Second Chance

by Jane Green

  And then, above a console table, a framed line drawing of the Fitzgerald family – Maggie and Peter grinning with their arms wrapped around each other, and Tom, Will and Holly lying on their tummies in front. Happy Anniversary 1984! Lots of love, Holy written at the bottom. Holly had copied a photograph with her Rotring pen, then had added herself as part of the family.

  Maggie is, as always, in the kitchen. Unwrapping cakes and platters of sandwiches on the kitchen table as friends of hers bustle around refilling the kettle and making sure there are enough cups.

  The kitchen table is still the same, the kitchen cupboards updated – no longer seventies pine and mela-mine counters, the cupboards are now a pretty antique white with thick butcher-block counters, but the dresser holding all the plates is still there, as is the old church pew serving as a bench on one side of the scrubbed refectory table.

  ‘What do you think of the old place?’ Maggie looks up and sees Holly. ‘Hasn’t changed much, has it?’

  Holly shakes her head with a smile. ‘Apart from the cupboards in here, it looks exactly the same. I keep expecting to see Boris leaping about the kitchen.’

  ‘Oh Boris.’ Maggie smiles. ‘What a good dog he was. A maniac, but a good one. Nowadays we have Pippa, who’s a rescue dog, although quite pretty. We think she’s spaniel crossed with retriever.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘She hates lots of people so we moved her bed up to our bedroom. Olivia has taken her out for a walk.’

  ‘Ah, of course. The animal lover.’

  ‘Thank goodness I was able to say we rescued Pippa – I think it immediately put us in her good books.’

  ‘As if you would ever be anywhere else.’ Holly laughs. ‘Do you need help?’

  ‘No, love. I’m almost done. Anyway, keeping myself busy seems to be the best thing for me at the moment. I love all these people coming over all the time. I just wish it wasn’t under these circumstances.’ Maggie’s eyes glaze over for a second, then she shakes her head to dislodge the thoughts and reaches behind her for some plates.

  Holly leaves the kitchen and continues walking down memory lane, loving how so little has changed. She pushes her way between the people standing around with cups of tea in hand, sharing their stories of Tom, and she walks upstairs, knowing she has to see Tom’s room.

  Pushing the door open, she expects to see little changed. The rest of the house is exactly the same; why would this be any different? And of course in the movies, the bedroom is always just as it was. But bizarrely, this is the one room that is entirely different. The walls are a fresh yellow, framed prints of Babar and Le Petit Prince line the room, and there are pretty twin beds with teddy bears sitting atop the pillows.

  Holly smiles. Of course. This is now Dustin and Violet’s bedroom, where they stay when they come over here. She walks over to the window seat and sits down, leaning her head on the windowpane as she looks out on this familiar view, remembering when she and Tom would lean outside seeing who could blow better smoke rings.

  The door creaks and Holly turns around with a start, immediately feeling guilty about being in Tom’s bedroom, being somewhere she doesn’t belong, although of course she does belong here.

  If she belongs anywhere at all, if Holly has a home anywhere in the world, this is where it is.

  ‘I thought I saw you at the service, and I had a feeling I might find you up here.’ Will stands in the doorway with a huge grin, then holds out his arms for Holly to run into.

  ‘Oh Will,’ Holly says, leaning her head on his shoulder as she squeezes him tight. ‘Look how grown-up you’ve become! I can’t believe it! It’s so good to see you, and you look just like Tom! Look at you – you’re a long-haired version of Tom. Oh God, Will,’ she feels her eyes well up, ‘it’s so awful. I’m so, so sorry.’

  ‘I know,’ Will says, rubbing her back. ‘I still feel a bit numb, really, and it’s so completely bizarre seeing all of Tom’s old friends here, most of whom I haven’t seen for years.’

  They disengage and both move towards the window seat, grinning at each other.

  ‘You look great,’ Will says. ‘You’ve improved with age.’

  ‘Oh shut up,’ Holly says, blushing ever so slightly. ‘And I don’t look great. Look at this grey hair and these lines.’ She raises her eyebrows to create a series of mounds on her forehead.

  ‘Well, okay, you don’t look so great when you do that but, seriously, it’s so good to see you. What happened to you? You got married, we all came to the wedding, had a couple of Christmas cards, and then you dropped off the face of the earth.’

  ‘I know. I can’t believe I lost touch. I suppose life just got in the way. Husband, children, work.’

  ‘Ah yes. Those things that normal people do. I can’t say I have much experience of them.’

  ‘No? Why? Are you still the reprobate son? Have you been trapped in time somewhere around 1989?’ Holly laughs.

  ‘According to my parents the answer would be yes.’ Will smirks. ‘I just don’t think I’m the settling-down type.’

  ‘What? No devoted wife and six children, then?’

  ‘Hardly. I’m something of a serial monogamist. Thus far I’ve been accused, several times, of being a commitaphobe, but I think I just haven’t met anyone I’ve wanted to commit to.’

  ‘So how old are you now? Thirty-five?’

  ‘Yup. Exactly.’

  Holly shrugs. ‘You have plenty of time. I got married in my twenties and frankly I think it was probably too young. Not that it was a mistake or anything, I’m incredibly happy…’ She falters slightly, wondering why she is coming out with a lie such as this and to Will of all people, but she feels safer in the lie. ‘I think it ought to be illegal to be married before thirty.’

  ‘Because?’

  ‘Because you change so much in your thirties, how can you possibly predict whether you’ll grow together or apart?’

  ‘So,’ Will studies her face for a second, ‘have you and… is it Marcus?’ Holly nods. ‘Have you grown together or apart?’

  ‘Oh God, Will! Isn’t this a bit heavy for Tom’s memorial service?’ Holly won’t answer the question. Can’t answer the question. Doesn’t want to even think about what the answer is going to be.

  ‘Enough about me,’ she says instead. ‘What about work? Are you hugely successful at something? A millionaire with gorgeous models hanging off his arm?’

  Will laughs. ‘Hardly. Well, I have had a few gorgeous models, and I’m relatively good at what I do when I do it.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’m a carpenter, I suppose. Or cabinetmaker. I mean, I do everything, but I basically do it to fund travelling. I try to do six months here to make enough money to spend six months travelling and living abroad.’

  ‘Wow!’ Holly raises her eyebrows. ‘You really are a commitaphobe.’

  ‘Oh don’t you start.’ He grins. ‘You mean because I haven’t settled down with a bachelor pad and a pension?’

  ‘Well, isn’t it opting out of real life a bit?’ Holly can only say this because it’s Will. Anyone else and she’d never dare say these things. ‘I mean, I could understand you doing this at twenty-five, but thirty-five?’

  Will laughs. ‘I’m living the life that makes me happy, and wouldn’t you say that’s the most important thing of all? I can honestly say I love my life, and how many people do you know who can say that?’ There’s a pause and he grins again. ‘Can you?’

  ‘I have wonderful children,’ Holly says. ‘And a wonderful life. I adore my work, and the life I’ve created.’ But even as she says it she knows it’s not true, particularly after walking back into this house today.

  For Holly always wanted this. She wanted crazy and chaotic, wanted the house filled with children and laughter and fun. But Marcus won’t allow it, and it is just starting to dawn on Holly that she may never have the life she wants. Not with Marcus.

  ‘But are you happy?’ Will persists.

  ‘Is any
one? Holly tries to shrug it off. ‘As a concept it’s great but, honestly, I think most of the time I’m just getting on with life. Sure, at times I’m happy, but happy all the time? I think that’s unrealistic’

  Will tilts his head. ‘That’s the point. While I can’t say I’m happy all the time, I can say I’m happy most of the time. I wake up in the morning and I love my life. I enjoy all of it. That’s why I do it. If I wake up one day and decide that now’s the time to settle down and buy a house, have 2.4 children and everything that comes with it, I’m sure I’ll do it. But right now this is what makes me feel good.’

  Holly shakes her head with a resigned smile. ‘If it works for you, that’s great. Really. I always think we can’t question another person’s choices – how can we judge unless we’ve walked in their shoes?’

  ‘My philosophy exactly. So… have you seen Scary Sarah yet?’

  Holly’s mouth falls open. ‘How do you know I called her that?’

  ‘Tom told me.’ Will’s eyes sparkle with amusement. ‘He thought it was hysterical.’

  ‘Oh God, I’m so embarrassed,’ Holly groans, sinking her head in her hands. ‘And no, I haven’t seen her yet. How is she?’

  Will looks sad. ‘The truth is she’s a complete mess. I would have expected her to be incredibly cool and stoic and to act as if she were handling it perfectly, but she keeps breaking down in tears, which none of us know quite how to handle. I was amazed she managed to pull it together for the service.’

  ‘Is she downstairs?’

  ‘Probably. Or maybe in the guest room. I have to say I’ve warmed to her enormously these last couple of days. I always called her the Ice Queen, but I think I’m seeing the real Sarah now.’

  ‘Come on.’ Holly stands. ‘I have to find her, and we ought to go downstairs.’

  As they head out of the door they both turn spontaneously and give each other a hug.

  ‘It’s so good to see you,’ Holly says into his ear. ‘Like rediscovering my long-lost little brother.’

  ‘Ouch.’ Will pulls away then smiles. ‘Did you know I used to have the most enormous crush on you?’

  ‘You did?’ Holly is stunned.

  ‘I did. You were the first great love of my life.’

  ‘I was?’ Holly’s hand flies up to her heart, which just fluttered in an unexpected way. ‘I never knew!’

  ‘I never told you. Come on. Let’s go and find Sarah.’ Will holds out his hand and guides Holly gently down the stairs.

  ‘Come tomorrow,’ Maggie says as she hugs Holly goodbye. ‘Everyone will have gone and I’d love to spend some real time with you. How does the morning sound?’

  ‘It sounds wonderful,’ Holly says. ‘Will Sarah be around, do you think? I’d love to talk to her.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Maggie says. ‘She just couldn’t face talking to people after the service. All so draining for her, plus she’s drugged up to the eyeballs. Her doctor’s got her on all these pills. Zoloft and Xanax for depression and Ambien to sleep. I think she’s taking pills pretty much all day.’

  ‘Sounds frightening.’

  ‘I rather think it is, but it seems this is what they do in America. Still. Hopefully she’ll be up tomorrow. I’m sure she’d love to see you.’

  I’m not so sure, Holly thinks but doesn’t say.

  At three in the morning, as usual, Holly finds herself wide awake. She tries lying in bed for a while listening to Marcus snore, and eventually gets up, throws on a robe, and goes upstairs to her studio. Sitting down at her desk and turning on her computer, she slides the scrap of paper that Will had scribbled his details on from under her notebook and studies his email address.

  Opening her email account she taps his address in and is smiling as she writes. A few sentences about how lovely it was to see him, how much she misses Tom, then she erases and starts again.

  A few sentences about how good it was to be able to really talk to someone, how rare to reconnect so strongly with someone from your childhood, then she erases and starts again.

  ‘If I was the first,’ she taps, a smile playing on her lips, ‘who was the second? From Curious Insomniac in Brondesbury.’ And she switches her computer off and goes downstairs to make herself some tea.

  Marcus leans over to kiss her goodbye, as he always does at five thirty in the morning. He leaves the house to drive to the tube station, briefly rousing Holly who, if she isn’t already awake, tries to go back to sleep for an hour until the kids come in to wake her up.

  Today Holly lies in bed listening until the front door closes, hears his car start up and pull out of the driveway, and when she can no longer hear it she leaps out of bed and runs up to her studio, turning her computer back on, going straight to her inbox and smiling as she sees a reply from Will. Wow, she thinks. Sent at 4 a.m. He doesn’t sleep either.

  Dear Curious Insomniac in Brondesbury,

  Interesting question. Am thinking that perhaps

  there has only been one great love of my life,

  however had a lesser love at Durham for Cynthia

  Fawley. Worshipped her from afar (seems to have

  been a pattern of my younger years) for a year,

  ended up going out with her for a year after she

  broke up with her muscular but dim-witted

  rugby-playing boyfriend. Have had several loves,

  unsurprisingly for a thirty-five-year-old, over the

  years but none quite as innocent or pain-searingly

  sweet as my pre-pubescent dreams. Do you

  remember we almost snogged once? You and Tom

  let me join in spin the bottle and I spun that thing,

  praying to God and promising that I’d never do

  anything bad again if I got you, and I did. And we

  went into the cupboard and you kissed me on the

  lips, and I was desperate to kiss you properly but I

  didn’t know how. That kiss kept me going for years

  (may still be keeping me going even today)…

  Is he flirting with me? Am I flirting with him? What is this? What am I doing? Isn’t this how affairs start? Haven’t I always said I would never have an affair, not after my father? Haven’t I always said infidelity is the greatest betrayal a human being can make? Oh for heaven’s sake, Holly, this isn’t flirting. This is just having some fun. Who said anything about an affair?

  And it can’t be flirting. This is Tom’s brother, and Tom’s not even cold in his grave. The last thing Will’s going to be thinking about is this, and it’s the last thing I would be thinking about. How entirely inappropriate would flirting be? There. Settled. This isn’t flirting. This is friendship.

  Odd, perhaps, that these questions are even there, albeit not in the forefront of Holly Mac’s mind, so Holly tells herself that she has rediscovered an old friend. That the reason she is sitting in front of her computer at 5.30 a.m., checking emails, is because she is excited at finding the Fitzgeralds again, excited at seeing Will again after all these years.

  And so what if there is a touch of innocent flirting going on? How lovely, actually, to be flirted with after so many years of having no one look at her.

  Holly used to feel gorgeous, but lately she feels harassed. In her running-around-with-kids clothes she feels like a stressed mum, and in her cashmere sweaters and pearls, out with Marcus in the evening, she feels like a fraud.

  Rarely does she feel like Holly, the real Holly. The Holly that Will has known. Perhaps this is why she feels so comfortable, she muses, as she thinks about what to write back.

  And if he is flirting gently, so what? Holly would never do anything, and how invigorating to have a gorgeous, single man pay you attention. They will just be friends, she decides, and how lucky to have a male friend, how much she has missed male friendship since she and Tom drifted so far apart.

  It doesn’t occur to her that this is almost always how these things start.

  Paul rings later that morning. ‘Maggie said you were g
oing to their house today and I’d love to go too. I barely saw you yesterday, and Saffron disappeared early to take a call from P. I’m picking Olivia up at eleven, then heading over to the house. Want me to come and get you?’

  ‘Thanks, Paul, I’d love it,’ Holly says, replacing the phone and wondering how it is that you can go for twenty years not seeing people, then when you do, nothing has changed, it is instantly comfortable and familiar, as if all the years in between had been erased.

  She takes extra-special care today before going to Maggie and Peter’s. A little more make-up than usual, a little more blow-drying to ensure her hair is smooth and silky. A sexy shirt and navy trousers, high-heeled boots – thank God it’s October! – and peridot flowers in her ears.

  ‘Wow! Look at you!’ Olivia grins as she gets in the car. ‘Are you off for a job interview later?’

  Holly blushes, instantly self-conscious. Perhaps she should change, perhaps this is over the top. She had sent an email back to Will telling him she was coming over today. As she showered she found herself thinking: If he likes me, he’ll be there. And immediately reprimanded herself for being so childish.

  ‘No, but a meeting at work,’ Holly lies. ‘I usually try to dress up a bit when I go in.’

  ‘You look great,’ Paul says. ‘Hey, both of you, if either of you want anything from Fashionista just let me know. You should look at the website because Anna said she’d give you anything wholesale.’

  ‘I’m not sure that Fashionista is my thing.’ Olivia laughs, gesturing at her old jeans and workman’s boots. ‘I think my fashion days are long gone.’

  I wouldn’t mind looking, Holly thinks. Although she said she bought from the website all the time, it isn’t strictly true. She has bought from the website and does love it, but Marcus never seems to like anything from there – too trendy, he always says, inappropriate, he says, just wrong.

  So it has been a while since Holly browsed Fashionista’s clothing online.

  It’s time I treated myself, she thinks, hearing Paul’s offer. Time I bought something for myself, something that I love, never mind about Marcus.

  Before Marcus, Holly had loved expressing herself through her clothes. She had spent hours at Portobello looking for the perfect vintage dress, had always known exactly what was in and what was out that season, and even though she couldn’t afford it, she could make do between Miss Selfridge, Warehouse and the markets.