CHAPTER TWELVE
What on earth was wrong? Hannah’s hand was trembling as she turned the key in the lock. There was something horribly tense about Daniel, and it was putting her on edge too.
‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
She went straight through to the kitchen, chattering nervously about her day, trying to put off the awful moment when Daniel told her what had happened. She’d put two mugs on the counter when he touched her shoulder, and she stilled instinctively.
‘Ivy’s back,’ he said quietly.
Oh goodness, was that all?
Hannah’s first feeling was one of relief. ‘Already? She’s back early. Didn’t she have a good time on her holiday?’
‘On the contrary, she had such a great time,’ he said grimly, ‘that she’s brought a friend back with him. It means that dinner’s off tonight because she wants time alone with him.’
‘Him?’ Hannah glanced at Daniel and was pleased to see a slight gleam of humour in his expression.
‘She’s brought a toy boy home with her.’
Hannah laughed, trying to imagine stern Ivy living it up with a younger man. She struggled to picture her unbending enough to have fun. But maybe it had been all cribbage and tea dancing.
‘How young a toy boy?’
‘Sixty.’
Ah, there was that groove that appeared in his cheek when he was amused. Hannah was so pleased to see it, she reached out and traced it with her fingers. He caught her hand and turned his face into her palm, laying a warm kiss there.
‘I know, it was hard to keep a straight face when they walked in, holding hands. But I’m afraid it means that I have to cancel dinner.’
Behind them, the kettle came to a boil and switched itself off.
Hannah ignored it.
‘No problem, I’ll cook something here.’
She was already opening the fridge to see what she had inside when Daniel shook his head, saying, ‘It’s not just dinner, Hannah.’ Now the deep note was back in his voice. ‘Ivy wants the place to herself. She says I’m in the way.’
‘You can stay here …’ Hannah’s voice faltered when she saw his face.
‘That’s very generous of you, but I really have to get back to London. In fact, I’ve already packed, and I’m leaving tonight.’
Hannah felt dazed, as if someone had slapped her. ‘I … I don’t understand.’
‘I’m sorry. I know it’s sudden. But I can’t see any way round it.’
As she stood staring at him, speechless, Daniel cupped her chin and stroked her cheek with his thumb. It was a tender gesture, and perhaps he meant it to be comforting, but Hannah suddenly didn’t want his comfort. She wanted him to stay. Not to break her heart like this.
She stepped out of his reach, and his hand dropped back to his side.
He’s leaving me.
The thought just kept swirling around in her head, cold and numbing, like the snow that had started falling again on her cycle ride home. Their little holiday romance was over. Daniel was going back to London just when she had started to believe that they could build something real together. Something lasting.
‘There are things that urgently need my attention in London,’ he added, ‘and I’ve been neglecting them lately.’
‘Go then,’ Hannah said, her heart breaking.
‘I’ll call you. We’ll talk.’
‘Sure.’
That easy promise made her feel like cringing. How many times had she heard that before? She bowed her head over her tea mug, blindly fumbling for the milk, and could feel him looking at her. She refused to look up though, afraid that he would see how devastated she was at his departure.
‘Hannah?’
‘Sorry, I’m tired. It was a … a long day.’ She was proud of herself for not showing what she was feeling. ‘Have a safe journey.’
Daniel sighed, and she felt rather than saw him walk away. He paused, framed in the front door. ‘I’ll be in touch, I promise.’
The door shut quietly behind him.
Pepper meowed and wove around her legs as if he understood her pain. But she did not have the strength to pet him.
Hannah stood motionless, listening until she heard the sound of a car engine driving up the road. When it had faded into the distance, she finally uncurled her fingers from the tight fists she had made. She moved slowly, locking up the cottage, turning out the lights, and stumbling upstairs, Pepper following silently behind like her shadow.
Her bedroom was cold and damp, but she undressed without bothering to put the heater on, and then climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her head.
Only then did she finally let herself cry.
Snow fell more heavily in the night, those grim clouds finally delivering what they had promised, and settling in four or five inches of crisp white across the dips and rises of the countryside. It was beautiful, and one of her favourite sights every winter. Yet this year Hannah couldn’t seem to get excited about it.
Over the next couple of days, it snowed again, and sales of shovels boomed at the Lucky Parrot Garden Centre. They ran out of sledges, and Hannah learnt how to do her first phone reorder, of another dozen wooden sledges from the supplier, while wellies flew off the shelves, and the café sold oodles of soup and hot chocolate.
Hannah ought to have been enjoying the responsibilities of her new job, which left her tired out every evening, curled up with Pepper on the sofa.
But it was no use pretending she was not deeply unhappy.
She missed Daniel with a constant ache, and often found herself close to tears at the smallest thing, which was embarrassing. She missed her old job as well. She spent most of her day at the customer service desk, dealing with difficult customers and solving problems, or making endless phone calls in the office. There was paperwork too, reams and reams of it, and she never seemed to get to the end of it.
Petting Chadwick in the office, and being sworn at by him, was about the only thing she looked forward to now. She even missed chasing Lightning Brow.
Hannah spent the next few days wondering why on earth she had accepted the promotion, and secretly wishing that Daniel would ring, despite having decided that if he did deign to call, she would ignore him. It was better to have a clean end to the affair than some miserable slow dribbling away.
Sadly, her heart didn’t seem to get the message.
In the end though, it didn’t matter.
Because he didn’t call.
Not the next day, nor the next. On the third day, tired and grumpy after another crazily busy day at work, she’d barely got home when her phone rang. Her heart jumped but it was only Ivy, ringing with a complaint. ‘I do wish you would control your cat, Hannah. He’s here again,’ she said crossly, ‘and I’ve told you that Colin has allergies.’
Ivy had described the ‘marvellous’ Colin down the phone, who had done wonders for her bad back, but Hannah had not yet met this miracle-worker. To tell the truth, she was a little curious about him, and under different circumstances, would have dashed round there straightaway to take a peek at her neighbour’s sixty-year-old toy boy. But her growing depression over Daniel’s departure had put everything else out of her head.
She missed him, she thought wretchedly.
But life had to go on.
So she apologised to her neighbour, and said wearily, ‘I’ll come across the road and get him, Ivy. Just give me a minute to get my coat on.’