Splat.
She lands front-forward in the compost pile, but not satisfied with that, she proceeds to roll around, covering every inch of her fancy outfit in mud, at the same time ensuring that her mother’s meltdown will go down in history. And probably that she’ll hate me forever for ruining her girl.
I sag where I stand. Great. “Alex,” I sigh as she sits up, arms and legs akimbo. “What have you done?”
“Me?” she chirps, all happy with herself. “But you pushed me, Hannah.”
Ryan snorts from behind me, and I throw a lethal glare his way, making him soon snap that smug grin into shape. I stomp up to the edge of the compost heap. “Out,” I order, realizing I sound like a stern adult. But heavens, it’ll take me all morning to fix her and save us all from the wrath of her mother. I need to get to town to help Molly.
On a little pout, Alex holds her hand out to me. I shake my head—more adult disapproval—and stretch forward to take it, holding the blankets to me with my spare hand. “Oh my God, Alex, look at you.”
She tugs, catching me off guard, and hauls me forward. And I land with a splat in the pile next to her on all fours. “Oh my God,” I breathe, my face inches away from the mud. “Alex!”
She flops to her back in fits of laughter, rolling around some more, holding her tummy. I’m going to wring her bloody neck. I lift a hand, the damn thing squelching as I pull it out of the mud, and grab onto the blanket that’s now draped over me, holding it close as I stand. The little minx finds it in herself to calm enough to register my irritation.
Then she grins at me. “Sorry.”
I slowly turn to find Ryan. He has a hand over his mouth covering his smirk. I tilt my head, my jaw tight. “Are you going to kill her, or am I?”
He bends at the waist and releases all the laughter he’s been holding back, bracing his hands on his knees to keep himself up. “I’m sorry,” he chuckles, and Alex joins him, both of their bodies vibrating uncontrollably from their hysterics.
“No, you’re not.” I look down at the blanket around me. “I have to go.” I make my way to the outside shower, aware of their sudden silence.
“Wait, what?” Ryan is in hot pursuit, chasing me down, albeit a little slowly, obviously still sore from his encounter with my knee earlier. Good. I hope they’re blue. “You have to help me fix her,” he says urgently.
I round the edge of the shower out of eyeshot of Alex and turn toward him, throwing off the blanket. He forgets himself for a second, his worried eyes falling into appreciation as they drop the length of my body. “You can fix her yourself.” I open the wooden door and flip the shower on, standing to the side while it heats up. “I have to go help Molly.” I smile sweetly and step under the spray as Ryan moves close to the edge of the stall, peeking over. I can tell by the umbrage on his face that he wishes he could join me.
“Hannah, come on.” He looks back over his shoulder to Alex. “Oh Jesus.”
“It’s not so funny now, huh?” I wash my hair quickly and grab a towel draped over the top of the stall. As I step out I see that Alex has lost her smugness, too, reality setting in. “Is that your phone?” I ask Ryan, hearing a ring from inside.
“Shit.” He makes a mad dash for the house, Alex in quick pursuit.
“If it’s Mum, I’m not here,” she yells, and I laugh, following them into the cabin. “Don’t answer it.” She wrestles with Ryan when he picks up his phone.
“She’ll be worried.” He slaps his palm into Alex’s muddy forehead and holds her back as her arms flail and swipe at him. “Darcy,” he breathes.
I tuck my towel in and take a seat in the nearby armchair, crossing one leg over the other and settling my hands on the arms. I can spare a few minutes to watch them wriggle their way out of this.
“Stop panicking. She’s here.” He looks his daughter up and down, still keeping her at a distance with his outstretched arm. “I think we have a winner on our hands.”
I don’t bother holding back my amusement. They deserve everything that’s coming to them. I’m checking out. I was never here.
Alex ducks so Ryan loses his hold on her, diving at his body to try to win the phone. He turns just in time and she lands on his back, hanging there as he starts to pace the cabin.
“She won’t be late,” he assures Darcy. “We’ll meet you there.” He hangs up and tosses his phone to the side before reaching back and detaching his daughter from his back. She drops to her feet in a huff and pouts, and Ryan scowls at her.
I stand and collect my clothes from the pile by the door, then head to the bedroom. “Good luck,” I sing as I go, shutting the door behind me and shaking out my dress, hearing hushed shouts from beyond as I get dressed.
I pull my wet hair into a knot and when I pull the door open to leave, I’m met with two cheesy smiles. I look from Ryan to Alex, who proceeds to flutter her lashes. “Hannah,” she coos.
“No.” I edge past them to avoid being caked in mud again, and get on my way.
“See,” Ryan hisses. “Look what you’ve done.”
“It’s your fault,” she retorts. “Mum’s gonna bust your balls.”
“I already did that,” I snicker, taking the steps down to the lawn.
“Dad!” Alex wails. “You have to fix it!”
“What have I told you about actions and consequences?” he asks on a growl.
“I know!” she cries. “I promise I’ll listen to you for the rest of my life.”
“Shitting hell,” Ryan curses, and a second later he lands in front of me, blocking my way. His cheesy grin is back. I raise my eyebrows, waiting, and he eventually slumps on the spot. “I’ll do anything.”
“Anything,” Alex reiterates frantically from behind me.
“Give me one reason why I should help?”
He pouts, his eyes going all puppy-like. “Because you love me.”
“I knew it!” Alex screeches, appearing by my side. My gaze is set firmly on Ryan, an unstoppable smile creeping across my mouth.
“And I love you,” he says, loud and proud.
“Yes!” Alex starts jigging on the spot, her jerky movements sending blobs of mud flying everywhere.
I laugh, amused, but mainly relieved that she seems so thrilled by this news. I step into Ryan’s chest and stuff my hands in his front pockets, looking up at him. “Fine, I’ll help.”
“Thank God.” He plants a chaste kiss on my lips, and I frown, feeling at something in his pocket. I step back and pull my hand free, my frown growing when I see what’s between my fingers.
Ryan’s eyes widen.
Alex stops with her happy dance.
And me? I stare at the slinky red G-string I just found in my boyfriend’s jean pocket. “These aren’t mine,” I say to them.
“Uh-oh,” Alex breathes, and I look up at Ryan, my head cocked in question.
“I can explain.” His hands come up in that kind of mollifying way that’s telling me not to turn and walk away.
“He can explain,” Alex parrots, moving in and swiping the red knickers from my hand.
“Then explain,” I order, sounding stern, though I’m not feeling particularly mad, and I don’t know why. I should be raging. I should be stomping off. I should be slapping his face. But my gut is telling me not to. It’s telling me there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, because I know deep down in my heart that Ryan would never betray me like that. I find myself smiling on the inside. This feeling of faith, even when I’m staring a pair of red knickers in the face that aren’t mine, is something special alone.
His face bunches. “They’re…I…it isn’t what…” He sighs, struggling to find his words.
“I found them in his truck when he got home.” Alex flies to her father’s defense and drops them to the floor, stamping on them, throwing a dirty look her dad’s way. “Stupid.”
He just shrugs. It’s lame, but it’s also quite endearing. I dust my hands off and head back to the cabin, feeling Alex’s and Ryan’s eyes follow
me. “Are we going to get you cleaned up or not?” I call behind me, looking back. They stare at me like I’ve lost my mind. I haven’t. I’m not irrational. I’m sure Ryan had plenty of women before I came along. I grimace at his truck. “Well?”
They look at each other, lost, and then shrug and trudge after me. I direct Alex to the shower and send Ryan to get towels. Let’s fix this mess.
* * *
Ryan shakes his head in disbelief, putting his foot down to gain some speed and increase the chances of Alex’s dress being dry by the time we make it into town. “You’re a genius!” she sings as I hold her frock out of the open window, the fabric flapping in the wind.
The high street is buzzing as Ryan pulls up at the top end, unable to get through because of all the stalls and stands. I look back to Alex, checking her over again. She’s not perfect, but I did the best I could with what limited tools I had at my disposal. I pull her dress in the window and pass it back.
“Put it on.”
She inhales sharply as she wriggles around on the backseat. “It’s freezing!”
I spot the stage outside Mr. Chaps’s store, where, apparently, Darcy keeps her beauty case for touch-ups throughout the day and pre-presentation, so that is where we’re heading. “Can you see your mum?” I ask, scanning the street for her.
“There.” Alex appears between the two front seats, pointing down the street. I home in and see Darcy with a well-dressed elderly couple.
“Your grandparents?”
“Yep.”
I look at Ryan and smirk, and he slumps in his seat. “You’re going to ask me to distract them, aren’t you?”
“Good boy,” I quip, jumping out and ushering Alex around the back of the truck. “If we can make it to the back of the stage without your mother seeing us, we’re home free.” I point out our route and as soon as Ryan is with the Hamptons, we hustle down the street, keeping close to the shop fronts. We make it to the stage undetected, and Alex lugs up a huge case from under a table.
I balk, astounded. “I know,” she agrees, as I shake away my exasperation and open up the box of tricks. And I stare at it for a few minutes, the endless items of makeup stimulating memories from my past. Lipsticks in every color, primers and fixing sprays, eye shadows and pencils galore. Everything a woman needs to look perfect when her life is anything but. I swiftly push those thoughts away and grab what I need, turning to Alex.
She remains perfectly still as I blot and dab at her, though her eyes watch me carefully as I work. My ability to apply makeup as perfectly as I wore it hasn’t left me. I smoke her eyes, draw a perfect line of liquid liner across her lid, adding a tiny flick at each corner, and highlight her cheeks. A bit of contouring, a dash of blush and bronzer, and the perfect shade of nude lipstick to make her blue eyes pop.
I sit back as she rubs her lips together, admiring my work. And as Alex grabs a mirror and inspects herself, I realize that I’ve just created a version of my old self. “Oh, wow!” she blurts, checking herself out at every angle. “I don’t look like a clown.”
I smile, though it’s strained, and close the box. “Turn around.”
She does as she’s told quickly and I gather her long hair up, messily pinning it here, there, and everywhere. “How come you’re so good at makeup but you never wear it?” she asks, and my working hands falter as I push a grip into her hair.
“I used to wear it,” I tell her. “It doesn’t interest me anymore.” I tap her shoulders and spin her around to face me. “There, you’re done.” She twirls, and though her face and hair are a major improvement, the dress still sucks. “Perfect,” I say anyway. I’m still expecting a freak-out from Darcy, since Alex’s face is no longer an inch thick with cosmetics and her hair isn’t stiff ringlets.
Ryan appears around the back of the stage. “Tell me you’re fin—” He steps back. “Wow.”
“I know.” Alex curtsies. “I look pretty, right?”
“You always look pretty.” Ryan stares at me questioningly, but I brush it off and stand, giving him a quick kiss.
“Now I really must go.”
He pouts, disappointed, and I smile as I leave them to go set up the painting competition. I make it to my store and slip the key into the lock.
“There you are!” Molly strides into the store with me and grabs some of the stacked chairs.
“I’m sorry, we had a disaster with Alex’s pageant outfit.” I follow her out onto the street and set out the chairs.
“A disaster?” We head back inside to get the easels.
“Don’t ask. How’s everything going?”
“No disasters here.” She places a few easels and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “Can you finish up alone? I’ve got to go set up the sack race before Lord Hampton declares us open.”
“No problem.”
She hurries away, claiming a pint of cider from Bob as she passes, and I finish setting up the competition area, giving each place a palette of paints and a blank canvas before rushing up to my apartment and quickly changing out of my dress and into my dungarees.
When I make it back down, I look up the street as I fix my scarf in my hair, seeing every stall and stand swamped with locals. A country dancing pole is next to the stage, a few kids dancing around it, entwining their ribbons, and Mrs. Heaven is outside her café dishing out her famous muffins to anyone who passes. It’s bustling, smiles are on the faces of all, and the atmosphere is alive. It’s wonderful.
I spot a kid hovering nearby, maybe nine or ten, eyeing up the paints. My first contender? “Hey.” I grab an apron off the closest chair and hold it out to him. “Want to enter?”
“What do I have to paint?”
I point up the street. “Paint what you see. Lord Hampton will announce the winner at the end of the day.”
“I’m so gonna win.” He’s in his apron and on his stool a few seconds later, loading his brush up and taking in the street before him. I smile and leave him to it, set on finding kids to fill the other stools.
Half an hour later, my class is full and paintbrushes are swiping furiously at every canvas. I weave through the stools, checking out the works in progress, offering small tips here and there if I feel they need advice. There are some seriously talented kids in Hampton, and Alex is one of the most brilliant. I bend over behind her and put my mouth to her ear. “Please, please, please don’t get any paint on your dress.”
“Seriously, Hannah.” She peeks out the corner of her eye to me. “You’ve wrapped me up in three aprons and a raincoat. No paint is making it to my clothes.”
She may say that, but this girl gives me a run for my money when it comes to getting messy. “Have you seen your mum yet?”
She shakes her head and dabs her brush on the canvas, placing perfect little dots on the bunting. “She’s busy escorting Grandma and Grandpa around.”
Good. Hopefully I can avoid her all day. But when I look up over Alex’s canvas, I see Darcy heading this way with her parents. Oh shit. I slap a smile on my face when she clocks me. “Hi.” I round Alex and offer my hand to her grandfather. “Hannah Bright, lovely to meet you.”
He looks down at my hand. Another sniff. What wonderful people. Peeking at my hand, too, I roll my eyes to myself and wipe the paint down the front of my dungarees. “Would you like to see some of the entries? They’re coming along quite nicely.”
“Oh, is that our Alexandra?” Lady Hampton coos, and then pretty much twitches in her posh frock when she registers the paintbrush in her granddaughter’s hand.
“Oh, Alexandra!” Darcy rushes to Alex’s side. “What in heaven’s name are you doing?”
“Painting.” She points to the canvas with her brush like her mother could have missed it. I sigh, bracing myself for it.
“And your face!” Darcy stares at Alex in horror, seeming a bit stuck for words.
“Problem?” Ryan asks, appearing from nowhere.
“Yes!” Darcy shrieks. “Just look at her.”
“She looks
beautiful.” Ryan flips Alex a wink, who merrily carries on about her painting business, unperturbed by the current anxiety attack her mother is having.
Darcy tosses Ryan and me a ferocious glare, and I find myself moving into his side, seeking protection from the explosion. “This is all your fault,” she hisses, and I flinch. “Her winning record will be broken.”
“Maybe she’ll win the painting competition instead,” I say without thinking, and I hear Ryan snort from beside me. “Or maybe not.” I retreat out of the firing line.
“Cool it, Mum.” Alex continues dotting her brush across the canvas, peeking past it from time to time to check the subject. “It’s in the bag.”
I have to purse my lips to keep myself together. “I’m going to get one of Bob’s special ciders,” I declare, hurrying over to his stand, accepting the pint glass he hands me with a smile. His cheeks are rosy, making me wonder how many he’s had already.
“Cheers,” he says, pouring himself another.
I raise my glass and have a big swig, coughing after I swallow. That’s stronger than I expected. “Share?” Ryan whispers in my ear, reaching past me to take the glass.
I turn in to him, keeping myself shielded from Darcy’s daggers. “Has she calmed down?”
“She’ll get over it.” Ryan has his own little wince after taking a sip, holding the glass up to inspect it. “Jesus, a few of those and I’ll be anyone’s.”
“Just make sure they don’t leave their knickers in your truck this time,” I tease, taking back my glass on a sweet smile.
He softens before me. “You know my heart is yours.”
“I know.”
“And my body. And my soul. And my Chunky Monkey.”
I laugh as he sweeps me from my feet, draping me across his arms. Half the contents of my cider spills in the process, and he ravages my cheek as he carries me up the street for all to see. “It’s time to pie some faces,” he declares, setting his focus forward.
Leave Me Breathless Page 32