Storms

‘Is that me, then? Am I an escape too?’

‘No, Jake. I mean you are, but you’re more than that. I’m drunk. I don’t know what I … I’m just trying to say … You’re different. You’re strong and kind. You don’t give a shit about things that don’t matter.’ She waved her arm at the kitchen, the house. ‘You’re all about doing things, being who you are, not just getting more … Stuff. You’re free, like … I dunno. The sea.’

‘The sea?’ he laughed. ‘What does that mean?’

‘I told you. I don’t know.’ Her hand slipped inside his shirt. Their mouths locked, softly, and the talking stopped.

They stood up, still kissing, for a long time, then in one movement, he took the hem of her dress, lifted it over her head, and let it fall to the floor.

They came back together, knocking a chair over.

‘Leave it,’ she said, wrapping her arms round his neck.

They stumbled through the door and up the stairs, stopping to kiss, to feel, before staggering into Hannah’s room. To her bed.

*

Afterwards, they lay together. The window was open. Jake watched the star-rammed sky, and listened to the sea on the rocks. Hannah fell asleep in his arms.

Hannah (#u144a9bc1-6c85-54b0-9e9d-e64db0dfcb9d)

HANNAH’S EYES FLEW open.

Why?

Something wasn’t right.

The sound of the drive gate, clinking smoothly shut. The purr of Dad’s Merc. The crunch of tyres over the gravel.

‘Shit! Jake, wake up!’ She grabbed his shoulder and shook him.

‘Wassup?’

‘They’re back.’ Hannah leapt to the window.

‘Who, what …’ His voice changed from sleepy to wide-awake in a second. ‘They’re not back till tomorrow.’

‘That’s what they said.’

‘They gonna flip?’

‘They knew you’d come round. They didn’t know you’d stay. Shit.’

Hannah searched her memories, through the haze of wine and sex and sleep.

Plates and glasses on the table. Empty bottles. The chair knocked over.

Her dress on the kitchen floor.

‘Oh no. Oh God, no.’

The front door opened, then clunked shut.

Voices. Sharp and loud.

Dad: ‘I’ve known him for fifteen years. I’ve kept that bloody bank going.’

Mum: ‘You didn’t have to make a scene. Why don’t you … Oh. My. God. Pete, come here.’

Mum was in the kitchen. There was no time to do anything.

Hannah froze at the window. Jake sat in bed. Both of them naked.

She covered herself with her hands, then pulled her dressing gown off the back of the door.

‘Stay here,’ she whispered, hurrying. If there was going to be a scene, it would be better in the kitchen, before Dad made his way upstairs. She ran down, took a breath before going in.

‘Hi,’ she said.

Dad and Mum stood by the table. Mum had the dress in her hand. Dad picked the chair off the floor and put it upright. Mum placed the dress carefully on the back of the chair.

‘Thought you were back tomorrow,’ said Hannah. They turned to her. Her gaze fell to the floor.

‘What’s been going on?’ said Dad.

‘Pete,’ said Mum. ‘It’s pretty obvious what’s been going on.’ Hannah steeled herself, but kept her eyes on the floor.

‘He is my boyfriend,’ said Hannah. Quietly, politely.

‘You said he might come round for a drink,’ said Dad.

‘Pete. Come on,’Mum said. Hannah looked up. Mum rolled her eyes, not believing Dad’s naivety. Was she okay with this? Was she on Hannah’s side?

‘This is my house. I did not give permission for …’ Dad looked at the dress on the chair.

‘He came round for dinner, we had some wine.’ Hannah felt a teasing pain in her hands, and noticed she’d clenched her fists. Her nails were digging into her palms.

‘So I see,’ said Dad.

‘He’s my boyfriend. We can …’ She couldn’t say it.

‘Not in my house,’ said Dad.

‘You’d better get used to the idea. He’s coming to Hawaii.’ She didn’t know where these brave words came from, but now that they were out there she felt reckless. She could still feel Jake’s sweat, his warmth, the wine. It was all like armour, protecting her.

‘How the hell can you make that decision?’ Dad shouted. ‘You’ve known him, what? A week, two?’

‘Longer.’