Thunder in Europe (Department Z Book 6) Read online

  ‘Oh yes, that too,’ Gina grinned. ‘See you later, sis.’

  *

  The rest of the weekend flew by and before either of them had time to think about it, Gina was packing. At least, that was what she told Hannah she was doing, but Hannah wasn’t convinced that running around like a donkey with its tail on fire could be called packing.

  ‘Have you seen my handbag?’ she yelled down the stairs to where Hannah was shoving her smalls into the washing machine.

  ‘No!’ Hannah called back. ‘Where did you last see it?’

  ‘If I knew that I wouldn’t be asking!’ Gina shouted.

  Hannah pursed her lips and flicked the dial on the machine. There was no point in getting involved; Gina would eventually remember what she’d done with it once she calmed down enough to think straight. She’d been in a state of agitation all morning, and it was probably something to do with Ross’s visit the night before.

  ‘Ross will be here any minute!’ Gina called, confirming Hannah’s suspicions.

  ‘So?’

  ‘I don’t want to keep him waiting while I run around looking like an idiot.’

  ‘You must be in love…’ Hannah muttered, ‘you never cared about keeping me waiting.’

  Gina and Ross were an item. Not officially – which was a prickly situation that nobody wanted to tackle this early on – but he had been to see Gina as soon as she’d allowed him, and they’d disappeared out together for a walk to talk things over. Hannah didn’t know where, or what they’d got up to other than talking (some things a sister really didn’t want to know) but on their return, Hannah had to admit that it had been a long time since she’d seen Gina look so happy. Whether that would last once Ross’s parents found out was a different matter entirely.

  A series of thuds on the stairs reminded Hannah of what it had been like to live with Gina when they were kids, and with a speed that Hannah was shocked Gina still possessed, she appeared in the kitchen.

  ‘Just popping out to the shed,’ she panted.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘I think my handbag is in there.’

  Hannah stared at her. She shook her head slowly. ‘I don’t even want to know why that could be possible.’

  ‘Had to make a phone call,’ Gina replied.

  ‘And you had to do it from the shed?’

  ‘It was kinda private, and it was too cold to stand in your garden.’

  ‘Yes, because the shed is lovely and toasty warm…’ Hannah’s sarcasm was wasted on Gina, who was already on her way out of the back door. ‘Weird…’ she added to herself. It didn’t take a genius to work out that Ross was the recipient of her private phone call, despite having seen him only hours before.

  Gina returned a few moments later with her handbag and a triumphant grin.

  ‘Why didn’t you just take your phone out there, instead of the whole lot?’ Hannah began, but then, ‘never mind… I don’t need to know.’

  There was a knock at the front door. Hannah glanced up at the clock. ‘Bang on time. I still don’t know why I couldn’t take you to the station.’

  ‘We thought we’d save you a job, that’s all,’ Gina said as she followed Hannah through to the hall. ‘Ross was free and it seemed like a good idea.’

  ‘It’s very nice of him to offer, but he must be sick of chauffeuring us around.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Gina said brightly.

  Of course not, Hannah thought. At least not one of us anyway. It was silly, but Hannah felt redundant and a little hurt that Gina had asked Ross to take her to the station instead of her. Hannah always did it (apart from when her car had been out of action and that was hardly her fault). But of course they wanted to grab another few moments alone together. Hannah could hardly blame them for that. Those moments would be few and far between, and fraught with difficulty if their relationship made it into serious territory. And the way they seemed besotted with each other already, that seemed like a pretty safe bet.

  Ross stood with an awkward grin at the front door and an uncertain blush in his cheeks. He looked like an overgrown schoolboy getting ready to ask a sixth former out on a date. Which wasn’t really far from the truth, Hannah reflected wryly.

  ‘Morning!’ he said, immediately glancing behind Hannah to where Gina stood with an equally soppy look on her face.

  ‘Good morning, Ross,’ Hannah said. ‘She’s right here…’ as it’s obviously not me you’re interested in…

  Gina kissed him as he stepped inside. ‘Thanks for giving me a lift; you’re a gem.’

  ‘It’s no problem. Are you ready?’

  ‘The train’s not for ages, is it?’ Hannah asked. ‘You don’t have to go just yet, do you?’

  ‘I wanted to get there early,’ Gina replied, glancing furtively at Ross. But not so furtively that Hannah didn’t see it and understand its meaning straightaway.

  Right… so they wanted to pull over somewhere and have a chat… or whatever… Hannah couldn’t blame them for that either, considering that they didn’t know when Gina would next be here, or whether Ross was quite ready for a trip to Birmingham and all that represented in their budding new relationship. She supposed she’d feel the same way too, and she’d want to make the most of any stolen moments. Her thoughts strayed to Mitchell… but then she pushed them firmly out of her mind. Stolen moments anywhere with him were strictly off-limits from now on.

  She reached for Gina and gave her a quick hug. ‘Do you have all your stuff?’

  ‘It’s not like I can’t get it back if I don’t, is it?’ Gina smiled. ‘Unless you’re planning a car boot sale?’

  ‘I might,’ Hannah grinned. ‘You have some dresses that I’m sure would fetch a couple of quid.’

  ‘Help yourself, then,’ Gina winked. ‘Thanks for a brilliant, if slightly surprising, weekend.’

  ‘I should be thanking you for coming,’ Hannah said. ‘I’m going to miss you next week.’

  ‘It won’t be long until I’m back for good.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Hannah said, unexpected tears springing to her eyes. ‘I really can’t wait until you’re down the road.’

  ‘Me neither.’ Gina turned to Ross. ‘We’d better get going.’

  He nodded.

  ‘Look after her,’ Hannah told him, and she hoped he understood that she meant so much more than just the trip to the station.

  *

  There was a time when Hannah would have found cleaning the house therapeutic, a chance to lose herself in the task and solve whatever problem was bothering her. But today, alone again after Gina’s departure the day before, and with her head whirling from the sort of weekend that would try the easiest going person, housework wasn’t having its usual effect on her nerves. Hannah switched off the hoover and wandered into the kitchen to put the kettle on. She didn’t really want tea, but made it anyway. After raiding the biscuit tin for something to go with it, and then feeling guilty about the number of biscuits she’d eaten before she remembered to stop herself, Hannah decided to go and run a bath. She felt like an autumn leaf, spinning to the ground, buffeted by whatever winds decided to snatch it from its course and hurl it who knew where. Perhaps for the first time in her life, Hannah felt powerless to influence her own course.

  The best thing about living and working alone was that if she wanted to stay in bed one morning and start work at noon, she could, as long as all deadlines were met. So when she finally sat down to her computer at three that afternoon, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. She could always work on into the evening if it suited her and things would still get done. But today, it might have been wise if she’d started first thing after all. The laptop had barely booted up when there was a knock at the front door. Hannah let out a sigh. There were some days when she just had to accept that things weren’t going to go her way, and some Januarys that should probably be scrapped and started over.

  She made her way to the front door, expecting it to be George popping over to see her with Trixie, or
her other neighbours, Brian and Cynthia, back from their holiday home in Greece and short of a bottle of milk or a cup of sugar. Either way, she wished she looked a little more presentable. She pulled her thick woollen cardigan around her and smoothed her hair, gathering together the rogue strands and retying her ponytail before opening the door.

  ‘Ross?’ she said, a faint note of surprise in her voice. ‘I didn’t expect to see you today. Everything ok?’

  ‘Yes… I…’ Ross shoved his hands in his pockets with an awkward smile.

  ‘Would you like to come in?’ Hannah asked, sensing him tussle with whatever subject he wanted to broach. She guessed it was probably something to do with Gina.

  ‘It’s ok… you’re probably busy… I just wanted to ask… I should have phoned before I came over…’

  ‘Ross, it’s alright. You didn’t interrupt anything. What’s the matter?’

  There was a pause. Then, ‘You’re ok with me and Gina, aren’t you?’ The words almost tumbled out. He looked so uncertain, so lost, so utterly dependent on her answer that Hannah couldn’t help giving him a warm smile. He had asked for her approval when many wouldn’t have cared either way, and she knew that it really mattered to him what she thought. He might be far too young, and there was probably more stacked against them than most, but looking at him right now, Hannah was left in no doubt about the honesty of his intentions. Ross was a lovely man, and if they made it, Gina could be very happy indeed. Was that a little tinge of envy scratching at her gut? Maybe, but if there was a happy ending for Gina, surely she deserved it after everything she’d been through, and how could Hannah deny her that?

  ‘Of course I’m ok,’ she said. ‘But I’ll warn you that she can be a handful.’

  Ross broke into a more certain smile now, all traces of anxiety gone. ‘I’ll try to remember that.’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come in?’

  ‘No, I should be getting back… early start tomorrow and all that.’ He stamped his feet in the cold, his breath curling into the air. Dusk was already creeping in, and new flakes of snow floated down from a lilac sky.

  It was then that they both turned at the sound of a car engine out on the lane. They watched as a black Volvo pulled up outside Hannah’s gate. And then Hannah caught her breath as Mitchell climbed out. He stopped when he saw Ross.

  ‘I’m sorry… am I interrupting?’ Mitchell asked, hovering at the gate.

  Ross glanced at Hannah, asking a silent question.

  ‘It’s ok,’ she said. ‘I’ll catch up with you tomorrow if you still want to talk.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Ross said, ‘that sounds good.’ He gave Mitchell a brief nod as he passed, and Mitchell made his way up the drive to Hannah. They both watched for a moment as Ross drove off.

  ‘Are you ok?’ Mitchell asked.

  ‘I could ask you the same thing. I didn’t think I’d see you again after the dance.’

  ‘Why not? Didn’t I make my feelings clear enough?’

  Hannah sighed. ‘More than, but I thought I had made my answer clear too. I’m not prepared to get involved in such a complicated situation…’ In the cold light of day, Hannah’s resolution was stronger than ever. How could she go down this road? It would only bring heartache.

  ‘I was hoping…’

  ‘I’m sorry if I let you think there was hope, because there is none. At least not while you’re married.’

  There was a pause. ‘That’s just it…’ he said finally, holding Hannah’s gaze. ‘I’ve left Martine.’

  Part Three: Ways to Say Goodbye

  Hannah stood in front of the mirror and applied another coat of lipstick. They weren’t the worst pub toilets she’d ever been in, but they were draughty and there was a vague smell of damp in the air – not to mention the questionable blockage in one of the cubicles. But she had been at a loss for another pub within easy reach of them both. Even so, as she stood there staring at her reflection, she had to wonder why she had agreed to come on this stupid date in the first place. And then she had arrived so ridiculously early that she was forced to sit alone like a desperate old spinster. She clutched her stomach as it turned another somersault. Perhaps there was still time to run? She could get out before he arrived and never have to see him. She could email, make an excuse, tell him her cat was on fire. Anything had to be better than this torture.

  With a last look in the mirror, she made up her mind. Blind dates – they just weren’t for her and if she spent the rest of her evenings alone in front of the TV watching repeats of Friends, then that wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Chandler Bing was pretty funny, and she could always pretend they were her friends.

  As she walked back into the pub, she spotted a man come in through the entrance and search the room. She recognised him instantly from his profile photo. Hannah supposed that had to be worth something – at least he had posted a real picture and not one of some random model he’d found online; although he did look older, so he’d obviously fallen victim to some sort of vanity. At a glance he was probably in his late forties. That wasn’t too much of an age difference for her. He was dressed ok too; nothing embarrassing. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. And she did need some distraction from thoughts of Mitchell, which still seemed to fill her head no matter what she did. She remained convinced that her decision to turn him away on the night he’d arrived on her doorstep telling her he had left Martine and professing his love had been the right one, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear. She reminded herself sternly of Gina’s warnings, and what a mess the whole situation was, and how Mitchell’s confused emotions weren’t the most stable and reliable barometer of his true feelings right now. God knew hers weren’t much better when she thought about it. She wanted him, but that didn’t make it right.

  She took a deep breath, and then began to walk over to the newcomer at the pub doors. A broad smile lit up his face as she approached.

  ‘Hannah?’ he asked, in the sort of baritone usually the preserve of radio presenters.

  Hannah stuck her hand out for him to shake, but instead he pulled her into a light kiss on both cheeks. It was a lot less formal, and not unwelcome. In fact, it was nice… warm and friendly. He was obviously confident and open too – no emotional baggage here, no lost memories, no existential crisis, just a normal bloke who might be fun if Hannah gave him a chance. Mitchell was in a hotel somewhere, sorting his head out, Hannah hoped, after she’d told him that was what he needed to do, and Hannah was fairly certain that once he did, he’d realise that he belonged in Martine’s arms after all. And he’d probably get his memory back before then anyway, and Hannah would be gone from his thoughts once he’d remembered his old life and who he was supposed to be.

  No, Hannah decided, no more Mitchell Bond.

  ‘You must be Chris,’ she smiled. ‘It’s lovely to meet you.’

  ‘And you,’ Chris said. ‘You look fabulous – much lovelier than your photo and that knocked my socks off.’

  Hannah blushed. ‘Don’t be silly…’

  ‘I mean it. So lovely that I want to buy you a drink. You haven’t been waiting long, have you?’

  Hannah flicked a glance at the glass of wine she’d abandoned on the table before his arrival. ‘No… I’ve only just got here… and I’d love a drink, thank you.’

  ‘Great!’

  She followed him to the bar where he ordered for them both, easily passing pleasantries about the cold snap with the barman. He turned to Hannah. ‘Well, this is kind of weird, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Hannah smiled, feeling more awkward by the second. She had forgotten just what hard work first dates were. A blind date was ten times harder.

  ‘Nice weird, though.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you say yes to everything?’ he asked. He had an amiable smile on his face, yet Hannah felt something else when she looked into his eyes. Ok, so, maybe not such a good start after all. God, it was so hard to read people.

  ‘No,’ she said.
r />   ‘Oh!’ he laughed. ‘God, no… that came out all wrong; I didn’t mean anything by it!’

  Hannah relaxed and smiled. They were both nervous and people said and did odd things when they were put on the spot. Perhaps she ought to give him the benefit of the doubt. ‘Would you like to eat?’ he added. ‘Let me buy you dinner.’

  ‘That would be nice, thank you.’

  They took a seat away from the bar in an area at the back set out for diners. As they perused the menu, they chatted about how bad the traffic had been on the ring road, the cost of filling his car with petrol, the mother’s cat that had needed a visit to the vet that morning… well, it seemed that Chris chatted and Hannah mostly listened. At least it filled the space where there might be awkward silences instead. She was almost relieved when the food arrived and he had to take a breather to eat.

  ‘I realise that I’ve talked your ears off and you’ve barely told me anything at all,’ he said as he sprinkled salt over his food. ‘That’s very rude of me. My friends all say I have a gob on me.’

  Hannah cut into a glistening wedge of salmon. ‘Oh, that’s ok. There really isn’t that much to tell.’

  ‘There must be something. You haven’t been living as a hermit, have you?’

  ‘Almost,’ Hannah smiled. ‘Tell me about your job. What is it you do?’

  ‘I’m a property developer,’ Chris replied. Hannah’s fork stopped in mid-air as she stared at him. ‘Nothing big time,’ he continued, ‘I just buy one house at a time and do it up so I can sell it on and buy the next. They get a little bigger each time and the profit goes up a fraction but I’m basically a one-man band. I suppose the title of property developer is a bit grand really. More like DIY enthusiast.’

  Hannah shook herself. The coincidences kept getting weirder. A property developer? Just like Mitchell…. No, brain! Hannah thought, we’re not going there again!

  ‘What do you do?’ Chris asked.