The Holiday Cruise: The feel-good heart-warming romance you need to read this year. Victoria Cooke

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СКАЧАТЬ cocktails at sunset. My usually straight, chin-length dark hair had caught natural highlights in the sun, and the saltwater had worked its magic, creating loose waves. I had on a simple yellow sleeveless shirtdress that set my tan off perfectly.

      Daniel was tanned and wore a Hawaiian-style shirt that we’d giggled about. His arm was thrown lazily around my shoulder and I could still feel the warmth of it. We’d gone to celebrate Daniel’s fortieth birthday and it was the perfect setting – such a romantic place. We’d been so happy that now, thinking back, it was hard to believe he’d already met her. Nobody would’ve guessed.

      The image threw me back six weeks to that awful day: ‘Hannah, I’m leaving you,’ he’d said, so matter-of-fact.

      I was confused – leaving me what? His Twix? His car keys? ‘You’re going to work?’ I’d asked, without thinking. It was evening but it wasn’t unheard of for him to have to go back at night.

      He moved around to face me. ‘No, Hannah, I’m leaving you for…’ Her name hadn’t even registered, but I remember it sounding cheap, the name of a woman only a weak man would choose over his dedicated and loving wife.

      The rest of that day was a blur. I recalled clinging to him, begging him not to go, and the physical pain I felt when he shrugged me off. When my efforts failed, I’d walked around the house in a daze, silently following him in shock as he packed his things into the large holdall we’d shared just a few weeks before when we’d had a weekend away in The Lake District. He’d stalked around the house, gathering his things with occasional mutterings of ‘I’ll leave that for you’ or ‘I can’t find my charger; I’ll pick it up another time’ but he didn’t offer me any reason for leaving other than he’d fallen in love.

      After he’d left, I’d spent the first few weeks wandering vacantly around a black hole, occasionally bursting into emotion, whether it was anger or floods of tears. I’d ignored everything and everyone, surviving on whatever foods required the minimum effort to prepare and eat: a yoghurt here, a bag of crisps there, or confectionary I was too sad to taste. All washed down with wine, and when that ran out I’d raided the old Christmas stock. Mulled wine I didn’t bother to heat, out-of-date Baileys, and whatever else I could lay my hands on.

      I’d spent hours dissecting our relationship, looking for clues, but there weren’t any. We were financially secure, living in a lovely modern, four-bed detached house, which was complemented by a pair of nice cars on the driveway. We didn’t argue about anything of consequence. It wasn’t always easy, juggling the businesses, and the late nights were stressful from time to time, but we helped each other out. We were a team, or so I’d thought.

      At some point during those dark weeks, he’d moved out the rest of his belongings. I don’t even remember it happening. I’d simply noticed his old running machine had gone from the spare room one day, leaving only an imprint in the carpet just like the one he’d left on my chest.

      I imagine I’d been sitting, drunk, in a dark corner when he came, and he’d ignored me as he collected his things. Shirts I’d laundered, the fancy watch I’d bought him, and other possessions that I wished I’d broken out of my haze and vandalized in some way to try and inflict just an ounce of my pain upon him.

      So it should have come as no surprise that, after six weeks of wallowing in self-pity, my life lay in tatters around me. But I needed to try and pick myself up, and that’s what I was doing. I slapped my coffee cup on the table and stretched out my fingers. Loading up my client database, I struck ‘A’ to filter the clients by surname, excited to have some focus again. There were fifteen clients whose surnames started with A. That’s a great start.

      I went to dial the first client: Samantha Ackbury. Just before it connected, I hit the red button and slammed the phone down. I didn’t know what to say. What if she was angry because the business had just closed? I’d left her in the lurch. I bashed the phone against my forehead. I hated phoning people at the best of times, never mind when it was to beg for business. But I needed to do this. Pulling myself together, I straightened my face, raised my eyebrows, and pursed my lips, creating what in my mind, seemed like a confident face. Taking a deep breath, I dialled again.

      It rang and rang before going to voicemail. I left a polite message, apologizing for any inconvenience caused by my family emergency and explaining the salon offers I’d decided upon. That wasn’t so bad. I forced myself to carry on but the rest of the As had similar results, so I moved on to the Bs and then the Cs.

      I was beginning to despair, until, finally, a customer answered the phone. A wave of relief washed over me. Kate Davidson was a regular – she came in for microdermabrasion every six weeks without fail. Her account showed she had been in to have the treatment with Amy just over five weeks ago. Perfect.

      ‘Mrs Davidson, it’s Hannah calling from The Hollywood Hut. I want to apologize for any inconvenience you may have encountered during our recent temporary closure. It was a one-off family emergency and won’t happen again. Anyway, I’ve noticed you’re due your usual in the coming week and wondered if you’d like me to get that booked in for you?’ I was surprised and glad at how natural it felt to slip back into ‘salon Hannah’ mode.

      ‘Oh hi, Hannah. Thank you for the reminder but I’ve already made a booking elsewhere. I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure if or when you’d be reopening, and my skin was looking so dull,’ she replied. I tried a last-ditch attempt to reel her back.

      ‘That’s not a problem. I understand. Just in case you change your mind, I wanted to let you know that microdermabrasion is half price.’ I blurted out the last part. It wasn’t my planned offer, nor was it a feasible price in the long run, but it was a bloody good deal for a customer at thirty quid. If she declined an offer like that, I had no hope.

      ‘Thanks for letting me know, but I’ve booked a course of four at Glam Shack – it was only a hundred pounds. Your offer is a great one too, though. I’ll definitely consider The Hollywood Hut again in the future.’ It was official – I had no hope. I closed the call politely before banging the phone against my forehead once again. It had confirmed what Amy had said: she’d be at Glam Shack a good six months before she’d even consider returning. I couldn’t afford to lose my customers for half a year. Jess was right: they’d all gone.

      I was alone.

      ***

      By the end of the week I’d managed to recoup three of my old clients, and the small amount of optimism that generated gave me the courage to let my older sister, Jen, come over. I had an underlying niggle of guilt because after Daniel left, I’d shut her out and I knew she’d be desperate to get in. Jen had been like a parent to me, ever since our real parents were killed in a car accident back when I was eighteen. I still lived at home at the time and Jen, who was only twenty-four herself, did everything she could to make sure I was okay.

      Even after I got married, she didn’t let go. I was like the child she’d never had. Sometimes she could be suffocating, and the emotion I was feeling had already left me little room to breathe.

      She looked nervous when I opened the door, and I forced a small smile of reassurance.

      ‘Hi,’ I said. Seeing her familiar face made me want to burst into tears.

      She must have noticed my tears start to well. ‘Oh, Hannah. Come here.’ She gathered me into a hug and I sobbed with relief, comforted by the smell of her familiar Jo Malone perfume.

      ‘Why didn’t you let me help you? I’ve been sick with worry,’ she said.

      ‘I СКАЧАТЬ