Chapter 12 #2
‘Bloody hell.’ Hannah covered her mouth, giggling, as Joe and Ed reappeared before them, hand in hand. Ed was aglow, visibly excited, and – with an entirely unfair sinking feeling – Jude realised this wouldn’t be the last he’d see of Matt Hughes this summer.
‘I think we’re ready to sign some paperwork,’ Joe said, unable to stop the total sincerity of his smile from showing.
‘Great news,’ Matt answered. ‘If you’d like to follow me . . .’
Jude and Hannah wandered to the far end of the grounds.
She’d been here many times, he supposed, and had seemed familiar with the features Matt had pointed out during their tour – but the stunning colours of the flower garden and the majesty of Renfrew’s cascading water feature had genuinely moved Jude.
Against the dramatic backdrop of the peaks, and beneath the wild blue summer sky, the artful beauty of this place was compelling.
He could understand why people paid exorbitant sums to make memories here.
They set up camp beneath a beech tree while they waited for their brothers to reappear.
As Hannah flopped down on the grass – still lush and green, despite a run of days without rain – Hannah sighed with relief.
‘Thank god for Matt,’ she said. ‘Between you and me, I was genuinely starting to panic about where the hell we could hold this wedding.’
Jude was torn between feeling thrilled at the words ‘between you and me’ and aggravated that Matt had cast himself as her saviour.
‘You’re still good friends with him, then?’ he asked, before he could stop himself.
‘I guess so,’ Hannah said, a little spikily.
She tipped her head on one side, scrutinising him, like she was trying to decide whether to say what came next.
‘Some people are better than others at keeping in touch,’ she said, lightly enough that it didn’t wound him – but pointedly enough that the words felt like a rap across the knuckles.
It was a clear reminder that Jude didn’t have the privileges required to rib her, let alone complain about her staying friendly with an old colleague; not when he hadn’t returned her calls or texts after he left for Australia.
He couldn’t dispute the justice of this, and simply nodded in sheepish understanding.
He reminded himself that they’d agreed to keep things cordial, too; bellyaching about Matt was not only unreasonable, it was decidedly counter-productive.
Seeming pleased that she’d won the argument, Hannah pulled her phone from her woven leather shoulder bag and started scrolling. After a minute or two, she froze and muttered, ‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ before burying her face in the crook of her elbow and emitting a muffled scream.
‘Er, arguably not my business, but . . . are you OK?’ Jude said tentatively.
Going out to bat for her at Crockett given them a status separate from and, if he was honest, less than Hannah’s, without actually meaning to.
At the time, he’d thought it right to try and see other people – to do what was expected of him – but with hindsight, he knew he hadn’t been fair to any of the women he’d dated.
Upon meeting Hannah, Thea had seen it immediately, and – tearful but stoic – she’d finished with him that night.
She was an English Literature student, and desperately romantic.
‘She’s your person,’ she’d told him. ‘Your soulmate. I hoped they existed, at least for some of us – and now I know.’
He glanced at Hannah, who was now flat on her back, staring stonily at the cloudless summer sky.
She seemed more irate than upset. There was something about this man’s flagrant posturing that incensed Jude, too, even though it was faintly ridiculous.
The notion that Marc was Hannah’s ‘endgame’ – that he was the person she was supposed to be with .
. . It was ludicrous. Yet the hollow, aching sensation in Jude’s chest reminded him that he’d lost official rights to the title a long time ago.
That he was supposed to have made peace with that.
‘Is the man unwell?’ he asked her.
Hannah rolled onto her side and looked up at him.
‘I’m starting to wonder, to be honest. But there’s also a part of me that thinks this is all for show – for the sake of creating a narrative that makes him, and his godforsaken music, seem more interesting.
When we were dating, I didn’t like to think of him as fame-hungry, but he definitely is .
. . And he did say something about being in talks with his record company again when he rocked up at the engagement party.
What shocks me is that he’s doing all this at my expense,’ she fumed, pulling herself upright again.
‘All without a second thought for how it could damage me. There are people we both know in real life who follow him – and who know we were seeing each other. For anyone who can add it up, this makes me look awful.’
‘Well, that’s shit, and completely out of order,’ Jude said hotly. ‘Maybe even defamatory.’
‘Are you suggesting I sue him over a few TikToks?’ Hannah asked, seemingly amused by his outrage.
‘No. But you could warn him off on the basis that he’s on shaky ground, legally,’ Jude said reasonably. ‘I’d also suggest screen-grabbing images and downloading whatever video content you can. That way, if he deletes things later, you’ll have evidence he’s been posting this stuff.’
‘I hadn’t thought of any of that,’ Hannah said, and there was something like admiration in her voice. ‘Too angry to be cool and logical, I suppose.’
‘I can understand why. Just to be clear, though: this guy is an idiot, but I don’t think he’s a harmless one. I know we’re not exactly . . . friends anymore, but . . .’
She raised her eyebrows. Laughed a short, incredulous laugh.
‘But,’ Jude pressed on, ‘that’s what I’d tell you if we were.’
‘Charlie said the same thing, actually,’ Hannah told him, a little gloomily. ‘Even used the phrase harmless idiot, if you can believe it.’
‘Who?’
‘My good friend. The chef who catered your conference.’
‘Oh.’ Sweet relief that Charlie wasn’t a man. Pointless, humiliating relief, and – he feared – relief not unnoticed by Hannah.
‘She and I are in agreement, then,’ he said.
‘This can’t go on. There’s a nasty streak in him, I can sense it.
You know as well as I do that I’m not a fighter, but the way he was standing over you in that stairway—’ He swallowed.
Hard. ‘I honestly would have hit him if he hadn’t backed off when he did. ’
Hannah was grinning now, unable to hide her amusement. ‘I almost wish it had come to that. I could have filmed my own video for social media – it would have been like that scene in Bridget Jones’s Diary, where Mark Darcy and Daniel Cleaver get feisty. You might have gone viral.’
Jude shook his head at her. ‘Seriously, Hannah. I’m sorry to say this, but – you mentioned he hadn’t thought about how this stuff might affect you. Well, what if he has? What if he knows full well that it could hurt you, badly, and simply doesn’t care?’
‘God,’ she said, suddenly even paler than usual. ‘Something else that hadn’t occurred to me. Thanks, I guess.’
‘Sorry to be the bearer. Does Ed know about any of this?’
‘No, and he doesn’t need to, either,’ Hannah said. Then she looked up and pointed. ‘They’re coming back, so let’s leave it, eh?’
Jude nodded at Hannah, uneasy but aware he had no business pushing her on this. Joe and Ed were ambling towards them, looking like two cats who’d just caught matching canaries.
‘All done,’ Ed said. ‘I’m buzzing! We are all going for an early dinner to celebrate – the four of us – no arguments.’
Hannah opened her mouth, intending to protest, but no sound came out. Jude couldn’t find words either.
Joe – who could always be relied upon to fill a gap in conversation – clapped his hands decisively. ‘Marvellous,’ he said. ‘And Hannah, since Ed and I need to get home to Manchester this evening and you two are both headed back to Beckford, you’re OK to give Jude a lift home, aren’t you?’
For a second, she looked like he’d just thrown a bucket of iced water over her head, but she recovered almost immediately. ‘Yes,’ she said, brightly. ‘No problem at all.’