She must have noticed my tears start to well. ‘Oh, Hannah. Come here.’ She gathered me into a hug and I sobbed with relief, comforted by the smell of her familiar Jo Malone perfume.
‘Why didn’t you let me help you? I’ve been sick with worry,’ she said.
‘I just couldn’t,’ I whispered through sobs. ‘I needed time.’
‘We can fix this,’ she whispered back. ‘Whatever you want to do.’
I calmed myself down. It was just so overwhelming, seeing her there. ‘Right now, I just want a drink.’ I wiped my tears on my sleeve.
Jen rubbed my arm and went into the kitchen. I followed her in and sat on a bar-stool at the island.
‘Look at you. You look tired. Are you sleeping properly?’ she asked whilst pouring us each a glass of wine.
‘Not well,’ I admitted.
‘And what are you eating?’ she said, putting the wine back in the fridge. ‘There’s nothing in here.’
‘I’m managing, Jen. Please, don’t fuss.’
She let out a deep sigh and something told me that dropping the subject would be a temporary arrangement. ‘So what’ve you done with yourself this week? I heard you’ve been out and about.’ She pushed my wine towards me.
Oh, the good old village gossip. ‘Well, trying to rescue my floundering business has taken up most of my time.’ Jen opened her mouth to speak so I continued quickly before she could tell me patronizingly that everything would be okay. ‘Amy and Jess left to work at Glam Shack, taking all my customers with them – not on purpose.’ I added the last part to prevent the tirade of abuse they’d otherwise receive in their absence.
‘Oh, Han, that’s the last thing you need. Fancy them ditching you in your hour of need. How long was the shop shut?’ She knew full well since she’d have passed it practically every day and I didn’t doubt for a second that was the motive behind her daily calls. I was glad I’d ignored her. In my fragile state there was a high chance she’d have reverted to ‘mother mode’ and I couldn’t have coped with that smothering feeling.
‘I’m not sure. Three, maybe four weeks. It wasn’t their fault. I didn’t pay them, and they needed money to live. They have responsibilities. All my regulars needed appointments that I wasn’t providing, and that bloody Cherry at Glam Shack used it to her advantage, offering them all deals for multiple treatments. Most of them have paid in advance for treatments that take them right up to the end of spring next year. I don’t know what to do. I’ve lost my share in the market, and the town isn’t big enough for two large salons.’ I took a long, much-needed drink of wine.
‘That’s terrible! What a scheming cow Cherry is.’ She shook her head for effect.
‘If something doesn’t drastically change, I’ll have to close.’ Saying the words out loud shocked me. I wasn’t sure what I’d do without the salon.
‘Don’t say that. We’ll think of something.’ She drummed her fingers on the table, a look of concentration on her face. Jen couldn’t help being a ‘fixer’. She was always trying to fix things, to fix me.
‘I know!’ she said suddenly. ‘Tom’s.’
‘What about Tom’s?’ I said, puzzled. Tom owned a fairly large B&B in the village, which often got quite busy with tourists who came to shop on the picturesque cobbled high street or take a stroll down by the river.
‘He’ll be starting to get busy with Christmas stay-over shoppers soon. You could offer treatments to his guests.’
I thought about it. It wasn’t a bad idea. ‘Well, I suppose it’s worth a try.’
We made it to ten-thirty before I called it a night. The warm fuzzy feeling from the alcohol was walking the fine line between tipsy and drunk, and I didn’t want to tip over to the other side. Besides, if Jen felt drunk too, she’d feel brave enough to start on about Daniel and I wasn’t ready to hear her say what an arse he is, was, or whatever. I already knew.
***
The next morning, I wrapped up in warm clothing and dragged myself down to the B&B at the bottom end of town, to see Tom. Tom was in his early fifties, a tall, skinny fellow with greying black hair. He was a little eccentric but harmless enough.
‘Hello?’ He wagged his finger at me and his eyebrow twitched as if it were connected. ‘Hannah, isn’t it?’
‘It is. Well remembered.’ I took a breath and tried to organize my words. ‘I just popped down because I’ve a business proposition for you, if you’re interested.’
He raised his left eyebrow quickly before narrowing his eyes at me. ‘A business proposition? I’m listening.’
‘I was wondering if it might be mutually beneficial to offer a spa service to your guests. You know, massages, nails, and things like that, at my salon: The Hollywood Hut. I thought it might be a nice option for them and something for you to advertise to attract them.’ I rambled uncomfortably whilst Tom stared at me, holding his chin between his thumb and forefinger. The pause was uncomfortable, and I had to force myself not to carry on talking.
‘It sounds like it could be interesting. Would there be any cost to me?’ I felt a flutter of hope in my chest. He definitely looked as though he was considering it.
‘Not at all. I’ve already got some leaflets printed – just generic ones I had anyway – and the guests will pay for their own treatments. If you just sign or stamp them, I’ll offer a ten per cent discount to anyone staying in the B&B.’
He pursed his lips in consideration. ‘Okay, we can trial it. Guests always get a bit fed up by day two here. People may well extend their stay for a spa thingy.’ He wagged his finger at the bag of leaflets. ‘We’ll trial it through to spring and assess it from there.’
‘Excellent.’ I bent down to take the leaflets out of my shopping bag. ‘Here you go,’ I said, handing them over. ‘You could put them in your guest rooms, even send them out with booking confirmation letters.’
‘Will do. Thanks for stopping by … Hannah?’
‘Yes. Hannah. Goodbye, Tom.’ With, that he gave a polite smile and closed the door. My body sagged in relief. I doubted the plan would bring much custom, but it was something.
I turned to leave Tom’s, feeling hopeful, when a sight stopped me dead in my tracks. I scurried around the corner, only daring to look when I was safely out of sight.
Daniel.
He wasn’t alone. There was a woman on his arm – her. I couldn’t bring myself to look past the flash of long, blonde hair, the complete opposite to my own, which fell shapelessly around my shoulders. I couldn’t bring myself to look any closer at the woman he’d traded me in for. Nausea spread through my body at the thought. I felt humiliated at the memory of happy Hannah, in-love Hannah, gullible Hannah. Carrying on in her own bubble whilst the two of them carried on behind her back Hannah. Everyone pitied me.
He was brazenly parading her around for all to see. How did he have the nerve? The whole village knew what they’d done, and there they were without a care in the world. To the oblivious, they looked like any other couple, wrapped warmly in new woollen scarves and smart coats, smiling and chatting away.
‘I still can’t get used to the sight of them.’ A woman’s voice cut into my thoughts. I turned round to see who it was.
‘Jean. I was …’
‘Don’t explain yourself to me, love.’ She patted me on the back. ‘It’s been what, just four or five weeks since it happened, and he’s already flaunting that woman about?’
‘Six,’ I replied sullenly.
‘Six weeks.’ She tutted. ‘Come and have a cuppa in the café. They won’t dare come in there. I’ve already said my piece.’ She patted my shoulder.
‘Thanks, Jean. I have a few errands to run but maybe later.’ I forced a smile and watched her walk off in the direction of the café. When I was alone again, I allowed myself to slump against the wall, forcing back the tears from my eyes.
When I was sure Daniel had gone, I geared myself up for the walk home, but as I did, my phone shrilled in my pocket. It was a local number, but not one I recogni
zed. I answered it anyway.
‘Mrs Davis?’
‘Yes?’ I asked warily.
‘It’s Wilfred.’ Wilfred worked at the village bank but also served as mine and Daniel’s financial adviser. My heart beat a little faster. Why was he calling me? ‘It’s about your mortgage. Now it’s probably just an oversight but I wanted to make you aware that you’ve missed two payments.’ Thoughts jumbled around in my head as my cheeks flushed. We’d never missed a mortgage payment before.
‘I … I’m sorry Wilfred, I didn’t know. We’ve had a lot on recently. I can assure you it is just an oversight. We’ll get it sorted soon.’
‘No problem, Mrs Davis, that’s what I thought. You take care now. Goodbye.’ He hung up and I slumped against the wall again, my fingers keying frantically at the phone to log in to our joint account. Sure enough, no mortgage payments had gone out because no money had gone in, not since August. It was now October. Daniel had stopped paying in.
I stared at the screen in shock. How could he do this? He must have known I couldn’t afford to pay for the house on my own. I jabbed my trembling finger at the screen of my phone, attempting to ring Daniel. When it finally rang, my hand shook as I clenched the phone. For what felt like an eternity, I held my breath. I hadn’t picked up the phone to Daniel since he’d left.
After three rings it went to voicemail and I let out a sigh of relief, allowing my whole body to relax. I was able to compose myself enough to leave a message.
‘Daniel, it’s Hannah. I have some urgent things to go through with you regarding the house. Can you call me back as soon as you can, please.’ I hung up and let out a long breath.
I set off for home, keeping my head down as I walked; one sympathetic glance from a well-meaning villager would have been enough to set me back weeks. I dared not think about what a full-on encounter with Daniel and his blonde might do. I scurried across the stone bridge to the other side of the river. The frost had disappeared, leaving the once-crisp autumn leaves at the roadside soggy and limp.
When I neared home my breath caught in my throat. Daniel’s car was on the driveway parked next to mine. That was quick.
Chapter Two
The familiar sight taunted me and pounded at my stomach. Apprehensively, I knocked on the window, startling him as he read something on his phone. He held a finger up to indicate he’d be a minute, and for a lingering second, I looked at it – the finger that belonged to a hand that used to enclose my hand. A hand I’d felt was as much my own as it was his. A hand that now held another hand. A stranger’s hand. A hand I had no right to touch any more.
Forcing myself away, I went inside, leaving the door ajar. My forehead started to throb as I held back hot, prickly tears. As I passed the mirror in the hallway, I quickly ran my fingers through my hair, tidying it as much as possible. Something I would never have felt the urge to do in the past, but I wasn’t under scrutiny before. I wasn’t to be compared to another woman as if I were a card in a game of Top Trumps, and not a particularly great one either. As I reached the kitchen, I sensed him come in behind me, and I turned. My heart stopped as I saw him.
‘Daniel.’ He looked as handsome as ever. His chestnut hair with the sprinkle of grey that I loved was cut short, the way I liked it. The shock of confusion stung – such familiarity, such homeliness in this man who was now a stranger to me. I wanted to hug him. I wanted to feel him take me in his arms and remember how I was his number one and that he was mine. I stood there, frozen.
‘What did you want to go through?’ he said coldly, piercing my thoughts. None of the emotion I was experiencing imprinted on him. How could he not feel it?
Pulling myself together, I forced out the words with as little feeling as I could manage. ‘It’s the house, Daniel; we’ve defaulted on the mortgage.’ Even though I wanted to curl up in a ball and sob or beg him to come back to me, I wouldn’t allow myself to crumble before him. Not again.
‘We?’ He raised an eyebrow in surprise. ‘Hannah, I moved out. The house is your responsibility. You wanted to keep it,’ he added, as if it were some kind of favour. It was true. I loved the house and couldn’t lose that too.
‘Daniel, I can’t afford it alone. You must have known that.’ I managed to stop a pleading tone from creeping into my voice.
He threw up his arms in exasperation. ‘I don’t know what you want from me. I gave you the house. I’m paying rent on another place now.’ My chest tightened as he spoke, and out of habit, I moved around the breakfast bar towards him. If I could just touch him, maybe I could remind him of what we had. He moved away – the gesture stabbed at my chest.
I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I had to get it off my chest, ‘Daniel, I’ve lost my customers because of you. I have no business, because you left me for another woman and I had to deal with that. I couldn’t just carry on like nothing had happened.’ My body shook as I fought back the flood of tears. It took the strength of the Hoover Dam, but somehow I managed.
The closer I got, the more he backed away. ‘You can’t keep blaming me. You need to get a job or whatever. The house is your responsibility if you want to keep it.’ Keep blaming him? I hadn’t even spoken to him. How could he accuse me of that and just disregard our past? Why didn’t he care about the house, where all our memories, love, and laughter had absorbed so deeply into the walls that I could feel it as I walked in?
‘I … I need time,’ I stuttered, defeated. ‘I can’t just build my business back up like that – my customers have all gone to Glam Shack and I can’t keep afloat waiting for if and when they return,’ I pleaded. ‘Can’t you just help me out for a month or two?’
He checked his watch. ‘No, I can’t. I’m sorry.’ There it was: the apology I’d longed for, only there was no empathy, heart, or sincerity in it. Instead, it reeked of an attempt to shut me up and end the conversation. Like a big, fat full stop. When did he become so cold? ‘Also, Hannah,’ he said, moving towards the door, ‘just a heads-up. I’ve started divorce proceedings. Judging by the pile of post on the worktop over there, you probably aren’t aware.’ I glanced over to several weeks’ worth of unopened mail and spotted a large, thick, cream envelope.
‘Right,’ was all I could manage, clamping my jaw tightly to suppress its tremor.
The door closed behind him. My body sagged against the kitchen counter, and my tears fell. It was his coldness towards me that had hurt the most, and I couldn’t shake the pain. My shoulders bounced uncontrollably as my body synced up with the tears.
By the time I composed myself, the daylight had faded, leaving me wrapped in a murky twilight. It felt comforting – the silence, the darkness, and the solitude – and so I sat for a while. The salty tear residue stung my face and I let it; it was what I deserved for being so worthless.
Eventually, I made it to the cupboard and pulled out an oversized red-wine glass, perfect for breathing ‘they’ say, which was ironic since I could barely manage to. I filled it to the brim with white wine from the fridge and trudged up to the bathroom. When I turned on the light, the stark brightness seared my eyes, momentarily blinding me. The pain brought me back and forced me to run the bath. I added bubbles and lit some candles before turning the light back out. Slowly, I peeled off my clothes, letting them slump to the floor, and slid into the hot soapy water, keeping my glass close by.
I took a long, cold gulp of wine and closed my eyes, letting my head rest on the edge of the bath. I’d suffered a setback. I’d thought I might be ready to start to build my life back up, but that was before I’d seen Daniel. It had been as though he’d just been working away or something. Deep down, I think I’d expected he’d come back with his tail between his legs, begging for my forgiveness. I probably would have forgiven him too, after making him work for it, at least. I wasn’t prepared to see him move on. I wasn’t prepared for him treating me like a nobody.
***
I woke the next morning in bed, naked under my dressing gown, with an empty wine bottle by my side a
nd no recollection of finishing it or going to bed. Feeling groggy, I contemplated going back to sleep, but as I snuggled back under the duvet the doorbell rang. Daniel? I dashed over to the window for a look, but of course it wasn’t him. It was my sister. I thought about ignoring her and going back to bed, but she started hammering on the door and there was a good chance she’d call the emergency services if I didn’t answer.
‘Hannah, open the door. It’s bloody freezing out here,’ she yelled through the letterbox. I groaned and dragged myself downstairs.
‘Morning, Jen,’ I grumbled as I opened the door.
‘Well that’s not a nice way to speak to your sister, especially one who’s just arrived with coffee and pastries.’ She looked me up and down. ‘You look like shit.’
‘Thanks. Listen, Jen, I’m not really in the mood for visitors. I’m probably just going to have a quiet day today,’ I said, barely able to lift my gaze from the floor. I noticed a new pile of mail on the mat so bent down to scoop it up before she had chance to comment.
‘Hannah, what’s happened? You were doing okay the other night.’
‘I can’t talk about it.’ The nausea began its ascent, re-emerging up through my body. Jen lifted a hand to my chin and gently raised it, forcing my eyes to meet hers.
‘Hannah, what’s going on? Come on.’ She took my hand, led me into my immaculate cream lounge, and sat me down on the sofa before placing a hot polystyrene cup in my hand. ‘Drink this,’ she said softly.
I dropped the mail onto the sofa beside me, trying to organize the words in my head and string together a sentence that summed up those few minutes I’d had with Daniel the previous day, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t come up with anything that didn’t sound trivial. I considered the options:
Daniel came round.
Daniel said I should get a job if I can’t afford the house.
Daniel doesn’t care about me any more.
She knew all of that. How could I articulate those few minutes in a way that meant Jen could somehow feel a fraction of the pain I felt, so she’d really understand why I looked like shit, why I didn’t even feel like I had a reason to get out of bed, and why I didn’t want to talk about it?
The Holiday Cruise Page 2