Second Chance

by Jane Green

  ‘I do feel a little out of my depth here,’ Anna says quietly. ‘I thought it was funny when she first showed up, and understandable after what she’s been through, but I had no idea she’s an alcoholic. I’m really worried about how she’s going to cope. I for one certainly don’t know what to do or how to help her.’

  ‘I was reading up about interventions,’ Holly says. ‘When you tell the alcoholic what it’s like living with them and what they’re like when they’re drunk, but the thing is none of us really know, so it seems a bit pointless. It’s not like we’re present in her life and see the difference. I feel a bit helpless too.’

  Paul unbuttons his jacket, followed by the others as the fire starts to give off some serious heat. ‘Isn’t the first step of these programmes to learn that you’re powerless over alcohol? And I think there’s something about being powerless over the alcoholic. I think there’s probably nothing we can actually do to stop her drinking, but perhaps she’ll want to stop herself. She’s done it before so I’m sure she can do it again.’

  ‘You mean just sit here and watch her get shit-faced all the time?’

  ‘No. I think we should all do our best to keep her away from alcohol as much as we can, but I also think we shouldn’t judge her if she slips. We should support her as much as possible.’

  ‘What about keeping her busy?’ Anna pipes up. ‘I think we should get her working on the house.’

  Olivia bursts out laughing. ‘What? “Saffron? Would you just climb up and retile the roof while you’re here? Saffron, I see you sitting around with nothing to do, would you mind just building some kitchen cabinets?”’

  They all laugh, but Holly says, ‘Actually I think it’s a brilliant idea. I know we were joking about your evil plan to recruit your friends for slave labour, but I think the best thing we could do for Saffron is to keep her busy, and I wouldn’t mind keeping busy myself. The worst thing for me right now is to have hours and hours of time to think about the state of my life.’

  Paul looks at her quizzically.

  ‘Long story, Paul. Short version is, I think my marriage is over, which is probably a huge blessing in disguise. Anna can give you the details later. I’m a bit talked out for today, if that’s okay.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ Paul says, sympathy in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Liar!’ Anna kicks him and Holly laughs.

  ‘I mean, I’m sorry if Holly’s in pain.’

  ‘I’m very much not in pain, and don’t be sorry. Right now I still feel liberated. Ask me again in the morning.’

  ‘Speaking of morning,’ Olivia stretches, ‘I’m completely exhausted. Would anyone mind if we brought the beds down now? I don’t think I can keep my eyes open for another second.’

  At five in the morning Holly is wide awake. It takes her a while to orient herself – too many people breathing, too cold, where is she? She slips out of bed, bundles the duvet around her and puts some more logs on the fire, poking and blowing until the flames catch, for it is now freezing in the room, whatever heat there was earlier having risen to the top of the vaulted ceiling.

  The flames catch and Holly sits for a while staring into them, thinking about her life. She had vaguely thought she would wake up in a panic, terrified of the future and knowing she had made a huge mistake, but what she feels at this moment, sitting wrapped in a duvet as the flames start to lick up the stones, is peace.

  For the first time in years, Holly feels at peace.

  She kisses Daisy and Oliver, holding her breath as Daisy stirs and settles back down with a light snore, then takes her mobile phone and a deep breath as she braves the outside to stomp up to the top of the driveway. It’s still dark, and absolutely quiet. Frost is on the ground, and the grass crunches satisfyingly under her boots as she makes her way to the road.

  This is the longest Holly has gone without speaking to Will in weeks. Their brief conversation in the car didn’t count, not when she was used to sharing the innermost workings of her mind, and to have not spoken to him after this, the most momentous thing to have happened to her since Tom’s death, seems inconceivable.

  She can’t call him, not at five thirty in the morning, but she is hoping, praying, there will be a text from him; and turning on her phone she walks around until she gets the briefest of signals. One line, but enough.

  Miss talking. Am thinking of u & worrying.

  R u ok? Where r u? lunch? Wxx

  She smiles. Why do his messages, his texts, his emails, his phone calls make her instantly happy?

  am v. ok. In country. Miss u 2. can’t do

  lunch. Will try 2 talk later. Me xx

  A minute later, shockingly, her phone rings.

  ‘What are you doing awake?’ Her smile stretches from ear to ear.

  ‘Couldn’t sleep,’ Will says. ‘I was up at my computer reading some of your emails, when – boom! – your text arrived. I was worried I wouldn’t get you. Where are you?’

  ‘What a gorgeous surprise,’ Holly says. ‘I’m in Gloucestershire. At Paul and Anna’s place.’

  ‘How come?’

  Should she tell him? They are trying to keep Saffron’s situation as quiet as possible – it’s not called Alcoholics Anonymous for nothing – but she doesn’t have to tell him everything, and God knows she trusts him, she has trusted him with almost all her private thoughts and fears for weeks now. Weeks that have felt like months.

  ‘We’ve got Saffron,’ she says. ‘We’re hiding her. You’ve seen the papers, right?’

  ‘Seen them? I was reading all about it yesterday online. Sounds pretty evil, and most of what they’re saying seems to be untrue. Mum called last night and she’s the most naive person in the world, but even she can see that most of these worms crawling out of the woodwork to give their shocking love stories about Saffron are money-grabbers.’

  ‘Oh God!’ Holly groans. ‘You’re not serious? More stories?’

  ‘It seems they’re obsessed. Brad and Angelina have been relegated to page four thanks to Saffron and Pearce Webster. Have to say it’s pretty damn impressive, though. Pearce Webster! He’s only about the most famous man in the world.’

  ‘God, you’re shallow.’ Holly starts to laugh. ‘You’re impressed, aren’t you?’

  ‘Well, have to say I am slightly. Not bad for a girl from north-west London.’

  ‘More LA-influenced now, I’d say.’ Holly snorts. ‘I had to do a sushi run on the way up here to keep her happy.’

  ‘You’re not serious?’ Will laughs.

  ‘Sadly, yes.’

  ‘You can take the girl out of LA…’

  ‘That’s exactly what I said!’ and they both laugh. ‘I’m so glad you called,’ Holly says, after a comfortable silence. ‘It’s really good to hear your voice.’

  ‘It’s really good to hear yours,’ Will says, his smile audible down the phone.

  ‘Don’t you think it’s odd,’ Holly starts haltingly, ‘that we’ve become such good friends after such a short space of time? I… well, I don’t want to embarrass you or anything, but I missed having a male friend. The only male friend I had was Tom, and once he and Scary Sarah started it wasn’t ever quite the same. I really don’t know what I would do without you.’ She stops, flushing. Has she gone too far? She didn’t mean to say it even though it’s quite patently true. She didn’t mean to get soppy, sentimental, serious.

  ‘I feel the same way,’ Will says. ‘Sometimes I find it hard to believe that we didn’t really know each other four months ago. I feel like I’ve become so reliant on our friendship, on filling you in on everything that’s happening in my life. I do actually feel that I finally have a best friend.’

  A pang. Pleasure or pain? Holly doesn’t know whether she wants to hear this or not. Does being a best friend preclude anything else? And why did that thought suddenly make its way into her head? Hadn’t she accepted that they were friends? And despite her marriage possibly being over, now would be the worst time in the world to get involved
with someone else.

  Although the someone else just called her a best friend. What does that mean?

  ‘But I want to hear about you,’ Will moves swiftly on. ‘It sounds like Marcus took it really badly, are you okay?’

  ‘I am,’ Holly says, sitting carefully on a large stone as she checks her signal, desperate not to lose Will, comforted so much by his voice. ‘I know this sounds bizarre, but I feel at peace. I mean, obviously, a bit scared and apprehensive about the future, and I fully expect Marcus to be a prick, but I feel… free. Peaceful. Like me.’

  ‘Your voice sounds lighter,’ Will says after a silence. ‘I know that sounds mad, but it really does sound lighter.’

  ‘I feel lighter.’ Holly laughs.

  ‘Do you think this is it, though?’

  ‘I think so,’ Holly says. ‘It turns out, of course, that no one seems to be surprised. Everyone, it appears, could see that our marriage wasn’t great. The thing that scares me most is that I’ll go back because I’m too scared to do it on my own.’

  ‘Do you really think that would happen? Because, Holly, I think you’re much stronger than you give yourself credit for. I think you’ve allowed yourself to live in a place of fear because you’ve been pretty much forced there. You don’t have to live there any more, and you certainly don’t have to worry about doing it on your own – you have a huge support system.’

  ‘Marcus hissed that I wouldn’t get the house or a penny out of him.’

  ‘Sounds just about typical from someone like Marcus. He’s just reacting because, as far as he’s concerned, you’ve just destroyed his life and humiliated him royally.’

  ‘You know what’s weird? I was sitting in front of the fire just now, thinking about him, and I suddenly had this really strong feeling that he will look back and know that this marriage was wrong. I don’t love him, and everybody deserves to be loved. I feel horrible that I wasn’t able to love him. I’ve never been able to give him the attention or affection that he wanted. Maybe that’s why he disappeared off to work all the time.’

  ‘I think that’s incredibly noble of you,’ Will says quietly. ‘And you’re right, everyone does deserve to be loved. Including you. Haven’t you always said that you felt that Marcus didn’t love you, but that he loved who he wanted you to be? Don’t you deserve to be loved as well? Loved for who you are, not for dressing up and entertaining and being a perfect trophy wife?’

  ‘Yes. Thank you for saying that.’

  ‘My pleasure. So how long are you up there for?’

  ‘I have no idea. Saffron will be here until it all blows over, I suppose, and the rest of us will just have to see. Maybe we could do some sort of a rota.’

  ‘Is Saffron not capable of being alone?’ Will laughs. ‘Has she turned into that much of a diva?’

  ‘God, no. Not what you think. She’s just… fragile right now. She needs her friends.’

  ‘I was joking,’ Will says. ‘I think you’re all amazing being there for her. It’s exactly what Tom would have done.’

  ‘I know. That’s just what Olivia and I were saying.’ She shivers, standing up and pacing in the cold. ‘I’m bloody freezing, Will. I have to get inside and there’s no reception.’

  ‘Can I call you out there?’

  ‘You probably won’t get me but text or leave a message and I’ll call you back when I get a signal. Thank you, Will. It means so much to me that you called.’ And Holly goes back inside to curl up by the fire and think about her life as she waits for the house to wake up.

  ‘Bacon, eggs, bread, orange juice…’ Paul turns to Olivia. ‘Was there anything else?’

  Olivia looks at her list. ‘Milk. Papers.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll get the papers and start paying, you get the milk.’

  Paul grabs a handful and stops in his tracks as he looks at the front page of the Mirror.

  ‘Got the milk!’ Olivia calls as she comes back up the aisle, weighed down by a giant bottle of semi-skimmed milk. ‘What’s the matter?’ And she sidles next to him, her hand flying up to her mouth as she sees the front page.

  SAFFY DAFFY AND DRUNK!

  Brit actress bonking Pearce flies into Heathrow, smashed!

  Do you know her mystery new man? Call this number and

  tell us who he is!

  ‘Oh shit!’ she whispers. ‘It’s you, isn’t it? I mean, you can’t see that clearly, given that you’re carrying Saffron, but it is you.’

  ‘Oh fuck,’ he whispers. ‘Let’s just hope to Christ nobody phones them. The last thing we need is for the press to bring Anna into it and then find out where we are. This is just horrific.’

  ‘What a bloody nightmare.’ Olivia sighs. ‘Don’t bring it home, let’s check the rest for Saffron-free papers, and we’ll bring those instead.’

  ‘What? No tabloids? What kind of a man goes out to get the papers and comes back without the rags, for God’s sake?’

  ‘The kind of man who wants to protect his friends from seeing yet more stories,’ Paul leans down and whispers in Holly’s ear.

  ‘Oh God. Is it bad?’

  ‘Let’s just say it’s not good. Sssh. I think Saffron’s coming. Don’t say anything, and I’ll tell you later. Here, you whisk the eggs,’ and he hands Holly the box of eggs and a large blue bowl.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Saffron has never done anything by halves. When she smoked, she smoked two packs a day. When she quit, she never looked at a cigarette again… until she started again. When she exercises, she does so obsessively, two hours a day with a personal trainer, every day, lying in bed exercising in her mind, thinking of little else until she misses a day or two and then does nothing at all for months.

  She can go for weeks without spending a penny, then goes on spending sprees, buying armfuls of stuff she neither wants nor needs, unable to see clearly, so excited by the buzz of shopping, like a drug addict getting high.

  Or an alcoholic getting drunk.

  So when Saffron falls off the wagon, she doesn’t do so slowly and gracefully. She does it in the way she does everything else in her life. Spectacularly. At great speed and to great excess.

  She hadn’t meant to lose her sobriety. When she was sitting in the airport bar, her intention truly was to have one drink. Perhaps two, just to help her relax, just to take the edge off the enormous stress that she was suddenly under. Other people were able to have one or two drinks, why not her? She’d been sober for years, had been to countless parties where alcohol was being served, and hadn’t been tempted once. Of course she could handle one or two drinks, why was she so different?

  Then there was the plane. First class. Champagne on tap. Why not? Just this once. Such a warm, familiar feeling. So lovely to relax as the buzz started up. She felt loose and giggly and happy. Happy again for the first time in days. She wasn’t a noisy drunk, just snuggled up quietly under her blanket downing glass after glass as the rest of the cabin fell asleep or watched movies.

  She doesn’t remember much about arriving. Stewards and stewardesses seemed to be muttering in their walkie-talkies, and she was able to remember to cover her head with a scarf, push huge Jackie-O-style sunglasses onto her face. She remembers being hustled through noise, her name being called, flashes of light on her face as she giggled woozily, and then – bliss – being picked up and falling asleep on someone’s shoulder as she was carried out to a car.

  Again, last night, she hadn’t meant to drink. Had absolutely meant every word when she told Anna and Paul – oh sweet Anna and Paul who had come to her rescue – that she would never drink again. She felt horrible when she finally woke up. Her head was pounding, waves of nausea kept coming over her, and she knew that it was a brief slip. That she never wanted to feel this way again, the way she felt for so many years before coming into AA.

  But then, late yesterday afternoon, all she could think about was having a drink. Just one. Not to get drunk, just… just because she could. The thought became an obsession, and no one would kn
ow if she disappeared for a quick drink. Just one. Why not?

  ‘Saff!’ Holly looks up from whisking the eggs and grimaces at the sight of Saffron, bleary-eyed, hung-over, skin an odd shade of grey. ‘Oh if they could see you now.’ She shakes her head in amazement, thinking of all the publicity shots of Saffron over the years, gorgeous and glamorous, posing on red carpets all over the world in floor-length beaded gowns.

  A world away from this creature now. Not a scrap of make-up, old grey sweats and a baggy jumper, long glossy locks held back messily in a clip.

  ‘Oh don’t,’ Saffron groans, coming over to give Holly a kiss. ‘I feel horrible. If they could see me now they’d have a field day.’ Paul and Olivia exchange a glance – thank God they didn’t bring that paper home.

  ‘Oh look at your chickens!’ Saffron says, seeing Daisy and Oliver, bundled up in hats and gloves, playing outside the kitchen window. ‘Aren’t they gorgeous!’

  ‘I’m surprised you can see them under all those layers.’ Holly smiles. ‘But thank you. I think they’re pretty damn gorgeous, even though I’m ever so slightly biased.’

  ‘Coffee?’ Paul says brightly, placing a mug in front of a grateful Saffron.

  ‘Mmm.’ She takes a sip, looking sheepishly around the table. ‘I think I owe you all an apology,’ she says quietly. ‘I’m so sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to…’ She stops, sighing. ‘It won’t happen again. Honestly. I don’t know what came over me, but I won’t let it happen again.’

  The others just look at her, not saying anything, and Saffron raises her hand, dipping her head in contrition. ‘I know, I know I’ve said that before, but this time I mean it.’

  ‘In actual fact–’ Anna starts setting the plates around the table as Paul brings the eggs over–‘you’ll probably be too busy to think about sneaking off to the pub again.’

  ‘Busy? How?’

  ‘We’ve decided to try to get this house finished.’ Paul sits down and helps himself to bacon. ‘We’ve assigned everyone jobs, and you and Anna are starting with tiling the bathroom.’