Finding Hannah

by Fiona McCallum

  ‘Lovely to meet you. So, Hannah, what brings you to Melbourne?’

  ‘I actually live here. Well, a few suburbs out. I’ve treated myself to a bit of a break.’

  ‘Brilliant. Well, you couldn’t have chosen a more charming hotel. And the food’s great, too.’

  ‘I agree. My husband and I stayed here on our wedding night five years ago.’

  Hannah cursed the question, ‘So where is he?’ that was left hanging in the air. She was relieved when the waitress returned with the menu and bread rolls. It was a well-timed distraction.

  ‘Would you like to share a bottle of wine?’ Brad asked.

  ‘Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll drink.’

  ‘Fair enough. Do you mind if I have a glass?’

  Why would I mind? Better yet, why would I tell you if I did? I don’t even know you. ‘Not at all.’ Her puzzlement must have shown.

  ‘I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable if you’re a recovering alcoholic or something,’ Brad explained.

  ‘Oh, right. No, nothing like that. I’ve just been through a lot and …’

  ‘It has something to do with your husband not being here, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. He was killed in a car accident along with my parents last Christmas.’ Hannah was a little surprised at how matter-of-fact her words sounded. But she felt guilty at seeing his expression, which she was having trouble reading. He was slightly flushed.

  ‘God, how awful.’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.’

  ‘I’m the one who should apologise – for being so damned nosey. Hazard of the job, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Oh? What is it you do?’

  ‘Journalist.’

  Hannah stiffened and a chill ran the length of her spine. Had he been here when she’d arrived, followed her all day?

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I think I should eat alone, after all,’ she said. She wanted to get up, but was gripped with an even greater desire to not make a scene. She looked around the restaurant that was now quite full. If the waitress came over, she’d tell her she was leaving and would eat in her room. But she was at the other side of the room with her back to Hannah.

  ‘I’m not sure how, but clearly I’ve touched a nerve. Or my profession has. Please don’t go. Come on, we’re not all bad. I’m a freelancer, anyway, if that helps.’

  There was something disarming about his smile. And he had kind eyes. Hannah would put money on him being good at his job and getting information out of people who were initially reluctant to give it.

  ‘I mainly write about business and the economy,’ he added.

  Hannah softened. She was overreacting. He hadn’t been outside her house yesterday morning. And he was either a very good actor or he hadn’t known who she was at all.

  Suddenly the waitress appeared to take their orders. Hannah ordered the pork belly and plain water and settled back into her seat.

  ‘Sorry. Yes, you did touch a nerve,’ she said when the waitress had taken Brad’s order of steak and glass of Shiraz, and left them.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it? Obviously off the record.’

  ‘Does that even mean anything: “off the record”?’ She barely stopped herself from scoffing at him.

  ‘It does to me. So, I take it you’ve recently had a run-in with a journalist. Is this to do with your family’s car accident?’ Hannah nodded. She sighed to herself. She couldn’t really close the box now it was so far open without appearing rude, could she?

  ‘Yesterday journalists turned up at my house. Apparently a court case is about to start, but I haven’t kept up with any of the details – I haven’t wanted to know. Anyway, it came as a bit of a shock. It’s coming up to ten months, for goodness sake! Anyway, a truck was involved and apparently now the trucking company is being charged over faulty maintenance, or something. As I said, I don’t really know anything about it, and I don’t want to.’

  ‘I hate to tell you this, but court cases can drag on for years. And the media always wants to show the human impact of these things. So, I’m afraid, unless you’re planning on moving in here permanently, you might have to put up with the odd journalist turning up on your doorstep now and then, and asking questions.’

  ‘Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine?’

  ‘Maybe if you gave an interview – an exclusive – they’d leave you alone.’

  ‘You mean with you? I thought you wrote about business and economics.’

  ‘I do. But I’m freelance, so I’m not locked in to any one subject or publication. And, yes, if you felt comfortable with me.’

  ‘But I don’t want to be seen as a victim.’

  ‘Whether you like it or not, you are, to some extent. And maybe you can help other people with what they’re going through by speaking out.’

  I’m no crusader and I certainly have no desire to become famous for this! Hannah thought. She’d seen it happen so often on TV and in the papers – a victim or their family speaking to the media and then becoming a household name.

  ‘God, the last thing I want is to become a spokesperson.’ Hannah noticed a few people look up. She’d raised her voice without realising. And, again, she was overreacting. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘I wasn’t saying that at all. Look, no one is telling you to do or be anything. I’m certainly not – I don’t know you. But hiding from what you’ve been through – whether it be physically, here in a hotel, or mentally or emotionally, or however, might not help you in the long run. If that’s what you’re doing. Just saying. Maybe talking about it can help you heal. Here, take my card for if you ever change your mind and decide you do want to tell your story.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll think about it,’ she said, accepting the card and feeling the need to be kinder. And polite. He really did seem like a nice man.

  ‘And, now, I’m not going to say another word about it and we’re going to enjoy our meals together. Cheers,’ he said, raising his glass and smiling at her.

  ‘Cheers,’ she said, raising her glass. ‘Nice to meet you.’

  ‘Even if I am a journalist?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So, what is it you do?’

  *

  Hannah was surprised to check her watch and find it was closing in on ten o’clock. The restaurant was almost empty again. They’d chattered through their meals, which both had agreed were wonderful, and then shared a chocolate pudding dessert and cheese platter as neither of them could decide between the two.

  She’d initially felt a little odd sharing food with a stranger, but then reminded herself she was meant to be stepping outside of her comfort zone, no matter how small those steps. And, anyway, in the last few hours they’d basically covered their life stories. Hannah really hoped he stayed true to his word about their conversation being off the record.

  Thankfully an awkward moment over the bill was avoided by the on-the-ball maître d’ presenting them each with an account. Hannah had been prepared to pay it all, but had been concerned about revealing her room number. While Brad seemed honest that was a step too far. She might be a novice traveller, but she wasn’t naïve.

  They walked to the lift together and stepped in.

  ‘Right. I’m on level four. Which one are you?’ Brad asked, his finger hovering near the buttons.

  ‘I’m on four as well.’

  They rode up in silence.

  ‘I’m this way,’ Brad said, pointing to the left.

  ‘I’m that way,’ Hannah said, indicating to the right with a slight wave of relief going through her at again not having to disclose her room number. They stood both looking a little awkward.

  ‘Well, I’d better get going. I’ve got a big day ahead,’ Brad said.

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Thank you so much for keeping me company,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you for asking.’

  ‘I have something else to ask,’ he said, a little shyly.

  ‘Yes?’

/>   ‘Would you mind terribly if I hugged you? Just a hug, I promise.’

  ‘Actually, I’d like that.’

  Hannah sank into his strong chest and arms. He was the perfect height and he smelled divine – a mixture of manliness, faded aftershave and linen. She’d had plenty of hugs from friends – including men – but they were different. Even Rob, who she thought gave her the best big brotherly type hugs, didn’t feel as good as this. She didn’t want Brad to let go. And it had nothing to do with sex. He wasn’t trying to kiss her; he wasn’t stroking her hair. It was just an amazing, comforting bear hug.

  Hannah had a lump in her throat when they parted.

  ‘Thank you. I needed that,’ she said.

  ‘I thought you might,’ he said.

  ‘Good luck with your billionaire tomorrow. And safe travels back to Sydney.’

  ‘Thanks. And you keep on being brave. I’m sure you’re a lot more capable than you think. And if there’s anything I can do, let me know.’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Hannah walked through the city to work thinking about how nice it was to have had breakfast cooked for her, and that she’d be coming back that evening to a cleaned room – all without having to lift a finger. And she didn’t have to think about dinner, shop for ingredients or cook and wash up.

  Ah, this is the life. And oh how easy would it be to get used to. Though the lack of space might get on her nerves once the novelty wore off. And laundry was expensive to have done in-house. Brad had said people who didn’t travel always thought flying and staying at hotels was glamorous.

  She’d smiled when she went to bed last night, thinking about him. Meeting him really had had an effect on her. She just wasn’t quite sure how, or why. Sam had always said there was a reason for a person entering your life, and leaving it. Hannah didn’t want to think about it too much.

  Her step was light and she enjoyed the walk, even though the morning air was cold and the frosty wind was whipping about her face. As she waited at each set of lights to cross with the other commuters, she took in her surroundings. Would she like to live right in the city? Maybe a change would be good? But was she brave enough to make such a change?

  ‘Hey, Hannah,’ Caitlin said, stepping into the lift.

  ‘Hi Cait, good weekend?’

  ‘Not bad. God, how cold is it out there?’

  ‘Icy,’ Hannah agreed.

  ‘I wonder where spring has got to. Wish it would get a move on, I’m so over this weather.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘Hey, I saw you on the news the other night. How was it having the media turn up to your house?’

  ‘A shock.’

  ‘Right. It must be horrible to have it keep coming up when you probably just want to get on with your life.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What you’ve been through is bad enough without that – it’s not fair,’ Caitlin said.

  And there’s that look, Hannah thought, the look of concern verging on pity. God, I hate that expression.

  ‘Thanks.’

  They wished each other a good day before heading to their areas on opposite sides of the building. Caitlin’s comments left Hannah feeling deflated, but she tried to buoy herself as she hung up her coat and put her handbag away.

  As she sat down, for the first time in years she felt she didn’t really want to be here. Just the Monday blues, she told herself. It would be better when the office filled up and the chatter started. A tremble of fear snuck through her. Unless the chatter was about her and the court case. Should she ask Craig for the week off? She shook it aside. She couldn’t let it get to her. It would pass and until it did she’d put on a brave face and answer any questions – not that she had any answers. The looks she got could never be as bad as those she’d received right after the accident.

  ‘Good morning, Hannah,’ Craig called, as he went into his office and turned on the lights.

  ‘Morning. Good weekend?’

  ‘Yes thanks. Can you come in here for a sec?’

  ‘Sure,’ she said, getting up.

  Craig closed the door behind her. ‘Take a seat.’

  Hannah raised her eyebrows but sat. In the eight years she’d been working for him, Hannah could probably count on two hands the number of times Craig had closed the door behind her and asked her to sit down.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Jas tells me you’re staying at The Windsor for a few days.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘She also told me about the journalists turning up. I’m sorry you had to go through that.’

  ‘You don’t need to be sorry. It’s my own fault for not keeping up with that side of things – if I had I wouldn’t have got such a fright. But I just didn’t want to know. Still don’t, really.’

  ‘I can imagine it’s pretty confronting.’

  ‘Apparently court cases can go on for years,’ she said, for something to say. Craig was looking a little awkward – probably as awkward as she was beginning to feel.

  ‘Look, are you sure you’re doing the right thing burying your head in the sand about it?’

  Hannah raised her eyebrows again.

  ‘Sorry, I’m making a real hash of this,’ he said, rubbing his face. ‘I’m talking to you as your friend, not your boss.’

  ‘Okay. Say what you want to say. We’ve known each other long enough, Craig.’

  ‘Do you think maybe watching the proceedings might help you get some closure?’

  ‘No, I don’t. I’m fine.’ I think having my whole family wiped out by a truck was decent enough closure, actually.

  ‘Right. Well. All right then. So you don’t want to take some time off to go along?’

  ‘No thanks. Do you think I should be going to court?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know, Hannah. And I really couldn’t say what I’d do in your position. I just want to make sure you’ve thought it through.’

  ‘I have, and I do know that attending court won’t bring my family back,’ Hannah said. ‘All it would do is make me a sitting duck for the press.’

  ‘They’re not all bad, you know. Maybe it would help to speak to them, tell your side of the story,’ he said with a shrug.

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘Fair enough. But – and I know you’ve got plenty of support – but if you’d like to go and you’d like some company, then I’m putting my hand up,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks. I really appreciate the offer. But I’m fine. And I’m not going.’ Hannah went to get up.

  ‘There’s one other thing. I have a favour to ask.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Could you spend Saturday with Jas?’

  ‘Hang on. I suggested we go for high tea on Saturday but she said she’s already got something on.’

  ‘Not any more. She was supposed to be with me, but I’ve been called into an off-site partners meeting in Ballarat.’

  ‘Oh no. I haven’t seen it on your calendar or been asked to make any bookings.’

  ‘No, it’s last minute and Toby took care of everything direct. But, anyway, it means I won’t be able to have lunch or dinner with Jas for her birthday. I know how close you’ve become and how much she values your friendship and enjoys your company. She doesn’t have many other friends in Melbourne. It really would mean a lot to me – and her – if you’d have lunch with her. On me.’

  ‘Does she know I’d be taking your place?’

  ‘I’ve broken the news I won’t be around to take her out. She was naturally disappointed. Please. Do I have to beg?’

  ‘Don’t you dare. I’d love to have lunch with Jas. I had no idea it was her birthday soon.’

  ‘No buying presents – she’d be embarrassed.’

  ‘We actually could do high tea at The Windsor, well, more like lunch, really. I checked this morning and they’ve had two rare cancellations for their noon session. I hadn’t decided who else to ask.’

  ‘That’s perfect. It’s clearly meant to be. So you�
�ll do it?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You’re a lifesaver,’ he said with obvious relief.

  ‘Having lunch with your wife, who’s been very supportive and has become a dear, treasured friend, is hardly an imposition, Craig.’

  ‘Regardless, I owe you one.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Maybe you can get manicures, or something, too?’

  ‘I’m sure we’ll find plenty to do to entertain ourselves for the day. Now, was there anything else?’

  ‘No. And, thanks again. Oh, except can you call Jas and tee up the finer details?’

  ‘No worries.’ Hannah returned to her desk to phone Jasmine before starting her work.

  *

  Hannah had spent most of the day deflecting comments and questions from her colleagues about the court case, and was weary and tense when she headed back to The Windsor. She wondered how she’d cope if it really did go on for years. For ages she’d been counting on things being so different – so much better – after the twelve-month anniversary that was Christmas.

  She perked up a bit when she focussed on where she was going and how little effort a delicious meal that night would require. Although, maybe she’d head out to a restaurant if she felt like it, after a shower. If she was feeling brave. There was, after all, a whole city full of great dining to be explored and she was supposed to be playing tourist.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  ‘I love this place,’ Jasmine said, looking around the foyer of The Windsor after she and Hannah had hugged. ‘And I’m so excited about finally having high tea here.’

  ‘Me too. Come on, let’s go make pigs of ourselves.’

  ‘Oh, yes please!’

  ‘Thanks so much for this,’ Jasmine said when they’d been seated at their table. ‘I have to admit I was really disappointed when Craig had to cancel. I know birthdays shouldn’t be a big deal at my age, but they kind of are to me – not the presents, of course, but marking it as a special day. Or perhaps I just need an opportunity to try to get Craig to do something romantic for a change. I don’t know. Sorry, here’s me wittering on and I’m sure birthdays – and every other occasion – are quite awful for you now.’