Chapter 14 #3
Her steadiness seemed to surprise him, and he hesitated for a few seconds.
‘What’s all this really about, Marc?’ Hannah demanded, pressing her advantage.
‘Why are you dragging me on your socials when I’ve done nothing to deserve it?
And don’t say it’s because your heart’s broken, because we both know that’s pure bullshit. ’
‘How can you say that? I’m wrecked over you, Hannah,’ he argued. ‘And I’m not dragging you on my channels – not at all. I’ve never even named you.’
‘You named me tonight – or as good as!’ she cried, remembering slightly too late that, across the car park, there was now a crowd of wedding guests queuing for taxis.
‘It was the second time you’ve dedicated a song to me in a professional setting, with no regard for the effect it might have on me,’ she continued, trying to modulate her tone.
‘What’s your aim here? Why are you doing this? ’
‘Because it’s how I feel,’ Marc said, deadly serious. ‘I’m a songwriter, an artist – I’m compelled to speak my truth, share my emotions. I have fans, Hannah – people who want that honesty from me because it helps them to process their own feelings. And because I want you back, obviously.’
‘I don’t think you do!’ Hannah insisted, unable to stomach directly addressing his I’m so very arty pontificating. ‘And even if that was true, you can’t have me back! I was very clear with you when I ended things: I don’t want to be with you. None of this drama is going to change my mind.’
‘Hannah, why are you running away from me?’ Marc asked, seeming truly confused. It struck Hannah that she might have been the first person to dump him in a long time . . . possibly ever. ‘We were good together. We had a good time. I know you’ve been hurt in the past, but—’
‘You know nothing about how I’ve been hurt in the past,’ Hannah snapped, regretting the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. They hinted at deep feelings he had no right to know existed.
‘You need to stop with the TikToks and the songs, and with saying or doing anything that could link them to me,’ Hannah said, with as much dignity as she could muster.
‘I’m keeping a record, now, just so you know – screen-grabbing and downloading stuff.
If you carry on, I’m going to seek legal advice.
I’ve been clear about my feelings, and this is now a form of harassment. I’m asking you to end it.’
Marc’s eyes went round, then narrowed quizzically, like she was a small child behaving in a way he couldn’t comprehend.
He inched slightly closer. ‘Look at you,’ he said, eyes searching her face in a way that made her want to slap him.
‘And look at how you’re misinterpreting every move I make.
I share a few emotional songs online, and you see it as an attack – even though you’re not tagged and never mentioned.
I’m honest about the fact I miss you, and you take it as some kind of threat.
You know, most of my fanbase have said how romantic it is that I haven’t just written you off – that I’ve made it clear I’m still here for you, if you want to talk. ’
‘But you don’t care about me!’ Hannah hissed. ‘We were barely even together. I don’t think this is about us at all. So what’s your game? What’s your angle?’
He scowled at her then, and she knew she’d struck a nerve.
When it became clear he wasn’t going to answer, she went on: ‘For the record, what you’ve been doing is not romantic—’
‘How would you even know?’ he sneered. ‘You’re textbook, Hannah: primed by your father to expect disappointment from men. How’s anyone supposed to know what to do with a woman who suppresses her feelings the way you do?’
Hannah suddenly felt short of air. As if her lungs were calcifying in her chest.
‘You’re so convinced you’re going to be left behind,’ he continued, his face triumphant, ‘that you wouldn’t recognise real devotion if it was stood right in front of you – let alone confess you need it.’
Hannah seemed to have stopped breathing entirely now. Eventually, she forced herself back into the moment. The man staring at her was, more and more, a stranger, despite the wounding accuracy of his words.
‘Please, spare me the psychobabble,’ she managed to say, desperate not to appear as shaken as she felt.
‘I’m going to go now. If you try to stop me, I’ll make a scene even you won’t be able to smarm your way out of.
’ She pointed at the cluster of people on the far side of the car park, laughing and joking as they took turns getting into the cabs that kept pulling up.
Marc raised his palms and stepped back from the van door, as if he’d never meant to delay her in the first place. ‘I’ll see you soon, then,’ he said, before sloping off. Never had those words sounded more ominous.
Safe inside the vehicle, Hannah took a succession of deep breaths and dashed a few angry tears from her eyes. As she drove home, she remembered that famous line from Withnail & I, a film she and Jude had watched at least a hundred times: even a stopped clock tells the right time, twice a day.
Mad though his ravings were, Marc had somehow just hit an emotional bull’s-eye.