over the gate as Trixie strained at her lead to carry on walking. Hannah pulled off her gardening gloves as she sauntered over to him.
‘Is everything okay?’
‘Oh, yes, everything’s fine with me. It’s just… Well, I don’t want to worry you but when I went past your house yesterday evening I noticed a man hanging around in a car. He looked like he was watching your place.’
‘Are you sure? What made you think that?’
‘He was sitting there a long time, because I came back with Trixie an hour later and he hadn’t moved… and he was definitely watching your house. I could tell you were out too – no lights on or anything. I hope he wasn’t looking to break in.’
‘Well, I haven’t been broken into,’ Hannah mused. ‘I should have thought he’d have had plenty of opportunity yesterday if he wanted to; I was out until quite late.’
‘It’s a bit odd, though. You’ll keep a lookout, won’t you?’
‘Of course. Did you see his face?’
‘Not exactly. But I didn’t know the car and I know most round here.’
Hannah was thoughtful for a moment. It could have been that George was mistaken, and there was a perfectly innocent explanation, but living alone always made her slightly more wary of news like this. ‘Did you notice what sort of car it was?’
‘I’m not very good on cars. Could have been something like a Volvo, I suppose.’
Hadn’t Mitchell arrived in one of those when he came to tell her he’d left Martine (she presumed the sex-on-wheels Audi was Martine’s). But Mitchell? Surely he wasn’t stalking her like some weirdo? They’d talked things over for a long time after he had made his shock announcement, and much as she had longed to throw him into her bed and ravish him, she had made it quite clear that they had no future together – at least not yet and not until she could be sure he was in a fit state to make such a huge decision as leaving his
wife. And anyway, didn’t George know what Mitchell looked like from when they had met on Christmas day? He’d know him again, surely? So it couldn’t be Mitchell… could it?
‘Thanks for letting me know, George,’ she said, trying to reassure him with her brightest smile. Should she contact Mitchell and let him know that if it was him he was causing a code red in her neighbourhood by hanging around like a second rate secret agent? And if he still had something to say to Hannah, then watching her house from his car wasn’t exactly the way to go about it.
‘Do you think it’s worth contacting the police?’ George asked.
‘I have a feeling I know who it might be.’
George looked doubtful. ‘As long as you’re sure…’
‘I’m sure. There’s no point in getting the police involved if it’s a false alarm – they wouldn’t thank us.’
George tipped his cap. ‘Righto then. Be careful, though, won’t you.’
‘Of course I will,’ Hannah smiled. ‘And thank you.’
She watched as he tootled off with Trixie panting and wagging her tail – far more energy in her than was right for a dog of her age. It was at times like these when she wished, just a little bit, that she didn’t live alone in such a remote area. She could call someone… Ross, or his dad, Paul, perhaps? But what would she say? She couldn’t have them patrolling the lane night and day in case George’s possibly phantom stalker came back. Much as it vexed her to do it, Mitchell was the best phone call to make. She’d ask him straight out if it was him, and if it wasn’t, well… he’d come over, wouldn’t he? And what then, Hannah? They could have coffee… and she could ask him how he was… he’d have someone to talk to… there wouldn’t have to be anything else in it…
Before her brain had been fully engaged, Hannah raced into the house and grabbed her phone from the mantelpiece. Mitchell had insisted on leaving his number when he last came to call, and now she was glad she hadn’t deleted it from her phone, as she had almost done.
She dialled and held the phone up to her ear, waiting for him to pick up. A female voice answered.
‘I might have known…’ Martine’s tone was sharp. ‘I suppose you’re the reason he’s so messed up he thinks he wants to leave me.’
Hannah jabbed her finger on the screen to end the call. She dropped into the armchair. Why were her legs shaking?
She wondered why on earth she was shocked that Martine was with Mitchell, and why she was shocked that Martine was presumptuous enough to answer his phone. Stupid, stupid, stupid… Why had Hannah called him at all? Stupid cow…
Almost immediately, her phone began to buzz and Mitchell’s name appeared on the screen. Hannah could only presume it was Martine trying to finish whatever tirade of abuse Hannah had just cut off. Hannah put the phone on the arm of the sofa and stared at it, as if it was a bomb that she could trigger just by breathing on it. After a few moments, the screen went black. And then another call – Mitchell’s name lighting up again. Hannah watched it ring. A few moments more and her answering service flashed up a voicemail. She had no desire to listen to it.
Like a robot, she took herself back out into the garden. The patio needed pressure washing, and the moss needed scraping off the terracotta pots in the back, and the hedges needed a clip and… What was the point? The last thing she wanted to do now was garden – hell, she hadn’t really wanted to garden in the first place. Pulling off her gloves again and dropping them into the empty wheelbarrow, she took herself back inside to get her phone.
‘What do you want now?’ Gina answered cheerfully.
‘I don’t really know,’ Hannah said. It was true. She wasn’t about to burden her sister with what was beginning to feel like something very silly and blown out of all proportion – she just wanted to hear a friendly voice. ‘I fancied a chat, that’s all.’
‘Oh… well, I’m kind of in the middle of something. Can I phone you later?’
‘Yeah… sure…’
‘Hannah… are you alright? Do you need me? I can finish here if it’s urgent –’
‘No… no, don’t do that… it’s fine. I’ll call you this evening.’
‘Around eight. I’ve got to take Jess to martial arts class tonight.’
‘Eight… Good…’ Hannah murmured.
‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ Gina asked.
‘Yes. Eight. Speak to you later.’ Hannah ended the call. Putting down the phone, she headed for the kitchen. Screw the New Year’s resolution – the gin was coming out.
Hannah was half way down her second glass when there was a knock at the door. She was almost expecting it. Well, if Martine wanted a fight, Hannah wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. Ignoring the door, she filled up her glass.
But whoever it was didn’t want to give up so easily. Hannah let out a sigh. She could pretend to be as rebellious as she wanted to, but when it came to it, she could no more ignore the front door than stop breathing. What if it was George, or Ross, or someone needing her help? As she walked through the house, she reflected wryly on the last time she had answered the door to someone needing help. That had ended well…
It wasn’t Martine, but Mitchell who stood on the step, and a strange déjà vu swept over her as she recalled almost the same look on his face when she’d first opened the door on Christmas Day.
‘Hannah… I am so sorry!’ he began. She put up a hand to stop him.
‘Forget it – you don’t need to explain. It’s only right you should give it another go with Martine; I just hope I didn’t cock things up for you.’
‘But that’s just it… I wasn’t there to patch things up; I was there to finalise moving out.’
‘So why did Martine pick up the call?’
‘Because that’s what Martine does. She saw it ringing on the table and grabbed it before I had time to stop her.’
‘She blames me for your split.’
‘Yes…’
‘And I don’t blame her for that. I suppose I’d feel the same. So you’re not getting back together?’
‘I don’t love her. Hannah… I know you don’t want to hear this but…’ Mitchell held her in a pained gaze. ‘Oh… what the hell…’
Suddenly, Hannah was in his arms, his lips locked against hers. The moment of shock gave way to a wave of desire that crashed through her. She wanted him… she didn’t care that he was married or screwed up or that she was out on the front doorstep in full view of the lane… she wanted him, and she wanted him right now. Wrapping her arms around him, she guided him into the house, her lips never leaving his, and she heard the sound of the front door slamming as he kicked it shut behind him. He had her up against the wall, passion she could feel burning through his skin, his hands all over her, driving her wild until her thoughts were filled only with the feel of him, the smell and taste of him. This was a bad, bad idea, and she’d live to regret it, but she couldn’t think about that now. In his arms, Hannah was lost.
‘I want you to know that I don’t make a habit of turning up at women’s houses and kissing them,’ Mitchell said as he stroked a thumb gently over Hannah’s shoulder.
‘And I don’t make a habit of falling into bed with the men who turn up at my house and kiss me,’ Hannah smiled.
He chuckled softly and pulled her closer. God, he smelt so good; Hannah could lie next to him and breathe him in for the rest of her life and never need anything else. ‘I’m glad you made an exception in this case. That was…’
‘Very silly?’ Hannah asked.
‘I was going to say incredible. It was incredible. You’re incredible.’
‘You have to say that; you’re in my bed.’
‘So I am.’ He kissed the top of her head.
Hannah rolled onto her elbow to face him. ‘Mitchell… were you parked outside my house last night?’
‘Me? No. Why do you ask?’
‘It’s just something George said. I was out last night and…’ Oh God! She would have to call Chris and put things right. But he h
ad promised to show Gina around his newest development, and when Hannah had returned home from her date and phoned Gina to tell her, she had been so excited about it… she couldn’t let Gina down but she’d feel she was using Chris if she continued with the plan. As usual, Hannah had managed to make an almighty mess of things.
‘What’s the matter?’ Mitchell asked.
‘It’s nothing. Just that George said he saw a Volvo parked outside my house last night while I was out, and it was there for a while. There was a man inside, but George couldn’t tell who it was.’
‘It wasn’t me… but I don’t like the sound of it. Maybe I should stay here with you tonight.’
‘Seriously? That is the flimsiest excuse I’ve ever heard to spend the night in someone’s bed,’ Hannah laughed.
‘It’s not an excuse… well, a little bit. The spending the night bit would be nice. But I want you to be safe.’
‘That’s very sweet but you can’t be here all the time. I’m sure it was nothing anyway.’
‘I could be here all the time…’ he said with a slow smile.
Her insides fizzed with anticipation and she leaned in to kiss him. It was a lovely idea. ‘No you couldn’t,’ Hannah said. ‘And just because you’re about to seduce me again, don’t think that this changes my stance on you and me. You have to sort things out with Martine and I have to be sure that you’re clear in your own mind what you want before I commit to any sort of proper relationship.’
He frowned. ‘Isn’t this proof enough of that? I want you, Hannah, not her. That’s why I’m here.’
‘You think you do.’
‘Please… don’t let’s start that again. My mind might not be what it should, but my heart… there’s nothing wrong with what my heart is telling me. When I wake, yours is the face I want to see, and when I go to sleep, yours is the face I want beside me. Lying in that hotel room this week, it’s all I can think about.’
‘Yeah?’ Hannah said, snuggling into him.
Once Upon a Winter: A totally perfect festive romantic comedy Page 18
