Second Chance

by Jane Green

  ‘Actually it’s not very pleasant. I’ve picked up a stomach bug and I’ve been throwing up for days.’

  ‘Food poisoning or a bug?’

  ‘I think a bug. Doesn’t food poisoning end after about a day?’

  ‘I think it depends on how severe it is. You should go and see a doctor. Unless, of course…’ Saffron allows a dramatic pause ‘… you could be pregnant.’

  ‘Hardly.’ Olivia laughs, and then the colour drains from her face.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘Such a treat.’ Maggie smiles over at Holly and covers Holly’s hand lightly with her own. ‘All these years of not seeing you, and now it’s just like you’re my daughter again, back in the family, and seeing you with your own children, a mother yourself,’ she laughs, ‘it’s just lovely, Holly. And I love that you invited me out for lunch. I haven’t been out anywhere since we lost Tom, and I’m glad I’m able to be out with you.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re here with me too.’ Holly’s smile is tinged with sadness. ‘It is lovely to see you and to be with you. I hadn’t realized, all these years, how much I missed talking to you. Do you remember how you would sit with me at the kitchen table for hours, talking through my problems, giving me advice, while Tom rolled his eyes and went upstairs in a huff to plug in his headphones and drown out our laughter with Pink Floyd?’

  Maggie nods and closes her eyes as she remembers, the pleasure and pain burning a tear down her cheek even through her smile.

  ‘I think he was always a bit jealous of our relationship,’ Maggie says, ‘of how easy it was for you to turn to me. Tom was never much good at asking for help.’

  ‘That’s because he never needed any,’ Holly says, and they both laugh. ‘It is so good to see you. It makes me wonder how I managed without you all these years. You know, you’ve always felt more like my mother than my own mother.’

  ‘Your other mother, you used to call me.’ Maggie smiles. ‘Do you remember?’

  Holly nods and laughs.

  ‘My heart always went out to you, Holly,’ Maggie says, her face now serious. ‘You seemed so lost in those days. So unhappy.’

  ‘I did?’ Holly is shocked. Of course, it was how she’d felt inside, but she’d seemed so at home at Maggie and Peter’s, she hadn’t expected them to see it too, had thought she masked it so well.

  ‘Peter always used to say that you would grow up to be a great beauty.’ Maggie’s eyes grow distant as she reminisces. ‘And although I could see the possibility, I was never sure you were going to fulfil your potential because you were so very awkward in your skin as a teenager. You never looked as if you were comfortable, as if you liked who you were; and I was never certain you were going to be able to claim your self, sit in your skin and be proud of who you are.’

  There is a long pause as Maggie enfolds Holly in the warmth of her smile. ‘And of course,’ she continues, ‘look at you. So utterly beautiful and lovely, and finally so very sure of who you are.’

  ‘Oh God, Maggie. How can you say that? How can you believe that, have so much faith in me when I don’t even have it in myself?’

  ‘You don’t?’ Maggie frowns. ‘But you do, my darling. I see it all over you.’

  ‘Maybe in some respects, but there are times when I wake up and have no idea who I am or what I want. Whether this is the life I’m supposed to be living.’

  Maggie leans back in her chair and nods. ‘Aaah.’ She smiles finally. ‘This sounds like a mid-life crisis.’

  And Holly sits forward, leans towards her, her face now alert. A mid-life crisis. She was joking when she mentioned it to Will. How can she be having a mid-life crisis at thirty-nine? Isn’t it supposed to happen at forty? But a mid-life crisis doesn’t sound wrong. Something about it sounds very right, and if it is, in fact, a mid-life crisis, then there are ways to get beyond it, surely, ways to move on without blowing your life up and watching the pieces land where they may.

  ‘Do you really think that’s what it might be?’

  ‘I had one when I was thirty-nine.’ Maggie smiles. ‘Just where you are now. In fact, you were around then. I’m surprised you weren’t aware of something and didn’t pick up on anything, given how perceptive you were.’

  ‘I was? How old were we?’

  ‘You and Tom were fifteen. It was soon after you came into the family. An awful time. The things I put poor Peter through, but I understand why I did it, just as I understood it then, although I was in a slightly different situation.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Remember, I married Peter when I was twenty-three. A child. I married him because I was desperate to be a grown-up, to have a house of my own, children of my own, and it was the only way I could see to do it.’

  ‘So you weren’t in love with him?’ Holly is hoping to hear her own story, that Maggie will mirror her and Marcus’s story, will give her hope for redemption, for a happy ever after, which she is so certain Maggie has had with Peter.

  Maggie frowns. ‘Oh darling, of course I was in love with him. I was madly, hopelessly in love with him. Even when he had those ghastly leg-of-mutton sideburns I thought he was the most handsome, devilish, delicious man I’d ever come across. Don’t ever tell him this, but sometimes my butterflies would be so bad before he came to pick me up at my parents’ house, I’d actually throw up.’

  Holly makes a face as she laughs.

  ‘I adored him. But I married him too young. He was my first serious boyfriend, and we married a year after we met; and I thought I’d never look at another man again for the rest of my life.’

  Holly draws a sharp intake of breath. ‘You mean you did?’ Her voice drops to a whisper. ‘Did you have an affair?’

  Maggie smiles. ‘No, my sweet girl. I didn’t. It wasn’t about someone else. It was about wanting to be young again, not wanting to be a mother of teenagers, not wanting to be up to my elbows in laundry and cooking and cleaning.’

  ‘But you love cooking… you always seemed so happy when I was over. I never saw any dissatisfaction.’

  ‘I do love cooking, but I had joined a life-drawing class at the local art school, and all my friends were young and hip. Even the ones who were the same age as I was had carved out very different lives for themselves, lives that didn’t involve boisterous teenagers and entertaining the husband’s boss at home. I didn’t want to be me, I wanted to be them. I wanted to walk in someone else’s shoes.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘I was going to leave, not because I didn’t love Peter any more, but because I needed some space to figure out what I wanted.’ Maggie sighs as she remembers. ‘Good lord, Holly, I haven’t thought about this for years. Hard even now to remember how much pain I put Peter through.’

  ‘How did he react?’ As she speaks, Holly is thinking about Marcus. How would he react? Would he care? Did he even love her any more? Did he ever?

  ‘He put his foot down and said no. Absolutely not. He wasn’t having it. He said it simply wasn’t acceptable. He said he wouldn’t tolerate the damage it would do to Tom, Will and him, and that everyone had whims from time to time, and if I thought he didn’t sometimes think about going off and spending night after night at the Playboy club chasing after blonde models, I’d better think again. He said that marriage was for life and that this was what commitment meant. It meant riding the ups and downs, recognizing that marriage wasn’t always champagne and roses. Nor was it always dull or awful. That everything passes and that love, real love, means weathering the storms and emerging stronger as a result.’

  Holly’s eyes are wide as she takes it all in. ‘So you stayed.’

  ‘Of course I stayed.’ Maggie smiles. ‘Reluctantly at first, but honestly that bit about him seducing models gave me a bit of a start. It was one thing for me to fantasize about being single, but quite another to think of Peter going off with some blonde totty. Also,’ she leans forward with a conspiratorial smile, ‘I actually completely fancied him when he got all stern.’


  Holly breaks into peals of laughter.

  ‘It’s true.’

  ‘And you’ve never regretted it?’ The laughter disappears as Holly grows pensive.

  ‘No, my darling. I never have. We’ve been married over forty years, and it is just exactly as he said.’ She pauses for a while then smiles gently at Holly. ‘So that, Holly my darling, is my story and my story alone. If my experience can help you in any way, so be it, but whatever the journey that awaits you, it will be yours and no one can tell you what to do.’

  Holly sighs as she looks at the table. ‘That doesn’t help, Maggie.’

  ‘I know, darling. It’s not supposed to. Your answers will come, just trust that time and experience will tell you what you need to do.’

  ‘You really are my other mother, aren’t you?’ Holly smiles.

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning my real mother would sit here and tell me exactly what I was doing wrong and what I have to do to fix it.’

  ‘It’s not my job to judge you, Holly.’

  ‘Now you sound like Tom.’

  ‘That’s what Will always says.’

  At the mention of his name, Holly feels herself flush ever so slightly. She has wanted to speak his name with Maggie, find out… what? Something. Anything. Does Maggie know anything? Has he spoken about Holly to Maggie? Would Maggie feel differently about Holly’s impending journey and the outcome if she knew that Will, her own beloved son Will, was the catalyst for this storm of emotions and feelings?

  Maggie watches Holly colour, and she is not sure what to say, whether to say anything at all. For just as Tom was the caretaker, her reliable, wonderful, consistent son, Will has always been her ne’er-do-well, her irresponsible, frustrating, but oh-so-beloved baby of the family.

  As a mother you are not supposed to have favourites. If anyone ever asked Maggie – before this, of course, before Tom – whether she had a favourite, she would shake her head in horror and say she loved them the same, loved them differently, but not one more, or less, than the other.

  But that is not quite true. Tom always had a special place in her heart as her firstborn, a bond that could never be replicated; but something in her heart shifted the moment Will was born – she felt a love that was so overwhelming, so overpowering in its purity that she didn’t actually know before that moment that love that strong could exist.

  When he was a toddler she would follow Will around with her eyes, watch his face crease up with laughter. And he was always laughing, was the happiest, funniest, cheekiest toddler she had ever seen.

  And he loved his mother. Oh how he loved his mother. Maggie would say, for years, that he would crawl back into her stomach if he could. And it was true. Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, Will was next to her or on top of her, flinging his arms around her and covering her with kisses.

  ‘I lub you, Mummy,’ he would say at age two, almost the only thing he could say.

  ‘I lub you too,’ she’d say; and he’d parrot it back, over and over. The two of them could go on for hours.

  And when she got cross with him or found herself raising her voice at him, he would look at her, his eyes wide, stricken, and say, ‘Mummy, why are you being mean to me?’ And all would be instantly forgiven.

  Perhaps, she has often thought, this is why she has a special spot in her heart for him; perhaps because he loved her so much, he gave her little choice. Tom had always been stoic, independent. Tom had loved her, of course, but he hadn’t needed her; and Will has always needed her. Still does.

  Even now, at thirty-five, independent (allegedly), when he should be getting on with his life, Maggie knows she would do anything for Will.

  And the worst thing – the thing she tries very hard not to think about, has never even whispered out loud to another living soul – is that in the dead of night, when she is lying awake, hurting with the pain of losing Tom, the thought that so often comes to her is: At least it wasn’t Will. At least Will is still here.

  Will, who leaves a trail of broken hearts wherever he goes, who she prays will find happiness eventually, who is so clearly involved with dear, lovely Holly. Will, who is so clearly, and oh so frustratingly, the force behind whatever crisis Holly imagines herself to be going through in her marriage.

  Oh lord, she thinks. What am I supposed to say? But the words come out without her even thinking about them for she has sat here too many times with women who are not Holly but who are heartsick over Will, heartsick over his lack of commitment and his inability to love them in the way they love him, heartsick that he isn’t able to be the man they want him to be. And now she finds herself sitting opposite Holly.

  Dear, lovely Holly, who is married and has children, must not pin her hopes or anything else on lovely, incorrigible Will.

  ‘Be careful,’ Maggie says softly. Suddenly.

  And Holly’s faint flush deepens to a rich burgundy.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Holly says quietly.

  ‘I mean Will, my darling.’

  Holly attempts a laugh. ‘Maggie, there’s nothing going on with Will. We’re just friends. He’s certainly not the reason for this… mid-life crisis.’

  ‘Darling girl, it is not mine to judge, and if I am mistaken, then I so hope you will forgive me.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘If Will has anything to do with whatever you are going through, and it is quite possible that he has not, but if he has, please, my darling, don’t make any changes, don’t do anything with the belief that Will is the man for you.’

  Holly is mortified. Humiliated. Wishing a hole could open beneath them and swallow her up.

  ‘I haven’t…’ she starts. ‘I wouldn’t… I mean…’ And she can’t say anything else because the lie is written all over her face.

  Maggie leans forward, holds Holly’s chin in her hand, and forces Holly to meet her eyes. ‘My darling girl, I love you, and I want you to be happy. And I love my one remaining son more than anything else in the world; and yet I, as his mother, can absolutely vouch that he is a bad bet. He is devastatingly handsome and funny and exciting, and a worse possible proposition for a relationship you couldn’t wish to find. If he is the reason for your dissatisfaction, and you leave your marriage because you think there will be a future with Will, it will not end well.’

  There is a silence as Holly looks away, and Maggie drops her hand with a sigh.

  ‘What if you’re wrong?’ Holly says with all the truculence of a sixteen-year-old. ‘What if Will and I are supposed to be together?’

  ‘Oh darling.’ Maggie’s voice is now sad. ‘Do you really think that?’

  ‘No!’ Holly is insistent. ‘No, I don’t. I don’t even know why I said it. I just… I don’t know. I don’t seem to know anything any more other than I feel hot and bothered and as if there are big changes afoot and I just don’t know what to do about anything. Anyway,’ she peers at Maggie sullenly, ‘I thought you said you wouldn’t judge me.’

  Maggie grins. ‘I would never judge you, sweet Holly. But as Will’s mother I’m afraid I have to judge him. It’s my job.’

  ‘So I shouldn’t leave Marcus and run away to the Bahamas or wherever the hell Will is going next winter?’ Holly is attempting humour.

  ‘I’d say by all means leave Marcus if that is the right thing for you to do, but do it for the right reasons. Not because of Will, or anyone else for that matter. Don’t do it to fall into another’s arms; do it, if indeed you end up doing it, because you are absolutely certain that you are not happy, that you will never be happy if you stay in this situation. That, to me, seems the only justifiable reason.’

  ‘So when you were ready to leave Peter, how did you know you could be happy again?’

  Maggie shrugs. ‘I think because I’d been so happy before. This felt like a temporary blip. I still loved him, I just needed to make myself fall in love with him again.’

  There is a long silence as the waiter brings them cappuccinos. Holly raises hers to her lips and sips thoughtfully.
r />   ‘What if…’ she begins, setting the cup down quietly on the table. ‘What if you were never in love in the first place?’

  Have I ever loved you? Holly wonders later that evening as they sit in the Automat, having dinner with a couple from Daisy’s school, a mother who has clearly been going out of her way to befriend Holly the last couple of months, who has invited Daisy to play with her daughter on a weekly basis, and who has now suggested they get together with husbands.

  Holly sits and talks to the mother – Jo – about Mrs Phillips, the form teacher. They talk about nannies and about other mothers in the class. About where they might consider sending the girls for junior school. Marcus and Edward talk about work – Edward is a barrister – and when their main courses are served, the four of them finally talk in a group. Jo keeps them amused with funny stories about how she and Edward met, and Marcus offers his own version of events of when he and Holly first got together.

  She watches him talk, is aware that when she tries to interject to correct him or add something of her own, he subtly puts her down or ridicules her or waves her comments aside as if they are completely irrelevant. And eventually she finds herself doing what she always does – withdrawing.

  So instead of engaging in the conversation this evening, she watches Marcus and wonders whether she ever loved him.

  What is love anyway? she finds herself thinking. Maggie talked today of loving Peter, of being in love with him, of losing it temporarily and then being able to fall in love again. But how are you supposed to fall in love again when you have never had anything there to begin with?

  Holly knows she wasn’t in love with Marcus, not even in the beginning, but she thought she would grow to love him and that would be enough. She knew she didn’t have passion, didn’t have the excitement, but thought those things spelled pain and discomfort, and life seemed safer without.

  But her life is so safe now as to be deeply dull. And there is nothing about Marcus that she loves, little that she even likes. She realizes that those words she spoke to Olivia about her marriage are so true. They are not partners. They are not friends.