Eighteen
Hanna might have left her phone in the cab, but if she had, it had since vanished. The cab driver and the office staff checked the vehicle twice. Susan suggested Hanna should call the railway lost property office, just in case she had dropped the phone at the station, or on the train, but again, there was no sign of it, and nothing had been handed in. They notified her provider of the loss, and were told Hanna would be sent a new sim card, but getting it sent to Susan’s home was a bit of a battle. Hanna had decided she would take up Susan’s offer, and stay in Wimbledon Village for a few days.
The next day, she and Susan went to the shops and bought a new phone. It meant Hanna would have a different number for now, but at least she could download her contacts from Google, and once the new sim arrived, her provider would transfer her old number to the new phone.
In the meantime, Hanna sent a few emails on Saturday afternoon. She sent one to Grace, and one to Hope. She also sent one to Jemma who, along with Jemma’s boyfriend, Greg, would be back in Oak Street in Betancourt Bay this weekend,and would no doubt be told all the gossip. Greg lived next door to the Boot twins, and Jemma was still renting Oak View Cottage, on the other side of Greg’s cottage. Jemma would be moving in with Greg this coming week though, and, if the sale of Oak View Cottage went ahead, which it would, of that Hanna was certain, Tom would soon be moving in there, and Hope would be joining him.
Hanna’s email to Grace read:
‘Hi Grace. I hope the Summer Fayre is going well. I’m sorry I’m going to miss it this year. I’m also sorry I haven’t spoken to you about the gossip concerning me and Griff. Not that there is a ‘me and Griff’, obviously. You know that. He adores you and only you. But I should’ve had the courage to come and talk to you. Actually, I should’ve had the courage to tell everyone right away that the gossip was wrong. Except it wasn’t completely wrong. But we won’t go into that right now. I just want you to know that although Griff is fantastic and I like him a lot as a friend, I am NOT in love with him. I never have been, and I never will be. But I am in love with someone else. Sadly that person is not in love with me. Anyway, I’m sorry to be such a bad friend. I should’ve spoken to you about this. I’ve left Betancourt Bay for a few days and am staying with a relative. I’ve lost my phone so I can’t receive calls or messages and I need some time to think and clear my head, so I’m not giving out my new number. I will get my old one back soon, but, for now I’m contactable by email. Only in an emergency though, please. And yes, I know, I’m being a drama Queen, so I hope you’ll forgive me for that. As I said, I need some time and space. I’m truly sorry, Grace. Please apologise to Griff for me too. And to Russell for running away. I’m a drama Queen and a coward, what can I say? Who knew? I think we could all use some space so I’m staying here for this week. I know it’s your hen night next weekend and I’d still like to come to that. If you’ll have me. I totally understand if you’d rather I didn’t though sojust email me next week and let me know what you decide. This is turning into a novel, and Jemma is the novelist among us, so I’ll end this here. I hope I’m still invited to your wedding, but again, I understand if I’m not. Have fun at the Fayre. And give my love to everyone. I’m sending a similar email to Hope. And I’m also letting Jemma know what she’ll be coming back to. Take care. Love, Hanna. Xx’
She sent a similar but not such a lengthy email to Hope, and a different one to Jemma, explaining that there was gossip in the village and what had happened since.
When she’d finished, she went and sat in the garden with Susan and the two Russian Blues, who were named, Catherine the Great, and Ivan the Terrible.
‘They’re Russian and they’re Royal,’ Susan said when Hanna arched her brows at the names. ‘The cats are Russian Blues so it was that whole Royal blue blood thing that got me thinking the names were apt. Jeremy wanted to call them Fred and Ginger, and don’t get me started on that.’
For years, Hanna hadn’t spoken to Susan after the Jeremy fiasco and she had only let Susan know where she was because they were family and Hanna felt she had to. Susan had sent Hanna, Christmas and birthday cards every year, but Hanna had returned them unopened.
Two years ago though, Hanna had received a letter and it wasn’t at Christmas, or anywhere near her birthday and she had instinctively known something was wrong.
The letter had been short, and had said, ‘Hello Hanna. I hope you’re keeping well, and I sincerely hope you’re happy. Don’t feel you need to respond to this letter, because you don’t, but I have cancer. It’s not going to kill me, believe me. And it doesn’t change a thing between us. It was Jeremy who said you should know, just in case, so I’m telling you. I’m in the local hospital and they’ll have operated by the time you receive this so don’t comerunning up here and crying or anything like that. You know how much I hate that stuff. Anyway, I know it’ll be fine and I’ll probably outlive everyone I know. I love you, Hanna. If you feel like it, give me a call sometime this year, or next, or whenever. Or drop me a line. Don’t send flowers. They should stay in the ground. Or chocolates. They make people fat. In fact, don’t send anything. Bye then, Love Susan. Xx
Hanna had rushed to the hospital that day, but hadn’t gone in to see Susan, once she’d ascertained where her aunt was. She had asked the nurse if all had gone well though, and had been told it had.
‘Shall I give her a message?’ the nurse had asked.
‘No, thanks,’ Hanna had replied, and then she had turned around and gone home to Betancourt Bay. She could’ve called and got the same news, but for some reason she had to be there, near to Susan but not too close.
She did reply to the letter a few days later saying that she hoped the operation had gone well, and that whilst she had no intention of calling Susan, if Susan wanted to call her, she wouldn’t hang up.
A few months later, Susan had called her, and that’s how they had started talking again. Not often and never for long, but they had exchanged civilities.
Hanna had never told Susan about her visit to the hospital that day, but now she did. And now they both cried and hugged and cried a little more. But they had drunk two bottles of wine again that evening, and they were both feeling somewhat emotional.
Hanna was just as emotional when she received emails from Grace, and from Hope, and from Jemma.
Jemma’s email was one of surprise.
‘Honestly, Hanna, my heart goes out to you. Some people can be so unkind. I have trolls on the internet so I know how awful it can make one feel, but surely no one in the village really believesit? We haven’t yet returned to Betancourt Bay so Greg and I haven’t heard the gossip, but the moment we do, we’ll dismiss it as nonsense,’ Jemma had written. ‘Do let me know if you need anything, and I mean that. See you very soon, I hope. Love Jemma and Greg. Xx
Hope’s had been … well, Hope at her best.
‘We’re all friends, Hanna. We would’ve helped in any way we could. We weren’t sure what to do though because you hadn’t said it wasn’t true and we were both confused. You needn’t have run off! If you want to chat, we’re here for you. We’re both glad it’s all sorted out now. See you at the hen night. It’s going to be a lark. Grace doesn’t know this yet, so don’t say a word, but I’ve invited Vera and Rita Boot, as well as Granny Joy, and Daisy Copeland. And Tabby, obviously. And Mum, of course. But I’ve also invited Barbra Brimble because Mum said I had to if all the other oldies are coming. So you may want to bring a bat to hit her over the head with. Your choice entirely. Actually, the female population of Betancourt Bay will be there, so just ignore Barbra. I’ve taken a leaf out of the Boot sisters party book, and got the same male dancers slash strippers slash hot men wearing very little, as they had at their eightieth birthday bash. They got rave reviews. Make sure you’ve got lots of cash to stuff down their gold, sparkly pants. Oh, and we’re having Salsa lessons from them too, so that should be … enlightening. Griff said we can use the Great Hall at Betancourt, and he and Russell and Archie will sod off to London for the night, so Mum and I have organised a cocktail making and tasting session before the ‘dancers’ arrive, and a disco for afterwards because we girls love to dance. I’ve paid extra for the guys to stay on and … well, whatever. No sex, please, because we’re British. HaHaHa! But anything else goes. There’ll be food, of course, but you should line your stomach ’cos drink will be flowing all night. See you there. Love, Hope. Xx. P.S. I’ve bought a job lot of Alka-Seltzerand also Aspirin. Both will be in the party bags provided, along with a few other treats. Xx.’
Grace’s had been short and sort of sweet.
‘I’m the one who’s been a bad friend. Even if you did love Griff, and most women do so I’m a little surprised you don’t (only teasing) I should’ve worried less about me and thought more about you. I wish you’d tell me who this man – or person (I’m not judging) – is, but I’m sure you will when you’re ready. Of course you must come to the hen night. And if you don’t come to our wedding, there’ll be trouble! I’ll admit I did have concerns but that’s because I’m a crazy woman right now. Hope says I make Bridezillas look like soft and fluffy kittens compared to me. I think she’s planning something she shouldn’t for the hen night, so let me know if you hear anything. Love you, Hanna. And Griff says he loves you too. But don’t read anything into that because he’s mine. All mine. All mine! Hahaha. Love, Grace. Xxx
The email that really surprised Hanna was one she received from Russell.
‘I’m glad you’re okay, Hanna. I was worried. Please never run off like that again. Talk to me, Hanna. I’m a friend. A good friend, I hope. Come home soon. I’d like to take you out for those desserts. And for a chat. Or whatever. Look after yourself. We miss you. Best wishes, Russell.
‘That’s romantic,’ Susan said, looking over Hanna’s shoulder.
‘I told you he just sees me as a friend.’
‘I disagree. I think there’s a hidden message in there somewhere. Desserts are romantic. And a chat is better than ‘we need to talk’, so I think you may be surprised. The ‘whatever’ could mean anything, but I think it means a long romantic walk, or at least a kiss. Maybe more. I still maintain you should tell him how you feel. Maybe over those desserts.’
