didn’t mean …’ She ran off before I could finish. I flung my face back into the bed as the front door slammed.
I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling and before I knew it, it was dark. The house was still and quiet once again. My bladder was full, so I dragged myself to the bathroom before heading downstairs to look for something to drink. I was out of alcohol. I checked the time – it was eight-thirty p.m. If I threw on some clothes I’d make the off-licence before it closed at nine.
I pulled on some tracksuit bottoms and old UGG boots, a sweater, and puffa jacket, not caring what I looked like, before grabbing my purse and heading out the door. I walked quickly towards the high street. The off-licence was the only shop open, lit up like a beacon of hope. Once inside, I grabbed a couple of bottles of red wine, looking only at the price and colour, not caring about the labels.
‘Just these please, Judy.’ I placed them on the counter, glaring at her, willing her not to ask how I was. The power of telepathy seemed to work, as she smiled and said nothing. I didn’t even detect sympathy behind the smile. I almost felt normal.
‘That’s fifteen ninety-eight,’ she said, handing me the wine in a flimsy red and white striped carrier bag.
As I handed her the money, a high-pitched shrill pierced my eardrums.
‘Hannah Davis?’ I spun to see who the hell would be shrieking my name at this hour, when most villagers would’ve been snuggled up in front of a fire drinking hot chocolate, if they weren’t in the pub. Cherry. Her large frame, accentuated by a faux-fur leopard-print coat, almost filled the aisle. I groaned. A conversation with her was the last thing I needed.
‘Oh, hello,’ I replied shortly.
‘Hannah my love, you’ve been through such a rotten time. I just don’t know how you’re coping.’ She barely took a breath as she swooped over and wrapped her arms around me, embracing me in an unwelcome hug. I coughed, struggling for air as her fuzzy purple hair engulfed my face. I wriggled out of her clutches. ‘I see that husband of yours flaunting that tart around and think to myself, what a pig. Us women have to stick together.’
I clenched my jaw. She was utterly unbelievable. It was only then that I realized I’d showcased a super-polite, finely tuned version of myself. Not a façade as such but not my natural state either. I was done with that version. I no longer had any pretence to keep up – the whole damn village knew my business.
‘Us women weren’t really sticking together when one of us was taking advantage of the other’s unfortunate situation by poaching all of her clients, were we?’ I ranted, not buying her act for a minute. She feigned a look of horror and clasped her hand to her mouth. It was almost amusing to watch.
‘Oh, Hannah, I know you’re just snapping like that because you’re hurting, love. It’s what you’ve been through.’ Judy placed my change on the counter then discreetly left the till area and began tidying shelves that didn’t require it.
‘Yes, it’s funny how losing the business I spent ten years building up turned me into an utter bitch,’ I retorted. I forced myself not to gasp at my own reaction. Even Judy looked up because it was so out of character.
‘But, sweetheart, nobody knew when you were coming back. Your staff needed paid work; your customers needed maintenance. Some more than others,’ she added, with a grimace. ‘I just took care of everyone. I can take care of you too. You’re a great beautician. Come and work at Glam Shack with us – Amy and Jess would love you to be there. They always talk about you, and with all the growth we’ve had recently, we could really use a spare pair of hands.’
Is this woman for real? ‘Thanks for the generous offer of sacrificing my competitive business for a fraction of the financial reward whilst you reap the benefits, Cherry. It really is big of you, but you know what? You can shove your job up your backside.’
With that, I stormed out. It wasn’t until I reached the cold air outside that I realized I was shaking uncontrollably. I was the polite girl everyone loved, not someone who spoke her mind and shouted at someone in the off-licence. The thought of telling Jen made me chuckle until remembered what I’d said to her and a pang of guilt hit me.
I walked briskly on and turned the nearest corner in case Cherry came out and spotted me. When I caught my breath, I found myself outside the small village travel agent’s. A poster of a couple embracing on the deck of a ship hung in the window, taunting me. They were dressed elegantly, sipping champagne and laughing. That should have been me and Daniel.
I scurried home the long way round, making sure I didn’t bump into Cherry again. Once in the sanctuary of my home, I opened the wine as soon as I got into the kitchen, pouring it into the first vessel my hand came across: a decorative wine glass with a glittery ‘30’ emblazoned on it. After a few mouthfuls, I began to calm down.
In a way, I was almost grateful to Cherry – it had felt good to experience rage rather than profound sadness. It reminded me I was a person who mattered. Still, I couldn’t believe the cheek of the woman, nor did I know how I’d ever get my life back on track living in the village. Was it too much to ask that things returned to normal? Not that I even knew what ‘normal’ meant any more, now that I was alone.
I drank some more, and more, and more.
‘Okay, Tom, slow down.’ I couldn’t make out a word he was saying; my brain was still foggy from the wine, and my mobile phone reception wasn’t brilliant.
‘… Some kind of emergency …’ was all I picked up, but there was worry in his tone. Concerned, I went upstairs and perched on the windowsill in order to catch a better signal.
‘Sorry, I didn’t catch that – what kind of an emergency?’ All sorts of thoughts raced through my head: a fire at the B&B, a terrible accident of some sort, some awful feedback about the spa idea …
‘She said nail, a nail emergency. I had no idea how serious these things could be, Hannah. She was waving around your leaflet and said she needed you right away.’ Relief washed over me and I chuckled. Poor Tom, he’d been single for as long as I could remember and had no clue about women.
‘Ahh, okay. Don’t worry; she’ll live. I’ll be there in half an hour.’ It was the first time in a while I’d allowed any humour to penetrate the gloomy fog I’d been living in. It felt almost as good as it did giving Cherry a piece of my mind.
When I arrived at the B&B, Tom led me into the breakfast room with his head bowed and expression grave, seemingly still uncertain as to the severity of the nail injury.
‘Oh, thank God!’ a thick Geordie accent greeted me as I walked in. A young woman was sitting at a table, waiting for me.
‘Hi, I’m Hannah, and you must be …?’ I smiled at the woman, who must have been in her early twenties. She was dressed smartly in a dark suit and had a full face of make-up, with blonde hair scraped back in a neat bun. I wondered if she was an air hostess.
‘Cathy. As you can see, my nail has come clean off.’ She held out her hand. She had four red talons and a white, rough nail visible on her index finger.
‘Acrylic tips. Nothing I can’t fix.’ I glanced up at Tom, who was hovering nervously with a puzzled look on his face.
‘It’s
