“Darling, you call this a Vesper? It tastes more like a gin and tonic, and not a very good one.”
All the hairs on the back of Hannah’s neck prickle. The voice is coming from the restaurant’s bar. It is drawling, confident, and achingly familiar.
Before she can think better of it, Hannah stands up, swings round, sending her chair clattering to the floor. But even as she scans the row of backs at the chrome counter, her heart is sinking, and she knows the truth. It wasn’t April. It’s never April. It was just a well-to-do woman with an English accent. Hannah’s own longing did the rest, just as it has a hundred times before.
“Allow me,” says a voice at her elbow, and Hannah turns to see a tall, bespectacled figure holding out her handbag.
“Hugh!” She manages a smile as she takes the bag. “This is a nice surprise. And thank you.”
It’s not a surprise—not exactly. Edinburgh is a small city in a lot of ways, and Hugh’s practice isn’t far from the restaurant. But it’s a big enough place that it’s still fairly unlikely to run into friends at random.
“You’re most welcome,” Hugh says, with that oddly shy formality he’s had for as long as she’s known him, even after a decade of friendship and more landmark events than she can remember—he was Will’s best man at their wedding, for goodness’ sake.
They kiss each other on both cheeks, and as she breathes in Hugh’s expensive aftershave, Hannah remembers with a laugh at herself how strange and performative that continental kiss first felt to her when she arrived at Oxford. And now look at her—air-kissing without a second thought.
“How are you?” she asks.
“I’m all right,” he says thoughtfully, looking at her with a slightly discomfiting air of appraisal, like she is one of his patients. “More to the point, how are you? I thought of you yesterday, when I heard the news.”
“I’m… I’m okay.” It’s not a lie, not really. But Hugh is Will’s best friend and confidant—not hers. Hannah… well, she hasn’t really had a best friend, if she’s being honest, not since April. It’s not that she doesn’t have friends—she goes for a drink with Robyn every now and again, and there’s a handful of people she knows through work, or from her various short-lived hobbies—pottery was the one that lasted longest. But you don’t have to be a psychoanalyst to join the dots, and Hannah’s not an idiot, she knows the truth—since April died, she hasn’t allowed herself to make anyone that important to her. Because she doesn’t trust them not to get snatched away. Will is the sole exception—the only person who has penetrated that self-protective armor. And maybe he only managed it because she had let him under her skin before April died.
“Hugh!” The voice comes from over Hannah’s shoulder and she turns to see Will weaving his way between tables towards them. “Mate! How are you?”
They hug, a kind of manly back slap, and Hugh says, “I’m good. I was just telling Hannah—my thoughts went to both of you when I heard the news.”
“Yeah. It’s… I mean, it’s a lot,” Will says with an awkward shrug. His eyes meet Hannah’s. He knows how much she hates talking about this, particularly in public. They both live in dread of someone leaning across, tapping their shoulder, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but overhear…
Perhaps Hugh senses their discomfort because he straightens, claps Will on the shoulder, and says, “Well, anyway, I won’t keep you both. But let’s have drinks. It’s been too long.”
“It has,” Will agrees. “I was thinking the other day, I haven’t seen you since the cricket season finished and I don’t think we’ve been out as a threesome since… God, probably June?”
That was right about when they found out about the baby. Hannah stopped accepting invitations out to the pub because she wasn’t ready to tell anyone the news, and it was getting increasingly hard to explain away her tiredness and inability to drink. But it’s different now. She’s visibly pregnant, and in any case, Hugh was one of the first people Will rang after their twelve-week scan.
“We should do brunch,” Hugh is saying now as he buttons up his overcoat. “Soon. Make the most of your freedom while you still have it!” He gives a laugh, and Hannah and Will echo it.
“Take care of yourself, Hugh,” Hannah says, and she means it. She is genuinely fond of Hugh, and this must be hard for him as well. He was there that night, after all. He didn’t go through what Hannah did, he wasn’t April’s best friend, but he was dragged through the courts too, giving evidence on what time they found her, how hard he had fought to revive her. And then, she and Will have each other. Hugh has no one—he lives alone, he doesn’t even have a steady girlfriend as far as Hannah knows, though presumably he was dining with someone tonight. He’s not like Will—easily gregarious, finding something in common with everyone he meets. He’s charming and gentle and courteous, but there’s a reserve that can be hard to get past—he’s more like Hannah in that respect. Perhaps that’s why he followed Will to Edinburgh, and why he’s made sure to keep in touch with Emily, even after all these years. Like Hannah, he doesn’t make friends lightly, so he can’t afford to lose them.