In the end, she went long enough without replying that another message came through.
Shit. I hope it was OK for me to even say that. Argh. Sorry if not.
She pocketed her phone and retreated to the bathroom, then eyed the text thread again, the words shining up from her phone screen in the dim, windowless room.I miss you.
It’s OK, and so am I, Hannah finally messaged back. It was mostly true.
She was holding back from saying what she meant, though, and she didn’t know why. The urge to share less than she felt was instinctive. It came from somewhere so ancient she barely even registered it. Three months ago, she wouldn’t have noticed the reflex at all.
She remembered how Jude had been with her the other night; how badly he’d needed to hear her say that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.It willkillme to hear you say this was a mistake. I won’t be able to live with you regretting me.
He had agonised about telling her he missed her. Worried about how she’d take it and whether it might be misinterpreted, then thrown caution to the wind and said it anyway. He had been brave enough to share it, simply because, right now, it was real. And she missed him, too. She’d been missing him for years, and now she felt his absence like an ache. Even if she couldn’t keep him forever – even if he didn’t want or couldn’t offer that – she realised she owed him honesty. More than she’d have given him before, and more than she was comfortable with now.
Hannah had let very little in life frighten her, and she recognised it was time to reckon with this specific kind of cowardice. She’d dressed it up in concerns about ruining their friendship, making Jude feel trapped, knowing that on paper the two of them made no sense together. All of those anxieties were valid, but her fear went deeper than that. Right back to her roots.
I miss you too x, she typed. Four words that, ridiculously, felt like she’d screwed them from her very soul.
It wasn’t much, she reasoned. But it was a start.
She pressed send, then went back to work.
27
Over the next week and a half, Hannah and Jude exchanged texts that relayed information – even occasionally bordering on flirtatious – but which didn’t demand further emotional struggle from her. Hannah was glad of this, as her to-do list was roughly five miles long.
Livi had been right to say she’d need the headspace that came with following Tamsin’s advice to ignore the Marc issue for now. While her sister kept abreast of what was happening so they couldn’t be blindsided, Hannah concentrated on ensuring everything required for Ed and Joe’s big day was on time and en route to Renfrew Manor. She and Livi also oversaw the wedding of David and Kathy, a couple in their late fifties who – mercifully – seemed to have no idea at all that Hannah’s good name had been publicly besmirched since they booked her.
As her sister had predicted, Marc had carried on posting about his new song – as well as his hope that, ‘wrought from the ashes of his heartbreak’, his forthcoming album would bring consolation for others as well as himself. However, as Tamsin had foreseen, Hannah’s refusal to engage with him had cut the legs off his campaign to create an ongoing furore. Gleefully, Livi even reported that some commenters on his most recent video had argued that nobody knew Hannah’s side of things – that trusting Marc’s version of events without question seemed naive.
Overall, Hannah, her family and even Joe’s agent began to feel confident that the story would soon eat itself. In any case, they hoped it would be eclipsed altogether by footage, photography and reportage of Ed and Joe’s wedding. The prospect of redeeming her reputation by ensuring this was even bigger and better than anyone expected galvanised Hannah, and she found herself working harder than ever in the run-up to it.
For reasons she wasn’t privy to, Jude now seemed to be living in Ed and Joe’s spare room. He’d not offered any explanation for this, and she hadn’t asked for one – but she could imagine living with Lillian was wearing and guessed that after four years of freedom from her tyranny, he’d discovered his tolerance for it was lower than he’d hoped.
Hannah didn’t dare to dream this might have meaning for her, but it was heartening anyway; a sign that distance from his mother had altered Jude’s perspective on how she treated him. Hannah had always wanted that for him, for his own sake. It was with less satisfaction that she realised his departure from Beckford could be a sign he was ready to leave the UK entirely. Would he be on the first available plane to Sydney once Ed and Joe’s wedding was done?
That worry didn’t stop her from falling into his arms when she went to Manchester for her final dress fitting. Thoughthey observed their increasingly threadbare rule not to discuss the past, the pull between them in the present was too powerful to resist. When she swung by the apartment for a coffee to discover both Ed and Joe were at work all afternoon, the shedding of clothes, inhibitions and common sense was rapid.
Likewise, she spent a family dinner at her mum’s house in the week before the wedding painfully aware of him; feeling like she was going to crawl out of her skin with wanting to be next to him, instead of at the opposite end of the outdoor picnic table. While Joe and Ed knew they’d reconnected, Hannah and Jude had agreed not to complicate matters by letting anyone else find out. When he found her emerging from the upstairs bathroom on her mum’s deserted landing, he’d stolen the sort of kiss she’d begun having dreams about; the kind that she knew she’d remember for the rest of her life. Hungry and demanding, he’d pressed her into the sage-green painted wall until she was weak and breathless – until she’d begged him to sneak home with her instead of going back to Manchester that night. She still went pink in the face at the thought of all that had happened after.
Every physical encounter she had with Jude strengthened the wobbly, foal-like hope that staggered around in Hannah’s chest – the wishful longing she kept trying to box in and quieten down. She was stuck on him; hopelessly addicted in the way she’d been from the first time he properly touched her, in the way she’d always known she would be. And in less than a week, she faced the prospect of going cold turkey. When she allowed herself to think about it, she feared that detoxing might kill her.
The morning of Ed and Joe’s wedding arrived. Its dawning felt inevitable and surprising at the same time.
Organising this day had been such an undertaking, such a colossal effort, that it seemed to Hannah she’d barely thought about much else since June. She was nervous and excited to see everything come together, and full of joy for her brother and Joe. At the same time, she felt almost disbelieving that the clock counting down Jude’s time in the UK –theirtime as part of this wedding party – was coming to an end. There’d been a point at which she’d looked forward to this, and it felt so far away now; the sentiment so wrong and ridiculous, she couldn’t believe she’d ever entertained it.
As of tonight, there was no reason for Jude to stay, and also no reason why they couldn’t lift the lid on all the missteps, mistrust and mistakes that had driven them apart four years ago. Hannah felt terrified to do it. Unsure if he would want to, either, especially if it would make no material difference to his plans. Whatever they did, the blissful bubble they’d cast around themselves when they’d slept together two weeks ago seemed set to burst. She told herself not to think about it now. Instead, she had to concentrate on doing her job –bothher jobs, as wedding impresario and best woman.
It was just past 11 a.m., and the wedding ceremony was set to start at two o’clock in the afternoon. After an intense day yesterday and a very early start this morning, Hannahhad left Livi in charge of final prep at Renfrew Manor. She was trusting her to action the final to-do list, which included briefing the florist on where to put the centrepieces, getting the waiting staff up to speed on table settings and timings, supporting Charlie and her little team of assistant chefs with food and wine prep, plus getting the string quartet set up and into position before Ed and Joe were due to walk down the aisle. After explaining all that, Hannah had decamped to the bridal suite at the White Rose Inn, the pub with rooms on the manor estate, where wedding parties and guests tended to stay. Her goal was to spend some quality time with her twin as she had her hair and makeup done, and they got into their wedding clothes.
When she first arrived in the room, the atmosphere had been brittle but bright – standard for a nervous bride or groom just hours before their big moment. Hannah had cracked open the complimentary half-bottle of champagne and poured them both a glass, which had gone some way to steadying Ed’s nerves. On emerging from the shower, though, she sensed immediately that something had shifted. Her brother was pacing the sizeable room – an attractive space with dark wood panelling, a deep blue velvet sofa and a gigantic four-poster bed. He was still in his standard joggers and t-shirt, slightly smudged trainers on his feet. But he was wearing a facial expression she could only describe as shattered. He had his mobile in his hand.
‘What’s wrong?’ she demanded. She’d noticed the amount of social media notifications he’d been getting this morning, on top of good luck texts and WhatsApps from friends and family, and seen that it had made him antsy. She’d insisted he turn them all off, so he’d only be alerted to calls and messages from a select few people. Perhaps he hadn’t listened, or had changed his settings back.
‘Dad,’ Ed said, his voice hollow.
‘What about him?’ Hannah asked warily. She already knew what was coming. Every time she thought she couldn’t detest Mike Matthews more, he proved her wrong.
‘His was one of the numbers I left open for texts and stuff,’ Ed said.
