CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Hannah spent the next few days in bed, curled up beneath her duvet in a little burrito of warmth until she could pretend the Winter Ball hadn't happened. It wasn't that easy, however, especially as Cameron was still marching around the house muttering profanities under his breath and Becky kept texting her messages of worry. The events of the day had cemented an unlikely friendship between the two girls and Becky no longer looked at her with suspicion but even so, she was suffocating Hannah. Once Mohammad and Carter had heard what had happened – along with half the school although luckily, all the details weren't known – they too were tiptoeing on eggshells around her.

Rayne was the only one acting normally and for that, Hannah was immensely grateful. Once figuring out that she didn't want to talk about Gabriel or Ashlyn, he tactfully changed the subject back to the search for her missing father. She allowed herself to fall back into the mystery of the all elusive Chris Davis, a welcome distraction.

Whilst she couldn't find any more information about him online, she had stalked his company website enough to understand a little bit more about it. And now that she was exhausted of lazing in bed being depressed all day, she decided to finally get up and do something about it.

Hannah pattered out of her bed with a sigh, rubbing her hand over Puddles' head as she fed her pet rabbit before making her way to the bathroom. Once she'd gotten ready in a faded pair of jeans and a cropped black jumper, she grabbed a banana for lunch and ran out of the house before Cam could question her.

She slipped her earphones in her ears as she climbed the steps for her closest train station, following the GPS on her phone until she reached the office of Dean and Davis. It was within a glass building, light reflecting off it in a rare moment of British sunshine as pedestrians walked past without a glance. The city was as busy as it always was and Hannah smiled at the throng of people pushing past her; enjoying the fact that nobody paid a second glance in her direction. There was nothing she loved more in that moment than the feeling of anonymity.

The disastrous Christmas of her family hadn't left her memory; a fear pouring into her that this unknown part of her family could be just as bad but she tried to remain optimistic.

Even if Chris Davis ended up being as much of a dickhead as her mother always implied, at least she would see it with her own eyes. At least Hannah would be able to put a face next to the giant question mark in her head and most of all, at least she would be able to see where she really came from.

She felt a little niggle of guilt nestle inside her when she thought about what her aunt and uncle would think. When they had finally told her the story of her father, they surely hadn't expected she would do anything with the information. But here she was, sitting at a bus stop opposite his office building.

She watched people go in and out of the building, eyes barely straying from the doors as the sun began to lower in the dreary sky. The hours had passed, blurring into each other and she had ignored every phone call or text message received. And at long last, just as she was about to give up and go home, she saw the man she was waiting for.

Hannah didn't know exactly how she had recognised him, considering she didn't know what he looked him but somehow, she was convinced it was him. The picture of the two children had been screenshot and saved on her phone, their hair colour identical to the man in front of her.

He loitered at the entrance of the building, standing against the door he had left whilst talking to a man with dark skin and long hair tied in a plait at the bottom of his waist. Before long, he bade the unknown man farewell and began to walk, before pulling a phone out of his pocket.

For the umpteenth time, Hannah wondered what on earth she was doing. Her fingers were shaking, although she wasn't quite sure if it was due to her nerves or the frost that lined the grass beneath her feet. It cracked as she paced around it, her eyes still on the man standing in front of the building ahead of her, his eyes down as he talked animatedly on his phone.

His skin was pale, nose turning pink with the cold weather and his hair was a deep brown. Although she couldn't quite see his facial features from the distance, something about him seemed a little off. There was a sense of déjà vu running through her, as though she had stood in the background and observed the man before, exactly as she was doing. But no, that wasn't possible because today was the first time she had been anywhere around here. Perhaps the strange feeling was because after eighteen years of wondering, all the answers to questions she was never allowed to have was right in front of her.

She took a slow step forward, gathering every fibre of strength she had, and then another one, wanting to see him up close. But before she could, he said his goodbyes and turned the phone off, shoving it into the pocket of his suit jacket. Chris Davis wrapped a maroon scarf around his neck, picked up his briefcase and began walking away, his steps fast and purposeful.

Hannah panicked – maybe that was why she did it. She hadn't a chance to even see him up close and he was already leaving? With a curiosity she didn't even realise she had, she followed him, pushing past the busy crowds and trying not to lose sight of the swish of maroon amongst the dreary grey of London's underground.

The train journey wasn't too long, Hannah barely aware of where she was going. All she could think about was her aunt and uncles words when they told her about her all elusive father. The fact that he hadn't wanted Jasmine when he found out about her pregnancy was like a stabbing against her heart but she pushed the sting away and focused on her mission. She didn't care that the man was an asshole, all she wanted was to have a proper look at him. To see who he was, what he looked like and most importantly, where she came from. She wanted to fill in the giant blank of her childhood with an actual image instead of the desperate, elaborate stories she had made up as a kid in a pathetic attempt to make her feel better about her mother's emotional abuse.

"'Scuse me," she mumbled, pushing past people as he got off the train, almost running onto the platform to keep her pace up. His head swung back, dark eyebrows furrowed in a familiar way as he looked around, clearly trying to figure out the reason why he felt he was being watched. But Hannah ducked her head, suddenly thankful for the ridiculously over-population of the city and the chest-to-chest busy crowds at rush hour.

It was only when she ran up the seventy two steps out of the train station that she realised just where she was. It hit her like a tsunami, an emotion she couldn't quite describe, until she felt she was sinking beneath forceful waves.

She was near her school, just a handful of roads away from Premrose.

All these years she had been wondering about him, all this time she had been looking for him and he'd been this fucking close all along? She wasn't sure why she was suddenly bursting with rage but controlled it all the same as she loitered behind him, turning her head away and hiding whenever he almost caught sight of her. Very soon, he arrived at a house on the corner of the street, rose bushes lining the front.

It was stupid, she realised as she stared up at the navy painted door he had disappeared into, it had been so stupid to follow him. He had a life now and evidently a family, judging by the kid's bike in the front garden. He hadn't wanted to know her eighteen years ago before her birth and he certainly didn't want to know her now.

She turned away, drowning in feelings she hadn't thought she'd had, eyes stinging. But before she could run away, a voice came from behind her. "Can I help you?"

A woman stood at the door, evidently unsure as to why a random girl was standing directly in front of her house with tears in her eyes. She had a head of blonde curls pinned back, and warm honey eyes, lips pursed in confusion.

Her hand was resting on the shoulder of a little boy with similar eyes, hair darker and half hidden beneath a Minions themed helmet that matched his bicycle. And despite the fact that he was older than in the photograph, this was definitely the little boy whose picture she had saved. His face was scrunched up in uncertainty, looking back and forth between his mother and the random girl.

Hannah shook her head with wild eyes, not trusting herself to speak and began to ran, having only taken a few steps before she was stopped.

"Wait!" the woman called out, her son forgotten as she chased after her.

Hannah didn't want to turn around but she couldn't ignore the desperation in the woman's voice so she stopped, limbs shaking as adrenaline rushed through her veins. With a slow precision, she turned around, her dark eyes glistening with unshed tears as she took in the woman's features.

A deep honey gaze ran over her entire face, taking in every curve and pore until she reached Hannah's eyes, the girl in question flinching at the recognition that shone bright in the woman's eyes.

"Who– who are you?" The words were like ice escaping her thin lips, abrupt and sharp. There was no doubt that this woman, Chris's wife, had known Jasmine and could see her mother in Hannah's face. The thought made her recoil, even more so when the unnamed woman slightly raised her hand in an attempt to stop her from running away again. Hannah had been hurt enough in her life to automatically flinch away from wide eyes and raised hands.

Without pausing to see the softening of honey coloured eyes, Hannah bolted, her chest rising and falling in sheer desperation as she ran away. Her hair whipped behind her, the ice-cold wind hitting her face as her feet almost glided down twisting streets. She ran with tears paving down her golden skin, burying themselves in the cracks along the pavements.

And the whole way there, she was cursing her curiosity with every fibre of being she had inside her.