It’s like someone has come in and taken over and everything is out of my hands and moving in a direction I don’t want and can’t control.
That’s what she wants to say. But she won’t. Because although it’s true, that is how she feels, the rational part of her knows that this reaction is only partly about the baby and her blood pressure. A far larger part of it is about April, and Neville, about what happened then, and about what is unfolding now.
And suddenly, with that thought, Hannah knows what she is going to do, and she feels her heart rate slow, and a kind of peace unfold inside her. Because Hannah has had her life ripped away from her by events beyond her control once before. She does not intend to let it happen again.
This time, she will be in charge.
AFTER
“So, where to?” November asks, as Hannah sinks into the leather-scented interior of the limousine. “Not back to work, clearly?”
Fuck. The shop. Hannah feels like smacking herself in the forehead with the paper bag of pills she is holding.
“I completely forgot about work. I need to phone my colleague. Can you drop me in Stockbridge? I live on Stockbridge Mews, it’s near Dean Park Street.”
“I have no idea where that is,” November says pleasantly, “but assuming Arthur does, then yes.”
She leans forward to talk to the driver, while Hannah calls the shop. When Robyn answers, Hannah explains the situation, fielding Robyn’s shocked concern and listening to her admonishments to go home, rest up, and on no account to come in next week.
“I’m not going to take it as sick leave,” Hannah says now, in answer to the last in Robyn’s long line of instructions. “I’m not ill—but I’ve got loads of holiday left, I’m going to ask Cathy if I can take a week as leave.”
“Good!” Robyn says sternly. “I don’t want to see your face for at least a week. Now go. Rest. Relax. Eat chocolate and don’t worry.”
She hangs up and Hannah sighs.
I’ve been sent home, she texts Will. Everything’s okay. Baby’s fine. I’m getting a lift. See you shortly. xx
“Everything all right?” November says, and Hannah nods.
“Yes, work is being really nice, it makes me feel like a complete shit.”
“Why?” November asks in surprise. “It’s not your fault.”
Hannah only shakes her head. It’s not because she believes what happened today was her fault. It’s because she has no intention of following Robyn’s advice. It’s not that she doesn’t want to—but she can’t. She was swept along by events ten years ago, and she has spent every year since struggling against that feeling of powerlessness and panic. This time she is not going to sit there while Geraint digs around in her past and lawyers do things behind the scenes. She’s going to take control.
“I’m going down to Oxford,” she says to November. “I think it’s the only way. Since Neville’s death I’ve been going crazy—running over and over my memories of that night, trying to figure out if I was right, if I really did see what I thought. But the more I find out, the more the whole case feels wrong. I feel like there was something that I missed, something that’s been eluding me all these years.”
“What do you mean?” November asks uncertainly. “What kind of thing?”
“I don’t know, that’s the problem. Maybe if I go back, talk to the other people who were there that night, speak to Dr. Myers…” She swallows. “I have a friend in Oxford—Emily. I spoke to her a couple of weeks ago, when Neville died, and she invited me down. I brushed her off at the time—I couldn’t think of anything worse than going back. But now… now I’m going to say yes.”
She looks at November. November’s expression is worried.
“What do you think? Do you think I’m crazy? Will does.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” November says slowly. “I’m just… I’m not sure traveling to Oxford alone is such a great idea. It’ll be really obvious that you’re going down there to poke around, ask questions.”
“So what are you saying? I need some kind of alibi?”
“I’m saying…” November takes a deep breath. “I’m saying… take me.”
“Take you?” Hannah tries not to let her face show her surprise. But we barely know each other, she thinks, although it’s only half-true. She’s only known November a few hours—but she’s April’s sister. A part of Hannah feels like she’s known her much longer.