Free The Great Escape by Fiona Gibson

Ryan not still be in love with this woman? Hannah has met Petra numerous times, when she’s picked up or dropped off the children, and has always thought, yes, she’s striking, but somehow her chilliness cancels out her beauty. But she’s never seen Petra look like this – like a woman in love, who’d go on to bear Ryan two children whom they’d raise together until her shock announcement three years ago that she must ‘put myself first’. Heartbroken and stunned, Ryan simply hadn’t seen it coming. As far as he was concerned, Petra’s career as a concert cellist had come before everything else.
    Maybe that’s it, Hannah thinks, a sense of dread washing over her. Ryan asked her to marry him simply in an attempt to get over Petra. He is trying to force himself not to love her anymore.
    Daisy is still going on about her mother’s billowing veil. Hannah tries to show appreciation, but her tongue feels like a dry thing flapping around in her mouth. They’re only wedding photos, she tells herself sternly. She’s just showing them off because she likes to look at them. It’s nothing more sinister than that.
    ‘Don’t you like it?’ Daisy swivels round to face her.
    ‘Oh, yes,’ Hannah croaks. ‘It’s beautiful. A really amazing veil.’ Turn the page , she thinks desperately, so we can look at pictures of the bridesmaids or cake. Daisy turns the page. There’s a group picture with everyone neatly arranged in two rows in front of the church, squinting in the sunshine. So many people. Hannah wonders who they all are. There’s also a close-up of Ryan standing next to his new bride, two beautiful people setting out on a life together. ‘So you’re up for this shopping trip at the weekend?’ she says faintly as Daisy flicks through the final pages.
    ‘Yeah, okay,’ Daisy mutters.
    They sit side by side for a moment, with Daisy now resting the closed album on her knees as if reluctant to put it away. Hannah isn’t sure if she’s imagined it, but Daisy might possibly have shuffled a millimetre closer to her on the bed. ‘Thanks for showing me the album,’ Hannah says gently. ‘It obviously means a lot to you.’
    Daisy nods mutely and bites her lip.
    ‘I’m looking forward to our day out, are you?’
    She nods again.
    ‘I, er … I hope you’re looking forward to our wedding too,’ Hannah ventures, wondering if it would be okay to put an arm around Daisy’s shoulders, or if she’d flinch, or leap up and run out of the room. No, better not.
    ‘Yeah,’ Daisy replies, her gaze fixed firmly on the album. ‘But I still can’t understand why it’s not in a church.’
    ‘I can’t believe she did that,’ Ryan whispers in bed that night. After half a year of living here, Hannah still finds the nocturnal whispering bizarre. It’s not even as if they’re up to anything. Ryan is wearing pyjamas, for God’s sake. With Josh’s bedroom next door, and Daisy’s the one after that, the only time it feels remotely okay to have sex is if the kids aren’t home, or if she or Ryan happen to wake up at some ungodly hour, like 4.30 am, when they’ll grab the opportunity. It gives their sex life during the week an urgent quality, and makes the three out of four weekends when Daisy and Josh are at their mother’s feel like a bit of a treat.
    Lately, Hannah has started to hanker for a baby of her own; yet, as she’s never had the faintest yearning before, she worries that this might be some desperate attempt to redress the balance. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she tells Ryan, snuggling closer. ‘Daisy wasn’t doing it to be mean or anything. And I bet every girl’s entranced by her mum on her wedding day.’
    There’s a beat’s silence and she breathes in the scent of Ryan’s skin. There’s something almost edibly warm about him: sweet and moreish, like a croissant. Hannah’s paranoia about Petra has ebbed away, and she plants a soft kiss on his chest.
    ‘I know they don’t make it easy for you,’ he