59

It seemed to Hanna that Mary Casey had aged ten years since she’d left the bungalow that evening. As they left Jazz’s room Mary was still pale and her hands were trembling, yet, as soon as she saw Hanna still holding Malcolm’s hand she rallied and glared pointedly. Hanna took a step toward her and gave her a hug.

“It’s been an awful night but it’s over now, Mam. You let Ger and Pat drive you home.”

Mary bridled. “And what, leave you here with that fellow? I’ll do no such thing.”

With an apologetic glance at the others, Hanna drew her down the corridor. Then, sitting Mary on a plastic chair, she crouched down in front of her and took her hands.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the little group outside Jazz’s door looking discreetly in the opposite direction.

“Do you know what it is, Mam, you’ve got to let go. I’m a grown woman and my life is my own.”

“Yes, well as long as you don’t let that fellow worm his way back into it.”

“Mam!” Hanna stood up and pulled Mary to her feet. “You’re exhausted, will you just go home?”

As Hanna made to lead her back down the corridor, Mary turned and looked her in the eye.

“Right so, you’re a grown woman. I’ll leave you to get on with it. But if you think I’m too protective of my daughter, take another look at how you treat Jazz.”

There were faint pink streaks in the gray sky when Hanna and Malcolm stood at the hospital gates waiting for his taxi. Although he had a day in court scheduled, Malcolm was loath to leave.

Hanna shook her head at him. “Go on, you can’t disappear in the middle of a case. You heard the doctor, Jazz will be fine. I’m here. And you and she can Skype tomorrow, or WhatsApp, or whatever it is you do.”

As he hesitated she smiled at him. “Honestly, Malcolm, it’s fine. You can fly over and see her at the weekend.”

He smiled back at her. “Okay. I know she’s in good hands.”

Hanna watched the streaks in the sky darken and wondered if she’d ever been so terrified before. Now, with tiredness kicking in, the events of the night were beginning to seem like a dream.

Malcolm nudged her. “Look, I want to say thank you.”

“For what?”

“Well, for what you said in there just now. About things being okay. I appreciate it.”

They had been standing with their arms linked, but now Hanna pulled away from him.

“What, you thought I was going to drop you in it?”

“No, but . . .”

“But I might have. Is that what you mean? That I might have exploded the myth of our blame-free divorce.”

“Look, Hanna, forget it.”

“You are a piece of work—you know that, Malcolm? Our daughter could have died. And all you think about is how to keep covering your tracks!”

Malcolm held up his hands. “Look, we’re both tired. I said thank you. That’s not what you wanted to hear me say. That’s fine.”

“You’re damn right, that’s not what I wanted to hear you say. I want to hear you say you’re sorry. But that’s never going to happen, is it? Because you don’t even accept that you were wrong.”

She watched him assume his familiar armor. The calm voice, the reasonable manner, even the tilt of the head that she’d seen him use in the courtroom. When he spoke again they might just as well have been back in the stupid hotel room in London.

“I didn’t want to fall in love with another woman. It happened. Would you really rather I’d told you at the time? Do you know what you were like after we lost the baby? Helpless. Useless. You were lost yourself.”

“I was the one who said we should end the marriage! You were the one who insisted that I stay!”

“And you did. And you found the house. And the house was what saved you. Do you deny it?”

She couldn’t deny it. And she hated him for cross-questioning her.

“You found the house. And then I found Tessa. It was rotten timing but it wasn’t my fault.”

“And then you spent the next twenty years making a fool of me!”

“I’ve told you before, I did what I deemed best.”

Hanna pressed her back against the hospital railings. What was the point of any of this? She was over Malcolm, long over him. And she was done with all the guilt and with feeling a fool. Biting her lip, she ducked her head and then looked up at him.

“All right. Forget it. I’m sorry. You’re right, I’m tired.”

His face softened and he took her by the shoulders.

“We could have lost Jazz but we didn’t. That’s all that matters. As for the rest, well, maybe we both made mistakes.”

He pulled her gently toward him and his eyes were just as she remembered them. So was the faint smell of his aftershave and the early-morning roughness of his cheek as he bent to kiss her. When he let her go he was smiling.

“That felt good.”

It had felt good to Hanna, too. Suddenly she was pierced by the memory of the cup of tea he had brought her in bed after her miscarriage and the sweet scent of the jasmine he’d given her in the London garden on the night when he’d come up with Jazz’s name. Now his hands were warm in the chill morning air as he raised her face to his and she closed her eyes.

“There were a lot of good times, weren’t there, Hanna? Why don’t we try for them again?”

For a moment it all seemed perfect and possible. Then Hanna opened her eyes and stepped back.

“What about Tessa?”

“I never stopped loving you.”

“No, I mean what about Tessa? How’s she going to feel?”

It was daft, she knew, to be worrying about a woman who’d deceived her for so many years. But Malcolm and she were divorced now and Tessa, who had stuck with him, deserved some consideration. She looked at him, planning to suggest that they take things easy. He could go over to London and talk to Tessa. Then, when he’d told her the news and was back to see Jazz, they could go from there. It wouldn’t be easy. But maybe it was possible. Both she and Malcolm were older now, so perhaps they were wiser. And perhaps he was right and the truth was they’d both made mistakes.

Then, as her mind snatched at possibilities, she looked at his face and saw his reaction to her question. For the space of the blink of an eye he’d returned to the courtroom, and, behind the familiar armor, he was selecting his response.

Hanna’s own eyes narrowed and she stepped back. “She’s left you, hasn’t she?”

His face told her nothing but she knew she was right. Tessa was gone.

Malcolm shrugged. “Yes, Tessa and I have split up . . .”

“When?”

“What does that matter?”

“When?”

“Recently. But that’s got nothing to do with us.”

“Right. Get this. There is no us. Not now. We have one thing in common, and that’s our daughter. You need to understand that, Malcolm. Whatever we had in the past is gone. And it’s you who chucked it away.”

Stepping up to him, she spoke calmly. “And here’s something else that you need to take on board. I won’t be party any longer to your fiction about our divorce. Jazz is a grown-up now, not a schoolgirl, and the next time she asks me a question I’m not going to lie. So perhaps, before that happens, you should tell her the truth yourself.”

As she spoke, the taxi pulled in at the curb. She’d call him tomorrow, she said, stepping away from him. And if Jazz’s condition should change before that she’d certainly let him know. Then she watched the cab drive off and went back into the hospital. The only real mistake she’d ever made, she told herself, was to let Malcolm Turner mess with her head.

When she came back to reception the others were still there. Mary had announced she was going nowhere till that boyo from London was gone. Now, after a shrewd glance at Hanna, she prepared to go home without resistance. Fussing round, gathering coats and handbags, Pat urged Hanna to come, too.

“Thank you, Pat, that’s kind but I want to look in on Jazz again. I’ll stay awhile.”

As Hanna helped Mary into her coat she winked at her, lowering her voice.

“You were right again, Mam, but don’t expect me to admit it.”

Mary Casey just hugged her fiercely and told her to go back to Jazz.