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So much love. So much excitement for a new life being forged together.
As they exchanged their vows, the tears she’d successfully kept at bay since that terrible argument with Francesco broke free.
* * *
According to Francesco’s satnav, the route from London to Devon should take three hours and forty-five minutes by car. By motorbike, he estimated he could make it in two hours.
What he hadn’t accounted for was stationary traffic as hordes of holidaymakers took advantage of the late English summer to head to the coast.
This was a country of imbeciles, he thought scathingly as he snaked his way around motionless cars. Why couldn’t they all be sensible like Hannah and travel down on the Friday night when the roads were empty?
The ceremony would be over by now, the wedding breakfast in full swing.
* * *
Hannah needed air. Her lungs felt too tight.
She’d tried. She really had. She’d smiled throughout the ceremony and wedding breakfast, held pleasant conversations with countless family members and old friends she hadn’t seen in years. The number-one question she’d received was a variant of ‘Have you met a nice man yet?’ While she’d answered gracefully, ‘Not yet, but I’m sure I will one day,’ each time she was asked it felt as if a thorn were being pressed deep into her heart.
Now all the guests had congregated at the bar while the function room was transformed for the evening bash, she saw her opportunity for escape.
She stepped out into the early-evening dusk and sat on a bench in the hotel garden. She closed her eyes, welcoming the slight breeze on her face.
Five minutes. That was all she needed. Five minutes of solitude to clamp back down on her emotions.
‘Can I join you?’
Opening her eyes, she found her mother standing before her.
Unable to speak, she nodded.
‘It’s been a beautiful day,’ her mum commented.
Hannah nodded again, scared to open her mouth lest she would no longer be able to hold on.
How could Francesco have left her alone like this?
How could she have got him so wrong?
She’d been so convinced he would never hurt her.
She’d been right about the physical aspect. In that respect he’d given her nothing but pleasure. Emotionally, though...he’d ripped her apart.
For the first time in fifteen years she’d reached out to someone for help. He’d known what a massive thing that was for her and still he’d abandoned her, and for what? For revenge on someone who wasn’t even alive to see it.
Had she been too needy? Was that it? How could she know? She had nothing to compare it to. Until she’d barged her way into his life, she’d had no form of a relationship with anyone. Not even her family. Not since Beth...
‘Why did you let me hide away after Beth died?’ she asked suddenly. Francesco’s probing questions about her relationship with her parents had been playing on her mind, making her question so many things she’d never considered before.
She felt her mother start beside her.
A long silence formed until her mum took Hannah’s hand into her own tentatively, as if waiting for Hannah to snatch it away. ‘That’s a question your father and I often ask. When Beth died, we knew, no matter the pain we were going through and Mel was going through, that it was nothing compared to what you were living with. You and Beth...you were two peas in a pod. She was you and you were her.’
Hannah’s chin wobbled.
‘When you said you wanted to be a doctor, we were happy you had something to focus on. When you first hid yourself away, saying you were studying, we thought it was a good thing.’ She rummaged in her handbag for a tissue and dabbed her eyes. ‘We should have handled it better. We were all grieving, but we should never have allowed you to cut yourself off. At the time, though, we couldn’t see it. It was so gradual that by the time we realised how isolated you’d become, we didn’t know how to reach out to you anymore. To be honest, I still don’t. I wish I could turn the clock back to your teenage years and insist you be a part of the family and not some lodger who shared the occasional meal with us.’
‘I wish I could, too,’ Hannah whispered. She gazed up at the emerging stars, then turned to look at her mother. ‘Mum, can I have a hug?’
Her mum closed her eyes as if in prayer before pulling Hannah into her embrace, enveloping her tightly in that remembered mummy smell that comforted her more than any word could.
* * *
Hannah swallowed the last of her champagne. The bubbles playing on her tongue reminded her of Francesco. The optics behind the bar reminded her of Francesco. The man who’d just stepped into the function room, where the dancing was now in full swing, also reminded her of Francesco.
