Second Chances (35 page)

'Twat’.
A
slurred
voice
broke
the
silence
that
followed.

The
new
chairman
bowing
before
Harry’s
coffin,
froze
in
mid-bend.
An
uneasy
rustle
ran
through
the
packed
pews.
Alice
heard
more
than
one
person
stifle
a
giggle.

'James,'
she
hissed
craning
her
head
past
a
distraught
Victoria.
'For
God's
sake.
Think
of
Dad.’

'Needed
shaying,'
James
protested
even
more
loudly.
There
was
no
denying
that
was
true.
But
even
so.
James
slumped
back
in
his
seat.

For
a
man
who
was
still
two
years
shy
of
his
fortieth
birthday,
he
was
clearly
carrying
a
bit
too
much
weight.
It
was
the
drink
as
ever
talking,
but
shock
compounded
by
exhaustion,
had
been
the
trigger.
Next
to
Alice,
Victoria
shuddered
with
uncontrollable
sobs.
She
pressed
fresh
tissues
into
her
hand.

‘Here,’
Alice
whispered.
’Don’t
cry.
He
hated
to
see
you
cry.’

It
only
made
Victoria
worse.
Her
mascara
had
smudged
her
eyes,
her
dark
hair
framing
an
undeniably
beautiful
face
that
had
done
nothing
to
harm
an
acting
career
spanning
fifteen
years
-
even
if
it
hadn’t
actually
seen
it
soar
-
was
now
pushed
carelessly
behind
her
ears,
her
eyes
swollen
from
crying.
Alice
glanced
anxiously
past
James,
to
where
her
mother
sat
nearest
to
the
aisle.
Straight
backed,
stiffly
upright,
in
her
black
linen
suit.
She
wore
no
hat,
or
make
up,
just
gold
studs
and
a
simple
matching
chain
that
had
once
belonged
to
her
own
mother.

It
was
inconceivable
that
she
hadn't
heard
James’
outburst,
but
she
gave
no
indication
of
it.
Why
would
she?
She
wasn't
even
seeing,
Alice
could
tell,
the
gleaming
brass
of
the
altar
rail,
the
mass
of
flickering
candles
sending
odd,
misleading
shadows
into
corners
and
altering
the
colours
of
the
centuries
old
stained
glass
windows.
Her
eyes
had
never
left
the
trailing
curtain
of
ivy
cushioning
a
bed
of
rare
orchids
and
magnificent
Triumphator
white
lilies
-
all
grown
in
her
own
greenhouse
-
protectively
enveloping
her
late
husband’s
coffin,
their
scent
drifting
through
the
small
country
church.
All
that
concerned
Alice
at
that
moment
was
that
her
head,
her
heart,
her
whole
being
was
just
grateful
for
the
brief
silence
that
had
now
descended.
And
the
blessed
peace.
It
was
short
lived.
Next
to
her,
Victoria
suddenly
stiffened.

'Mum,'
Alice
heard
her
whisper
her
voice
hoarse
from
sobbing.
'What
is
it?'

Clenching
the
smooth
wooden
rail
in
front
of
her,
their
grieving
mother
had
pushed
herself
to
her
feet.
For
a
moment
she
stared
at
her
husband’s
coffin
and
then
she
stepped
into
the
aisle.

'No,'
she
whispered
as
a
very
befuddled
James
tried
to
stop
her.
'Let
me
go.'

What
else
either
had
to
say
was
lost
as
James
clutched
at
thin
air.
In
seconds
he
had
sprawled
headlong
into
the
aisle,
wildly
grabbing
at
the
nearest
object
to
cling
to
since
his
mother
had
slipped
through
his
grasp,
but
found
only
the
exquisite
arrangement
of
lilies
and
orchids
enveloping
his
father's
coffin.
Jerked
free
of
their
moorings,
they
began
to
glide
slowly
backwards
until
they
toppled
over
the
edge
landing
in
a
soft
rustle
on
top
of
James,
now
spread-eagled,
face
down
behind
his
father’s
coffin
covering
him
in
a
blanket
of
cream
trumpet
blooms
and
the
exotic
pale
blue
of
finest
phalaenopsis.
From
both
sides
of
the
church,
people
rushed
to
help,
falling
in
groups
around
him.
But
now
James
lay
there,
not
because
he
couldn't
get
up
but
because
the
solicitous
group
around
him
wouldn't
let
him.

'For
Christ's
sake,'
Alice
heard
James
muffled
groan.
'My
leg.
Get
off
it.'

‘Oh
please,’
Victoria
croaked.
‘Alice?’
She
whispered
faintly,
before
sitting
with
a
thump
on
the
altar
steps,
‘do
something.’

Oh
God,
oh
God,
Alice
breathed
beginning
to
push
her
way
through
the
throng
leaving
the
scandalised
Vicar
to
sort
out
the
mess
behind
her.
This
couldn't
be
happening.
But
it
was.

Molly
was
almost
at
the
door.
But
someone
had
already
gone
to
her
aid.
A
tall
man,
middle-aged
with
a
lightly
tanned
face
and
greying
fair
hair,
who
must
have
been
standing
alone
at
the
back
of
the
church,
appeared
to
be
in
control.
Shielding
Molly
with
one
outstretched
arm,
he
held
the
palm
of
his
other
hand
flat
out
in
front
of
him;
a
distancing
gesture,
discouraging
anyone
from
following,
urging
them
to
stay
seated.
For
some
reason,
they
obeyed.