‘I couldn’t think of anything worse than living in a share house now,’ Rob said. ‘It’s not bad when you’re twenty-something, but just imagine at our age. I couldn’t deal with the mess for starters.’
‘Probably not a whole lot different from sharing with a scatty wife, two small dogs, and a pair of four-year-olds,’ Sam pointed out with a grin.
‘Hmm, yes,’ Rob said.
‘But it wouldn’t have to be a uni student,’ Sam added. ‘What about someone older, like a pensioner?’
‘A pensioner might be a bit intrusive,’ Rob chimed in. ‘Different if you had a separate, self-contained wing or a flat set up, but at Hannah’s place they’d be in your face all the time.’
‘I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’ll just take some getting used to,’ Hannah told them and herself firmly. I sure hope so. They meant well, but she now wished she hadn’t said anything.
‘Yes, it’s only been a week,’ Sam said.
‘You know you can call us at any time of the day or night,’ Rob said.
‘I do. Thanks.’
They lapsed into silence and Hannah stared at the blurb on the back of the book, unable to focus. She wondered if she should sell up – if she could bring herself to – and maybe move into the city, closer to her work. Perhaps a clean break and a total change might be just what she needed. She was always stunned at what inner-city apartments were listed for – even those with just the one bedroom. Tristan had often shared his daydreams with her about living in a city warehouse conversion, but that was before they’d been given the opportunity to buy Hannah’s parents’ place.
Hannah opened the book and struggled to get into the story, rereading the first two lines over and over before finally being able to move onto the next. Her mind drifted and she kept getting lost and having to go back.
It was nice to appear to the outside world – the crowded beach full of laughter and energy – as a normal, anonymous person, rather than the recently widowed woman engulfed in sadness, which she was. Here she could hide behind her sunglasses and pretend for now that everything was okay. Perhaps she might even be lucky enough to fall asleep.
Gradually Hannah found the story and characters in the novel becoming more and more interesting and staying in her mind. She settled back in the low beach chair and concentrated, and slowly became lost in her book, which, according to the blurb, was a story of family betrayal and infighting over a will.
*
She was startled from her reading by the two boys appearing beside her and loudly telling their parents they were hungry. Plastic containers filled with carrot and celery sticks, cubes of cheese and crackers were handed out and promises made that if they ate something healthy they could have ice-creams.
In what seemed like seconds, the boys devoured the food and insisted it was time for their dessert. Hannah’s mouth started watering too. She loved ice-cream so much that she couldn’t keep it in the house or she’d devour a whole tub in one sitting.
‘My treat,’ she announced. ‘Why don’t I take them to get the ice-creams and you guys keep an eye on everything here?’
‘Okay. Great. I’ll have chocolate,’ Sam said.
‘Strawberry for me, thanks,’ Rob said.
‘Are you sure you both just want the one flavour? I’m being greedy and going for two scoops,’ Hannah said.
‘If you insist, two scoops it is, but still just chocolate for me,’ Sam said.
‘You’ve twisted my arm. Two scoops of strawberry, please.’
‘Okay, coming right up. Come on boys.’
Hannah stood up and swung her handbag over her shoulder. She accepted two small, warm, sandy hands and soon they were walking down the asphalt path. Thankfully there was an ice-cream van parked only about a hundred metres away and they didn’t have to walk all the way to the end of the pier. Nevertheless, it was quite hot so they’d better hurry back or have melted ice-cream dripping down their arms.
‘Any idea what you’d like, boys,’ Hannah asked as they stood waiting to be served.
‘Cookies and cream and toffee, please, just like Uncle Tristan,’ Oliver announced.
‘And me too,’ Ethan said.
‘Okay. Are you sure?’ Hannah asked, slightly staggered that they’d remembered.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Me too.’
Thank god Tristan’s favourites hadn’t been boysenberry and rum and raisin like hers were. She couldn’t help but find it a little amusing. As laid back as Sam was as a mother at times, she’d almost certainly have a fit if Hannah gave her four-year-olds a dose of rum. Though it might help them sleep …
They walked back quickly and when they reached their parents the boys loudly announced their choice and why, as only innocent little boys could. At least Hannah found it didn’t hurt quite as much the second time and it was nowhere near as hard as their comment about Tristan and New Year’s resolutions. Maybe she would be okay in time.
Chapter Twelve
Carrying Ethan across the hot sand, Hannah was a little disappointed at her poor level of fitness. She’d better get back to doing some daily exercise. Going to work again would help re-establish her routine.
Once Rob had pulled up at the kerb outside the house, Hannah kissed the sleeping boys gently on their heads, gave their weary parents a rub on the shoulder each, thanked them for a lovely day, and slowly and quietly got out of the car. She cringed at the noise as she closed the door, and then waited and waved as they pulled away before making her way up the path to her front door.
*
Having showered, Hannah defrosted one of the many packs of food Beth had prepared and left in her freezer, silently thanking and blessing the old lady as she watched it turning under its spotlight in the microwave.
She couldn’t bear sitting at the table alone, so she opted for dinner on her lap in front of the TV. She tried to remember when she’d last done this, and couldn’t. It would be a bad habit to get into, but the kitchen was too quiet and empty to sit in by herself. Anyway, it wasn’t as if there was anyone here to frown at her. As that thought crossed her mind, Hannah tried not to let it bring her mood down. She wondered if the stickler for etiquette had been her or Tristan. Probably both, she decided. They’d been on the same page about most things. But most things were different now.
One of the good things about a day at the beach is the particular weariness you feel when you slip into bed, Hannah thought as she did just that. She let out a sigh. Perhaps this would be the night when she would return to sleeping well.
*
She woke and looked around the room, trying to judge the amount of light coming in between the curtains. Was it the middle of the night or time to consider getting up? She felt rested, really rested – a feeling she hadn’t experienced for what seemed so long and wasn’t sure she would again. She was so comfortable she didn’t want to move. No matter what time it was, she didn’t have to get up if she didn’t want to. Work was still another couple of days away. But curiosity got the better of her and she shuffled towards the clock radio. Please let it be morning, she silently prayed as she turned the clock around to read. What? She blinked, barely able to believe what she was seeing. It was eight-forty. Even before her life had been turned upside down – for that was how she’d begun to refer to it, rather than dwell on the fact people had died – she’d been a morning person and had only ever slept beyond seven a.m. if she were ill.
Her mum would have said she needed the sleep. And, boy had she! Now she felt ready to tackle the day head-on – not reluctantly and cautiously like every other morning. She actually felt a little more like her old self. She knew she’d never completely be that person again – too much had happened and her whole soul had been decimated – but she felt that this was going to be a good day and a step towards recovery.
Under the shower, she ignored the little voice that warned that grief was a slow process and often it was one step forward and two steps back. She’d read that somewhere. But it did
n’t have to apply to her, now did it?
Hannah took her coffee and the paper out to sit at the table on the back verandah, like she and Tristan had often done on weekends. But this, like so many things she’d loved doing and had taken for granted, no longer felt right. She couldn’t settle. She even shifted places and took the chair Tristan – and her father before him – had always occupied, but that didn’t work either. She moved down to the step. That felt better. Perhaps she’d have to create her own new, different everything.
A thought struck her and she looked up and across the expanse of lawn, which was flanked by screening poplar trees. What about putting in a pool? She’d enjoyed the water yesterday. She needed more exercise. But then decided it was a question for another day. She had things to deal with – important things – before getting caught up in daydreams. She finished her coffee and resisted a refill. Most likely Mrs Hobbes at her parents’ retirement village would invite her to sit down for a cuppa to discuss things. Would Mrs Hobbes even be in at work on a Saturday? Oh, well, she shouldn’t overdo the caffeine, anyway.
But first she had to face driving past the accident scene, which would probably still be highlighted in yellow markings for all to see. Hannah toyed with looking up another way to go, but resisted. She had to face this, and right now.
Her heart raced as she drove towards what she referred to in her mind as The Intersection. As she slowed she tried to see any sign of the devastation that had occurred there a little over a week ago. Thankfully there was nothing more than the splotches and lines of yellow spray paint the investigators used, which she’d prepared herself for.
There were cars all around her and the light ahead was green so she couldn’t slow down too much without risking the ire of the driver behind her. He had already shown his impatience by honking at the previous set of lights when she’d missed taking off immediately when the signal had turned green. With the accident in her mind, Hannah now found driving confronting and nerve-racking. Previously she’d been a good, confident driver. Today she felt like a learner – nervous, apprehensive, slow, and struggling to concentrate.
By the time she pulled up in front of the single roller door beside her parents’ villa, she felt a nervous wreck and was wishing she’d brought Sam with her or waited until Beth was back and could have come along.
In a daze she made her way out of her parents’ mini street, past the communal barbeques and recreational areas to the main office. She’d tried to talk her parents out of giving up their driver’s licences – they were only in their late sixties, for goodness sake. Who willingly gave up their driver’s licence and independence? Her parents, as it turned out. They said they had everything they needed right here and if not they would catch a taxi or bus. They had decided that they didn’t want to one day be the cause of an accident. The irony of this kept running through Hannah’s head as she waited while the receptionist phoned to tell the administrator, Mrs Joanne Hobbes, that she’d arrived.
‘Hannah, how lovely to see you,’ Mrs Hobbes said, and when she wrapped Hannah in a warm hug, Hannah almost crumpled into her.
‘I’ve come to start going through Mum and Dad’s things so …’ Hannah blurted despite being suddenly very uneasy about doing it today, after all. She wasn’t sure she could unlock the door and walk into her parents’ empty home, never mind sorting through their things.
‘There’s no rush. You take as long as you need,’ Mrs Hobbes said, putting a hand on Hannah’s arm.
‘Thank you.’ Hannah swallowed hard. ‘And thank you so much again for coming to the funeral, and to the house afterwards. It meant a lot and would have really meant a lot to Mum and Dad to know you and so many of the residents were there.’
‘Well, they were very special to us. We’re missing them terribly. Come in and sit down. Can I get you a tea or coffee?’
‘Coffee would be lovely, thank you.’
‘Can you ask Daisy to bring coffee for two to my office please, Tilly?’ she said.
‘Of course,’ the receptionist said, and picked up the phone.
‘Come through.’ Mrs Hobbes ushered Hannah down the hall and into the first open door. Hannah had been in here that first day with her mother, who had started looking for accommodation before telling her husband what she was up to. Hannah suddenly felt a wave of sadness and nostalgia bubble up. Maybe if she hadn’t come here with her mother that day her husband and parents would still be alive. She tried to wipe the few stray tears away while Mrs Hobbes wasn’t looking. But when she glanced up, she found a box of tissues being slid across the desk towards her.
‘Thanks. I thought I was okay. I was when I left the house,’ she added with a tense smile.
‘Dear, it hasn’t been long. They’ve left a big void here. I can only imagine how you’re feeling. And with it being such a shock. I’m not sure if it’s easier knowing they’re going to go or not,’ she said wistfully. ‘You’ve had an incredible loss – your husband as well. Practically your whole family, is that right?’
Hannah nodded, wiping her dripping nose. She was pleased to have the distraction of the door opening and a young woman walking in with a tray of steaming mugs, a jug of milk and bowl of sugar and plate of biscuits.
‘That looks lovely, thank you, Daisy,’ Mrs Hobbes said, smiling at the young woman who nodded before leaving. They both added milk and sugar to their coffee in silence.
‘Oh, that’s good,’ Mrs Hobbes said, with clear satisfaction, after a long sip. ‘It always tastes so much better when someone else has made it, don’t you think?’
‘Mmm, it is very nice coffee,’ Hannah agreed.
‘It’s from one of those pod machines. So, tell me, how are you doing?’
‘I’m okay, I suppose. Sad, can’t stop crying most of the time, as you can see,’ she said with an attempt at a smile.
‘That’s normal, dear, don’t be embarrassed about it.’
‘Thankfully I’ve got good friends around me. I’m really lucky in that way. But people have their own lives. I’ve just got to get used to being alone. At the moment that’s what I’m finding the hardest to deal with.’
‘Yes. I think there’s an art to learning to enjoy your own company and space, especially if you’ve never had that before. And with your parents being so warm and gregarious and hospitable … Mine were the same, as was my husband. I lost him four years ago …’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Thank you, I’ve come to terms with it. But what I’m trying to say is that being alone wasn’t something I’d ever had to do. We had a big circle of friends and entertained a lot. Learning to be all right with being on my own took some getting used to, I can tell you.’
‘But what about your friends?’
‘Oh, they were wonderful, and still are, but I was living in Adelaide. I left to take this job.’
‘Oh. Wow. That was a big move. And very courageous.’
‘Yes, I don’t think I quite realised how big or how courageous. You see, like you, I was trying to keep my mind occupied. I don’t garden or have any hobbies, really, so for me it was work. As much as I loved my job in Adelaide I needed a new challenge. I stopped wanting to host dinner parties because it wasn’t the same without Ted and I found people tend to look at you differently – trying to treat you normally, as before, and not pity you, but failing miserably. And of course no one knows what to say. There is nothing anyone can say, but still people try, don’t they? Then the whole evening inevitably becomes awkward and tense. Well, that’s what I found, anyway. But I’ve had the benefit of four years,’ she said.
‘I avoided a New Year’s Eve dinner so as not to ruin it for anyone.’
‘Very thoughtful of you. And wise.’
‘Thanks. It means a lot to have you say that. I wasn’t sure what was the right thing to do. As it turned out I was just too tired and couldn’t have found the energy to get dressed up anyway.’
‘Oh, I can relate to that. Don’t tell anyone, but the moment I get home
I’m into my jammies,’ she said with a laugh. ‘That’s a legacy of my period of grief. But, seriously, you have to do what’s right for you. If you feel you’re being selfish and it goes against your well-mannered upbringing, put that aside.’
‘I’m finding replying to all the cards that have come really hard, but I feel like it’s something I should do.’
‘Doing it might help, but it’s entirely up to you if you do it or not. Now is the time for you to do whatever you can to get through this terribly sad time while also accepting that nothing will ever truly be the same again. And, remember, what everyone feels and experiences is different.’
‘No one will truly understand what I’m going through, will they?’
‘No, not completely. It’s your journey and no one else’s. People will always analyse, judge and have opinions, offer advice – it’s what humans do. But when it comes down to it, the only opinion that matters is your own. Sometimes you’ll feel like you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t, but my advice – from someone who’s been there – is to stay true to yourself and your own feelings. Don’t do things because you think it’s what’s expected.’
‘I can see why you’re so good at your job,’ Hannah said, smiling weakly.
‘Oh, that’s very kind. I’ve just been around the block a couple of times. I may be older and a bit fatter, but I’m also a hell of a lot wiser. You will be too – not fat, of course,’ she said.
‘I know what you meant,’ Hannah said, smiling more broadly. ‘But, seriously, it really means a lot to hear it from someone who’s been through it but doesn’t know me personally. My friends are wonderful, but, I don’t know, it’s just …’ she said.
‘Different. I know. I’m so sorry you have to go through it.’
‘Thanks.’
They both lapsed into silence and finished their coffees.
‘Thank you for the coffee and chat,’ Hannah said, at last. ‘It’s been really good.’
‘I’m glad. Here are the forms you’ll need when you’re ready. And take my card. If you have any questions or there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask. And if you’d like another chat, do feel free to call or drop in anytime.’
Finding Hannah Page 11