Chapter 16
They walked to the tailor’s studio in companionable silence, exchanging only the odd observation about the neighbourhood they were wandering through.
Richard Jervis, the designer they were going to see, was based in Spinningfields, a vibrant corner of the city centre packed with offices, bars, shops and restaurants.
As if to underscore its ‘place to be’ status, it even boasted its own app – a downloadable guide to the area that promised helpful information and exclusive discounts.
As they passed tapas lounges, real ale taprooms, hairdressers and stores that sold handbags worth as much as her van, Hannah actually wished she and Jude had a reason to talk more.
In the quiet, she couldn’t stop thinking, He was naked, he was naked, he was naked.
The phrase went round and round in her head, even though it wasn’t strictly true.
There had been a very large towel covering most of him; precisely the sort of thing you’d choose if you wanted to preserve some modesty.
The trouble was, she already knew what was underneath it – and now her memory was in overdrive, serving her images she’d suppressed so determinedly she was shocked to discover they remained in her mental hard drive.
She could only imagine how Charlie was going to react when she relayed news of this afternoon’s encounter.
After hearing about what had happened at Ed and Joe’s engagement party, she’d begun referring to Jude as ‘the beautiful nerd’ – which Hannah had pointed out was unhelpful, and hardly in the spirit of helping her remain cool and unbothered by his reappearance.
It would have been easier for her if he’d grown a terrible goatee in Australia, or discovered a fondness for the mirrored sunglasses Charlie had originally pictured him in .
. . or if he’d had E=mc2 tattooed across his chest in Comic Sans font, as Hannah had joked about.
Unfortunately, however, Charlie was right.
He was a beautiful nerd – even more so than the last time she’d seen him shirtless.
Growing up, she’d always assumed a man with a PhD in mathematics would probably be portly, balding and sport slightly stained knitwear with moth-holes around the hem.
In Jude’s case, though, God had given with both hands: he had the brain of a genius, a face card that would be accepted anywhere and the body of someone who worked out.
According to Ed, he’d been part of some rowing team in Sydney, and – since this revelation – she’d expended significant energy on banishing thoughts of bare, sun-burnished shoulders.
Before they were even halfway to their destination, the relentless churn of Hannah’s thoughts meant she felt feverish – worse than she had after the drive back to Beckford in her van.
Being in that enclosed space with him had been excruciating .
. . but not in a wholly bad way. The proximity had made her skin sing, made her ache to be touched in a way that she hadn’t in years.
At one point, she’d known he was remembering the first time she’d kissed him after their parallel parking tutorial.
That was the night when she’d honestly meant to hug him and her mouth had finally rebelled against her brain, finding his in the darkness in spite of every rule she’d made for it.
But nothing could happen between them now, or ever again.
Her reasons for finishing with him remained intact – exactly as they’d been four years ago.
If anything, they’d solidified: hardened and deepened, like the bricks of a wall melding together and sinking further into the earth, forming a solid mass that couldn’t be got over.
Their brothers were getting married; that was what mattered now. And after the wedding, Jude would fly back to his life in Australia. It might be years before she saw him again, if she ever did.
That thought made Hannah feel so profoundly sad, she stumbled; felt her hand move to her chest, as if to soothe the sting of unexpected anguish it had brought.
‘You OK?’ Jude asked, brows raised.
‘Fine,’ she said, pasting on a smile. ‘Loose paving stone. Almost there, I think.’
She was right – and their arrival gave her the perfect excuse to ignore the stab of emotion she’d just experienced.
Just a few metres ahead was a smart shopfront, its door and window frames painted a deep, matt plum and the words RICHARD JERVIS TAILORING writ large in bright gold above the entrance.
In the window were mannequins in precisely cut jackets, immaculate, heavy cotton shirts and beautifully patterned silk ties.
No doubt the real people inside would look just as pristine.
Hannah felt instantly self-conscious, even though she’d dressed up a little today for her meeting with Joe’s agent.
On reflection, her billowy blue maxi dress, trusty DM sandals and chunky gold jewellery perhaps weren’t the edgy clothing combo she’d imagined.
She couldn’t help thinking that, for all her concern about him, Ed was coping tremendously well in the world of the starry and stylish.
Even at a greater distance, she was finding the shiny perfection of the people she kept meeting quite intimidating.
‘Fancy finding you two together,’ came Joe’s voice from behind her and Jude. ‘Once again, I feel like I’ve tripped and woken up ten years ago.’
Hannah shot him a look that she knew – as her mother would have put it – could strip the paint off a lamp-post. Joe smirked, but had the good sense to look away.
Not for the first time, Hannah contemplated asking him to stop whatever sidebar manipulation he was currently indulging in.
He clearly had some objective in mind, when it came to her and Jude – but she comforted herself with the thought that Joe was, for all his manoeuvring, a fundamentally good person who’d never do her harm.
Ed appeared a moment later, slightly flustered, having rushed into the city after a day spent managing one of his schools’ sport summer camps.
‘Fucking year nines again,’ he said, by way of explanation for his frazzled state.
‘Walking bags of snark and hormones, the lot of them. I’m sure we were never like that. ’
‘I’m pretty sure Joe still is,’ Jude said, to sniggering from the rest of them. ‘Shall we go in?’
Within minutes of being inside the store, Hannah, Jude, Ed and Joe were all sporting the works-in-progress that Richard Jervis and his team had produced. If Hannah had thought she was self-conscious before, it was nothing to how exposed she felt now.
Richard had shut up shop for the day and pulled down the blinds, but her brother, his fiancé and her ex-boyfriend were all on the shop floor with her, as she – and the dress she’d just poured herself into – was being closely examined.
After some murmured discussion, a gentle pulling and pinning process began, the aim being to ensure it clung to her body just so.
As someone who mostly lived in jeans, t-shirts and loose, comfortable things, Hannah found the sensation of showing her whole shape – not to mention a vast expanse of bare flesh – decidedly peculiar.
She wasn’t ashamed of her body in any way, and from time to time, as at the engagement party, she properly dressed up.
However, this gown was in a different league to anything she’d ever worn before.
Made of black silk dupion, it was trimmed with white to match the men’s suits, shirts and bow ties.
It had a fitted, boned bodice that – once adjusted to her precise proportions – she felt sure would give her the sort of cleavage only normally seen in TV period dramas.
Cut wide across her chest, the neckline wasn’t inappropriately low – but the contrast between the dark fabric and the sea of pale skin it revealed was striking.
The dress had thick, supportive straps, but left her arms and shoulders on show.
If Hannah chose, she’d be able to conceal or keep them warm by wearing the close-cut, black and white silk jacket being made to match the dress.
The finished product would sit tight across her hips – though as Jason, a junior tailor, added a row of safety pins to the fabric covering her outer thigh, Hannah pointed out that it wouldn’t be practical for her to be too constricted on the day.
Richard Jervis himself – a tall, slender and immaculately suited black man – was abundant in his praise of her figure, as well as how stunning she looked in his creation.
He assured her he knew she was the wedding planner as well as best woman, promising she’d have easy use of her legs and would be able to move freely .
. . not least because the slit in the skirt of the dress would extend to mid-thigh.
Hannah gazed at herself in the full-length mirror in front of her.
She felt a little like she was in costume – someone in a play, performing the role of a sexy but elegant Hollywood starlet.
Though a little flustered by the strangeness of her reflection, she couldn’t deny she looked great.
She’d never worn anything so perfectly flattering, and it wasn’t even finished yet.
When Jason and Richard stepped back to assess the adjustments they’d made, Joe – whose suit was still being fiddled with by a third tailor, Rav – whistled aloud.
‘You look sensational, Hannah,’ he said. ‘Bewitching. So hot it’s almost enough to make me question whether I do like women after all.’
Ed, currently awaiting his own turn with the tailor, leaned over to poke him in the ribs. They both laughed.
‘Mouth Almighty’s right. You look wonderful, Han,’ Ed said. ‘Mum’ll be gutted she missed this – can I take a photo?’
‘If you must,’ Hannah said, embarrassed. Her mum had been all set to tag along with them today, but several of the nurses in her team had been laid low with a virus and she’d stepped in to cover.