‘You’re trying to prove your worth?’
‘Yes. I don’t have marketing or business qualifications, so …’
‘Hannah, Craig wouldn’t have given you the job if he didn’t believe in you. But I will absolutely do all I can to help. I’ll put my thinking cap on and get back to you,’ he said, tapping Craig’s card before sliding it into his wallet.
‘Thanks so much.’ Hannah relaxed a little thanks to the wine and having got the business talk out of the way.
Their meals arrived and they thanked the waiter.
‘Yum, just as lovely as I remember,’ Craig said after his first bite.
‘Yes, perfect.’
‘You know, I’m sure I met Craig at the event,’ Brad said, between mouthfuls.
‘Yes, you probably did.’
‘I tell you who else I met at the launch. Henry and Louise Peace.’
‘They’re lovely, aren’t they? Well, a bit troubled, but I’m sure they’ll get back on track eventually. I really hope so.’
‘If they do, it’ll be thanks to you.’
‘I’m not sure about that. I don’t know them very well.’
‘I’d like to do a story about your forgiveness of Henry. Would you do an interview with me?’
‘There is no story, Brad. There was nothing to forgive – it was an accident and no fault of Henry’s.’
‘But socialising with them, Hannah? That goes way beyond what you would have ever been expected to do.’
‘Henry’s having a tough time. He’s lost his job. If there’s a story to tell, maybe it’s about how his employer abandoned him.’
‘And the kindness shown by strangers who have no reason to when others who should show their kindness don’t.’
‘There’s never a reason not to be kind or show someone empathy. It’s just being a decent human being.’
‘Hannah, what you’ve done is remarkable. I felt you were special the moment I met you. But this …’
‘I disagree. There’s nothing remarkable about not bearing someone ill will when they’ve done nothing wrong, or at least whatever they’ve done is or was beyond their control.’
‘You have every right not to want to have anything to do with the man. Instead you go out of your way to hand out his business cards, help him to get more work – yes, he told me – invite him to social functions with all your friends …’
‘Brad, I don’t have a story. I’m not a story. My life is okay. Different, but okay. I’m getting on with it. End of story. Help Henry by telling his story if you want. Or do something on Craig – like a profile of a new business.’
Silently Brad reached down and picked up the leather compendium he’d put next to his chair when he’d sat down. He unzipped it, pulled out a photo and pushed it across the table towards her. Hannah’s eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped open slightly. There was a clear image of her face, with her eyes closed, and Henry’s back as they hugged on the bench at the court.
‘You were stalking me? Jesus, Brad, that’s creepy,’ she said, trying to keep her voice down.
‘No, I have a friend who is a court photographer.’
‘Stalking by proxy. Are you bloody serious?’
‘Hannah, I only …’
‘Well, this doesn’t seem right to me,’ she said, poking at the photos with her finger. ‘It’s creepy. Have you shown it to Henry?’
‘No, I haven’t met with Henry other than at the gallery the other night. I wanted to speak to you first.’
‘This was months ago. Why now? Anyway, who’s to say that’s Henry – that could be the back of anyone,’ she said a little defiantly and sat back in her chair.
‘Maybe, but this couldn’t.’ Brad slid two more photos across the table. One was a clear shot of Henry in his distinctive suit – there was no mistaking that person as the man being hugged on the bench in the other photo. The second shot was of Hannah, Henry and Louise standing together at the art gallery event. It was a lovely photo.
Hannah looked up when the waiter appeared to take their plates. She nodded and smiled her thanks.
‘No, Brad, I’m not interested,’ Hannah continued when they were alone again. ‘There’s nothing stopping you interviewing Henry and Louise.’
‘But they’re only half the story. I’m going to write it, Hannah, with or without your blessing. It’s too important.’
‘Of course you are. So why are you even asking me?’ Hannah stood up and pushed her chair back.
‘Hannah, I didn’t mean to upset you. Don’t go. Please. Stay and have dessert.’ He stood up and reached for her hand, but she snatched it back and left, while attempting not to draw attention to her hurried exit.
Outside in the cool breeze, Hannah’s eyes began to water. She strode briskly back down Spring Street towards her tram, her fury gradually turning to disappointment and then sadness as she went. She’d really liked him. Why did he have to turn out to be a selfish, creepy arsehole?
Stay angry, she told herself, on the verge of tears. She bit the inside of her cheek so hard she made herself wince. Her phone beeped with a text message. Instinctively she checked it. Through the distortion of her tears she deciphered:
Hannah. Stop. Please. I’m sorry. Come back. Brad.
She pictured him standing at the doorway to The Windsor and watching her making her way down the street. God, don’t you dare come after me, she thought. Thankfully she’d probably cross the first set of lights by the time he’d paid the bill and managed to get outside. Or perhaps he wasn’t there at all, but was sitting with the chocolate pudding with two spoons and the cheese platter in front of him.
Back at home, Hannah sat in the lounge and sobbed with Holly in her lap and Lucky and Squeak fighting for attention on either side of her.
Eventually the tears stopped and she wondered at her extreme reaction. What had she been expecting, anyway? They’d been on a business meeting – dinner only because of their history. Out of sentimentality. But, no, he’d alluded to more, hadn’t he, when he’d grasped her hands like that? God, the wedding ring. She’d momentarily forgotten about that.
‘Icky all round,’ she told Holly and the kittens peering up at her. ‘Yes, I’ll feed you, but just a bit and only because I’m a sucker,’ she told them as she moved them carefully and stood up.
As she spooned out small portions of tuna from the tin, she couldn’t shift the hard ball of sadness in the pit of her stomach. She’d felt a strong connection with Brad right from the start, perhaps the same as what he said he’d felt with her. They hadn’t so much as kissed. She’d had much more with Pete, but didn’t feel devastated when he’d broken it off with her the way she did now thinking about Brad. It hurt. She hurt. A lot.
She went to bed, turned her phone onto silent, curled herself around a pillow and began to cry.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Hannah wanted to stay in bed wrapped around her all-encompassing balling ache of loss, the magnitude of which wasn’t far from what she’d lived with for most of the past year. Until the events of the night before, she had thought that pain was finally diminishing, or perhaps she’d just become accustomed to it being there. Now it was back as a debilitating physical pain that no amount of twisting, turning or shifting could alleviate. She’d got up earlier to feed the cats, and had done so in an automatic daze before returning to bed. The tears had stopped and left eyes that were red-raw and puffy from tears and lack of sleep. She’d drifted in and out of sleep, like those first nights after The Accident.
Now she smiled weakly when Holly appeared beside her and curled up against her chest. She stroked the cat and then felt the vibrations start up, and relaxed a little at the sweet thrum of her purr. Calmness began to take over. Just two steps back, she told herself. Disappointing, but it was what it was. A part of her said she was over-reacting, another voice told her to be kind to herself. Hadn’t someone said that once the feeling returned you’d feel more intensely? Who had that been? Joanne? Beth?
She sat up a little, careful not to dislodge Holly, and reached for her phone to take it off silent. Sam might need her after seeing Rob off again. But just as she did, Squeak and then Lucky launched themselves at her, grabbing for her hair that had caught their attention when she moved. She laughed and hugged them both to her. You couldn’t be too sad and wrapped up in self-pity for long when you had these little bundles fighting for attention. She remembered how Pete had said having an animal to take care of had been the key in his recovery. It was so true.
‘Okay, okay, I’m up. No more lolling about,’ she told the cats, and looked at her phone. She was surprised to find it was almost nine o’clock. There were three texts from Brad, each variations of begging her not to shut him out. There were also three missed calls from him. She skipped the voicemails – deleted them without listening. Hannah wasn’t one to hold grudges – well, actually she couldn’t remember anyone hurting her badly enough to know – but she needed time to process. Maybe she was over-reacting, but she needed the space, the distance. She’d felt betrayed last night – enough to come close to making a scene in the restaurant as she walked out on Brad – and still felt it now.
The phone in her hand began to ring. Sam’s name was on the screen. She swallowed, planted a false smile on her face – an old trick from a course on phone manners she’d done years ago with her previous job – and answered.
‘Hey, Sam. How’re you doing? Are you okay?’
‘Oh, Hann.’
Hannah could tell Sam was in tears.
‘Are you at home?’
‘Yes.’ Well, that’s what Hannah thought she said. It was more like a wet gurgle.
‘I’ll be there soon.’
Hannah threw back the covers, got out of bed, had a quick shower and quickly put on some clothes. Clutching her phone, keys and handbag she told the cats to stay and that she’d be back later, and left the house.
‘Oh, Sammy,’ Hannah said, and clung onto her friend in the doorway.
‘Thanks so much for coming,’ Sam said, closing the door behind her.
‘Always. I thought you might be hit hard by Rob going again.’
‘I am, but it’s not just that.’
‘Oh god, what’s happened? Where are the boys?’
‘They’re fine, they’ve gone down the street to play with the Marinetti boys. Couldn’t wait to tell the world they might be going to Singapore next school holidays.’
‘Sure. That’s exciting, and something for the boys to look forward to,’ Hannah said. ‘So, I take it everything went well with Rob.’
‘He’s such a beautiful human being, inside and out,’ Sam said, the words coming out with a long sigh. ‘I think I love him even more now. And that hurts so much.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘He’s so at peace – well, except for being torn up about hurting me and the boys. Not that they’re really all that aware yet – it’s still a novelty, a bit of an adventure. Thanks so much for making sure he came over.’
‘I’m not sure it had much to do with me, Sammy, but I’m glad it worked out.’
‘It was wonderful to be all together again,’ Sam said wistfully.
‘I’m glad. Now you said it wasn’t Rob or the boys that made you so upset. What else has happened?’
‘This,’ Sam said, touching her iPad and bringing it to life and turning it towards Hannah. ‘It’s awful, Hann, how can someone say such horrible things?’ Sam burst into tears.
‘Oh,’ Hannah said. She skim-read the review that used words like ‘twee’ and ‘at home in a country craft store alongside the knitted beanies in AFL colours’ to describe Sam’s work and ‘amateurish and like a primary school child’s art project’ to describe Zoe’s. She looked for the by-line and name of the publication. ‘This is why I didn’t want you searching online yourself, Sammy. I set up a Google alert so I’d see anything first. Sorry, I haven’t got around to going through my emails yet this morning.’
‘It’s not your fault. It hurts so much, Hann.’
‘Of course it does. It’s cruel.’
‘I feel like never doing another piece again.’
‘That’s understandable. But you will. You need to put this into perspective. It’s a blog, it’s not even in a real newspaper – respectable or otherwise. I’ve never heard of Billy with Balls. Have you? I hope you scrolled down and saw what else he or she has to say – just the arrogant, negative rantings of a complete ass, by the looks. You can’t take it seriously. Or personally. This person doesn’t know you personally – has never met you. Well, maybe they did at the launch, but they certainly don’t know you. For all we know they’re a failed artist or someone desperately wanting their own exhibition, but who has been rejected. You can’t let it affect you.’
‘But it is. It has. I feel terrible. I want to comment and say, “Fuck off!”’
‘Of course you do. But you can’t. You haven’t, have you?’ Hannah asked, suddenly worried.
‘No, I’ve been too upset to form words.’
‘Good. I don’t mean good that you’re too upset, but you can’t engage. The last thing you need is an online spat.’
‘I know, but it’s so hard to sit back and do nothing.’
‘Of course, but you have to. You have to hold your head up high. Your work in the exhibition is great and much loved. Focus on all the good comments you’ve had. And remember that a lot of the pieces have already sold.’
‘I was so excited. I’m not sure I can take the highs and lows of being a professional artist, Hann. Perhaps I should just focus on being a good mum.’
‘You are a good mum. Sadly, the highs and lows are part of it. You just need time to pick yourself up and dust yourself off. Don’t do anything rash. You’re vulnerable right now because of everything going on with Rob, don’t forget. Sit tight and don’t let the likes of this fool get to you. Remember the lovely things Roger and Brad have said – they’re the opinions that matter.’
‘Thanks, Hann. What would I ever do without you?’
‘You never need to wonder that.’
‘I’m sorry if I let you down, since you’re my agent.’
‘As I’ve said before, you couldn’t if you tried.’
They sat in silence for a few moments.
‘So, enough about me. What’s been going on with you? I’m sorry I’ve been so out of touch,’ Sam said.
‘That’s okay. I don’t really have any news.’
‘You seem down yourself, Hann, is something wrong?’
‘I’m upset that you’re upset. And missing Raelene and Adrian, I guess.’
‘How amazing was it of them to come all that way for the opening? I feel terrible I didn’t get to spend any more time with them.’
‘They understood. It’s fine.’
‘Hann, what’s going on? Something’s up, I can tell.’
Hannah stared at a knot in the timber table, biting the inside of her cheek while looking for the right words.
‘I know about Pete,’ Sam said. ‘I had to pick up some stuff for the dogs and saw him. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.’
‘Thanks, but I’m not upset about it. Really. We clearly weren’t suited. And we only went on two proper dates, so it’s hardly heartbreak territory.’
‘Yet you look like that’s exactly how you’re feeling, Hann. I haven’t seen you this sad for months. What’s going on?’
Hannah looked up and across at her best friend, tears filling her eyes.
‘I don’t know why I’m so upset, really. It’s completely ridiculous.’
‘What is?’
‘Brad.’
‘Brad, the journalist guy?’
Hannah nodded.
‘What about him?’
‘I had dinner with him last night at The Windsor.’
‘Right. And …?’
‘He’s a deceitful, lying arsehole.’
‘Wow. Okay. So, I take it dinner wasn’t good, then?’
‘I left before dessert. I m
ight have made a bit of a spectacle of myself, too.’
‘I find that hard to believe, Hannah.’
‘I might have stormed out.’
‘Jesus. That’s unlike you. What did he do? I thought you liked him – not in that way, obviously, since he’s married.’
‘He’s not, as it turns out.’
‘But wouldn’t that be a good thing? No, not if he’s a deceitful, lying arsehole, obviously. Hann, I think you’d better start at the beginning and tell me everything.’
*
‘I see,’ Sam said when Hannah had finished her account of last evening.
‘I’m over-reacting, aren’t I?’
‘You can’t help how you feel. If you feel betrayed, disappointed, upset, that’s your reality. Beating yourself up isn’t going to help.’
‘But you think I over-reacted – last night in the restaurant – don’t you?’
‘You reacted how you were meant to, given how you felt at the time.’
‘Stop with the earthy shit, Sam. I want your honest opinion.’
‘Do you though?’
‘Right. So you think I’m being ridiculous. Great,’ Hannah said with a groan.
‘You know I love you and would do anything for you …’
‘But …’
‘Well, no but. I don’t think you’re over-reacting. As I said, you can’t help what you feel. I think it would have been confronting, quite shocking to see the photos, especially when you had no idea they were being taken.’
‘But …? I’m still sensing a but. Come on, tell me. Give it to me straight.’
‘Well, he’s a journalist, and the images did come from an official source.’
‘He knew I wasn’t interested in the court case. I made that clear.’
‘Hann, that was months ago. He didn’t know if you’d changed your mind – which you sort of have.’
‘Why didn’t he ask me any time within the past six months or so? We didn’t exchange details that first night we met, but I’m listed in the phone book. He could have easily got in contact with me.’
‘And you wouldn’t have freaked out and accused him of stalking you? Really, Hann?’
Making Peace Page 22