Page 8 of Escape to the Sun

‘Hannah.’

‘I wouldn’t usually impose like this, Hannah, and feel free to tell me to sling my hook. But I’m here alone – well, not technically alone, but as they get older, I’ve decided my kids and I no longer share a common language most of the time – and the draw of a decent coffee and the possibility of conversation about something other than computer games or my inadequacies as a mother suddenly became desperately important.’

Hannah slid her tall latte glass onto the table and took stock of the woman. She looked relatively old to have teenage kids – a thought that immediately had Hannah feeling a spike of guilt, followed by a reminder that by now she should know better. Parenthood took all shapes and forms; she had to look no further than home to know as much.

And it wasn’t as though Hannah was fresh out of the egg, either. She’d noticed the beginnings of some fine lines around her own eyes and – more disturbingly – across her forehead.

Regardless of the woman – Ruth’s – age, she did have a friendly smile. She reminded Hannah of her aunt Helena, with the same shade of dark brown hair, cut short against her neck and feathered by grey strands, the same open expression radiating from dark brown eyes and a wide grin that revealed straight, white teeth and emphasised her cheekbones.

‘Do you have children?’ Ruth asked, one hand on the menu card.

‘Not of my own, but I have a little brother. He’s only nine, so I feel your pain,’ Hannah said.

‘Oh God, I remember Nathan at that age. Star Trek this, Star Wars that. Tantrums he should have grown out of if his Lego Millennium Falcon was touched.’ Ruth smiled again. ‘Do you still live at home with him? Or have you escaped?’

Hannah found herself frowning at the thought of how much time she’d spent in Ian’s flat. The door on that escape route had slammed closed. But that was more information than she was willing to give. Instead, she forced a smile. ‘Oh, he’s not that bad. And if necessary, I go and lie down in a darkened room.’

‘Cold wet flannel on your forehead?’

‘Sometimes.’

Ruth hooted with laughter, then slid out from the bench, menu card in her hand. ‘Well, if you don’t mind me sitting with you, I’ll go and order. Do you want anything?’

Hannah shook her head and concentrated on nibbling more sandwich, finding herself tracking Ruth’s movements as she waited for her to return.

‘I shouldn’t stay too long,’ Ruth said as she sat down again. ‘Although she likes to feel all grown up, Millie will wonder where I am, eventually anyway. And I should be at the cabin for when Nathan gets back. He’s… Well, long and rather sordid story short, I got divorced recently. It was awful, and Nathan took it all very badly. So, I should be around for him, even if he thinks he doesn’t need me. Or want me.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Hannah said.

Ruth frowned, then her expression cleared again. ‘This cruise is supposed to put a bit of a spring back in all our steps, to begin to move forwards. Although I didn’t realise how small the cabin was going to be – it might be enough to get to the conclusion of this cruise without having killed either of my children, truth be told. They’ve already had an argument about the bunk beds.’

Hannah felt a stab of guilt at her own luxurious cabin. ‘Which deck are you on?’

‘Three. We’ve got one of the internal cabins – budget didn’t stretch to one with a window. But it’s close to the lifts, and there are so many places to look at the view. Like here.’

Ruth smiled as she waved her hand at the windows, but the etched frown remained, as though she was making the best of a bad job and had been doing so for a while.

‘What deck are you on?’ Ruth asked as her pot of tea was delivered to the table and she thanked the server.

It was Hannah’s turn to frown. ‘Deck 7.’

‘Ooh. I looked at those cabins – well, rather more accurately I dreamed about those cabins. Lucky you. Are you here with⁠—’

Hannah sucked in a breath, her frown deepening. This was exactly what she didn’t want – to have to talk about why she was here alone. And yet, there was something genuinely open about Ruth’s expression. Something that spoke to supportiveness in the gaze of this woman, even though they’d only just met.

‘None of my business,’ Ruth said, pouring a little milk into her cup.

‘No – it’s not… It’s just…’ Hannah took a breath and made her decision. ‘I’m supposed to be on my honeymoon.’

‘Supposed to be?’

Hannah’s expression must have spoken volumes, because Ruth shook her head. ‘Again. None of my business.’

‘No. I’m going to have to talk about it sooner or later,’ Hannah said. ‘I was just hoping I could make the “later” thing last for a decade… or two.’

‘I’m not telling you what to do,’ Ruth said, taking the lid from her teapot and peering inside. She grinned. ‘That’s a classic thing people say before they then proceed to tell you what to do, isn’t it? Anyway – all I was going to say was that when I had my first child… bear with me, this is relevant, I promise… basically after waiting far too long to start a family, everything went wrong with the birth and my husband was useless and I survived by talking about how hard I found it all to friends, relatives, people in shops – really anyone who stood still long enough. And the more I told people, the more I realised they also had their own horror stories about having children and I began to feel better. I wasn’t alone. Therapy, but on the cheap. And sometimes talking about it with complete strangers was far easier than with people I knew.’

Ruth poured a cup of tea. ‘I think I just offered myself as a free counsellor but feel at liberty to completely decline the random offer from a total stranger. I won’t mind a bit. Mine cheated on me – my husband, I mean. There, I’ve started it off.’