Page 31 of Escape to the Sun

‘Not OK,’ she said, her words mumbled as the squishiness of the duvet swallowed the back half of her body sufficiently to make it pointless for her to try to get up. She heard running water from the bathroom tap, then the clink of a glass being placed somewhere north of her head, maybe on one of the nightstands. ‘Definitely not OK,’ she whispered as someone dimmed the lights and closed the cabin door, leaving her all alone.

17

Hannah supposed she deserved the banging head with which she awoke the following morning. She was still in her dress and sandals, with the duvet wrapped around her in a confused tangle, which confirmed the erotic dreams had been just that. Dreams. She was all alone in the cabin. The morning light spreading its way around badly drawn blinds the only witness to her dishevelled start to the day.

What the hell happened the night before? Not the obvious, clearly. Although she was sure Louis had been there, for a while at least.

What had she said to him? She shouldn’t have drunk that little glass of sweet wine she was given with dessert. That’s what tipped the balance in favour of her being rat-arsed.

Hannah lifted her head, groaned, then laid it down again. That little glass of amber nectar might have been the tipping point, but the rest of the alcohol she’d consumed had got her there.

Heat crept up her cheeks, swamping her alongside the embarrassment. What had she been thinking?

At least she hadn’t vomited.

And now she’d had that thought, the sweet prickle at the back of her mouth had her swallowing repeatedly until she forced the feeling away.

Confused about what time – or even what day – it was, Hannah remembered some vague arrangement she’d made with Ruth to meet for breakfast. The prickling was back in her throat, as she reached for the glass of water Louis had placed on her nightstand. She frowned as she sat up so she didn’t choke on the liquid. Louis had put water there for her. Then he’d gone. She remembered that much.

The fog surrounding the previous evening continued to lift as Hannah showered, dressed, found her sunglasses and applied them to eyes, which were way too sensitive to cope with natural light, and headed out to meet Ruth. Coffee. She could probably manage some coffee.

Ruth and her kids were already at the Harvest Basket. A collection of used crockery dotted the table in front of them. Ruth smiled in greeting, then her expression morphed to concern.

‘Are you OK?’ she said.

‘Mhmmm. Think so,’ Hannah said. ‘Drank too much last night.’

Ruth’s eyebrows lifted. She knew of Hannah’s dinner plans, and the scheduled breakfast was to catch up on how it had gone. Hannah remembered that now, too.

‘Good drinking or bad drinking?’

‘Started good…’

Hannah glanced at Millie, who was agog, and then Nathan, who was pretending not to be interested.

‘Kids, go and get Hannah something to eat,’ Ruth said.

‘No. No food, thanks. Some coffee though, please?’

‘I’ll get some,’ Millie said.

‘No, maybe not you, Mils – we don’t need you with third-degree burns.’ Ruth peered meaningfully at Nathan.

‘Oh, all right, I’ll go,’ Nathan said, pushing floppy curls from his eyes as he looked at Hannah, then frowned.

‘Black, no sugar. Thanks, Nathan,’ Hannah said, earning herself a rare smile.

‘He fancies you,’ Millie said once Nathan was out of earshot.

Nausea bubbled again. That was all she needed, to add a teenage crush to the mix. But she supposed it did explain some of the ways Nathan had been staring at her.

‘Mils, don’t pester Hannah,’ Ruth said. ‘Go and get yourself another “Christmas croissant” or something.’

Millie grinned and slid from her seat, lifting a plate. ‘I’ve already had three,’ she said to Hannah.

‘Right,’ Ruth said when Millie had gone. ‘Spill.’

‘I drank too much and passed out,’ Hannah said, unsure of the benefit of saying more.