City of Second Chances

by Jane Lacey-Crane

  Hey there friend. Just checking we’re still on for later. I hope so. And I have news that I think you’re going to approve of. I hope. That’s a lot of hope packed into one text message, isn’t it? Yours hopefully, Dan x

  I typed my reply.

  Yes, still on for later. There’s nothing wrong with having hope. Your friend, Evie x

  I put my phone down and started busying myself in the kitchen, gathering everything I needed to make hot chocolate. Kate watched me closely for a minute or two, then she slapped her hand down on the kitchen island and let out a triumphant, ‘A-ha!’

  ‘What the hell?’ I exclaimed. ‘You nearly made me drop the milk.’

  ‘That message was from Daniel, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘I knew it! I bloody well knew it! You’re having it off with Daniel Roberts!’

  ‘No, I’m not!’ I shouted. ‘We’re just friends, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, if you’re not shagging him then you should be. He obviously makes you happy – you should have seen your face when you read his message. You looked like a lovestruck teenager.’

  ‘I did not,’ I replied. ‘I didn’t.’ I sat down on one of the stools by the island, my previous happy mood destroyed. Kate came over to me and put her arm around my shoulders.

  ‘Hey, I was only messing with you. If you say there’s nothing going on, then I believe you.’

  I shook my head, sadly. ‘It’s not you, it’s me. The whole thing with Daniel, it’s a bit complicated.’ I proceeded to tell her all about Maria, and the play, and how Daniel was having to pretend that he and Maria were a happy couple.

  ‘Shit, that does sound complicated. But he likes you though, doesn’t he?’

  I nodded. ‘He told me that I’d made him happier in the last few days than he’d been in a long time. I like him too. It’s just…’

  ‘Tom?’ said Kate. My sister knew me too well.

  ‘I know it’s dumb, but I feel guilty. I know Tom wouldn’t have expected me to be on my own forever, but it still feels wrong somehow.’

  ‘Are you worried about what the kids might think? They’ve never had to deal with the idea of you with another man before, have they?’

  ‘No. Tom was a hard act to follow – most other men always fell short by comparison.’

  ‘Until Daniel?’

  ‘Until Daniel.’

  ‘Well, that has to mean something, Evie. There’s a reason he makes you feel this way. Don’t be afraid to explore it a bit. No one is saying you have to marry him, but you shouldn’t feel guilty about wanting to spend some time with him. Get to know him. You might find that nothing comes of it, but you won’t know unless you try.’

  Was she right? Was it time to start trying? If that was the case, why did I feel so bloody terrified at the mere thought?

  *

  ‘There,’ I said, standing back to admire our handiwork. It had taken us all afternoon, but the tree was finally finished. Kate had even fashioned a very pretty, if slightly wonky, evergreen wreath for the front door, using offcuts from the tree; we’d had to trim a little off the back, so we could get it to fit into the corner without totally blocking the window.

  Whoever the previous tenants were of this apartment, they had fantastic taste in Christmas decorations. The box that Kate had found in the basement was full to the brim with the most beautiful silver and white baubles and trinkets. There was a roll of white velvet ribbon, which I swear must have been vintage, that we draped around the tree from top to bottom, and more white fairy lights than I’d ever seen. Once we’d run out of space for them on the tree, we’d strung the rest of them around the windows and wound them through the banister up the stairs. Shimmering mercury glass baubles hung from the tree’s branches and little white fake snowballs nestled in amongst the fir. It looked beautiful and I took a picture and sent it to Sam and Grace to show them, along with a message that told them I was probably going to stay here in New York for Christmas. Grace was very impressed; I got a reply from her almost immediately.

  That looks awesome Mum. Glad you’re having a fun time. Didn’t want to think of you home alone at Xmas. Love you xx G

  Sam’s message was shorter and didn’t come until about half an hour later.

  Looks good. Everything ok? X

  I couldn’t put my finger on it but his reply seemed off. I left Kate faffing about with some white feathers she’d found at the bottom the box.

  ‘I think I might put some of these on the wreath, Evie – what do you think?’

  I gave her the thumbs up as I went upstairs to call my son. The phone rang for ages before he picked it up.

  ‘Hey, Mum, everything all right?’

  ‘I was about to ask you the same question, Sam. Your message was a bit weird.’ He didn’t reply. ‘Sam, is everything okay?’

  ‘Yes, everything’s fine. It’s just I was hoping to see you before Christmas. I need to talk to you about something. Before I… um… go to visit Natasha’s parents.’

  He sounded so nervous. I heard him take a deep breath before he carried on. ‘The thing is, Mum, it’s just that… er…God, I didn’t think this would be so hard. This is why I wanted to see you when I told you—’

  ‘You’re going to propose to Natasha, aren’t you? When you go up to visit her parents for Christmas?’ I was asking questions I already knew the answers to; anything to put my poor son out of his misery.

  ‘Bloody hell, Mum, how do you do that?’

  ‘I’m your mother. I know everything there is to know about you.’

  ‘What do you think? You do like her, don’t you?’

  ‘I think Natasha is lovely, Sam, and I think…’ I paused, unsure of what to say. He was only twenty-one after all but Tom and I had only been a year older when we met, and I’d realised fairly early on that he was the man I was going to marry. It was moments like this when I missed Tom the most. He should have still been here, to help his son through something like this. He could have shared stories about how nervous he’d been when he proposed to me, told him about how my dad had practically made him beg for permission to ask me. Tom had told me that it was the most terrifying experience of his life; I decided not to tell Sam that part.

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘I think that you and Natasha are going to be very happy together.’

  ‘Phew! You went quiet there for a minute. I thought you were going to tell me not to do it, that I’m too young or something like that.’

  ‘You’re twenty-one, Sam, and some people might say that’s too young but not me. If you love Natasha, then you should ask her to share your life.’

  ‘So why the silence?’

  ‘I was just thinking about your dad, that’s all. Just one of the many times that I wish he was still with us.’ I could feel tears welling up; I didn’t want to cry and ruin the moment.

  ‘Do you think he would have liked Natasha?’

  ‘I’m sure of it. Your dad only ever wanted one thing for you and for Grace, and that was for you to be happy.’ I heard my son sniff and then cough a little.

  ‘I just stepped out of the pub to answer this call and now I’m going to have to go back in looking like I’ve been crying. Ta very much, Mum.’ He chuckled.

  ‘You’re welcome, my firstborn, that’s what I’m here for.’

  ‘Look, I’ve got to go. But I’m glad you’re going to have a fun Christmas with Aunty Kate rather than being home alone.’

  ‘Me too. Take care, my darling. I love you.’

  ‘I love you too, Mum. Bye.’ He rang off and I sat staring at the phone. My baby boy was getting married. I couldn’t believe it. There could be no better way to appreciate the speed with which time passed than watching the baby you gave life to turning into an adult before your eyes; no better way to illustrate how brief our time on this earth really was and how we had to live every day as if it were all we had.

  I came back downstairs to find Kate sitting on the floor in front of the tree. It was a
lmost six o’clock, it was dark outside, and she’d turned off every light in the apartment except for the twinkling fairy lights. I went and sat next to her on the rug.

  ‘Sam’s getting married,’ I said. Kate turned to me, open mouthed.

  ‘But he’s just a little baby,’ she cried.

  ‘He’s twenty-one and almost a foot taller than me. But I know what you mean. It only seems like yesterday that I could pick him up for a cuddle or hold his hand crossing the road.’ I started to cry again and this time I didn’t stop myself. Kate put her arms around me and held me while I cried gently into her shirt.

  ‘Natasha is nice though, right? You told me you thought she was.’

  I scrubbed away tears with the back of my hand and sat up. ‘She’s lovely, and perfect for Sam.’

  ‘Then I’m very happy for them both.’

  ‘So am I,’ I said, choking back another little sob.

  ‘Then why are you crying?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Happy tears,’ I said. I looked back at the tree. ‘Can you believe that this is the first time in either of our lives that we’ve had a real Christmas tree?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’

  ‘Mum would never let us have one when we were kids. She said they were too messy. Would have spoiled her perfect front room,’ I said.

  ‘She did love her front room, didn’t she?’

  ‘And her spotless kitchen and her tidy bedroom.’

  Our mother had been fanatical about tidiness. As children we weren’t allowed to have toys anywhere other than in our bedroom and we never had friends around to play because of the mess they might leave behind. Looking back, it was obvious that my mum was struggling to cope with a serious mental illness, but at the time she was just dismissed as ‘neurotic’ or ‘highly strung’.

  ‘I don’t want to end up like her, Evie,’ said Kate, as we sat in the dark looking up at our beautiful tree. ‘I don’t want to end up depressed and paranoid that every time Ryan leaves me he’s off shagging some other woman. I don’t want to live like that.’

  ‘Then don’t,’ I said. ‘You’ve got a choice, Kate. It’s not about what he wants, it’s your life. You have to live it the way you want to.’

  ‘I know. He’s never going to leave his wife for me.’ That was a statement not a question, so I didn’t respond.

  ‘What time are you seeing Daniel later, then?’ asked Kate. She stood up and then held out her hands to help me off the floor.

  ‘I’m meeting him after the show. About eleven, I think. Then we’re going for a coffee.’

  ‘And the rest.’ She smirked.

  ‘Don’t be daft. He’s still living with Maria. I couldn’t even think about doing anything whilst he’s still living with another woman. It just wouldn’t feel right to me.’

  ‘But you said they’re not together any more.’

  ‘They aren’t but it would still feel weird.’

  ‘You could always bring him back here. I don’t mind.’

  ‘On a mattress on the floor, in an alcove with no door, just a curtain?’

  ‘I’ll stick some earplugs in, that way you can really go for it.’ She wiggled her eyebrows at me suggestively.

  ‘You are such a perv,’ I said.

  ‘You know you want to.’

  She was right; I did want to, very much. When he’d pulled me into that shop doorway and kissed me last night, it had taken every ounce of willpower I had to stop him from going further. I wanted his hands on me, I wanted his mouth on me; I wanted to feel him everywhere.

  ‘Hey, sex fiend, snap out of it.’ My sister snapped her fingers to get my attention.

  ‘Hmm? What, sorry?’

  ‘Going for coffee, my arse. If you don’t end up shagging the luscious Mr Roberts tonight, then I’ll eat that evergreen door wreath I made. What are you wearing?’

  ‘I only brought one dress. I didn’t think I’d be going out that much. We were coming here for Olivia. That was it.’

  Kate sighed. ‘How is it that you can be so insightful and full of wise advice when it comes to me and my life but you’re totally clueless as to your own motivations?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

  Kate took my hand. ‘There wasn’t ever going to be anything you could do to help Olivia. Then or now. I think that you and Rachel just used her to justify escaping from everything. Rachel certainly did, and I think you let yourself be persuaded because the idea of this trip just being about you needing something felt too selfish for you to contemplate. It’s just not in your nature to do something for a purely selfish reason. It always has to be about someone or something else.’

  I let out a low whistle. ‘Wow, that’s a lot of amateur psychology right there. I’m impressed,’ I said.

  ‘And you’re also not denying it, are you?’ she said, triumphantly.

  I shook my head; I couldn’t deny any of it. I knew that the mind could be a funny thing; all those years of therapy after Tom died had taught me that. The conscious, hyper-aware side of your brain always tricked you into thinking that you were in complete control, when in reality it was your subconscious mind that often had its hands on the tiller and was steering your ship. This situation – the chance to get away from my usual everyday existence – had presented itself at a time when I needed a reason to justify making some changes in my life. I’d used the discovery of those bodies as an excuse to come back to a place that still haunted me; I needed to move on from the guilt I felt about being the last person to see Olivia alive. Whatever had happened to her, and I was slowly coming to terms with the fact that I would never know, it wasn’t my fault; Tom dying in that car accident wasn’t my fault – deep down I knew I was ready to let all that go so I could start living again.

  Twenty-Two

  I arrived at the theatre just before eleven and discovered that I wasn’t the only person waiting at the stage door. There was a small crowd of about twenty people, all jostling for position. The stage door was open, and someone was at the front of the crowd; it was Maria Williams, signing autographs. She was flanked by two burly security guards, who were watching the crowd and making sure that the enthusiastic fans didn’t get too close. I had no idea what to do; Daniel wasn’t going to make it out of the theatre without getting caught up in all that. The crowd got bigger; people seemed to be appearing from all corners, hurrying across the street to catch a glimpse of Maria before she left. My phone started to vibrate in my pocket and I took it out to answer it.

  ‘Hello?’ I didn’t recognise the number.

  ‘Evie, it’s me. Daniel.’

  ‘Hey, I’m outside but I can’t get near the stage door.’

  ‘I know. Maria’s holding court. Listen, I’m going to try and slip away. Can you wait for me? There’s a hotel around the corner, The Colonial, wait for me in the bar. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

  ‘Look, Daniel, if it’s too difficult then don’t—’

  ‘Stop. I will be there. Please, just wait for me.’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘The Colonial. Turn left at the corner nearest the theatre and just keep walking until you see it. It’s not too far.’

  ‘I’ll be there.’ I slipped my phone back into my pocket and started walking.

  It only took me five minutes to make it to the hotel. Despite its historic sounding name, The Colonial was brand new. As I approached, a doorman welcomed me in with a polite, ‘Good Evening,’ and an impressively low bow. I felt like royalty. Once inside the hotel lobby, I was greeted by an immaculately turned out young woman behind reception. She didn’t have a hair out of place, nor a wrinkle in her uniform.

  ‘Welcome to The Colonial Hotel. How may I help you this evening?’

  ‘I’m meeting a friend for a drink, in the bar, obviously.’ She was making me nervous; her smile seemed frozen in place. She looked like an android. When she moved out from behind her desk to show me to the bar, I was half expecting her to be on bloody wheels.

  ‘Follow me, ple
ase.’ I walked with her over to a set of glass doors and she held one open for me. I walked in and then turned around to thank her, but she’d already gone.

  The bar was busy, but not full. I easily found myself a seat at a table that was next to the window. I took off my coat – and vowed that when I got back to the UK I was going to buy myself a nicer one – and I sat down. My sister had loaned me her lovely shoes again and she’d also insisted I borrow something nice of hers to wear. ‘You can’t wear the same dress you had on last night. You need something a bit more New York glam. Think less High Street, more, High End,’ she’d said.

  I didn’t think we’d have any luck finding anything of hers that would fit me, but we had. ‘Here, try this,’ she’d said, as I’d stood in front of her wardrobe in nothing but my bra and pants. Luckily, I was a big fan of pretty underwear, so I didn’t need to worry too much about that. Which was lucky, since bra size was one area where my sister and I differed – hugely. She had handed me a dress, black thankfully, that was made of stretchy jersey-type material. I’d shimmied my way into it and been pleasantly surprised to find that it didn’t look that bad. It had short sleeves, a deep V-neckline and an A-line skirt that swung rather pleasingly around my knees. I’d thought it was a bit much for just a coffee date, but Kate had disagreed. ‘You’ve got a body like Marilyn Monroe, all boobs and bum with a little waist. You look gorgeous and sexy but still very sophisticated. And he’s going to die when he sees you in that dress.’

  As I sat waiting in the bar, I had to agree with my sister. Not too shabby for a middle aged mother of two. A waiter came to my table. ‘Can I get you a drink, madam?’ I clocked him take in my cleavage and I marked one point for me on my imaginary scoresheet. ‘Yes, please. I’d like a Cosmopolitan.’

  ‘Excellent choice.’ He smiled and then left. I was hopeful that this one would be better than the ones we’d toasted Olivia with the other day. As long as it didn’t come in a can, it was bound to be an improvement.

  I was enjoying myself, I realised, sitting there in my nice dress and waiting for my cocktail. I felt excited at the prospect of an evening with Daniel, even if it was just two old mates having a coffee. You know it’s more than that, came the little voice in my head. I pushed those thoughts away, along with my nerves and doubts about my ability to keep someone like Daniel entertained. What did we have to talk about? I didn’t have time to dwell, as my smiling waiter arrived with my drink. He put it down on the table, along with a little bowl of olives, and then he left me. I picked up the delicate cocktail glass and took a tentative sip; it was perfect. Like the ones we’d shared on the night Olivia disappeared. I prepared myself for the rush of guilt that usually accompanied those memories, but nothing happened. There was sadness, a sense of loss, but it wasn’t like before. Olivia hadn’t been walled up in a cabin by some psycho, I knew that for sure now, and I knew I had to come to terms with the fact that that was all I was ever going to know for sure. I couldn’t do anything for her now. Rachel had been right; it was time to let Olivia go.