‘I don’t know whether to be sad that it might be her, or relieved that we can finally get some closure on the whole thing. Am I sounding too much like a therapist now?’ said Rachel.
‘No. I know what you mean. I think secretly I’d always hoped that Olivia just ran off rather than go back to Lewis. I had this romantic idea that maybe she was living happily somewhere in the middle of nowhere, having a great life. If one of those bodies is hers then that won’t have been the case, will it? I don’t even want to think about what might have happened to her. It’s too awful.’ I stuck my fork into the cake in front of me, but I couldn’t put it in my mouth. I felt sick. I dropped the fork and shoved the plate away. Rachel and I sat in silence for a minute or two, both of us lost in thoughts of what might have happened to our friend.
‘Is it awful to admit that I haven’t really given Olivia much thought in the last twenty odd years?’ said Rachel.
I shook my head. ‘No. It was a long time ago; a lot of stuff has happened since then.’
‘I know, but we were all so close for such a long time. It’s hard to believe that her disappearance could have faded so far into the back of my mind.’
I knew what she meant. At the time it felt as though nothing would ever be the same for us ever again. Olivia’s disappearance changed things so dramatically. We went from being three ordinary girls on a dream holiday to a tragic trio destroyed by circumstance. The newspapers had a field day, depicting Rachel and I as the drunken party girls that had abandoned their poor innocent friend, leaving her to her fate while we got pissed and shagged anything with a pulse. I shuddered at the memory of opening my front door and finding reporters camped in my garden or of opening the papers to see Lewis’s anguished face illustrating yet another article about how he couldn’t believe we’d just let Olivia disappear into that cold New York night unaccompanied. He wasn’t saying anything that I didn’t already feel for myself; it was my fault. I let her go and I shouldn’t have.
‘Should we be doing something?’ Rachel asked.
‘Like what?’ I said. I didn’t know how I felt about all this being dragged up again. It wasn’t a place in my life I was keen to get pulled back into. ‘I honestly don’t think there’s much we can do, is there?’
‘Maybe. Maybe not,’ said Rachel, giving me one of her knowing smiles. She had that look in her eyes. The one that usually ended up with me agreeing to do something daft with her. Like the time she talked me into signing up for a five kilometre inflatable fun run. I’d envisioned something akin to a selection of children’s bouncy castles, when in fact we were expected to scale thirty foot inflatable obstacles and traverse rope swings across sheer drops. Nothing even remotely fun about any of it.
‘Maybe we should go back. To New York, I mean,’ said Rachel.
‘What? Don’t be daft. I can’t run off to New York. It’s December, almost Christmas. I’ve got things to organise. And I’ll never get the time off work. Trish won’t let me.’
‘It’s only just turned December, there’s a few weeks to go until Christmas. And that bloody boss of yours needs a good kick up the arse. She’s awful. I don’t know why you’ve stuck it out there for as long as you have.’
‘Because Tom’s life insurance money wasn’t going to pay the bills forever.’
Rachel reached across the table and took my hand. ‘I know. I’m sorry, that was rude of me. She is a bitch on wheels though.’
‘Undoubtedly. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s my boss and she’s never going to agree to give me the time off.’
Rachel looked disappointed. ‘That’s a shame. I think we could both use some time away – I know I could. And the chance to finally get some closure.’
‘I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind.’
‘So then let’s do it,’ replied Rachel eagerly.
‘Why are you so keen to get away suddenly? Everything all right?’ I asked.
Rachel shrugged. ‘Yes, everything’s fine. Look, just promise me you’ll think about it, all right?’
‘Yes, I’ll think about it.’
‘And you know who else is in New York at the moment, don’t you?’
‘No.’
‘Daniel Roberts,’ announced Rachel. ‘The one and only.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘He was snapped out and about in Central Park. I saw the pictures in Heat magazine the other day. Apparently, he’s in some new play on Broadway that’s got everyone talking. He’s supposed to be amazing in it.’
‘Doesn’t surprise me. He’s a great actor. Always was. Even back when we knew him.’
‘Yes, but I didn’t “know him” as well as you “knew him”, did I?’ She used air quotes to emphasise her point.
‘Shut up. We went out on a few dates. We were just kids. It was hardly the romance of the century.’
Rachel laughed. ‘I suppose. Isn’t it weird, though, to think that you’ve snogged a movie star? Don’t you ever wonder about what might have been?’
‘No. Now stop being so ridiculous and give me the bill. I’m going to pay for all this.’ I looked at the half drunk coffees and uneaten cake. All the talk about Olivia and New York had obviously robbed us both of our appetites.
*
After Rachel and I said our goodbyes I decided to walk the half a mile or so back to my house. It was a cold November day but it was bright and clear; I figured the walk would do me good. I turned left at the end of High Street and made my way down the hill, walking past the rows of Victorian terraces that led towards the park. Bare trees dotted the route along the pavement, their leaves long blown away by winter winds. With no green to break it up, the streets were relentlessly grey, and a stiff breeze blew up in front of me suddenly, sending empty crisp packets and chocolate wrappers whirling up into the air. It all looked so bleak. I decided to walk through the park; at least I’d see some grass, I reasoned, a splash of colour to cut through the grey.
I headed for the park gates, cheered as always by the sight of the beautiful Georgian house just inside the park’s entrance. Its Corinthian style porch, with its fluted columns and rosettes, never failed to make me feel cheered. Heaven only knew how such a beautiful house ended up inside an urban park, but I was happy it had. The local arts and crafts centre was inside the building; it was usually full of people coming and going but on that cold Saturday afternoon in December it was deserted. As I passed I noticed the ‘Closed for Refurbishment’ sign on the door. That’s a shame, I thought to myself, I could have had a wander round, maybe picked up some Christmas gifts. Or not. I pulled my coat tighter around myself. The wind had picked up and it was freezing, and suddenly I wanted to be home. I quickened my pace and crossed the path that ran through the middle of the park and out the other side.
*
I let myself into my quiet house. Grace was already out with her friends and wouldn’t be back until the early hours probably and Sam had left for his concert already. But they’d certainly made sure I wouldn’t forget they were there this weekend. Grace’s trainers had been left abandoned on the doormat, Sam’s green jumper was thrown on the bottom of the stairs. I sighed and collected all their things, carrying them through to the kitchen.
That room was an even bigger disaster area. Someone had left the butter knife sticking out of the dish; the butter was now covered in toast crumbs. The milk bottle, still practically full, had been left on the side and little puddles of tea dotted the worktop in a trail that headed to the sink. Sure enough, squished up against the side, were three or four teabags. ‘Bloody kids.’ I pulled out the bags and threw them into the bin before washing up the cereal bowls that had been abandoned in the sink too. It took me half an hour of tidying, folding and plumping up cushions in the living room to get things back to some semblance of tidy. I looked at the clock; it was almost three. I toyed with the idea of reading a book, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate, so I made myself a cup of tea (teabag properly discarded in the bin
and milk returned to the fridge when finished with) and I settled down on the sofa.
Switching on the television, I flicked through the channels, before finally settling on one that showed just movies. I nearly choked on my cuppa when Daniel Roberts’ face flashed up on the screen. I checked the information. It was a film he’d been in a few years back, a rom-com; he played an uptight businessman who falls in love with a dog groomer. Despite the fact that they belong in two different worlds, their love eventually overcomes all obstacles and they live happily ever after. That’ll do nicely, I thought. I could use a good happy ending.
I remembered when the film came out in the cinema, it had done well and cemented Daniel’s reputation as a Hollywood leading man. I hadn’t wanted to admit it to Rachel – it would make me sound like a silly girl – but it was weird watching someone I’d kissed up on the screen in front of me kissing someone else. God knows how his wife must feel, I thought. Did he even have a wife? I had to admit, I wasn’t one for reading celebrity gossip, so for all I knew he could have got through half a dozen wives. I’d turned the film on just in time for the love scene. I watched him declare his undying passion for the petite – and much younger, I noted – dog groomer and then I watched as she fell into his arms and declared to the world that she didn’t care if he was a millionaire, she loved him anyway. I snorted into my mug of tea – well, of course you bloody well do, I thought to myself. He’s a handsome millionaire who doesn’t care that you spend half your life smelling like wet dog and covered in pet hair. To be fair, the young actress looked as if she’d never been near an animal in her life, let alone tried to wrestle a giant schnauzer into a bathtub. Still, the story was pleasant enough and I was comforted by the guaranteed happy ending it promised. When it was over, I watched Daniel’s name scroll up the screen and then disappear. He’d always wanted to see his name in lights; back when we were studying drama at our local sixth form college, he’d made no secret of his ambition.
‘I want to be famous, Evie. I want to be one of the ones who makes it all the way.’ We’d been sitting on the grass outside the college canteen, rehearsing lines for the upcoming production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Daniel was playing Puck and I was just one of Titania’s fairies. I didn’t have any lines, so he’d roped me in to help him learn his. In truth I didn’t really mind; I liked listening to him deliver his iambic pentameter. His voice was smooth and hypnotic and when he spoke his lines it was almost like listening to music. I was harbouring quite a substantial crush on him by this point, but I was damned if I was going to let him know that.
‘I think you’re going to have a huge career. I can see it all now. You’ll become a Hollywood superstar and forget all about us normal people.’
Daniel rolled onto his stomach and looked at me intently. ‘Never. I’ll never forget you, Evie.’ He flashed me his dazzling smile, the one that made my heart beat just a little bit faster.
‘Yeah, right. Whatever.’ I brushed off the remark, afraid to take it too seriously. He had quite a reputation as a bit of a flirt and he’d already been out with at least three girls in our year that I knew about. ‘Let’s get back to these lines, shall we? Can’t have you ruining your acting career before it’s even begun now, can we?’
He’d laughed, and we’d returned to our foray into Shakespeare’s magical forest. It wasn’t until the opening night of the play, almost a month later, that he mentioned again how important I was to him. The production had been a real success, Daniel’s portrayal of Puck was outstanding, and when he walked into the canteen after the show, he received a massive round of applause. He looked embarrassed by all the fuss and I leaned in to whisper in his ear that this was something he’d better get used to.
‘If you’re going to be famous, this is what will happen. Smile for your adoring fans, Daniel.’ I’d spied the little cluster of girls that were heading his way, so I wandered away and left him to it. Within a few minutes he was next to me, holding my elbow and gently guiding me over to the fire exit.
‘Come with me,’ he whispered into my ear. He pushed open the door and we found ourselves out on the fire escape. He shut the door behind us before I could stop him.
‘You ran off and left me,’ he said.
‘Your fan club didn’t want to see me, Daniel.’ I smiled.
‘No, probably not. But I wanted to see you.’ He looked very serious.
‘Well, here I am. What can I do for you?’
‘Do you like me, Evie?’ He looked nervous as he waited for my reply.
‘Of course I do. We’re mates, aren’t we?’
‘Yes. But I don’t mean like that.’ He looked down at his feet, scuffing the ground with the toe of his shoe. I knew what he meant but I wasn’t about to make it easy for him; I wanted him to know that I wasn’t like all the other silly girls that fluttered around him and hung on his every word. I was better than that. And if he wanted me, he was going to have to work for it. When I didn’t reply straight away, he stepped closer to me. ‘Do you like me?’
‘You’re all right, I guess.’ I shrugged, trying to appear uninterested. He laughed at me and moved his face closer to mine. When I didn’t pull away, he inched closer until we were practically nose to nose.
‘I won’t be just another one of your conquests, Daniel. I’m better than that.’
‘I know you are. You’re not like all the others.’ He paused for a second. ‘You have glitter in your hair.’
What? Was he trying to be poetic or something? ‘Are you making fun of me?’ I asked, pulling my face away. He reached out and stroked my hair gently; when he pulled his hand back it twinkled in the light. ‘No, I’m not making fun of you. You literally have glitter in your hair. And some on your face too.’ He wiped my cheek softly and then, before I knew what was happening, he’d brought his mouth down over mine. Fireworks went off behind my eyes, everything seemed to sparkle as we stood on that fire escape and kissed until our lips were numb.
The memory of that night still had the power to make me smile, even now; even as I sat on my own in my living room, clutching my lukewarm cup of tea and listening to the cold December wind howling outside my window.
Four
The weekend was over all too soon. Grace and Sam had both left after lunch on Sunday; Sam returning to Plymouth and Grace to Exeter. It was funny how they’d both ended up at universities in Devon. After Grace got her place at Exeter, I’d considered selling up and moving to Devon to be nearer to them, but that idea had lasted for as long as it took Rachel to convince me I’d be making a huge mistake.
‘Sam’s almost finished with his studies now. He’s not going to be hanging around when he’s done, he’ll be off travelling the world or something. And as for Grace, she won’t want her uncool mum living down the road from her halls of residence. How embarrassing. You’ll be left all on your own, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by empty wine bottles and cats.’
I did point out to her that Devon wasn’t actually the middle of nowhere, that they had all the modern things London had, like Internet coverage and supermarkets, but she remained unconvinced. As far as Rachel was concerned, anywhere outside the M25 was technically ‘the middle of nowhere’ and she refused to accept otherwise.
As Sam and Grace had been preparing to leave on Sunday, I broached the subject of Christmas. They both looked a little bit uncomfortable, so I knew they had something to share that they were assuming I wouldn’t like. After much nudging of elbows, Grace went first.
‘The thing is, Mum, Pippa’s dad has invited me to join them on their ski trip over Christmas. They’ve got a chalet in Val-d’Isère. Pippa says he’s trying to make up for the fact that he’s just dumped her mum for his secretary but if it means she gets a ski trip out of it, she’s well up for it.’
‘That sounds like fun,’ I said. ‘I’m sure it will be beautiful.’
‘And you don’t mind?’
‘No. I don’t mind at all.’ This was a lie, obviously, I minded very much, but w
hat was I supposed to say? Grace nudged her brother hard in the ribs. ‘Your turn, you coward.’
‘Ow! Fuck off, that hurt!’
‘Big baby,’ said Grace.
‘Shall I assume that you’re not planning on coming home for Christmas either, then?’ I asked him. He looked sheepishly at me and shrugged.
‘Natasha’s parents have invited me to spend Christmas with them this year.’
Natasha was Sam’s girlfriend, and, I suspected, soon-to-be fiancée. I’d met her a few times and she was lovely. She’d spent last Christmas with us and she’d fitted right in. She’d helped with the lunch and the washing up, which in my book made her perfect, and she’d bought me a lovely Jo Malone scented candle – another point in her favour!
‘Well, that sounds only fair, since she came here last Christmas. But you must make sure that you help out, though, Sam, like she did when she was with us. And get her mum a good present too.’
‘Of course I will!’ Sam exclaimed. ‘You’ve taught me well, Mum. I’m house-trained and everything.’
City of Second Chances Page 4
