Chapter 7
‘I’m sorry,’ Jude said to Joe as his brother’s car snaked up a single-track country lane. ‘But for a second there I thought you said, “lunch with Ed and his family”.’
‘I did,’ Joe answered, pulling his Audi into a passing place so a red-faced man in a Land Rover could squeeze by it. ‘As far as I know, they’re all coming.’ He shrugged, as if he hadn’t just lobbed the equivalent of a Molotov cocktail at Jude’s heart.
‘And you didn’t think this might be information I’d want before getting into your car? You told me last night it would be us and Ed. There was no mention of family.’
‘Plans change,’ Joe said, ‘as you well know.’ Jude wasn’t sure whether this was a dig at his current prevarication over how long to stay in the UK, or a reference to the ill-fated Australian adventure he’d once planned to go on with Hannah.
Either way, he could have lived without it.
More to the point, he suspected this lunch plan hadn’t changed at all – rather that he’d not been given the full picture when his brother first invited him.
‘I can’t do this, Joe,’ he said, unable to prevent a desperate, almost pleading note from colouring his voice. ‘You know I can’t. Especially after Friday.’
‘Friday’s epic fail is the reason why you have to do this,’ Joe said.
‘I still can’t believe you fumbled the first meeting with her quite so badly.
I know you weren’t expecting to see her, but “pleased to meet you” is a shocking way to greet an ex – especially one you have in no way, shape or form actually forgotten. ’
For roughly the thousandth time in two days, Jude wished he hadn’t told Joe what had happened at the conference – but he’d been unable to stop the truth from bursting out of his mouth when his brother had asked about the event.
On a slight delay, he registered what Joe had just said. ‘What do you mean, the first meeting?’
‘Is that a serious question?’ Joe sneered. ‘Are you, a man with a PhD and an IQ of more than a hundred and fifty, really asking me the meaning of the word first?’
‘Obviously not,’ Jude growled at him. ‘Why must you speak in riddles, Joe? My nerves are shredded as it is.’
‘I’ll explain over lunch,’ Joe said blithely. ‘All will become clear, I promise.’
‘Why does that sound so ominous?’ Jude wondered aloud. Joe ignored him, then turned the car onto another ‘road’ that Jude thought had some nerve to refer to itself as such.
Little more than a dirt track, it was a far cry from the multilane freeways he’d become used to in Sydney.
After a few days here, though, he had to admit being back in Derbyshire was soothing: warming in a way the antipodean sun had somehow never been.
He’d forgotten there was so much green here – so many rugged hills and valleys, highs and lows in a thousand different shades.
The landscape was bold – unyielding – and its untamed beauty touched him now in the same way it had when he first came here.
Loving this place was a little like loving Hannah had always been – you couldn’t help it, but nor could you reasonably expect something so strong and self-reliant to love you back.
He’d turned the awfulness of Friday’s ‘introduction’ over and over in his head all weekend, reliving the moment until he felt physically sick.
As Clive had stood between them, expecting him and Hannah to shake hands, Jude had somehow thought it made sense not to say, ‘Actually, I know this woman – she’s had my heart in her hands since I was thirteen years old.
’ With hindsight, he realised he could have said something less dramatic, along the lines of: ‘Believe it or not, we lived on the same street as kids.’ A half-truth, he now realised, would have been preferable to lying by omission, but – unlike exam conditions – pressurised social situations tended to send his mind blank.
In every spare moment he’d had at the conference, he’d looked for Hannah – knowing he needed to apologise, to explain himself, though he’d had no idea how – but it seemed she hadn’t wanted to be found.
What must she think of him? How had she interpreted his decision not to acknowledge her?
She hadn’t been happy, he knew that much.
But she’d almost looked relieved – like this misstep had confirmed all the worst things she’d thought about him over the past four years.
Perhaps she believed he’d turned into the self-regarding arse his mother seemed to hope he’d one day become: a designer-suit-clad Larry-a-like who cared more for profits, and his public profile, than people.
Maybe Hannah assumed he considered himself above her these days, when nothing could be further from the truth.
Joe pulled the Audi into the car park of The Bluebell Inn – a spendy, recently refurbished gastropub. Jude’s stomach lurched.
He’d never been so sure that Hannah loathed him, or that – at least up to a point – she had good reason. Nor had he ever been less hungry. Yet now he was going to have to sit at a table with her while they ate roast chicken, seasonal greens and maple-glazed parsnips.
Fucking Joe and his fucking mind games. What was he playing at – and why?
Within ten seconds of finding their table at the pub, Jude regretted his decision not to cut and run.
He’d briefly contemplated legging it back to a main road and praying he could get an Uber, but the knowing look on his brother’s face – not to mention the inevitable shame that bolting would inspire – had prevented him.
Hannah waited a beat before looking up as he and Joe approached the large rectangular table, at which she’d already taken a seat.
He realised she must have had some warning he was coming.
She nodded her head in greeting and said a bloodless ‘hi’ that was only for Joe.
Her gaze didn’t rest on Jude even for a second.
She looked past him – through him – as though he wasn’t there at all.
Seeming not to notice this, Joe sank into the vacant space next to Ed, on the other side of the table from Hannah.
Jude made his way to the far end and sat down opposite Claire, a couple of metres away.
His insides spasmed, his heart beating uncontrollably as he wondered whether there might be a window in the men’s toilets large enough for him to climb through.
‘It’s nice to see you, Jude,’ Claire said softly.
‘It’s been so long. How’s everything going Down Under? ’
He felt brokenly grateful for her friendliness in the face of Hannah’s cool disdain. She was chatting easily with her brother and Joe, now, seemingly oblivious to his presence.
‘It’s . . . fine. OK, thanks,’ Jude said to Claire, realising this was genuinely the most enthusiastic assessment of life in Sydney he could muster right now.
On a different day, perhaps he’d have been able to chat happily about the handful of friends he’d made there – though most of the relationships he’d formed were fairly surface-level, with colleagues or people he’d met through the rowing club he’d joined.
He probably should have said something fulsome about the city, which truly was an incredible place.
Or maybe he should have mentioned how much he admired Aussie culture.
In the dark days after he first landed there, he’d been buoyed by the good humour of almost everyone he met, and – anxiety-prone as he was – he couldn’t help admiring the calm, ‘no worries’ attitude that seemed to be a national characteristic.
Larry, of course, was the exception that proved the rule: a cantankerous character who buzzed with so much nervous energy you could almost believe an ill-timed handshake might electrocute you.
‘Is it really sunny every day over there?’ Claire asked.
‘I mean, we’re spoiled so far this summer, but ten quid says it’ll start pissing down again the second the school holidays start.
’ Jude could tell she was trying to coax him into anodyne conversation that might take the edge off his nervousness – which he could only assume was showing. Great.
He shook his head. ‘It’s generally warmer than it is here, but I promise it is rainy and miserable sometimes. It’s winter over there right now, which is never not odd – the coolest part of the year being the months you’ve always thought of as bright and fun.’
‘Ooh, super weird,’ Claire agreed with a smile.
‘How’s the family?’ he asked. ‘Congratulations, by the way – on the wedding, too.’
‘Thank you,’ Claire said, grinning. ‘They’re wonderful. Though I won’t lie, it’s nice to be out for lunch in a place that doesn’t have a soft play area. The boys are gorgeous, but sitting nicely while eating a three-course meal isn’t a skill either of them has mastered yet.’
‘That seems entirely fair,’ Jude said, unable to resist contrasting Claire’s obvious fondness for her sons’ high spirits with his own mother’s lifelong intolerance for disorder. ‘How old are they now?’
‘Alfie just turned five and Harry’s three,’ Claire said. ‘Ash has taken them swimming this afternoon, and is under strict instructions to wear them out. I plan to spend this evening in a food coma on the couch.’
‘Also fair.’ He chanced a look down the table and saw Jane Matthews at its centre. Lillian, of course, had declined to join today’s lunch party, despite being asked.