‘Thanks.’ I lifted the polystyrene cup and took a sip of the hot, bitter liquid. ‘Daniel came over yesterday to talk about the house and stuff,’ I finally managed. I was right – it didn’t sound anywhere near as bad as it felt.
‘Oh, Hannah,’ she soothed. Her brow furrowed in a recognizable attempt at sympathy. ‘How did it go?’
How did it go? Shit, painful, torturous. His words went off like a cluster bomb exploding through my chest, tearing apart my very being, but somehow the glue of utter worthlessness kept me in one piece.
‘Not great,’ I replied. Tears welled in my only-just-dried eyes. She didn’t speak; she just perched on the arm of the sofa next to me and rubbed my back.
‘It will get easier, you know?’ she said gently. I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to get easier, because that would be like committing myself to being alone. I’d be accepting it. I couldn’t do that.
‘How is that any better?’ I snapped.
‘Because you’re young enough to forge another life. Work, relationships – they can be replaced if you want them to be. You don’t have to accept misery and loneliness. You can be happy again.’ Could I? Jen’s tone remained calm. If she ever wanted to get a job she’d be brilliant in customer services.
‘It doesn’t feel that way.’
‘Hold on.’ She gave me a small smile and left the room. I took the opportunity to scan the latest pile of letters beside me. Most looked formal, as if they were from banks or solicitors, so I tossed them aside. At the bottom of the pile was a thick brochure of some sort. Curious, I pulled it out, and my eyes fell on a picture of a mammoth white ship in sparkling turquoise waters, next to what looked like a Mediterranean fishing village.
I felt a stab of sadness. I’d always fancied a cruise but Daniel wasn’t keen. I’d requested a brochure hoping it would persuade him to consider one – they had sent them randomly ever since. I stared at the picture. It was beautiful, the colours so bright it looked surreal.
Jen came back into the room with two pains au chocolat on a plate. Instinctively, I slung the brochure onto the coffee table; it was irrelevant anyway. ‘Here.’ She thrust the plate at me. ‘Comfort food.’ I stared down at the plate of stodge, which on any other occasion I’d devour, allowing happy endorphins to dance around my body.
‘I can’t eat,’ I said, shoving the plate away.
‘You have to. It’ll make you feel better. Just take a bite.’ She folded her arms like she wouldn’t take no for an answer. So to please her, I did. I chewed and chewed, but struggled to compact the dough enough to fit around the lump in my throat. When it eventually passed, it hurt. Slowly, it travelled down my oesophagus before landing in the pit of my stomach. I hadn’t even tasted it.
‘I can’t. I just can’t eat right now.’ I handed her the plate and this time she took it.
I knew Jen was only trying to help, but the only thing that would make me feel better would be another bottle or two of wine.
‘I’m going back to bed,’ I snapped. Not waiting for a reply, I stomped up the stairs. ‘You can let yourself out,’ I yelled back down when I reached the top.
As I flung myself face down on the bed, I heard tentative steps approach me. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘No. You’ve been wallowing for long enough; it’s time you got up, got dressed, and got out there. Come on!’
‘You have such an easy life, Jen: a loaded husband, a nice house, and you don’t even have a job. You’ve never experienced pain like I have and just because you can’t have kids, doesn’t mean you can mother me, so get out, get out of my house. Now.’ It wasn’t until I stopped, that I realized I was screaming. I looked up quickly enough to see Jen’s eyes fill up and a look on her face I hadn’t seen since … that fateful day. It was haunting.
‘I haven’t felt pain,’ she repeated, her voice trembling.
‘I didn’t mean …’ She ran off before I could finish. I flung my face back into the bed as the front door slammed.
I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling and before I knew it, it was dark. The house was still and quiet once again. My bladder was full, so I dragged myself to the bathroom before heading downstairs to look for something to drink. I was out of alcohol. I checked the time – it was eight-thirty p.m. If I threw on some clothes I’d make the off-licence before it closed at nine.
I pulled on some tracksuit bottoms and old UGG boots, a sweater, and puffa jacket, not caring what I looked like, before grabbing my purse and heading out the door. I walked quickly towards the high street. The off-licence was the only shop open, lit up like a beacon of hope. Once inside, I grabbed a couple of bottles of red wine, looking only at the price and colour, not caring about the labels.
‘Just these please, Judy.’ I placed them on the counter, glaring at her, willing her not to ask how I was. The power of telepathy seemed to work, as she smiled and said nothing. I didn’t even detect sympathy behind the smile. I almost felt normal.
‘That’s fifteen ninety-eight,’ she said, handing me the wine in a flimsy red and white striped carrier bag.
As I handed her the money, a high-pitched shrill pierced my eardrums.
‘Hannah Davis?’ I spun to see who the hell would be shrieking my name at this hour, when most villagers would’ve been snuggled up in front of a fire drinking hot chocolate, if they weren’t in the pub. Cherry. Her large frame, accentuated by a faux-fur leopard-print coat, almost filled the aisle. I groaned. A conversation with her was the last thing I needed.
‘Oh, hello,’ I replied shortly.
‘Hannah my love, you’ve been through such a rotten time. I just don’t know how you’re coping.’ She barely took a breath as she swooped over and wrapped her arms around me, embracing me in an unwelcome hug. I coughed, struggling for air as her fuzzy purple hair engulfed my face. I wriggled out of her clutches. ‘I see that husband of yours flaunting that tart around and think to myself, what a pig. Us women have to stick together.’
I clenched my jaw. She was utterly unbelievable. It was only then that I realized I’d showcased a super-polite, finely tuned version of myself. Not a façade as such but not my natural state either. I was done with that version. I no longer had any pretence to keep up – the whole damn village knew my business.
‘Us women weren’t really sticking together when one of us was taking advantage of the other’s unfortunate situation by poaching all of her clients, were we?’ I ranted, not buying her act for a minute. She feigned a look of horror and clasped her hand to her mouth. It was almost amusing to watch.
‘Oh, Hannah, I know you’re just snapping like that because you’re hurting, love. It’s what you’ve been through.’ Judy placed my change on the counter then discreetly left the till area and began tidying shelves that didn’t require it.
‘Yes, it’s funny how losing the business I spent ten years building up turned me into an utter bitch,’ I retorted. I forced myself not to gasp at my own reaction. Even Judy looked up because it was so out of character.
‘But, sweetheart, nobody knew when you were coming back. Your staff needed paid work; your customers needed maintenance. Some more than others,’ she added, with a grimace. ‘I just took care of everyone. I can take care of you too. You’re a great beautician. Come and work at Glam Shack with us – Amy and Jess would love you to be there. They always talk about you, and with all the growth we’ve had recently, we could really use a spare pair of hands.’
Is this woman for real? ‘Thanks for the generous offer of sacrificing my competitive business for a fraction of the financial reward whilst you reap the benefits, Cherry. It really is big of you, but you know what? You can shove your job up your backside.’
With that, I stormed out. It wasn’t until I reached the cold air outside that I realized I was shaking uncontrollably. I was the polite girl everyone loved, not someone who spoke her mind and shouted at someone in the off-licence. The thought of telling Jen made me chuckle until remembered what I’d said to her and a pang of guilt hit
me.
I walked briskly on and turned the nearest corner in case Cherry came out and spotted me. When I caught my breath, I found myself outside the small village travel agent’s. A poster of a couple embracing on the deck of a ship hung in the window, taunting me. They were dressed elegantly, sipping champagne and laughing. That should have been me and Daniel.
I scurried home the long way round, making sure I didn’t bump into Cherry again. Once in the sanctuary of my home, I opened the wine as soon as I got into the kitchen, pouring it into the first vessel my hand came across: a decorative wine glass with a glittery ‘30’ emblazoned on it. After a few mouthfuls, I began to calm down.
In a way, I was almost grateful to Cherry – it had felt good to experience rage rather than profound sadness. It reminded me I was a person who mattered. Still, I couldn’t believe the cheek of the woman, nor did I know how I’d ever get my life back on track living in the village. Was it too much to ask that things returned to normal? Not that I even knew what ‘normal’ meant any more, now that I was alone.
I drank some more, and more, and more.
Chapter Three
‘Okay, Tom, slow down.’ I couldn’t make out a word he was saying; my brain was still foggy from the wine, and my mobile phone reception wasn’t brilliant.
‘… Some kind of emergency …’ was all I picked up, but there was worry in his tone. Concerned, I went upstairs and perched on the windowsill in order to catch a better signal.
‘Sorry, I didn’t catch that – what kind of an emergency?’ All sorts of thoughts raced through my head: a fire at the B&B, a terrible accident of some sort, some awful feedback about the spa idea …
‘She said nail, a nail emergency. I had no idea how serious these things could be, Hannah. She was waving around your leaflet and said she needed you right away.’ Relief washed over me and I chuckled. Poor Tom, he’d been single for as long as I could remember and had no clue about women.
‘Ahh, okay. Don’t worry; she’ll live. I’ll be there in half an hour.’ It was the first time in a while I’d allowed any humour to penetrate the gloomy fog I’d been living in. It felt almost as good as it did giving Cherry a piece of my mind.
When I arrived at the B&B, Tom led me into the breakfast room with his head bowed and expression grave, seemingly still uncertain as to the severity of the nail injury.
‘Oh, thank God!’ a thick Geordie accent greeted me as I walked in. A young woman was sitting at a table, waiting for me.
‘Hi, I’m Hannah, and you must be …?’ I smiled at the woman, who must have been in her early twenties. She was dressed smartly in a dark suit and had a full face of make-up, with blonde hair scraped back in a neat bun. I wondered if she was an air hostess.
‘Cathy. As you can see, my nail has come clean off.’ She held out her hand. She had four red talons and a white, rough nail visible on her index finger.
‘Acrylic tips. Nothing I can’t fix.’ I glanced up at Tom, who was hovering nervously with a puzzled look on his face.
‘It’s a nail extension, Tom, just a false nail that’s come off. It’s nothing to worry about.’ He looked relieved, presumably grateful there wasn’t likely to be any claim for damages. He scuttled off and I turned my attention to Cathy.
‘So what brings you to Tinbury?’ I asked, going into beautician mode.
‘Another emergency, like.’ I could listen to her accent all day; there was something soothing about it, even though she was clearly in a crisis. ‘Me car broke down yesterday. I’m supposed to be in Southampton today for work, and if I don’t get there by tomorrow, I’m screwed. Now I’ve wrecked me manicure, and I’m supposed to look immaculate.’
‘What is it you do?’ I was curious. Southampton seemed a strange place for an air hostess to be based.
‘I’m due to start work on a cruise ship, in guest services; it’s my second contract after spending a few months back at home. If I miss that ship, they won’t fly me out, and they definitely won’t give me another contract.’ Her forehead crumpled.
‘Where’s your car now?’ I asked, wondering if there was anything I could do to help.
‘It’s in the garage. Tom very kindly arranged to have it repaired swiftly. I should have it back in a few hours and then I can get on my way.’
Cathy kept up a steady stream of chatter whilst I buffed and prepped the nail. She told me all about life on board a cruise ship, and despite my despair about my own situation and my red-wine hangover, I found myself smiling. It sounded so exciting.
‘Waking up in a different place every morning is just magical. It never gets old either – the itineraries change so much, and so do the staff, including the officers.’ She winked animatedly. ‘I’ve been all over the world and got paid to do it!’
‘It sounds fantastic. I’d always wanted to go on a cruise holiday but never got around to it. I suppose it’s not something single people do,’ I added sullenly, placing the acrylic nail over her own and pressing it down.
‘Oh, you’re way off! Lots of single people do it; with so many staff members looking after you, you’d never feel alone. Or at least that’s what the guests say. Last time, I shared a tiny cabin with a snoring dancer and would’ve killed for some time alone.’ She laughed.
‘Maybe. I’ll need to start earning some money first. I don’t exactly have the financial means for luxury travel anymore.’ I didn’t intend to overshare; she was just so bubbly that I felt I could tell her anything. ‘My husband has just left me for another woman so I’ve been neglecting my business. In fact, you’re my first customer of the week.’
Her face fell. ‘Oh no, what an arse. I’m sorry to hear that. Do you have kids too?’
‘No, we never had any, he … Daniel never wanted any.’ She looked at me with sympathetic doe-like eyes.
After a moment she squealed. ‘Oh my God!’
‘What?’ My eyes shot down to her hands. Had I dripped glue on her skin somewhere?
‘You should totally apply to work aboard! They have salons on most ships, you know; most of the big ones have full spa facilities.’
I laughed. She was clearly joking. I couldn’t just swan off to work on a cruise ship when I had a business to save. I rummaged in my bag to find a close-matching red nail polish.
‘I’m not joking,’ she said. ‘I’d think about it if I were you. It doesn’t sound like you’ve much to hang around here for. The wages aren’t great, but you’ve got no living costs, and with tips most people manage to save a fair bit. You should at least look into it.’
‘Okay, I’ll look into it.’ I humoured her. Her naivety was sweet. What did she know about running a business, paying a mortgage? She’d barely entered adulthood.
As I walked up the cobbled street towards home, my mind wandered, and soon I was imagining a life at sea, far away from this village and its inhabitants. Because the sensation felt so odd, it took me a minute to realize I was smiling. It was such a silly notion, but pretending to be young and carefree for a few moments wouldn’t harm me.
***
Cathy’s cheer was infectious, but once it absorbed into my skin, by contrast, it highlighted something else. Jen’s haunted expression the night before. I slid out my phone. There were no missed calls from her, no messages. Nothing. I’d really upset her.
I keyed out a text but it took a few attempts to get it right:
Jen, what I’d said was out of order. Of course I appreciate you. You are everything to me. I love you
Jen, forgive me for my awful outburst. You’re all I have.
I love you and I’m sorry
Jen, I’m sorry. My head is in a mess and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.
Hannah
x
Just seconds after I hit send, my phone buzzed to life. Jen.
‘Hi,’ I answered nervously.
‘A text message apology?’ she fumed.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered as my breath caught. Jen had been mad at me before, but never mad bec
ause of me. My heart felt broken. ‘I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean them.’
‘Words like that don’t just come from nowhere. Do you seriously think I see you as the child I never had?’ She almost spat the words.
My throat started to ache. ‘No.’ I swallowed hard.
‘You are the one who’s always been so naive, Hannah. You’ve had no life experience and you needed someone looking out for you. If you were some ballsy broad, do you not think I’d have found better things to do?’
I remained silent.
‘And as for not feeling any pain, don’t you think losing Mum and Dad hurt me? Did you never stop to think how I had to remain strong for you, Hannah, because you fall to pieces if Emmerdale is cancelled when the football is on, never mind losing your parents.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘I was scared of what losing them would do to you.’ Her voice trembled as she whispered the last part.
I couldn’t speak. The tears burnt my eyes in revenge for being a spoilt, selfish, ungrateful brat. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered eventually.
‘Graham and I actually thought about adopting. A while ago now, we wanted a family but I said no, because I didn’t know how you’d cope.’
‘I didn’t know.’ My words were barely audible as tears ran down my face. ‘You should have; you still could,’ I reasoned.
‘It’s not the point. I’m not blaming you, Hannah. I’m trying to say you are not my substitute, you are my priority.’
I sobbed. I felt so pathetic.
‘And I suppose, if I’m honest, I thought I’d be an aunty one day. A cool one – the kind that gives out sweeties when Mummy says no, and buys them their first skateboard.’
I let out a small laugh through the tears. ‘I can see how that would make you happy.’
She paused and I’m sure I heard a smile in her tone. ‘You have some making up to do, lady.’
‘I know – I’ll do anything.’
The Holiday Cruise Page 3