She took off her suit jacket and hung it in the walk-in-robe, her heart leaping as her mobile phone rang. Hannah hurried back to the dresser, hoping it would be Damien; she couldn’t wait to share her news. Her breath caught as she saw that the caller was not her husband; it was him. She stared at the screen, her hand frozen around her phone. Her stomach churned, raking up the feelings of guilt she’d done her best to suppress over the last twelve years. Why was he calling now? She’d made it clear he was never to contact her again. The phone stopped ringing as it clicked over to voicemail. She held her breath, hoping he’d dialled the wrong number and there would be no message. Within seconds her hopes were crushed as the phone pinged.
Why had she ever put herself in this position? Lying to her husband, betraying his trust. The guilt she’d suffered had taken years to push into the past, and now here he was again.
With trembling hands she pressed the button to listen to her voicemail. As his voice erupted from the phone she could picture him, his expensive suits, his knowing smirk. She should have known better than to get involved with someone she knew deep down couldn’t be trusted. The irony of this thought wasn’t lost on her. She was hardly in a position to judge.
‘Hey, Hannah. A blast from your past. It’s Zane. Zane Fox, in the unlikely event you’ve forgotten who I am.’ He chuckled. ‘I highly doubt that after what we got up to. Anyway, there’s been a development and I need to talk to you. Please give me a call. It’s quite urgent.’
A development. She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to know about a development. She just wanted him gone. He had the potential to destroy her marriage and everything she held dear.
Hannah placed the phone down next to her mother’s photo. The euphoria she’d felt only moments before had been short-lived. If she ignored him, hopefully he’d take the hint and disappear.
She took a deep breath. Today was not the day for extra problems. Adding Zane Fox into the mix brought a whole other level of stress. The promotion had helped distract her for a short time, but 17 July, the anniversary of her mother’s death, was the one day of the year that no matter how hard she might try to suppress her feelings, they always exploded to the surface. Guilt rushed through her in waves as she thought back to that day eighteen years ago. Why hadn’t she listened to her father? Gone along with his idea of seeing a matinee performance of West Side Story before going out to dinner, rather than insisting they buy a new saddle for her mother and go riding? If she hadn’t been so insistent her mother wouldn’t have been on a horse that day. She did her best to suppress her guilt for most of the year but on the anniversary it rose to the surface very quickly. She’d never told anyone how she felt. She couldn’t bear having to listen to her father or Phyllie as they did their best to convince her it wasn’t her fault. Burdening them with her guilt was hardly going to be helpful for anyone. She’d certainly never told Nat.
Her thoughts shifted to her sister. She wondered, as she did most years, if their mother hadn’t died what her relationship with Nat would be like now. Before the accident they had been so close. Best friends as well as sisters. Even with the three-year age gap, Hannah loved spending time with her little sister. She’d loved watching and supporting Nat’s achievements. It had been a special relationship – until the accident. After that, instead of seeking out Hannah’s advice Nat had started to push back. Accusing Hannah of being overprotective, of smothering her and trying to control her. Of course Hannah became more protective of her family after the accident. She still couldn’t understand why Nat saw her risk assessing and cautious outlook as a negative.
Hannah sighed. She didn’t have the headspace to deal with anything more than getting through the evening. She hadn’t heard from Nat since her sister’s birthday the month before, which was probably a good thing. Her lack of gratitude over the gift she’d given her had been incredibly disappointing. Why was it that Nat couldn’t see Hannah’s only motive was to help her? That she worried about her and wanted to make her life easier? If only Nat listened occasionally. Instead she managed to create drama after drama, sending Hannah’s stress levels through the roof. However, if she wouldn’t accept help when it was offered, then there wasn’t a lot more Hannah could do. She just hoped that whatever Nat’s latest dramas were they wouldn’t spoil the evening. But if her sister’s track record was anything to go by, it was almost guaranteed she’d be dealing with the fallout from one screw-up or another.
Nat stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her golden-brown hair looked lacklustre and was void of its usual waves, while her unusually pale face highlighted the dark circles under her eyes. She pulled out her make-up bag from the vanity and rummaged through it. She was going to need a miracle to make herself even half presentable. She wished she could curl up in a ball and sleep off the rest of this day. How she hated 17 July. It was the one day she dreaded every year, but this year it was so much worse. This year it wasn’t just about her mother and getting through another family dinner, this year she had other problems to deal with. Problems that were magnified by the very fact she didn’t have her mother to turn to for support. Yes, she had her father and she had Phyllie, but it wasn’t the same; it never had been.
She sighed as she curled her lashes before applying mascara. How had she arrived back at this point? Not only would she have to listen to her brilliant sister’s achievements, but when Hannah found out Nat was once again unemployed and about to be homeless, she’d have a field day with it. It was a ridiculous situation to find herself in at her age, she knew that, but Hannah’s reaction would make it ten times worse; she could just picture the look of disgust she’d give her. Not everyone was a corporate success; and the home situation, well, that was hardly her fault either. But Hannah wouldn’t see that. She’d remind her of how often Nat had been fired, how often she’d needed to find a new place to live. That it was ‘completely avoidable if you just thought for one moment’. No doubt the life coach would be brought up again. Nat still couldn’t believe that Hannah had thought she’d actually appreciate this as a birthday present when she’d given it to her the previous month.
‘Six sessions with a life coach,’ Hannah had proudly announced, handing Nat a gift certificate. ‘After these six sessions your life will be turned around. You’ll have goals set, a plan to start achieving. I’m so excited for you, Nat.’
Nat had just stared at her sister. Hannah genuinely thought she was going to want this. ‘I’m happy with my life how it is.’
Hannah had laughed. ‘Nat, you’ve just turned thirty-three. You have no assets, a low income and the longest relationship you’ve ever had lasted about six months. You need help. The life coach will help you make changes to every part of your life. You won’t recognise yourself.’
With her eleven-year-old niece in the room observing the interaction, Nat chose her words carefully. ‘When will you realise that I am doing what I want to, how I want to?’ She handed the gift certificate back to Hannah. ‘I don’t need a life coach, I know exactly what my goals are.’
Hannah rolled her eyes. ‘Really? Then how come we never hear of you achieving any of them?’