Second Chances

by Minna Howard

  Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she walked into the dingy classroom and saw Robert sitting there, close to the door among the other students. That decided her against it, and she turned to walk out again.

  He called out, ‘Oh, Sarah, I hope you’re not leaving on my account?’

  ‘Of course I’m not,’ she said curtly, seeing the eyes of the other students, five women of assorted ages, a young couple, and an old man on her. ‘I’ve got the wrong room.’

  ‘Egyptology,’ he said, his eyes on her face. ‘I’ve always wanted to study it, but the classes are usually so far away that it seemed too much of an effort to get to after a busy day.’

  Tim’s enthusiasm for the subject was the reason she was here as part of her resolve to take on new interests. But what a dreadful coincidence, not to mention a disaster, that Robert was here too. She couldn’t study it now. She had just paid out almost a hundred pounds to do the course and there were no refunds unless the class was cancelled. Perhaps she could change to another subject? But the other classes they ran here did not appeal to her.

  Before she could leave the room, a large, untidy woman, pulling a suitcase on wheels behind her, trundled into the room. ‘Hallo, everyone, sorry I’m late. I’m Martha, your tutor,’ she greeted them cheerfully, taking her place in front of them. ‘Now,’ she eyed the men in the class, ‘I need the screen put up and a table for my slides.’

  Robert and the young man got up to do her bidding. Sarah hovered a second, planning to slip out and escape, but Martha fixed her with a look of authority and barked, ‘Are you here for my class?’ Her eyes swept round the rest of the students. She added decisively, ‘I need a minimum of ten people, or it’s not worth my time and they will close the class.’

  The eyes of all the students turned on Sarah, silently ordering her to stay. If she did not join as the tenth person, the class would close and it would be her fault. Meekly, she sat down as far away from Robert as was possible, inwardly cursing him for yet again spoiling her life.

  Sarah had imagined that the class would be a series of lectures, with a possible reading list if someone was interested in learning more. She was shocked when Martha informed them that she expected essays which they could send to her online. She glanced surreptitiously round at the others. They were all studiously poised to take notes, even Robert, who threw her a maddeningly smug look.

  Martha wrote some dates of visits to the British Museum on the whiteboard, and a list of books to read. She had got her lap top open and a map of Egypt appeared on the screen that Robert and the young man had put up for her. Sarah felt threatened by so much intensity. She’d never be able to keep up, as well as go to work and do her designs. Besides, she hadn’t written an essay in years, and had no idea how to go about it. It would be useless asking her children for help. She could already hear their voices protesting, ‘Oh, no, Mum, we hardly have time to do our own essays, we can’t possibly help you with yours.’

  The class was very interesting although Sarah felt her brain was struggling to take in so many facts. She wrote down a few notes telling herself she’d look into them in more depth when she got home.

  When the class was over which had included pictures from Martha’s laptop, a description of the country and the importance of the Nile, Sarah got up to leave. But Robert was beside her, standing behind her chair so that she almost knocked him down.

  ‘How strange that we should both pick the same class,’ he remarked.

  ‘I don’t know if I shall keep it up,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I can be doing with all those essays.’

  ‘We could help each other,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Something to do in the long winter evenings ahead.’

  ‘I’ve more than enough to do to fill my evenings already,’ she said, extricating herself from her seat, pushing her chair out in front of him as though he were a raging lion and she a circus tamer attempting to keep him at a distance.

  He moved out of her way. ‘I’ve got my car outside – would you like a lift home?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ she said, though she was tired and would have accepted the offer under normal circumstances.

  He said, ‘Not even if I promise not to mention the house?’ His mouth curved slowly with a smile. Amusement creased his eyes, tiny wrinkles fanning out beside them.

  Reluctantly she said, ‘yes.’ But only because her head was throbbing with all this new information Martha had just drummed into them. ‘Thank you, then, I will.’

  She noticed that one of the other women was eyeing him up. She was pretty, with blonde hair tied back with a green scarf. She walked decisively towards him.

  ‘Hi, I’m Amy, it’s a fascinating class, don’t you think? Great teacher.’ She addressed her remark solely to Robert, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at him.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘fascinating.’

  Amy went on at some length about her trip to Egypt a couple of years previously. Sarah hoped she would take Robert off her hands. Her friend, the other young woman, more stodgy-looking but with a pleasant smile, sidled up to them. Her eyes were on Robert too, watching him listening to Amy.

  He was, after all, the only available man in the class, the young man already being taken, the other man far too old, Sarah told herself, ignoring a pang of jealousy – though of course it wasn’t really jealousy, just her empty stomach calling out for food.

  She felt rather spare, waiting for him to finish talking to his fans. ‘I must fly,’ she said. She’d take the bus, after all. Leave Robert to them.

  ‘Just coming, Sarah,’ he said, and with a courteous smile he left the two women.

  ‘I don’t want to tear you away,’ Sarah said as they went down the stairs together, their feet loud in the cubed tower that held the staircase.

  ‘You haven’t,’ he said shortly.

  She got into his car, a silver grey Bristol that she’d often seen parked in the street. The smell of the leather interior evoked past glamour and elegance. The engine had a pleasant throb to it as he eased the car out into the traffic. It was so much nicer than that horrid little cough of Dan’s sports car; the line of the car was so beautiful compared to that squatting frog. She wondered what Robert did for a living. She would not ask him, because that would show she was interested in him, which she most certainly was not.

  ‘Your house seems quite busy, people always in and out.’ He was looking ahead at the traffic as he said this, but she felt herself blush, thinking of Gerry on the doorstep suggesting sex sessions, and Christian and her rolling around together on the kitchen floor. Had the sound of their lovemaking filtered through his walls as his music had done through hers?

  ‘The children come and go. Tim and a friend are coming this weekend, I think,’ she said, surreptitiously looking for her front-door key in her bag so she could rush straight inside when they got back.

  ‘That will be nice for you.’

  She nodded. She did not want to get involved in having a conversation, feeling that he would somehow get some information out of her to use as a way to get her house, her finances being the weak point. If Dan insisted on what he said was his share of the money from the sale of their house straight away she would either have to borrow it or sell the house and move somewhere smaller, in a less smart district. She put it to the back of her mind in case Robert could read her thoughts and join forces with Dan to persuade her to sell.

  Living so close to Robert, hearing the sounds of him in the house next door, was far too intimate for her liking. Yet they were strangers, and she was determined to keep it that way.

  ‘I’m sorry if I disturbed you the other evening when you were going out. I do hope I didn’t make you late for anything.’ He said, turning to look at her. She saw his face in the glow of the streetlights, the quick flick of his eyes assessing her expression. She guessed that he wanted to know more about Christian.

  She would not fall for that. ‘You did hold me up,’ she said. ‘I was late getting back from work and I didn
’t have much time to get ready.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Did you have a nice evening?’

  ‘Yes, very nice, thank you.’ She looked out at the passing shops, cubes of light gleaming in the dark, showing off their wares. She would not become too friendly towards him; that would put her off her guard. In her struggle to make herself a new life, keeping the house was the cornerstone of that resolve. She must keep her wits and her emotions about her to be certain not to lose it.

  He turned into their street and there was a parking place beside his house. He remarked upon it, as so often the street was full at night. He said, ‘Would you like to come in for a drink, or even scrambled eggs? We could have them with smoked salmon. We could talk over the course, even start on an essay?’ He said teasingly.

  ‘No, thank you. I have so much to do this evening.’ She felt he was setting her a trap by being so friendly and once he had lured her in, he would pounce and find her weakness.

  ‘Another time, then,’ he said, a maddening smile playing round his lips. ‘This is a fairly long term, so we’ll be seeing quite a lot of each other.’

  She did not answer.

  They stood side by side beside their front doors, unlocked them and went inside their respective houses.

  ‘Goodnight,’ he said.

  ‘Goodnight, and thanks for the lift.’ She went inside to turn off her alarm, hearing Robert doing the same in his house then going upstairs. It was uncomfortable living in such close proximity to someone you didn’t care for at all, especially if you suspected that everything they did had an ulterior motive.

  Fourteen

  The shop was busy the following morning when a young woman came in. Sarah was occupied with helping Mrs Bradshaw choose her annual Christmas dress, and she was grumbling because Briar was not there.

  ‘She knows exactly what I want,’ Mrs Bradshaw kept bleating, making Sarah want to tie her up like a trussed chicken in a bale of silk.

  Maggie who was here helping out as Celine was away went forward to greet the young woman, her face suddenly going pink with suppressed excitement. She came over to Sarah and whispered feverishly, ‘Fashion editor of Vogue.’

  Fashion editor of Vogue! Oh, why had she come in when Celine was away? Sarah hustled Mrs Bradshaw into the changing-room with a couple of dresses and told Maggie to take over. She must appear calm, treat her as if she was anyone else, not someone who could change their fortunes.

  ‘You have quite the most glamorous evening-wear,’ the editor said after introducing herself. ‘I passed the shop the other evening and had to stop and look in your window. We’d love to use some of your things for the feature we’re doing for the party season.’

  They had had some of their clothes featured in lesser magazines before, but to be in Vogue was the highest prize.

  ‘Would you like me to show you what we have, or would you like to browse through by yourself?’ Sarah asked, not wanting to appear too pushy, but not wanting to appear indifferent either.

  ‘Show me, please, your newest designs. I haven’t much time.’ The woman’s eyes darted all over the shop, taking in the displays on the walls, the floating scarves, the hats that toned in with the bright colours, the one set of underwear that was on show to be made to order.

  ‘I adore the look of those jackets.’ The editor went over to the rack and began pulling them out, exclaiming with delight at each one.

  She did not take long to choose an armful of clothes that she wanted sent to the magazine for an immediate shoot.

  When she heard that Sarah was the designer of most of the clothes, she said, ‘I’d like to do a whole feature on you and Celine I’ll text or ring you for an interview and a photograph. Thanks.’ And then she was gone, whirling out to the street and a waiting taxi, leaving Sarah gaping after her.

  ‘I really wanted a gold colour this year.’ Mrs Bradshaw whined, bringing her back to earth with a jolt. Celine had been approached by the glossies in the past, had even had clothes sent to the studio to be photographed, but they had not featured them. It was the Mrs Bradshaw’s of this world who paid the rent.

  When at last the shop was empty, Maggie said, ‘She obviously liked them, or why else would she have come in? And she has chosen quite a few things to be photographed.’

  ‘I know, but she’ll choose other designers, too, and at the end of the day she might use their clothes and not ours. It’s happened before.’

  ‘It’s high time your clothes were in all the top magazines,’ Maggie said loyally. ‘They are far more glamorous than those skimpy little numbers that seem to grab the headlines. Most women don’t want to look like that. Most of us haven’t the figure, for a start.’

  ‘But they think they have. We see it here every day. Look at Mrs Bradshaw. She is convinced she is still a size 12. It’s all such an illusion, this preoccupation with youth and a washboard tummy.’

  ‘You can never admit to being old,’ Maggie said. ‘We all go on perpetuating this ridiculous illusion, giving the young a power they haven’t the experience for. Making the rest of us feel like failures if we don’t dance to their tune.’

  Sarah thought of Dan, dashing off as fast as his spasmodic back would let him to his adolescent delights. It would be hilarious if it wasn’t so destructively sad.

  But if this feature came off, and she hardly dared to think about it, she might be a success. Become famous in her own right as a good designer, though the thought somehow added to her anxiety.

  When Celine phoned her later from India she told her all about it, keeping the excitement from her voice to ward off Celine’s caution. ‘She wants to do a feature on both of us.’

  ‘It will be extraordinary if it comes off,’ Celine said, rather dismissively but, knowing her as she did, Sarah understood she was preparing herself for disappointment.

  ‘How’s Polly?’ she asked, to change the subject.

  ‘She’s out with a young man she met. She sent her love.’

  ‘I hope she’s pulling her weight.’ Sarah felt a twinge of guilt that Polly was abusing Celine’s generosity by going out on the razzle.

  ‘Oh, she’s fantastic! All the silk merchants adore her. I’m sure I’ve got better deals just because of her. But she met this Englishman who is travelling, and I’ve given her the time off.’

  ‘I’m glad her heart has mended so quickly,’ Sarah said. If only hers would; but, like a deep scar, it still throbbed painfully if she snagged it with a scene from the past.

  ‘Resilience of youth,’ Celine said ruefully. ‘Anyway see you in a couple of days. We’re back Thursday evening.’

  ‘The same night as my Egyptology class,’ Sarah said, thinking that at least their coming back was an excuse not to go and suffer being in the same room as Robert.

  ‘So, you took the plunge and found something interesting to study? Well done,’ Celine said. ‘We wouldn’t dream of interrupting that. Ring me when you get back from it. Bye for now.’ The line went dead.

  All week Sarah had wondered how to get out of getting a lift home from the class with Robert. If he took his car each week and was going straight home after the class, it did seem churlish – which she didn’t mind – but stupid, too, to refuse him. Although the school was only a brisk walk from the shop, it was not near her bus stop in the King’s Road or the tube station home. This was fine on a summer’s night, but less so in the cold and the dark. If only she had somewhere else to go afterwards, but skulking around in the dark, pretending she had other commitments and then coming home later, would be madness – uncomfortable madness, as well.

  She timed her entrance to the class just as it started, so she would not have to talk to him at all. Robert was sitting at the end, nearest to the door, beside an empty place. It was obvious that she should sit there, otherwise it would mean walking round the room to sit at the other end of the U-shape of narrow tables. He looked up as she came in and smiled, and she sensed he could read her uneasiness. Why was he being so nice to her? What new trick ha
d he up his sleeve?

  He said, ‘Here’s a place,’ and moved a pile of books closer to his side.

  ‘I don’t want to sit in a draught, I have a sore throat,’ she lied desperately, walking on round the room and sitting down next to one of the girls. She did not look at him again, but tried to concentrate on the lecture – the Egyptian way of death, which seemed to be more important to them than their way of life.

  At the end of the class, she pretended to go on typing up her notes on her iPad but he came up to her.

  ‘I can’t give you a lift home tonight as I am going out to dinner,’ he said pleasantly, as if they had made a previous arrangement.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting you to,’ she said, not looking at his face, but seeing his slim black leather shoes standing neatly beside her as she bent over her notepad.

  ‘I’m getting quite a file together on my iPad, I think I’ll do that instead of essays,’ he went on. ‘What are you going to do?’

  She hadn’t thought. Whichever was easiest was her motto, Martha hadn’t given them an essay yet, long may that last.’

  ‘I’m going to do both,’ Amy broke in. ‘I’ve got a wonderful collection of photographs I’m going to scan. I could give you some, if you like.’ She addressed this remark to Robert.

  ‘Thank you. I’ll let you know if I need them,’ he said politely Then, seeing that Sarah was resolutely taking no notice of him, he bent down and said quietly in her ear, ‘I have something for you. I’ll give it to you tomorrow.’

  Her head shot up, her eyes wide with alarm. Did he mean some other solicitor’s letter, or something from Dan to get her to give up the house?

  ‘I don’t want anything from you,’ she said, fighting to keep her voice down. ‘I just want to be left alone to live in peace.’

  A flash of shame crossed his face, but he quickly recovered it. His mouth tightened, he said, ‘This is something very beautiful that I want you to have.’ He turned and walked away.

  Aware that the other students were looking at her, she packed up her things slowly and got up to leave. She suddenly felt tired and defeated, and wished that she was being whisked home in a warm car, whoever was driving it, instead of hanging about in the cold at the bus stop or travelling in the fetid tube.