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RYAN
As I walk back to my truck, I can’t help but think that there’s something not right with Hannah, and with all the will in the world I can’t help wondering what. She was fine, playful even, and then out of the blue she shut down. And shut me out. The latter bothers me more than it should. I look back over my shoulder to her shop but make sure I keep my feet moving. What’s your story, Hannah Bright?
‘Don’t know her, huh?’ Alex says, her question tinged with too much sarcasm. I return my attention forward, finding her casually leaning against the side of my truck with one leg bent, the sole of a Van resting on the paint.
I make it to the door and pull it open. ‘I didn’t say I didn’t know her,’ I point out over the roof of my truck. ‘I said I didn’t know the shop.’
‘You lied,’ she accuses, and what do I do? I glare at her. It’s the only defense I have. What does she care, anyway? ‘Why would you lie?’
‘I didn’t lie.’ I throw myself into my seat and start the engine. ‘Get in.’
She’s beside me a second later, scanning the cab. ‘Where’s the shopping?’
I’m confused for a second, searching the cab with her. ‘Huh?’
‘I left you in the shop. So where’s the shopping?’
‘I abandoned it to look for you.’
Throwing herself back in the seat dramatically, she kicks her Vans up onto the dash. ‘Can’t leave you to do anything,’ she sighs. ‘Hannah must have you really distracted.’
‘What?’ I ask. ‘You fancy her.’
I put my truck into reverse and pull out. ‘I do not fancy her.’ I don’t fancy anyone.
‘Whatever.’ She pulls a lollipop from the glove box, unwraps it, and has a few sucks. ‘Just saying, it makes a change.’
‘What does?’
‘Well, everyone fancies you. You fancying someone is new.’
What’s all this talk of fancying? I take the turn at the end of the high street and follow the dirt track that leads up to Len’s workshop. ‘Alex, I do not fancy Hannah. I do not fancy anyo—’
‘Oh my God, if she fancies you, then you two are totally gonna make out.’
I choke on nothing and swerve, hitting an enormous pothole. ‘Make out?’ What is this language she’s speaking?
‘Yeah, you know.’ She grins at me and puckers her lips. ‘Mwah!’
Oh Lord, someone help me. ‘Enough,’ I snap, more harshly than I mean to. Though it does the trick. She shrinks into her seat and shuts up. Good. Peace. Enough of this crazy talk.
Does Hannah fancy me?
After having my truck looked at by the local mechanic, I’m told it needs respraying and the closest garage is in Grange, so I make a call and arrange to take it in on Saturday.
Watching Alex fly up the lawn onto the veranda fills me with a joy like no other. ‘Don’t slam the—’
Bang!
‘Door,’ I sigh, following on behind with my arms full of bags. I shoulder my way into the cabin and find Alex with her head in the freezer. She swings around, armed with our vice, and nudges the door closed with her thigh.
I dump the shopping on the counter and grab two spoons from the drawer. ‘Share,’ I demand. She comes over, hops onto the counter, and takes one of the spoons. We both dive in, and there’s silence for a few moments as we get our fix. The quiet time has my mind wandering again to . . .
The sound of my phone saves me from the imminent straying thoughts, though I can’t help being less than grateful. Darcy. I pluck the spoon out of Alex’s hand and throw it in the sink with mine. ‘Go fetch some coal for the barbecue.’ I lift her down and send her on her way. I don’t miss her quick glimpse of my phone screen before she leaves. ‘Darcy,’ I answer as soon as Alex is gone, replacing the lid on the Chunky Monkey and taking it back to the freezer.
‘My brother is visiting. Mother and Father have arranged a special family supper to welcome him. I need Alexandra home by six tomorrow.’
‘I only just collected her, Darcy.’
‘You can have her back Wednesday.’
I start to pace the cabin in an attempt to walk off my building aggravation. ‘No.’
‘She hasn’t seen him in over six months. Her cousin will be here. Stop being selfish, Ryan. It isn’t always about you.’
This woman isn’t for real. ‘It’s never about me, Darcy. It’s about Cabbage.’
‘Will you stop referring to my daughter as a vegetable.’
‘Our daughter. She’s our daughter. Has always been our daughter, despite the fact that you tried to tell the world otherwise when she was born.’ I’m fucking seething, which is standard when dealing with Darcy Hampton. ‘I’ll stop calling her Cabbage when you tell that dick you married to stop telling her to call him Dad.’ My fist clenches, and I push it into the wooden paneling firmly. ‘He is not her father.’
