Hannah’s head shot back up. “You mean that’s…?”
“Your uncle, yes. Who else would it be?” Janice glanced around the room as if what she was doing was perfectly normal. “On the mantelpiece, Dorothy? Or at the window so he can watch the world go by?”
Dorothy handed over the ginger jar. “On the mantel for now, I think.”
Except it wasn’t a ginger jar at all and as Janice gave it pride of place above the fire, Hannah recoiled at the thought of having a dead man’s ashes in her living room.
“Now, let me show you where you’ll be sleeping,” Janice said, indicating she and Dorothy head upstairs to the spare room.
As the two women disappeared, Hannah grumbled to herself on the sofa. As much as it would be nice to catch up with her aunt, that didn’t negate Hannah and her mum’s prior conversation. When she’d said no to having a house guest, Hannah had meant it and she couldn’t believe her mum had brought her over regardless.
Hannah wanted to call them back into the lounge, to tell her mum that as per their discussion, Dorothy would have to find alternative sleeping arrangements. Hannah took a deep breath to suppress her frustration, knowing it wasn’t her aunt’s fault that Janice had a hearing problem when it suited.
Hannah stared at her swollen ankle for a moment, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone. From a foot injury to an unsolicited house guest, to say the day wasn’t panning out quite like Hannah had planned was an understatement. Typing in a message and firing it off to Mel and Liv, Hannah knew pulling out of the sponsored run was the right thing to do and she scolded herself for acting on impulse in the first place, rather than thinking things through.
Hannah suddenly felt as if someone was watching her and with no one else in the room, her eyes were drawn to Uncle Denis on the mantel. His presence made her feel increasingly uncomfortable. Awkward even, as if she should be talking to him. Needing to do something to break the silence, Hannah opened her mouth to speak, almost jumping off the sofa when heavy footsteps on the stairs beat her to it.
“I’ve left your aunt unpacking her things,” Janice said, re-entering the lounge. She paused. “Hannah, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” No way was she telling her mum the urn gave her the heebie-jeebies.
Janice narrowed her eyes as if not quite believing her. She shook herself out of it. “It’s time I got back to the builders. Is there anything you need before I go?” Janice nodded to the cold mug of tea Hannah held. “Another cup? Or shall I just leave you in Aunt Dorothy’s capable hands?”
Hannah scowled at the situation her mum had put her in.
“Hannah, please don’t sulk. It’s not becoming of a grown woman.”
“I’m not sulking. This is my annoyed face.” Hannah kept her voice low. “I don’t mean to be awful, but I told you not to bring Aunt Dorothy here.”
“From what I can see it’s a good job I did.” Janice gestured to Hannah’s foot. “You clearly need someone to look after you.” She leaned down and kissed the top of Hannah’s head. “You’re always running around after everyone else. Enjoy being the recipient for a change. Lord knows you deserve it.” Moving to leave, Janice stopped in the doorway. “While we’re on the subject of what you deserve, Hannah, not every man’s like Carl.”
“I do know that, Mum.”
“No, love. You don’t.”
CHAPTER14
THREE WEEKS UNTIL RACE DAY
Gabe grimaced. After colliding with Hannah and coming off his bike, he must have hit the ground harder than he’d thought. He’d felt nothing at the time, probably because his adrenalin had kicked in the second he realised he was about to hit someone, only to increase all over again when he realised who that someone was. A couple of days later, however, and his whole being had begun to ache. He laughed. Maybe Hannah was right when she’d said he needed glasses.
His body stiff and steps tentative, Gabe finished showering, got dressed, and made his way downstairs to the kitchen.
“Looks like someone’s overdone things on the exercise front,” Roger said, seeing Gabe struggle.
Gabe snorted. “If only.”
“Here, sit down.” Roger pulled a chair out from the table. Frowning, he indicated Gabe’s wounded forearms. “They look nasty.”
Gabe glanced down at the brown cuts and abrasions on his skin. Caused by friction when his arms had scraped against the pavement, the result looked worse than it felt. “They’re just grazes.”
Roger headed straight for the kettle. “Let me make you some tea.”
Gabe chuckled. Tea, the solution to all life’s problems.
“What happened?” Roger asked, as he filled the kettle and grabbed mugs from the cupboard.
“I came off my bike the other day.”
