Finding Hannah

by Fiona McCallum

  Her first instinct was to call Rob to ask if he’d go on her behalf. But then she reminded herself how much stronger she’d become. No, she really needed to do this herself. And, anyway, they’d said she had to bring ID.

  I can do this. I can and I will. Hannah grabbed her handbag and keys. She glanced at her attire of track pants, t-shirt and runners in the hall mirror. Not ideal, but it would have to do. If she went and got changed now she might lose her nerve.

  *

  Hannah felt tense and apprehensive as she walked through the automatic glass doors and up to the desk. Her hands shook as she plucked her driver’s licence from her wallet and placed it on the counter.

  ‘Hello, how can I help you?’ the uniformed officer behind the desk asked. Hannah recognised the voice. And his nametag confirmed this was Constable Smith.

  ‘Hello, Constable Smith. You called me a little while ago. I’m Hannah Ainsley. I’ve come to collect my, um, deceased husband’s and parents’ belongings from …’

  ‘Ah, yes. They’re just here,’ he said. He reached down and brought up one cardboard archive box and then another.

  Hannah looked at them wondering how she was going to get both to the car in one trip.

  ‘Sorry, I can’t offer to carry them for you – I’m not allowed to leave the desk,’ Constable Smith said, sounding genuinely apologetic.

  ‘It’s okay. I’m just parked around the corner. How heavy are they?’

  ‘Not very, probably just a bit awkward.’

  ‘I might have to make two trips.’

  ‘That’s fine.’

  Hannah checked the weight of each box.

  ‘Actually, I think I can manage. You’re right, they’re not too bad.’

  She put the heavier of the two on the floor and the other on top and then gripped the cut-out handles of the bottom one and hoisted the boxes up.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said to the officer as she turned to leave.

  ‘You’re welcome. All the best.’

  Parked back in her driveway, Hannah found she couldn’t get out of the car. It was a cold day and she was enjoying the warmth of the sun streaming through the windows. She also felt as if she’d used all her energy to make the journey to the police station and back – and all her courage. Now she was afraid of the boxes sitting on the floor and seat beside her. While she had a certain level of curiosity about their contents, she was also afraid of them upsetting the little equilibrium she’d managed to achieve.

  She looked up, slightly startled, when she heard a tap on the window. Her heart surged at seeing Beth.

  ‘Sorry, I was just taking a moment,’ she said, opening the door and getting out of the car.

  ‘Are you okay? Has something happened?’

  ‘I’ve just been to the police station to pick up everything that was in Tristan’s car when it, um, you know …’ She pointed to the boxes.

  ‘Oh, darling. You didn’t need to do that alone. You should have called me.’

  ‘I thought I was fine to do it. I am fine, really, it just took more out of me than I’d expected.’ Though, the longer Hannah stood there, the worse she was feeling. Her legs were even beginning to shake.

  ‘Well, you are looking a bit pale. You’ve clearly had a shock,’ Beth said. ‘Come on, it’s cold out here, let’s get you inside. Can I manage one of those, do you think?’

  ‘That would be good, thanks. They’re not heavy at all,’ Hannah said, handing Beth the lightest of the two boxes.

  Hannah walked inside and through to the lounge in a slight daze. Seated, she stared at the boxes now in front of her on the floor as Beth fossicked around in the kitchen. Soon she came in with a glass of milk – which Hannah hoped contained a decent dose of brandy – and a cup of tea that most likely had two teaspoons of sugar. She accepted the milk, in which she immediately detected the subtle smell of brandy, and drank it.

  ‘Thanks. You don’t need to look so worried, I’m okay. Really. As you said, it was just a bit of a shock, that’s all. I thought the police had given Raelene and Adrian all of their personal effects and they’d passed them onto me just after it happened. You know, jewellery, wallets, Mum’s handbag.’

  ‘So what’s in these then?’

  ‘They said they’re things from the car. I’m guessing whatever was in the boot and the police only found them when they started investigating and then they were kept somewhere as evidence. It’s most likely Tristan’s first-aid kit, a couple of bottles of water and maybe some jumper leads – that sort of thing.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to look? Check there’s nothing important?’

  ‘I guess. Though it’s been nearly four months, I doubt there’s anything important.’ She took the lid off of the closest box and peered inside.

  ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Christmas presents,’ she said, bringing out a colourfully wrapped box. Her heart clenched and the all too familiar lump rose into her throat at seeing ‘Dearest Hann. Lots of love from Dad xxx’ written in her father’s rough scrawl on the gift tag.

  ‘Oh, Hannah, darling,’ Beth said, putting her arm around her.

  Hannah’s chin wobbled as she stared at the battered parcel for a moment before putting it aside and pulling out the next one.

  While she could concentrate on how much she had loved Christmas her whole life and opening presents, Hannah could forget for a moment the tragic truth behind these. And the fact that most likely in the bottom of one of these boxes was a small pile of carefully folded and pressed tea towels and aprons that might just have the faintest trace of her mother’s scent on them. While Hannah desperately wanted to experience that again, she just as strongly didn’t want to. Not right now, anyway.

  One by one she tore the wrapping from each of the six presents she’d lined up on the floor at her feet – three from her father and three from her mother. First was a box containing a pair of expensive-looking Merrell hiking boots. Odd, Hannah thought, and moved onto the next parcel, which contained two pairs of thick, charcoal-coloured wool and possum socks.

  ‘Were you planning a hiking tour somewhere?’ Beth asked.

  ‘Not that I know of. This is weird.’

  The final parcel to her from her dad contained two finely knitted wool tops – one black and one pink – and a pair of black leggings. She handed them to Beth.

  ‘These look like thermals to me,’ Beth offered after close inspection.

  ‘I’m a born and bred Melbournian. I have all the winter wear I need. And I’ve never needed thermals. What’s this all about?’

  ‘No idea, sweetie,’ Beth replied. ‘Perhaps there’s an explanation in one of those other parcels.’

  ‘Oh, look,’ Hannah said, her eyes filling with tears as she pulled from the torn wrapping a hand-knitted beanie in the softest, most gorgeous dark pink and grey wool, and then a matching scarf and gloves. The knot in her heart pulled tighter and tighter as each piece was revealed. She held the garments to her tightly before bringing them up to her nose. She breathed – could she detect the slightest trace of her mother’s perfume on them? Her rose-scented hand cream, maybe? If Hannah had been alone, she’d have given into a bout of weeping. ‘I didn’t even know she’d been knitting,’ she said with a gulp.

  ‘I think that’s rather the point, dear, it was meant to be a surprise,’ Beth said.

  ‘But I don’t understand. Mum and Dad gave up buying me clothes years ago.’

  ‘There’s definitely a theme here. Perhaps Tristan was planning on taking you to the snow.’

  ‘We went to Mount Hotham the other year and I nearly froze.’

  ‘Well maybe he was planning on taking you back and you not nearly freezing. Or perhaps a holiday overseas to beat the summer heat here, then?’

  ‘Tristan had a fear of flying, he was practically phobic, and I’ve never been on a plane. I can’t imagine him deciding on a long-haul flight without at least discussing it.’

  ‘I had no idea. Gol
ly. Really?’

  ‘Yes. Before I met him I never had the need to fly anywhere. Then when we were married we always did road trips back to South Australia to visit his mum and dad so we’d have the car. Any travelling we’ve done has only been local. We briefly discussed seeing if he could be hypnotised or something so we could go overseas for our honeymoon, but we changed our minds. Our priority has always been saving to buy the house and paying it off as quickly as possible.’

  ‘Very sensible. Perhaps the clue is in those other presents – the ones from Daniel to Daphne and vice versa. Maybe Tristan had got help with his phobia and thought it was time to treat yourselves.’

  Hannah felt unsettled at the possibility of Tristan keeping something so big back from her. She thought they’d always been open with each other and never had any secrets.

  She picked up another parcel. ‘It doesn’t feel right to open a present addressed to someone else.’

  ‘No. It’s entirely up to you – if you want to know or not.’

  ‘Oh well, here goes.’

  From her mother to her father was another set of warm knitted garments – this time in navy blue. Hannah bit her lip in an effort not to cry as she pictured him in them. And she almost smiled at how her father would have feigned surprise upon opening them because no doubt Daphne had sat on the chair beside him for months knitting his Christmas present.

  Her father had given Hannah’s mother a pair of lovely warm-looking wool-lined leather gloves, socks, and hiking boots very similar to those Hannah had been given. God, they’d spent a fortune. They’d always given thoughtful, meaningful but generally inexpensive gifts. They’d certainly gone all out this year.

  Hannah looked at Beth with raised eyebrows.

  ‘Definitely looks like a family holiday to me. And to somewhere cold.’

  ‘Mum must have been knitting all year to get these done.’

  Hannah continued unwrapping. There was another set of knitted pieces to Tristan from her parents – this time in charcoal grey. There was also a wallet from Daniel to Tristan.

  ‘Golly, even I wouldn’t dare give Tris a wallet – it’s such a personal choice. Dad was game.’ There were no more presents to unwrap, and still no definite clues. It was all very strange.

  ‘Hang on,’ Hannah said. ‘I’ve just remembered something. I’ll be back in a sec.’

  She went into the garage and stared at the bag of wrapped presents she’d been avoiding for the past few months, just beside the boxed tree and decorations.

  As she fossicked through the gifts, she was surprised to find some marked from Tristan to each of her parents. That was weird – she and Tristan had always chosen their gifts together, or at least discussed what Hannah was going to buy for her parents. Finally she plucked out the gifts from Tristan to her – the ones she hadn’t opened after finding the ladybird charm. Now even more puzzled, she went back inside, unloaded the presents onto the floor in front of a startled Auntie Beth, and sat down to begin unwrapping.

  ‘I couldn’t bring myself to open them before,’ she explained.

  ‘Are you sure you’re able to now?’

  ‘No. I haven’t been sure of anything since Christmas Day and probably won’t be ever again, Auntie Beth, but I think I need to do this.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  Tears filled her eyes again as she drew out a puffy down-filled coat in the most beautiful purple colour.

  ‘It’s gorgeous, but we’re not supposed to spend that much,’ she said.

  ‘Lovely. He was definitely planning on taking you somewhere cold,’ Beth said thoughtfully, as if to herself.

  ‘The fact that this is from Tristan to my dad is weird in itself, but look,’ she said, holding up a wallet very similar to the one from Daniel to Tristan.

  ‘Still no notes of explanation. And this is the last one – from Tris to Mum. It’s all too strange. And I’ve no idea why he’d take the risk of choosing a handbag for her,’ she said, holding it up.

  ‘Maybe she chose it and told him which one she wanted.’

  ‘But I thought she only liked leather. This isn’t her at all, is it? It’s very plain,’ Hannah said, handing the black bag to Beth to examine. As soon as the words left her mouth Hannah felt terrible for being critical. It was as bad as speaking ill of the dead, wasn’t it? But she was so confused. And sad all over again. Damn these setbacks.

  ‘Oh,’ Beth said, sounding a little excited. ‘I know what that is. It’s for travelling. Look, it’s got special pockets for protecting your credit cards from people skimming or whatever it’s called when they walk past and steal your information and money electronically. And look, this strap has a cable in it so it can’t be slashed and stolen. Rosemary had one similar on the cruise. See, it’s all here on the tag. Clearly Tristan and your parents were planning a family getaway somewhere cold and overseas,’ Beth said triumphantly.

  ‘But I would have found details in the paperwork – I’ve been through everything and there’s no travel agent or big credit-card expenses.’

  ‘As you’ve pointed out, Tristan wasn’t the sort of fellow who would go too far with planning something so big without discussing it with you.’

  ‘I wonder where he wanted to go.’

  ‘Not a Caribbean cruise, I’m guessing,’ Beth said, with a knowing smile.

  ‘Yes, well done, Sherlock,’ Hannah said, grinning despite herself.

  ‘London, the USA?’

  ‘I don’t know. But surely he wouldn’t take me anywhere cold, I struggle with Melbourne’s winter as it is.’

  ‘You wouldn’t feel cold decked out in all this lot, which I gather was the idea. Perhaps he was looking at the off-season so it’s not as expensive. And skating in Central Park looks so romantic in all the movies. Maybe he was thinking of a white Christmas.’

  ‘But we always have – had – Christmas together with Mum and Dad.’

  ‘You’re forgetting the matching sets of woollies, dear. Perhaps you were all meant to go.’

  ‘Hmm. So typical of Mum to sort out everyone else first and put herself last. I wonder if she was planning to knit a set for herself. I didn’t find any with her things.’

  ‘Sadly, sweetie, we’ll probably never know. Nor what the actual plans were. Please don’t dwell on it.’

  ‘Mum always wanted to go to London,’ Hannah said sadly. ‘I bet Tris was trying to make that happen – that’s the sort of sweet thing he’d have done. God, I miss them.’

  ‘I know.’ Beth wrapped her arms around Hannah who crumpled into her ample chest.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Hannah’s phone rang.

  ‘Hi, Jasmine. How are you?’

  ‘Did you know there are reporters outside your house?’

  ‘What? No.’ Hannah went to the lounge room window and peered through the gap in the curtains. She was shocked to see three people carrying notepads and microphones and three more standing behind large cameras on tripods. ‘What would they want with me?’

  ‘You know the media, they like to put faces to tragedies – bad news selling and all that.’

  ‘It’s been over nine months. Why now?’

  ‘Well, I did see a small piece in the paper the other day about the trial starting soon for the trucking company because the driver’s claiming poor maintenance was at fault, not his driving. I would have mentioned it, but I thought you preferred not to know.’

  ‘Thanks. And, yes, I don’t want to know anything about it. I’m going to damn well go out and give them a piece of my mind. How the hell do they know where I live, anyway?’

  ‘Hang on a sec. Don’t engage with them. You’ve been doing so well, you don’t want a crazed version of your lovely face splashed across the TV tonight or newspapers tomorrow. And you know what the media can be like with twisting words or taking things out of context. Just grab your handbag and let’s go and enjoy our lunch – smile politely, thank them for their interest, but say you have no comment.’

  ‘God, I’
m shaking. I don’t know if I’m scared or angry,’ she said.

  ‘Repeat after me: Thank you, I have no comment.’

  ‘Ever!’

  ‘Say it.’

  Hannah did.

  ‘Good. Now grab your handbag, lock the door behind you and come out and get in the car. We’re already a bit late.’

  Hannah hesitated with her hand on the door when the three reporters called to her as they ambled up the driveway. She almost laughed at how much it wasn’t like what appeared on movies or TV – the rush, jostling for position and microphones being thrust in people’s faces. But they did all call her name at once and ask a flurry of questions.

  ‘Mrs Ainsley, do you hope the driver goes to jail?’

  ‘Mrs Ainsley, what punishment do you think the trucking company deserves?’

  ‘Mrs Ainsley, Hannah, how do you feel about knowing the accident that killed your loved ones was preventable?’

  Hannah locked the screen door behind her and then stood on the porch for a moment, torn between racing to Jasmine’s car parked at the kerb and responding to the reporters’ questions. She wanted to ask them why they were interested in her and why they thought it was okay to disrupt her life further. And she wanted to tell the cameramen to watch where they were putting their bloody feet – they were close to trampling on her mother’s roses. She hoped they got pricked by the thorns. But as she stared at the reporters inching closer she realised they looked to be barely out of school. Most likely it was hard enough for them to be there without Hannah tearing strips off them.

  ‘I have no comment at this time. Thank you,’ she said, ducked past them, walked quickly down the path, and got into Jasmine’s car.

  Normally she and Jasmine hugged in greeting. Today Jasmine checked her mirrors and pulled away from the kerb quickly without a word as soon as Hannah had shut the car door.