Second Chances (34 page)

‘Oh
God,’
Victoria
gulped.
She
lifted
her
head
from
Esther's
shoulder.
'What's
the
time?
Has
everyone
gone?'

‘Nearly,’
Esher
assured
her.
‘Just
that
man
from
America.’

Alice
glanced
at
the
clock.
Almost
eight.
‘I’ll
see,’
she
volunteered.
No-one
moved
as
she
opened
the
door
of
the
drawing
room
into
the
hall.
Against
the
far
wall,
two
lamps
burned
either
end
of
a
carved
wooden
console
table,
outside
dusk
was
easing
itself
into
night.
A
sharp
draft
of
air
caught
her
attention
from
the
open
front
door
where
the
man
from
Chicago
was
in
the
porch,
Molly’s
hands
gripped
in
both
of
his.
Alice
thought
Esther
must
have
been
mistaken.
This
man
was
English..Very
English.
Not
American
at
all.

‘I’ll
call,’
he
was
saying.
‘I
promise.
You’re
not
alone.
Just
remember
that.'

He
leaned
forward
and
hugged
her
mother,
kissing
her
forehead.
Molly
didn’t
pull
away,
if
anything
she
seemed
to
return
his
clasp.
Death
was
an
odd
business.
In
minutes
it
allowed
total
strangers
to
skip
several
stages
of
intimacy,
and
for
a
woman
like
Molly
to
tolerate
it,
she
must
be
either
grateful
or
frozen
with
shock.
Alice
knew
it
was
the
latter.
Her
mother
had
still
to
shed
tears;
so
had
she.
But
some
things
went
far
beyond
something
as
easy
as
tears,
climbing
to
another
level,
which
had
no
known
release.

‘Okay?’
Alice
asked
gently,
touching
her
mother’s
shoulder.
Molly
gave
a
start.

‘Alice.
I
didn’t
hear
you,’
she
said.

‘Who’s
that?’
Alice
asked
closing
the
door
for
her.
‘I
thought
he
was
American.'

‘No.
English.
Just
lives
there.
He
interviewed
Dad
a
few
times.’

‘Interviewed?’
Alice
repeated.

‘Journalist.’

‘Really?
What
kind?

‘No
idea.
I
mean,
yes.
Of
course
I
do.
Financial
stuff.’

‘Do
you
know
him?
He
looked
as
though-‘

‘Alice?’
her
mother
cut
in.
‘Please,
I’d
like
to
lie
down.
Just
for
an
hour.'

‘Of
course,’
Alice
ushered
her
to
the
foot
of
the
stairs.
‘Can
I
get
you
anything?’

Her
mother
shook
her
head.
Alice
watched
her
slowly
mount
the
stairs.
From
the
drive
she
heard
a
car
spring
into
life.
Behind
her
Esther
was
trying
to
muster
her
brother
and
sister
into
finding
something
to
eat.
But
as
Alice
turned
to
join
them
in
the
kitchen,
all
she
knew
for
a
certainty,
that
even
if
time
enabled
her
to
ever
recover
from
his
death,
she
also
knew
that
eternity
would
not
be
long
enough
to
recover
from
the
guilt
that
was
almost
killing
her.
All
her
fault.
She
could
hardly
breathe.

*

Behind
Alice,
Esther
leaned
forward
and
squeezed
her
shoulder.
She
had
often
envied
Molly’s
life,
not
wanting
for
anything,
but
oddly
she
had
not
envied
her
Harry.
Too
powerful,
too
rich,
too
charming
for
Esther’s
taste.
Fiercely
ambitious
and
ferociously
protective
in
equal
measures
of
his
family’s
privacy,
which
Esther
had
privately
regarded
as
excessive.
But
it
worked.
Nothing
ever
got
out.
And
what
a
lot
there
was
that
could
have.

‘And
finally’,
Harry’s
hurried
replacement
–
shoes
in
by
the
board
simply
to
keep
the
share
price
steady
-
was
saying
from
the
pulpit.
‘For
those
of
us
who
benefited
so
richly
from
his
leadership,
powerful
presence
and
shrewd
judgement,
Harry
will
leave
an
irreplaceable
void,
in
all
our
lives.'

He
was
right
about
that.
The
newspapers
had
been
full
of
stories
that
had
begun,
‘
The sudden death of millionaire business man and society figure Harrison Melrose
,
has left the City reeling
.
’
It
was
written
large
on
so
many
faces,
that
this
new
man
now
addressing
them,
who
Harry
had
once
said
was
so
incompetent
he
couldn’t
organise
a
stag
night
on
the
Reeferbahn
with
any
hope
of
success,
let
alone
run
a
multi-national
pharmaceutical
company
of
any
sort,
believed
he
could
fill
Harry’s
shoes.
On
any
level
no-one
could.
Nevertheless,
Harry’s
replacement
was
giving
gravitas
a
good
shot.

He
paused
directing
his
very
sorrowful,
very
theatrical
gaze
at
the
front
pew
where
the
Melrose
family
sat
in
a
row,
stiff
and
ashen-faced.
'But
none
more
so,’
he
said,
‘than
that
to
be
endured
by
the
family
he
adored.
His
three
wonderful
children.
James,
Victoria
and
Alice,
their
lives
and
success
a
credit
to
him.
We
know
he
treasured,
his
adored
little
grandchildren,
Maisie
and
Marcus.
And
above
all,
Molly,
who
we
all
love
and
admire,
not
least
for
her
almost
forty
year
devotion
and
unfailing
support
to
Harry,
but
especially
for
the
last
ten
years
while
he
was
Chairman.
May
he
rest
in
peace.’