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I couldn’t believe I was actually walking out on the man I’d thought I was going to marry. But something had died inside me, I realised, almost from the moment I’d read Alison’s texts on the train. I’d been left with the shell of our relationship, the superficial, external part. I could remember clearly what we’d had, how important it had been to me. But I would always be wondering when he would keep something from me again. I’d thought he’d been sitting happily in his office in Fenchurch Street like always. For weeks now I’d imagined him popping out to Pret at lunchtime, having meetings in the boardroom, writing figures on a flip chart. I’d never thought he’d be flicking through the jobs section of the paper in our local library or getting legal advice from old school friends in pubs in town.
He stood to one side, wringing his hands, not knowing what to do with himself.
‘Bye, Si,’ I said, walking out of the door and slamming it behind me.
As I walked along the corridor, I thought about Léo again. He was the first person that popped into my head, the person I wished I could talk to most. He’d have told me I should have left Si months ago. That I’d been settling for something I thought I wanted, and how it hadn’t been what I’d wanted at all.
Catherine’s carefully orchestrated playlist was in full swing and I could hear the dulcet tones of John Legend’s ‘All of Me’ drifting up from the dining room. The lift appeared to be stuck in the basement and I was worried that Si would come after me, so I began to pick my way down the stairs, bumping my suitcase behind me step by step, floor by floor. There were wedding guests milling about everywhere, I could see them lurking about in the atrium and I couldn’t wait to get out of there so that I could breathe again. I would dart past them so quickly that they’d think I’d been a figment of their imagination.
I remembered to collect my passport from the front desk and handed in my room key. The concierge asked if I’d had a nice stay and I said not really but thanked him for asking. I had no real concept of time, but I guessed it must have been about 7.30 p.m. I heard a couple of people jovially calling my name but I didn’t turn round. And then, as the porter opened the door for me and I stepped out into the most beautifully cool, quiet evening air, Catherine came running up behind me, her dress swishing around her ankles.
‘Hannah? What are you doing?’
I closed my eyes for a second. The last thing I wanted was to ruin her big day; was there a way, I wondered, to explain myself without giving her all the facts? To make it seem less awful than it was?
‘Is everything all right?’ she asked, laughing nervously.
A tram came squealing past on the street at the end of the driveway. The sky had begun to darken and I could see the first few stars popping on the skyline.
‘Everything’s fine,’ I said, trying to sound as though it was.
‘Why are you leaving, then?’
I looked down at my feet, flexing my foot, which only hurt very slightly now. And then, while I was stalling, trying to compile an answer that was a softer version of the truth, Si came charging through the doors behind us, his shirt open at the neck.
Catherine looked at him expectantly, crossing her arms. ‘Si, what’s going on?’
‘Go back inside, Catherine,’ I said, gently. ‘There’s nothing for you to worry about, honestly. Go and enjoy your day.’
She put her hands on her hips. ‘Can somebody please tell me what is happening?’
‘You know what?’ said Si, ‘I may as well come clean. Get it all out there.’
I shook my head at him. Even I could see it wasn’t the time.
‘I’ve been fired from work,’ said Si. ‘And understandably Hannah is very upset. So she’s going to find a hotel for the night. That’s it, that’s all there is to tell.’
Catherine looked at him, her forehead creased in confusion. Part of me had wondered whether she already knew, whether she’d been in on it all along. But seeing her now, I knew that she hadn’t had a clue, either.
‘Is this true?’ Catherine asked me. I nodded.
‘You’ve lost your job?’ she said, turning to Si. ‘When?’
He dropped his eyes, like a child about to be scolded. ‘Six weeks ago,’ he mumbled.
‘I’ve only just found out,’ I said quietly.
A silence.
‘What did you do?’ asked Catherine, incredulous.
‘I broke my manager’s nose. But he’s an arsehole, Cath, you’ve heard me talk about him. He deserved it.’
She still looked confused. ‘You actually hit someone?’
‘I know, I know,’ he said. ‘I was drunk and I don’t remember anything about it, you have to believe me. Both of you, please.’
And then, out of the blue, Catherine launched herself at Si, pushing him so hard that he nearly stumbled backwards onto the cobbles. Even the porter did a double take, probably in two minds about whether or not to step in.
