The Half-Life Of Hannah (Hannah series Book 1)

by Nick Alexander

  “Hannah never drinks beer,” Cliff says.

  “Actually,” she says, “I will.” She heads back to the kitchen and returns with a second can.

  “I can’t even remember the last time I saw you drink beer,” Cliff says once she has reappeared, the can in her hand.

  “No,” Hannah agrees as she pulls the ring-pull and chinks her can against James’. “I’m glad I still have the power to surprise. Cheers, James. Welcome back. Welcome back from the dead.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  Tristan makes a fresh pot of coffee for Cliff and himself and the adults settle around the large table on the patio. Luke, intrigued by the newcomer, soon joins them as well, saying, “The pool’s kind of boring on your own. When’s Aïsha coming back?”

  “Should be today,” Cliff says. “Maybe even this morning.”

  “Is it more interesting when Aïsha’s dive-bombing you?” Tristan asks.

  “No, not really,” Luke replies, with a sheepish grin.

  “So what happened to your eye, Bud?” James asks.

  “I smashed my mask and got glass in it,” Luke explains.

  “We had a day of drama yesterday at the hospital,” Hannah tells him. “You missed all the fun. He had a general anaesthetic – the works.”

  “That’s a quick recovery then,” James says.

  “It is,” Hannah agrees, stroking Luke’s head.

  “So how did you get down here?” Tristan asks James. “Did you drive all the way, or...?”

  “No, I flew to Nice with some low cost outfit,” James says.

  “Easyjet?”

  “Yep. That’s the one. It wasn’t very low cost at all, in fact.”

  “Well, you have to book in advance,” Tristan says. “If you buy your ticket three or even six months beforehand, it can be very cheap. Otherwise it’s pretty much the same price as everyone else. More sometimes.”

  “I’m not really a six-months in advance kinda guy,” James says.

  “No,” Tristan agrees. “I know what you mean. Nor am I. And the car is a hire car then?”

  James nods. “A rental. Yes. I picked it up at the airport. I guess I should bring it inside,” he says, standing. “It’s still parked out on the road.”

  When he returns, he changes seats so that he is directly opposite Hannah and Luke. “So where’s your sister, Luke?” he asks.

  “My sister?” Luke says.

  “Aïsha, is it?” James says. “She must be, what, fifteen?”

  Luke shakes his head. “She’s not my sister,” Luke says, with what sounds like disgust.

  Cliff frowns and catches Hannah’s eye.

  “Aïsha’s Jill’s daughter,” Hannah explains. “My sister’s daughter. They’re here with us on holiday, but they’ve gone off to Nice. They should be back soon.”

  “Oh,” James says, looking confused. “So how old are you, Luke?”

  “Eleven,” Luke says. “Aïsha’s thirteen.”

  “Oh,” James says. “OK.”

  Hannah can see him counting, calculating. She can see him trying to understand. “They’re like brother and sister really,” she says, trying to head off any more embarrassing questions. “Which is nice for them, being only children.”

  “Sure,” James says, nodding thoughtfully.

  “So you live in Australia?” Hannah asks, attempting to change the subject. “That must be nice.”

  “Yes,” James says. “Yes, I’m Australian now. I took the nationality.”

  “Why did you do that?” Cliff asks.

  James shrugs, and swigs at his beer. “I had my reasons,” he says.

  Tristan nods at James’ hand. “So is that a wedding ring?” he asks. “Did you find yourself an Australian beauty?”

  Hannah’s stomach lurches. Which is absurd. She can’t work out how she managed to not notice the ring.

  “This?” James says, using his other hand to turn the ring. “Yes. I was married. Not now though. I just... I can’t really imagine taking this off,” he says.

  “Any children?” Hannah asks.

  James physically winces at the question. They all see it. “I...” he says. He closes his eyes for a second, and then reopens them and adds, “Hey, let’s not talk about me. Tell me what you guys have been up to all these years.”

  “Is he gay, do you think?” Tristan murmurs when he catches Hannah alone in the kitchen.

  “I haven’t the foggiest, Tristan,” she says, only barely hiding her irritation at the frivolous nature of the question. “He wasn’t fifteen years ago, but who knows. Why don’t you ask him?”

  Luke runs into the kitchen at that moment and announces, “Jill’s here. She wants to know if you’ve got any money.”

  “Money?” Hannah asks, drying her hands on a tea-towel.

  “To pay the taxi guy.”

  “I’ve got fifty euros, I think,” Hannah says, heading to her room for her purse.

  “I’ve got some cash too if you need it,” Tristan calls after them.

  Out at the gate, she finds Jill standing next to the open cab-driver’s window, a circle of expensive looking shopping bags at her feet.

  “Hi Han’,” she says. “Can you please pay this guy for me? He doesn’t take credit cards.”

  “Where’s Aïsha?” Hannah asks.

  “She went inside,” Jill says, nodding towards the back of the house.

  “I’ve got fifty,” Hannah tells her. “Is that enough?”

  “It’s ninety-seven,” Jill says. “I haven’t got any cash left at all.”

  “Ninety-seven?!” Hannah exclaims, turning back to the house. “I’ll see what Cliff has.”

  The taxi paid, Jill heads to her room to shower and change. When she returns, she makes a bee-line for the new arrival. “So you must be James,” she says, interrupting a conversation between James and Tristan.

  “Yes,” James says, holding out his hand.

  “I’m Jill,” she says, grabbing it and pulling him in for an embrace. “We spoke on the phone.”

  “Right,” James says. “So that was you.”

  “So you found it OK?” Jill asks. “My directions were spot-on then?”

  “You gave me the address,” James says. “That was spot-on.”

  “Yes, of course,” Jill says, wondering why she even said that. “So is everyone looking after you?”

  “They are.”

  Jill nods. James’ expression is a mixture of wry amusement and confusion. It’s a very attractive look, she decides. “Anything you need?” Jill asks.

  “Another stubby would be good,” James says.

  “A what?”

  “Sorry, a beer,” James explains.

  “Coming right up,” Jill says.

  Hannah, who has been watching this exchange from the doorway, follows Jill into the kitchen. “Please don’t flirt with him,” she says as her sister stoops to pull a beer from the fridge.

  “Why?” Jill asks. “Do you want him for yourself?”

  “No,” Hannah says.

  “Well then! Anyway, I wasn’t flirting with him. I was just being hospitable.”

  Hannah raises one eyebrow and sighs. “I just think that the dynamics around here have been complicated enough the last few days, don’t you? It would be nice to have a normal relaxing time for a bit.”

  “I’m just being friendly,” Jill says.

  “Sure,” Hannah says, then, “I still can’t believe you spent nearly a hundred euros on a taxi.”

  “Well, if you choose not to invest in your own environment-wrecking, carbon-pumping box of metal then sometimes a taxi is your only choice,” Jill says.

  “I just meant that if you had phoned, one of us would have come and got you.”

  “You’ll get your money back,” Jill says.

  “I’m not worried about the money,” Hannah says.

  “In which case you won’t get it back,” Jill laughs.

  “I knew I wouldn’t anyway,” Hannah says. “You never honour your debts.”<
br />
  Jill puts one hand on her hip. “Oh, come on Han’,” she says. “Lighten up, will you? This is supposed to be a holiday.”

  “It’s been a stressful couple of days, Jill,” Hannah says. “I don’t feel very light.”

  “I know. I was here. Remember?”

  “You were here until you decided to swan off to Nice for a little shopping trip,” Hannah says, pointedly.

  “Ah, now, we’re getting to the point.”

  “Honestly, Jill. I’m in the hospital wondering whether my son is going to lose an eye, and you take your daughter – who caused all the trouble in the first place – off on a shopping spree to Nice? Did you even wonder how Luke was doing? Did you even care?”

  “That’s so unfair!” Jill protests, her voice louder now. “And you know it.”

  “I don’t think that’s unfair at all.”

  “We knew Luke was fine before we left.”

  “Did you? How?”

  “Tristan told us when he got back. He said everything was fine and that you’d be home in a few hours.”

  “Oh. I got confused. I thought you left before then, but of course you didn’t.”

  “And we had been worried sick all morning. Aïsha couldn’t stop...”

  “Crying, yes, I heard,” Hannah says.

  “So when we found out everything was OK I decided it would be better for us, and for you, if we all had a bit of space.”

  “OK,” Hannah concedes. “I still don’t think rewarding Aïsha by taking her shopping was–”

  “And it wasn’t a reward. I wanted some time alone so that I could talk to her. And I did. We stayed in a horrible little hotel, if you must know, and we had a good long talk about the dope and the mask and how serious it could have been and I made her fully aware that she was out of order and that she had better buck her ideas up.”

  “Right,” Hannah says. “And then you took her shopping.”

  Jill shakes her head. “I hate you sometimes, Hannah,” she says.

  Hannah blinks slowly. “I know,” she says. “It’s fairly mutual, actually.”

  “The shopping was Aïsha’s idea...”

  “I’ll bet it was.”

  “Those are gifts. For you. We bought holiday gifts for all of you. We thought it would be nice.”

  Hannah swallows with difficulty.

  “So...” Jill says, tiling her head sideways momentarily.

  “I see,” Hannah says.

  “You see, do you?”

  Hannah shrugs.

  “This is where you say sorry,” Jill tells her.

  “OK, I’m sorry,” Hannah says. “Look, I am. It’s just all this...” she says, gesturing vaguely around her. “But you see how it looked, right? We got back from the hospital and you’d gone off on a jolly to Nice. Then you reappear with a pile of shopping bags and ask me to pay for the taxi.”

  “God, are we back to that again?” Jill asks, wide-eyeing her sister. “Shall I go and get some cash out now?” she asks pointing. “Is that what you want me to do? I could get Tristan to drive me to a bank and be back within an hour if that’s what’s required here.”

  “No,” Hannah says. “No, really. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just trying to explain how it looked.”

  “Right,” Jill says. She looks down at the countertop for a moment, takes a deep breath, and then says, “OK, I get that. And I get that you’re stressed out by... you know who... and I’m sorry Aïsha got Luke stoned, and I’m sorry she smashed his mask. And I’m even sorry the taxi driver didn’t take credit cards, OK?”

  “OK.”

  “So can we now, please, just, move on?”

  Hannah nods gently and smiles sadly. “It’s me,” she says flatly. “I’m just so stressed out at the moment.”

  “So don’t be,” Jill says. “Have a beer and chillaxe.”

  “I hate that word,” Hannah says.

  “Actually, so do I,” Jill agrees. “So, have a beer and relax.”

  “I had one this morning already,” Hannah says.

  “You devil you,” Jill laughs. “Have another.” She proffers the beer and Hannah laughs and takes it from her grasp.

  “I do love you,” Hannah says. “You do know that, right?”

  “Of course,” Jill says.

  “You annoy the hell out of me, but I love you.”

  “That feeling’s mutual too.”

  James pokes his head around the door. “I guess I shouldn’t count on that being for me,” he says, nodding at the beer can.

  “This?” Hannah says. “No, this one’s mine. Get your own.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Jill says, turning to face James and sticking her hip out. “Hannah’s need was greater than yours.” She wrenches open the door to the refrigerator. “I’ll get you another,” she says. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

  Because James’ presence flusters her in a way she can’t quite put her finger on, Hannah chooses to help Tristan prepare lunch rather than remain on the patio.

  They are running low on provisions – someone needs to go shopping – so they end up serving a trio of salads: potato and chives; tomato, cucumber and goat’s cheese; and last night’s pasta salad – recycled. (Tristan replaces the slices of tomato in it with fresh, a “dodgy restaurant trick” he says.)

  At one point during the preparations when he’s standing right next to Hannah at the sink, Tristan says, “He’s nice.”

  Hannah looks up and sees James talking to Jill while she swings Aïsha in the hammock.

  “Yes,” Hannah says. “He is, isn’t he?”

  “So what do you think happened to the wife?” Tristan asks.

  “I really don’t know,” Hannah says. “But I’m sure we’ll find out before the holiday is out. I expect you’re hoping that he left her because he decided he was gay, aren’t you?”

  “Something like that,” Tristan laughs, “cheeky! Just dump those chives on the potatoes and then pour the dressing over, OK?”

  “Don’t you want me to cut them up?”

  “Well, of course,” Tristan says.

  Over dinner, James regales them with tales of his travels: his trip to Thailand, his time in India, his summer in Bali, and finally his arrival in Australia.

  “How did you finance all of this?” Hannah asks. “I mean, if it’s not an impolite question...”

  “We got our inheritance,” James says. “When Mum died.”

  “Of course you did,” Hannah says.

  “Cliff was sensible with his half.”

  “I bought our house,” Cliff reminds her. “Best investment we ever made.”

  “Exactly. Whereas I blew mine.”

  “All of it?” Cliff asks.

  James nods. “Pretty much,” he says. “But it was worth it.”

  “So how did you end up owning a farm?” Cliff asks.

  “Farm?” Hannah says. She has no recollection of anyone mentioning a farm.

  “Yes, um, James here, was, um, telling me he has a farm,” Cliff stammers.

  “Yes,” James says, looking confused. “Well, I sort of inherited that too. It was in my wife’s family. It was falling apart when we took it over. But as I say, that’s a long story.”

  “We have all night,” Jill says. “We have all week for that matter.”

  “Maybe another time,” James says.

  “So how long are you staying?” Jill asks.

  “Where are you staying, more to the point?” Cliff comments.

  James shrugs. “I haven’t really got that far yet,” he says.

  “You must stay here,” Hannah says automatically, unsure once she has said it if she regrets it or not.

  “That would be great,” Cliff says, “obviously. But I can’t really see where. What about that little auberge place down the road?”

  “Rubbish,” Hannah says. “There’s plenty of room here.”

  “I could double up with Mum,” Aïsha offers, clearly on her best behaviour.

&
nbsp; “Well, there you go,” Hannah says. “You can have Aïsha’s room. And if she gets fed up with it, we can all take turns on the sofa bed.”

  “I’m totes happy with the sofa bed,” James says.

  “There’s no need,” Jill says. Then suddenly wondering if she will still be able to sneak out to see Pascal, she adds, “Not for tonight anyway. Aïsha says she’s happy in with me.”

  “So what kind of farm is it?” Tristan asks. “Is it livestock? Are you a cowboy?”

  James laughs. “It’s a bit of everything. It’s the only way to survive these days. We grow sugar cane and wheat and sorghum.”

  “Sorghum?”

  “Hay to you. So not really a cowboy, no.”

  “Is it big?” Hannah asks.

  “Not really,” James says. “Thirty acres, so not huge. But it’s pretty beautiful. We have palm trees out front, and a view of the Glasshouse Mountains out back. The sunsets are pretty cool.”

  “Sounds lovely,” Hannah says.

  “It is.”

  Hannah sits and listens to James’ smooth baritone voice, so similar to Cliff’s, but now, because of the accent, so much more exotic. Tristan keeps topping up her glass which means that she drinks more than she intended, but she feels that it’s doing her good. It’s helping her relax.

  It’s a funny thing, because though it is all new to her, nothing James says actually surprises her. He has led exactly the kind of life she thought he would have all those years ago, a life filled with changes and challenges and achievements and exciting adventures and warmly described friendships. It’s such a big life, she can’t help but compare it with her own fifteen years living in the same house in Surrey, working at a local school. She feels a bit like she has failed in some fundamental way.

  As James tells them about his bionic leg (he was trampled by horses and has metal pins in it that caused him much hassle going through airport security) and about the killer spiders and crocs and snakes of Queensland (Luke and Aïsha are for once, both gripped) lunch merges into afternoon tea, which merges, as the sun sets, into high tea.

  Tristan, throughout, manages to continue rustling up snacks, seemingly from nowhere, and at one point James tells him, “You’d make someone a great wife, Tristan, has anyone ever told you that?”