Before We Met(40)

‘It seems like that might be why – for reasons I don’t understand.’

The end of his cigarette glowed brightly for several seconds. She could feel him trying to keep a handle on himself but then he gave up and blurted it out. ‘You didn’t think maybe I should meet him first?’

‘What?’ Hannah had laughed. ‘Not even Dad said that. Chill out, bro – no need to put yourself in loco parentis.’

He’d glared at her through the gloom, eyes dark in his pale face. ‘That’s right, make a joke out of it.’

‘Well, what’s the alternative, Tom? You’re acting like a brat. You’re pissed off with me because you haven’t met my fiancé before? Well, guess what? I live in New York, it’s not that easy just to meet up for a beer. It’s not like you live down the road.’

‘Come on, Hannah, surely you’re not that stupid. You’re deliberately misunderstanding me.’

‘I don’t think so. I’m just going on what you actually said – your words.’

He took another long drag. ‘Well, what I meant was, how long have you known this guy?’

‘This guy?’

‘Mark, then – Mark. How long have you known him?’

‘Five months. Almost six.’

He’d shaken his head and Hannah felt a rush of fury. If they’d been ten and twelve again, she would have kicked him.

‘Don’t you remember telling me,’ she said, voice shaking, ‘how soon you knew Lydia was The One? Or has that conveniently slipped your mind, O Great Relationship Sage? Three months I think you said it was, in case you need a reminder.’

‘That was different.’

‘Of course it was.’

‘It was. We knew each other before. I knew friends of hers – she came with context.’

‘For fuck’s sake, Mark’s got context. I’ve met friends of his – Dan and Pippa – we had supper with them in London before we came up. They’re decent people, clever, funny: you’d like them. Ant and Roisin – mutual friends – introduced us.’ In the lighted window above the kitchen sink, she saw their mother appear, her anxious face peering out into the garden after them.

‘Well, you know best,’ Tom said.

‘You know what? Actually, in this case, I do. I do know best. I love Mark and I trust him and when you get down off your high horse and stop treating me like some sort of emotional retard, you’ll see that I’m right.’

‘Good,’ he said, and the fight had gone out of his voice. ‘I’ll look forward to it. I just couldn’t stand the idea that you were rushing into this because of what I said to you last year.’ He paused. ‘About you being scared of commitment – taking a risk. I wouldn’t forgive myself if . . .’

Her own anger disappeared and instead she felt a rush of love for him. ‘For Christ’s sake, Thomas,’ she said. ‘Get over yourself, will you? I can stuff things up on my own, you know. I don’t need help from you.’





Chapter Nine

As she turned the corner into Manbre Road, the eight o’clock bulletin was just starting: Assad in Syria massacring his own people; another arrest in the investigation into high-profile paedophiles. It was early enough that there were still several parking spots to be had and Hannah pulled in and cut the engine, killing the voice on the radio mid-sentence.

Out of the car, the air was so cold it felt wet against her face, and the trees and shrubs beyond the low wall that bordered the park were rigid with frost. The sky was white, not with cloud cover but a sort of evanescent haze that by mid-morning, she guessed, would pull back to reveal a day of harsh blue intensity.

The tap of her heels along the pavement reinforced her sense of purpose. She’d made scrambled eggs – the first proper thing she’d eaten since the Chinese with Tom – and had three cups of strong coffee from Mark’s top-of-the-range Krups machine, and despite having been up for two hours already and having woken to find herself curled in the foetal position on the sofa with the pages of her library book crushed against her cheek, she felt rested and refreshed. Ready.

She was also buoyant with relief, at least on one front. During what she guessed was nearly nine hours’ sleep – she remembered seeing the opening sequence of Downton Abbey before drowsily switching channels – her mind had been working over the facts, putting them in order, and she’d woken with the pure conviction – no, the knowledge – that Mark was not having an affair. He wouldn’t cheat on her; she’d been crazy to think it. Pippa had been adamant, too, hadn’t she? Mark loved her. He’d never been like this with anyone before, certainly not Laura. This morning Hannah chose to ignore the voice muttering that Pippa’s knowledge of him was shallower than she’d been led to believe.