Chapter 22
As Jude fought his way across an assault course the following morning, Hannah wondered for the hundredth time how she could share genetic material with anyone who’d consider this sort of thing fun.
Ed was a few metres in front, in first place and happily racing towards the finish line. Jude, for all his teenaged loathing of PE lessons, had acquitted himself well, beating Brett the geography teacher and even rugby-playing Zak to come in second.
Initially, the plan had been for every single member of the shag party to complete this morning’s challenge – but enough people were violently hungover that it had been decided each team could nominate a single player.
Jude hadn’t said a word to Hannah so far today, but when she crawled out of bed in the direction of the full English breakfast she’d heard was on offer, she discovered he’d already put his name down.
It was difficult not to be grateful, given how dreadful she was feeling.
‘You look a bit wonky, Han,’ Livi said to her. They were stood on the assault course sideline, clapping for the participants and sipping from large mugs of coffee.
‘You’re a touch pale and interesting yourself,’ Hannah retorted. ‘I can only assume Brett kept you up late learning about coastal erosion and practising your compass skills.’
‘Shhh,’ Livi hissed. ‘Quiet. I don’t want a lecture on who I should and shouldn’t be hooking up with. As far as Ed’s concerned, I slept in the cabin with you, OK?’
Hannah, despite feeling like a tiny workman was trying to drill his way out of her left temple, managed to laugh.
‘I know he’s your big brother, but the hypocrisy of Ed giving anyone a lecture on hook-ups would be .
. . massive. Like, a size of hypocrisy you could see from space,’ she said.
‘I’m not sure he’d dare. And according to the rules of patriarchy, surely it’s Brett who’d get the lecture? ’
‘No, I was warned off him because he’s so obviously my type,’ Livi laughed under her breath.
This was true: he was handsome in a wholesome, Hallmark movie kind of way, with warm brown hair, kind eyes and a gentle smile.
He was the guy a central casting team would pick to portray the sweet English gent in an otherwise all-American film.
‘I’m told he’s a bit sensitive,’ Livi went on fondly.
‘Recently dumped by some horrid woman called Naomi.’
‘And you figured that was all the more reason for you to cheer him up,’ Hannah concluded. ‘Conduct some fieldwork. Research his, er . . . longitude?’
‘Please stop with the geography jokes,’ Livi begged, shaking with silent giggles.
Hannah found herself watching as Jude trudged off the field, presumably in the direction of a shower.
He was flushed, sweaty and dirt-smeared.
Glorious-looking. She could remember almost nothing of what she’d said to him last night, but she definitely remembered propositioning him.
She also recalled the word ‘no’ being uttered quite decisively.
While Hannah appreciated that he hadn’t taken advantage of her, this morning’s fuzzy flashback of Jude pulling away from her still stung.
She should probably apologise for putting him in that position, especially after telling him nothing could happen between them on the night of the suit fittings – but she couldn’t think of a way to adequately express her mortification.
Internally, she eyerolled at how rapidly her resolution to stay away from him had crumbled.
All it had taken for her to throw herself at him, after vowing to keep her distance, was a few hours’ separation and a bit too much fizzy wine.
There’d been something wrong with how he looked at her when she saw him at breakfast, which had provided the perfect excuse for her to put off approaching him.
He’d seemed . . . embarrassed? Upset? The best descriptor she could come up with was dismayed, which made her wonder what on earth she’d let slip when they were talking last night.
Hannah had no clue how long they’d even talked for, but she had an awful feeling her guard had been down the whole time; that she’d been emotionally loose, as well as far too keen to get him into bed.
If she’d made some sad confession of love, or begged him not to leave her again .
. . Christ. Did she even want to know? It might be better – certainly less excruciating – to live in ignorance of what she’d come out with, especially as it seemed it had left him so uncomfortable.
‘I’m sorry, by the way, Han,’ Livi said, patting her older sister’s shoulder.
She’d clocked where Hannah had been looking, and it seemed Hannah hadn’t done enough to keep her face neutral.
‘I knew from the start that planning the wedding would be weird for you, but I didn’t think that you might still . . .’
Hannah groaned before she could finish, though they both heard the words that Livi didn’t say.
‘Neither did I,’ Hannah murmured sadly, as they followed the crowd back to the glampsite. ‘I was so sure I’d talked myself out of it.’
The rest of the party passed without major incident, with even the wine-tasting evening Joe had insisted upon staying relatively calm. As was the way of these things, most of the guests had peaked too early and couldn’t face a second heavy night.
That said, Livi left Hannah alone in their cabin again, and the isolation only served to heighten how tense and disorientated she felt.
Having decided on a safe route through organising Ed and Joe’s wedding – one that largely relied on ignoring Jude, not to mention her own feelings – she now felt like she’d misplaced the map she’d drawn.
She was utterly lost, and her only lodestar was him .
. . but the awkwardness between them was unbearable.
Whatever had happened in the hot tub, it had made him distant; wary of her, somehow.
She’d hoped they might travel back to Beckford together on Friday – that it might help thaw the frost between them – but she discovered Jude was heading to London to visit old university friends.
The information hit harder than it should have, like a playful shove that was meant to be innocuous but ended up leaving a bruise.
It was a stark reminder that he had a life far beyond the bounds of whatever messed-up relationship they’d resurrected in the past few weeks.
He might even have someone back in Sydney, Hannah told herself – perhaps not a serious girlfriend, but someone who could be.
Jude was no cheat; if he was even vaguely involved with someone else, he’d see the times he’d kissed Hannah as huge lapses in judgement – and he’d certainly have good reason to resist her clumsy attempt to seduce him.
Now she looked back, every time something had happened between them, she’d been the one who instigated it.
None of this had occurred to her before, and she was astonished by her own arrogance.
Horrified by the thought that there might be another woman out there she was trying – and, as it turned out, failing – to steal him away from.
A week and a half later, on the final Sunday in August, Hannah was due to see Ed for a catch-up. The idea was to finalise the seating plan they’d already sketched out, as well as confirm the timings and running order for the day so Renfrew could make appropriate staffing arrangements.
Based on her experience of her brother’s ‘relaxed’ approach to timekeeping, Hannah fully expected him to be late – so she didn’t rush her morning workout, or her trip to the supermarket.
When Hannah arrived home, however, she discovered him already there.
He was sitting on a bench outside the apartment building and next to him, reclining in the shade of the adjacent weeping willow, was Mrs Kinsella.
Her large-print library book had been cast aside and she looked thoroughly enchanted with Ed.
Hannah could tell something was off, though. Her brother’s shoulders were set: stiff and tense, like an invisible weight had settled on his usually easy-going frame. Meanwhile, the fact that he’d turned up more than half an hour early strongly implied he had worries to offload.
‘Hi, Mrs K,’ Hannah said when she was close enough for the older lady to hear her. She nodded at Ed. ‘All right, little bro?’
‘Little,’ Mrs Kinsella hooted. ‘That’s a laugh.’
‘I’m actually a full five and a half minutes older than him,’ Hannah informed her. ‘And we were exactly the same height until we were twelve.’
‘You’re not much alike for a pair of twins now, though, are you?’ her neighbour asked.
‘We hear that a lot,’ Hannah conceded.
‘She got the good looks,’ Ed put in, rising to his feet and picking up Hannah’s two shopping bags.
‘Not from where I’m sitting, darling,’ Mrs Kinsella said, eyeing him rather too lustily for a woman of her advanced years.
‘Lovely to meet you,’ Ed said, turning and bending to shake Mrs Kinsella’s hand. She actually fanned her face as Ed and Hannah walked away, shouting after them, ‘The pleasure was all mine, young man!’
‘Do you never have a day off?’ Hannah asked, rolling her eyes at her brother as they made their way up the stairs to her flat.
‘What d’you mean?’ he said, genuinely not understanding. ‘She’s a nice lady. She also knows a surprising amount about the British and Irish Lions rugby tour of 1974. Her late husband was a fan, it turns out.’
Hannah smiled. ‘I forget sometimes that you don’t even do it on purpose,’ she said as she opened her front door. ‘Making people like you, I mean.’
‘Oh,’ Ed said, suddenly more serious. ‘It’s funny you should say that . . .’
‘Yeah?’ Hannah asked, opening her fridge to retrieve the water filter and pouring out two large glasses.
‘Yeah,’ Ed said, pausing his ransacking of the grocery bags to look at her. ‘I had a call from a talent manager a couple of days ago – from the firm Joe’s agent works for. Likeable was one of the words she used to describe me.’