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‘I’ll manage. Bye, Daniel and Keeley, is it?’ I knew it was Kelly – I was just feeling very, very bitchy. Without waiting for a reply, I hopped in the cab.
‘Where to, love?’ the chirpy driver asked.
‘I don’t know,’ I replied sullenly. ‘Just anywhere away from this village.’ I sat back and stared out of the window. 'Somewhere with a chip shop, perhaps?'
Twenty minutes later I sat, looking somewhat overdressed, in a fish and chip shop in Knaresborough, picking at the batter on my fish and wondering what the hell I was doing with my life. An outsider looking in may have even mistaken me for a life-sized bottle of ketchup.
I was heading for divorce, about to lose my home, and my business had all but fallen down the pan. Yet there I was, parading around trying to make someone jealous who didn’t want me anyway, and actually, didn’t even bloody deserve me. I’m an idiot. Jen was right: my life wasn’t in the village. I didn’t have a bloody life any more. I threw my half-eaten food in the bin and called a cab. Maybe it was time to leave Tinbury after all.
When I got home, my first thought was the big padded envelope on the side. Giving him his divorce would be just the first step in the moving-on-and-focusing-on-Hannah phase. I grabbed it from the pile, which had grown somewhat since I’d last checked. Sitting down, I tore open the envelope and slid out the glossy pack. It wasn’t divorce papers. The sapphire and turquoise cover was broken by the pointy white hull of a grand-looking ship. The information pack. I opened it up; it was full of information about working in an on-board spa. A typical working day, places you’d visit and testimonials – it was all as Cathy described.
As I flicked through the enticing pages, thoughts of divorce papers dissolved as I contemplated applying. Could I really do it? I wasn’t sure whether it was a perfect idea or a ridiculous one. I could at least apply, I reasoned. I fired up my laptop and filled in the online application. Screw it – I’m doing it!
***
My solicitor had said the divorce shouldn’t be too tricky. Other than the house, most of our assets were already his and hers. We’d agreed that I would keep the house and Daniel had the good grace to agree that the mortgage repayments he’d made over the years, essentially covered his ‘rent’ for living there at the time and, as such, he was happy to decline a buyout, which was just as well since I couldn’t afford one. There was little equity in the property anyway as we’d remortgaged it a few years back to pay for an expansion at Daniel’s shop, so I could have argued he’d already taken his share of the equity had I have needed to.
It was a bizarre feeling, to talk about our marriage like some kind of business deal. There was no emotion in the process from Daniel’s nor the solicitor’s point of view, which in some way helped me with my composure. Every now and then, though, an item would be dryly mentioned, like his car – a sporty Audi A5 that of course he would keep. But it wasn’t just a car was it? It was the car in which we’d travelled together, the car in which we’d kissed and on a few occasions, gone a little bit further. It hurt to think of it as just a car, or just a house or just a running machine when they were all so much more. The meeting confirmed once more that I had to leave the village – it was suffocating and I needed some time away.
I returned home bone-tired and scooped up the mail on the way in. It was mostly bills of course, but one plain envelope stood out. My fingers trembled as I tore it open. It was a feeling not too dissimilar to the one I had when I’d finally opened my initial divorce papers just a few weeks before. Once I’d yanked the thick cream paper from the envelope, I scanned it quickly for the news I’d been waiting for.
We are pleased to offer you the job of on-board beauty therapist.
I felt lightness in my chest and had to control my breathing, taking deep breaths in and out. Then I read the paragraph again but slowly that time.
We are pleased to offer you the job of on-board beauty therapist. There will be a compulsory six-week training course to attend prior to your embarkation. Please see the attached for details.
My head spun. Everything I’d been through over the past few months cycled around: Daniel, my salon, my house, and then this – the first piece of good news I’d had since I could remember. I sniffed, but it wasn’t enough. Frustration, sadness, and happiness burst out at once and I found myself heaving tears from the pit of my stomach.
I’d had many ups and downs, with Jen driving me to the interview in Leeds herself because she was sure I’d chicken out. I almost did as I sat there wedged into my smart Next dress. I’d eyed up the competition nervously, all of whom appeared younger and more confident than me. Two candidates went in before me and then it was my turn. Standing up to walk in, I tugged at my dress. It felt somewhat shorter than it did when Jen had coaxed me into it, and far too tight around the bust. Jen said it had looked fine; it didn’t seem fine.
‘Mrs Davis, take a seat.’ A woman dressed in a smart grey suit smiled politely and gestured to a chair positioned in front of three other chairs where another woman and a man were sat, wearing blank expressions. I swallowed hard. I’d never been interviewed by a panel before. I sat down and clasped my hands together on my lap to avoid: a) visible trembling and b) flapping them about like a crazy person.
The questions were straightforward enough: ‘talk us through your salon experience,’ ‘where did you qualify?’ and so on until the final question, which stumped me. ‘How do you think you’ll cope being away from home for nine months?’ I flipped through my brain like a teenager in the Eighties going through a Filofax searching for her crush’s number. I came up with two options:
• Confess all, let these people know I was cast aside like garbage, that I’d lost everything and was clinging to this job opportunity in a last-ditch attempt to regain some sanity and dignity.
• Give a normal-person answer.
‘I admit it will be tricky at times but I’m sure working hard and enjoying what the ship has to offer will keep me occupied. Running my own business often meant I didn’t see family and friends much but having the clients to talk to helped ensure I never really felt it. I’ve read in the literature that Wi-Fi is available to employees so email and video chat would be an option,’ I replied politely and added a low-key smile at the end, in the hope it came across that being away would be just a small matter to me.
They seemed pretty satisfied with my answer and asked if I had any further questions before telling me they’d be in touch. That was that. After all the build-up, being dragged around shops in York by Jen, and researching the company and role, the interview was over. I let my shoulders sag when I closed the door behind me.
It seemed such a distant memory as I sat there holding the acceptance letter. I’d done it! I allowed myself a smile, whilst simultaneously the last of my tears escaped and slowly crawled down my cheeks. My first thought was to tell Jen. I put the phone to my ear and it seemed to take ages to connect.
‘Jen, guess what?’ I screamed as soon as I heard it connect.
‘Aggh, I thought only young people and dogs could hear that frequency.’
‘Very funny. Anyway, Jen, I have some news.’
‘Well I haven’t heard you this excited since you got tickets to see Backstreet Boys in nineteen-ninety-seven so it must be good,’ she said dryly.
‘Jen, I got the job!’
‘What? The cruise job?’
‘Yup.’
‘Oh my God, Hannah, that’s amazing. When do you start?’
‘There isn’t much notice. I have to go to Reading next week for training. I’ll be there six weeks, then as soon as I’m done, I’ll have a few days at home to pack then I’ll be flown over to Miami to board the ship.’
Jen gasped. ‘It’s so soon.’
‘I know. I haven’t even sorted anything out with the house. I assumed there would be more notice.’
‘We’ll sort something out.’ She said, reassuringly.
Over the course of the week I’d started to get my affairs in order. I’d sublet the salon space to Graham for storage, which just about covered the rent, and Jen had arranged for an agent to come and photograph the house with a view to letting it out. The agency had said family properties in the area were in high demand and I shouldn’t have a problem letting the place.
The night before I was due to head down to Reading, Jen came over.
‘I thought we should have a little celebration or something,’ she said when I answered the door.
‘I’m too busy to celebrate! Do you think I’ll need anything dressy for training?’ I said holding up my old red dress.
‘I doubt it – just a few nice tops to wear with jeans in case you all go for a drink at night,’ she replied. ‘Don’t you fancy a drink at the pub?’ she asked.
‘Not really.
‘Please, Hannah, just one.’ She held her hands pleadingly clasped together.
‘Fine, but then you have to help me pack!’
Fifteen minutes later we were walking into the Foxglove. The butterflies I’d experienced the last couple of times I’d walked in had fluttered off, leaving me with an unnerving sense of calm. Probably because I knew it would be my last visit in a while.
As I crossed the threshold, I was startled by a huge cheer of ‘surprise’. Jean, Sheila, Olivia, Amy, and Jess were all sat around a couple of tables that had been pulled together and united with a ‘Bon Voyage’ banner. I felt my cheeks flush; being the centre of attention wasn’t my thing.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ I said once the shock had simmered down. I felt Jen’s reassuring hand on my back.
‘Sit down and grab a glass,’ Sheila said, pulling out a chair.
‘It wasn’t my idea,’ Jen whispered in my ear as I went to sit down.
‘Hannah, I just have to say how excited we all are for you, love.’ Jean filled a glass with Prosecco and pushed it across the table towards me.
‘Thanks Jean,’ I said, taking a sip.
‘You’re so brave,’ Olivia said. ‘I can’t even imagine working on a ship after watching that film – Titanic. One iceberg and it’s game over. You’d think a big ship like that would have just shunted the ice out of the way or that the ship would have managed to make it to New York even though it had taken on a bit of water – you know, so it still had all the drama but a happy ending too,’ she continued, wearing a concerned expression. I wondered if she knew that the Titanic was a real tragedy and not just a film. I suspected she didn’t.
‘There won’t be any icebergs where she’s going,’ Sheila reassured her, purposely avoiding the more worrying issue at hand, I supposed.
‘We’ll miss you,’ Amy said. ‘Working with Cherry is awful. She’s lazy and does nothing but gives us a bollocking if one tiny thing gets overlooked.’
‘She shouted at me for not washing the towels when it was her week to do it,’ Jess butted in.
‘I think you’ve been spoilt by having a wonderful boss like me,’ I joked. Though Cherry was evidently a cow.
After a few more glasses of Prosecco, I’d started to enjoy myself and feel excited about my new life when Jen announced it was time to go.
‘But I’m having fun,’ I protested drunkenly.
‘I know, but if you miss your train tomorrow or feel like crap in the morning it will be my fault so I’m stepping in,’ she said sternly. Childishly, I pulled a face to Jess and Amy who giggled, then I stood up, using the back of the chair to steady myself. Everyone stood to wish me luck and hug me goodbye. Jen helped me wriggle into my coat and as we turned to leave, those familiar eyes pierced mine.
‘Bon voyage,’ he said slowly, reading the sign. ‘Who’s leaving?’ I felt the drunken, muddled thoughts in my head assemble like the North Korean military. Now was my time to show Daniel I was moving on.
‘That would be me,’ I said in what I thought was a smug fashion but in hindsight could have come out with the same elegant conviction as ‘Oh Danny Boy’ sung by a drunk uncle at a wedding.
He regarded me with wide eyes and I relished his shock, thrilled to have finally made him feel something.
That was all I could remember when I woke up the next morning. I was dehydrated and tired when my alarm went off before I remembered how important the day was. I was going to Reading to start my new life. I dived out of bed, remembering I hadn’t packed, but as I darted for the en suite, I stumbled over my heavy-stuffed holdall. Bending down, I unzipped the bag slowly, catching sight of the red dress I’d shown Jen the previous night. There was a piece of paper stuffed inside the neckline that read:
Just in case.
J
X
I smiled, filled with love for Jen. Realizing I no longer needed to pack, I gave myself twenty minutes to enjoy a cup of coffee. As the rich, dark liquid filled my veins, I started to feel human again and thoughts of Daniel came whooshing back. Having finally gained the upper hand felt good and I knew I had because I recognized that expression on his face. Me leaving was not in his plan; it bothered him, which meant he still cared.
A flutter of excitement tickled my chest as thoughts of him turning up and begging me to stay filled my mind. He was probably too stubborn to do that but hopefully my six weeks away would hit home and when I returned, he’d realize how much he’d missed me and he’d be unable to imagine a whole nine months without me. It would be my movie-style happy ending.
As I contemplated how long I’d let him stew for, the doorbell rang. My breath caught fast in my throat. Could this be it? I flipped my phone camera to selfie mode to quickly check my appearance. It wasn’t great but it didn’t matter – I had the upper hand.
I walked to the door, trying to be casual but of course overthinking it meant it wasn’t at all casual. When I arrived, I took a deep breath and swung it open.
‘Jen,’ I said, feeling instantly deflated.
‘Oh it’s good to see you too!’ she said, barging past me. ‘Did you not notice I’d packed your bag for you? And that I’m here at eight-thirty on a Sunday morning to drive you to the train station?’ she ranted.
‘Sorry, and thank you for the bag packing. I really am grateful.’
She folded her arms. ‘Hmmm.’
‘Jen, I’ve been thinking. Maybe I shouldn’t go today?’
‘What? Why?’ she said, her eyes popping.
‘I just think, last night I might have got through to Daniel and really made him regret leaving me.’
‘What? How on earth did you get that impression from that brief chat?’ she said, in a tone that suggested she thought I was bordering on crazy.
‘I know him, Jen. I know that look in his eyes – he was scared of me leaving.’
‘Hannah, honey.’ She softened her tone. ‘If he thought that, where is he? Surely he would be here, telling you how he feels.’
‘I think he will come,’ I said defiantly. Jen opened her mouth to speak before clamping it shut again. There was no point in her arguing with me so I continued. ‘I’m going to get ready – when he does come, I need to look like I seriously am going.’ With that, I went upstairs to get ready. Jen didn’t follow.
When I came back down, Jen was sat waiting on the arm of the sofa. ‘So, are you going to Reading or not?’ she asked.
Obviously, Daniel hadn’t turned up but it didn’t matter. The seed had been planted and maybe six weeks away would nurture that seed a little. Plus, if I cancelled, I’d have six weeks of Jen to listen to. ‘Yes. I’m going.’
Once in the car, I almost backed out again. Protesting to Jen how ridiculous it was to have to train for six weeks when I’d run my own salon for ten years. ‘You’re learning how to use the specific products, Hannah; don’t be ridiculous,’ she said. I didn’t know why I was so reluctant to go. I’d felt so excited about it. Perhaps it was sensing a chance with Daniel, or feeling scared about the whole new adventure, or maybe I didn’t really want to leave Jen.
After more reassurance from Jen (a whole hour of the journey to Leeds station in fact), I made it onto the train.
On track for my fresh start.
Chapter Five (#ulink_b677b77c-500e-5096-a3e6-71168fbc7a3b)
It was a wonderful sight. The moment my eyes set upon the magnificent ship, small eruptions of nerves and excitement exploded throughout my stomach. Getting there had been a different story. I’d had so many ups and downs in the last days of being in the village that I’d practically done the Three Peaks Challenge on a daily loop.
I’d left training feeling like a massive data dump was crushing my brain. From the moment I’d arrived and been greeted by the immaculate, ageless woman who managed the course it had been intense, with long days and sleepless nights. There’d been no time for socializing, which had suited me fine because I was exhausted by the end of each day. Most of the salon stuff I was fine with but there were so many rules on board the ship, I was bound to accidently break one. I’d left feeling more nervous than I had before the training.
I’d spent most of the nights at the training camp thinking about Daniel, and returned to the village convinced he’d come back to me. He didn’t of course. He wasn’t even there. He’d taken her to Paris for a long weekend and the village rumours were that he was planning to propose. The news made me sick. Not only did that dampen my dreams, I’d also returned to find Jen had cleared out my house. The agents had been right and they’d found tenants in just a couple of weeks. By the time I’d returned, they’d already moved in and all my belongings were residing in Jen’s barn. I no longer had a home. I felt like a Love Island contestant, evicted from the village for being single.
With trains and a shopping trip to Leeds factored in, I only spent one day in Tinbury and as I was staying with Jen, managed to avoid seeing anyone, which suited me fine. More sympathetic glances were the last thing I needed. The only person I had wanted to see wasn’t there. If only I’d have had the chance to speak to him. If only he’d watched me leave I was sure he would have doubted his choice.– I was sure of it. So sure in fact, that I’d even looked at ways to defer my contract. In the end, Jen had to get quite tough with me.
‘You’re going on the ship and you will forget about that waste of space. He doesn’t love you any more and he doesn’t deserve you,’ she said. By the time she dropped me off at the airport she was fed up with me. She practically frog-marched me to the security gate and all but yelled at customs that I was an illegal alien who must be sent back to Miami.
‘You drive me mad but I’ll miss you,’ she said pulling me into a tight squeeze at the security gate. When she pulled away, tears glinted in her eyes.
‘I’ll miss you too,’ I whispered to steady my voice.
‘You have everything don’t you? All your documents? Your passport?’
I nodded. ‘Stop fretting.’
She smiled. ‘Remember some countries aren’t safe for you to just wander around in, Han. Stick to the tours and groups.’
‘I will.’
‘And Skype me – as much as you can.’
‘You could always visit me you know.’
‘And cramp your style?’ She grinned. ‘Now go, before you miss your flight. I love you.’
