The Holiday Cruise: The feel-good heart-warming romance you need to read this year. Victoria Cooke
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 because 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.’
‘Okay, then we’re going out tonight.’
I groaned inside, but daren’t say no. ‘Okay, how about that night out we’d always planned in York?’ I asked, knowing full well she’d love to.
‘You mean the one with the trendy bars and cocktails?’
‘The very one.’
‘No, it sounds dreadful.’ She laughed. ‘Of course! I’ll book a cab from the Foxglove for half-seven. I’ll come to yours at five to.’
As I went into my bedroom to get ready, I almost cancelled. I sat on the bed and took deep breaths, trying to fight the sick, panicky feeling in my throat. What if Daniel and that woman were in the pub? I stomped over to my phone and scrolled to Jen’s number. Stop it. I forced myself to put the phone back down. I couldn’t hide for ever.
I’d never worried about my clothes before. Going out would’ve required no more deliberation than selecting something that was clean and ironed. Daniel would often suggest a top or dress for me, making it simpler still. Now, staring at myself in the mirrored wardrobe door I wondered why he’d stayed with me for so long. My once-firm figure was a doughy caricature of its former self, dimples had formed down the sides of my thighs, and my bottom hung a few inches lower than it used to. A squidgy paunch had formed around my belly button, and my breasts drooped, deflated.
How had I not noticed what I’d become? Tears pricked my eyes in response to a pain searing through my chest. The truth was I hadn’t needed to notice before because I’d been happy. I’d thought we both were happy.
I dried my puffy eyes and grabbed my faithful navy jeans. Size twelve. I couldn’t even remember making the transition from size ten to twelve. I wriggled into them, squeezing the zip up. I was glad I’d dared to be trendy by buying a high-waisted style, as it gave me the opportunity to tuck in my love handles, or simply ‘handles’ as I supposed they’d become. I pulled on a black shoestring vest and picked up a sheer black-and-pink floral shirt to throw on over it.
I felt drab. Normally I’d have colour from a spray tan, which I’d have showcased by wearing something bright, and my hair would usually be styled, but all that maintenance had fallen to the wayside. I ran the straighteners through my hair. The style was outgrown, shapeless, and touching my shoulders, doing nothing to frame my face. I was a sorry excuse for a beautician. I put on some black ankle boots with a small heel and sat on the arm of the sofa in silence, waiting for Jen.
When she arrived she exploded through the door like a firework, all cheery and full of chatter. After the stillness of the house before her arrival, it was a lot to bear.
‘Oh my word, Hannah, you look gorgeous!’ she shrieked. Okay, that was too OTT to give me even an ounce of confidence, but I was trying to be positive so I smiled.
‘Thanks, you look lovely too,’ I said, much more calmly.
‘So I was thinking, skip the Foxglove and we could head straight into York for some real bars.’ She was smiling brightly, her eyes wide. It almost made her look psychotic.
‘Jen, relax. It’s been six weeks. I have to return to normality at some point, and that involves going in the pub and you being normal. The Foxglove is fine; it’ll be nice to see a few familiar faces and besides, it’s just for one drink.’ My bravery was on the outside only.
‘What if he’s there?’ she asked tentatively.
‘I have to face him sooner or later. It’s a small village and both of our businesses are based here. Neither of us can just up and move away.’ I was trying to convince myself as much as Jen.
It was only a five-minute walk to the Foxglove and since it was chilly, we walked as quickly as we could across the newly iced cobbles. It left little room for chatter. The pub was lit up in the dark, cool air, all cosy and welcoming. It almost felt good to be back, almost normal, but with an overwhelming helping of emptiness. Opening the door, I was hit by the cosy warmth, the familiar smell of ale and pub grub. I can do this.
It was predictably busy, but there was a small table in the corner, which I pointed out to Jen. ‘You go and sit down, and I’ll get us a glass of wine,’ she said.
I made my way through the crowds, keeping an eye out for the table. That was when my eyes met a familiar homely set. Daniel. My heart pounded erratically as I panicked about what to do. I certainly wasn’t going to head over to him and provide the villagers with more gossip fodder. I quickly looked away and scurried to the table I’d spotted in the back corner of the pub and sat down, willing Jen to hurry up.
I turned my back to the crowds but after just a few moments, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I knew it wasn’t Jen as the bar was two-deep and even she couldn’t get served that quickly. I took a deep breath to steady my dizzy head before reluctantly turning around.
My words froze as my dry throat closed up. I stiffened, vaguely aware of my body trembling as adrenaline pumped around it, deafening me as it reached my ears.
‘Hannah, hi. There’s, erm, someone I think you should probably meet,’ he said. I swallowed hard, and it was only then I noticed that she was standing beside him. A jolt of pain shot through