Second Chances (4 page)

Chapter Four

IF THERE WAS one thing Allegra hated, it was the feeling that she was losing control. It had been a mistake arranging to meet Jack something-or-other for a drink last night. Liz had, at the last minute, insisted it was a good idea, that it would help break the ice, that it would make preparations for the seminar go that much more smoothly over the next two days.

She’d
even commanded Rose to join them, on the grounds that she could take notes and be prepared to handle any problems that might arise from the meeting with Jack. Allegra had felt twitchy and nervous since then, and couldn’t understand why.

‘Maybe you’re premenstrual,’ said Liz. ‘No, wait, hang on, women of your age don’t menstruate anymore, do they?’

Allegra
had flicked a torn-off corner from her paper napkin at her. ‘Bitch, I’m not that old. Not yet, anyway. But yes, maybe it is PMT. I’m definitely in the eat-anything-that’s-not-nailed-down phase of my cycle,’ she said.

‘So how come you’re not eating then?’ Liz asked, tartly. ‘Fish and chips, Allegra. Your favourite. On company expenses. My favourite. You’ve had one nibble of fish, half a chip and shovelled the peas around your plate so often it’s amazing they haven’t turned to mush. Maybe you’re not hormonal, maybe you’re just ill. Oh God, no, don’t be ill. You’re not allowed to be ill. Not on my time. We have the seminar coming up in less than 36 hours and I need you fully functional.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll have all guns firing by then,’ Allegra promised her. Maybe she was just low on vitamins or something. Or maybe it was that stack of bills sitting in her kitchen drawer, waiting to be paid, which was preying on her mind. Never mind, Liz was good at paying promptly, so she’d be able to settle those by the end of next week at the latest, then that would be one less burden of guilt for her to contend with. And if she got the waitress to pack up her untouched lunch to take home with her, she could eat it cold for dinner. Or maybe sneak in to Seven-11 and use their microwave.

The
next day and a half was a blur of paperwork, endless phone calls, rearranging of hotel reservations and speaker line-ups, confirming seminar folder contents, getting presentations bound, marshalling the junior staff of Apex and ensuring that everyone knew exactly what they were supposed to be doing, when they had to do it, and where they had to be at precisely what time.

Liz
had strong-armed Clive into helping her brief and prepare Jack for his role in the event; essentially, his task was to present “impromptu” scenarios relating to business etiquette as it existed in Asia, and interact with Buckland executives who were meant to attempt to put into practice the knowledge they had been administered by the speakers earlier that day.

Allegra
barely saw the three of them at all, locked into the conference room, except for the odd occasion when Liz stuck her head out the door to yell at her assistant, or Clive snuck out for a cigarette.

‘How’s it going in there?’ Allegra had asked during one of his furtive, two-minute escapes. He’d rolled his eyes, waved his hands helplessly in front of his face and made a gurgling noise. She wasn’t sure if he was referring to Liz’s mood, or Jack’s performance. Oh well, out of her hands now, Allegra decided. And if she knew Liz half as well as she thought she did, then Jack would have been told in no uncertain terms that his family jewels were on the line and if he dared let Apex down by even a fraction, he might as well buy a dress and call himself Judy.

Finally,
D-Day dawned. Allegra was up and out of bed as soon as her alarm clock buzzed at half past five that morning. Showered, changed, made-up and shooting out the door by 7am, not even stopping to read the newspaper or check her email like she normally did over a leisurely cup of tea. As her taxi pulled up outside the hotel where the conference was taking place, she saw Liz step out of her chauffeur-driven BMW, looking tense. Allegra crossed her fingers instinctively, hoping to God everything would run smoothly.

The
first hitch happened almost immediately. The delegates’ name tags had somehow gone mysteriously missing, and the young intern whose sole responsibility it had been to ensure that they were safe, accounted for and laid out neatly on the reception table was in tears. Liz had smiled — a terrifying, teeth-baring, manic grin — and simply told the girl that unless those name tags just as mysteriously reappeared, she needn’t bother coming back in to work the next day.

Allegra
had discreetly whisked the girl away, sent her to the hotel’s business centre and told her to print out an identical batch of labels using the computer and printer there. Then, she gave another junior assistant some cash and sent him off to the stationery shop in the adjoining shopping mall to pick up blank name tags.

Both
tasks completed, it was just a matter of rapidly inserting the labels into the tags, setting them out and, hey presto, the intern’s job was safe. Fortunately, that was the only hiccup of the entire three-day event, barring the fiasco at the first lunch session when seven of the delegates unexpectedly announced that they had just started the South Beach Diet and therefore refused to eat the salmon en croute which was to have been their main course.

‘Bloody hell, they’re not even women,’ Liz had hissed under her breath, as Allegra dashed off in search of the food and beverage manager in order to beg seven additional vegetarian meals (no carbs, of course).

Then
it was time for the afternoon workshop sessions, and Allegra had her first break of the day after ushering the delegates into the designated workshop room. It was all up to Liz and Jack now. When everyone emerged smiling for the 4pm tea-break, she breathed a sigh of relief. It must have gone smoothly, even Liz was looking happy.

‘Well?’ she asked, and Liz had simply squeezed her hand and turned around to speak to the Buckland president, who’d come over to congratulate her on the superb line-up of speakers. Finally, the first day came to a close after the group question-and-answer session.

Allegra
prepared to leave, having ensured all was in place for the following day’s agenda. Liz tried to get her to stay on for a drink, but she was beat. She needed to go home, have a hot bath to unwind, then stretch out on her sofa and relax. That nervous, twitchy feeling hadn’t diminished all day, and she was genuinely worried that perhaps she was having some kind of a stress attack.

Apart
from that, Allegra wanted to be ready for Jackson Flye’s show when it started at 11pm, not staggering in half-cut with her feet killing her from the high-heels she’d had to wear all day.

‘Maybe tomorrow,’ she promised Liz, kissing her swiftly on the cheek and smiling at the bellhop, who’d held the front door open for her. Just two more days of this, she told herself, two more days. Then it would be the weekend, and she’d have her babies with her again.

Still
at the hotel, Liz cornered Jack as he was about to leave and gave him a steely glare. ‘You were good today,’ she said. ‘Thank you. Now you have two more days to not screw up. And if you manage to achieve that, then I might just ask you come back and work with Apex again.’

Jack
had grinned at Liz, knowing already by now that handing out compliments was not her style, so anything positive she had to say definitely counted for something. ‘It’s been good,’ he said. ‘Not anything I’ve done before, but I had fun. And yes, I’d love to work with Apex again…’

Liz’s
eyes narrowed. That last sentence had ended on an enquiring note. The man wanted to ask her something, what was it? Probably when he would get paid, these actors were all alike. Never had any money, so it was generally the first and only question they had when taking on a project.

‘You’ll be paid two weeks from Friday, cash. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure of it,’ she said.

Jack
looked a little embarrassed. ‘No, no, I wasn’t even worrying about that,’ he protested. ‘I was just wondering…’

Liz
sighed. Bloody boys, why couldn’t they just spit it out? He must fancy one of her staff, probably that air-headed bimbo who’d lost the name tags that morning.

‘Well… your friend, Allegra’s her name, right? Does she work with you on all your projects?’ he asked, looking slightly abashed.

Liz,
in turn, gaped. Allegra? He was asking after Allegra? But he’d barely seen her since the night Liz had insisted they had to have ice-breaker drinks and, even so, Allegra had left without finishing her glass of wine. If Liz remembered correctly, she’d said her farewells long before 10pm, leaving Liz to make polite conversation with Jack and Rose. Well, polite for her. She hadn’t called anyone names that night.

‘Allegra works with Apex on a freelance basis,’ Liz said. ‘It depends on her schedule, whether or not she’s available or willing to participate. Why?’

‘Oh, nothing, I just thought… well, you two are friends so I was thinking it must be nice for you to be able to work together as well,’ Jack said, lamely. Liz snorted. Right, yeah. That was for sure the reason he was asking after Allegra. Well, if she had anything to do with it, he wasn’t going to get anywhere near her. Not while she was in such a fragile emotional state, anyway. The ink hadn’t even dried on her divorce papers and she was still getting regular, mean-spirited phone calls from her ex as he deliberately tried to concoct excuses for why the kids wouldn’t be able to spend the weekend with her.

‘Hmmn, yes, it is nice that we can work together. But when we do, it’s all about work. We never let our friendship or personal feelings interfere,’ she said, her eyes narrowing. ‘Right, I’m off. I’ll see you here same time in the morning, then. Don’t be late.’

Jack
watched Liz leave. He’d sensed her become tense as soon as he mentioned Allegra’s name, and wasn’t entirely sure why. The two of them couldn’t possibly be… lesbians? In a relationship with each other? He considered the idea for a moment, then dismissed it. No, impossible. Surely Clive would have said something to him.

Anyway,
Clive had told him he fancied Allegra himself, and had set his mind on seducing her at some point soon. Jack didn’t know why, but the thought made him feel unexpectedly protective over Allegra. This was insane, he told himself, and none of his business. Besides, he had Abi, and they loved each other. But on the long train ride back home, he found he couldn’t stop thinking about Allegra and wondering what her story was.

Chapter Five

OMAR SCANNED THE crowd from his perch on top of the bar, grinned down at the girl who was squealing with laughter in front of him, trying to get away but unable to, surrounded as she was by a large crowd of onlookers. She finally gave up resistance, leant forward, took the shot glass in her mouth from between his legs, tossed her head back and downed the liquor in one gulp.

A
huge cheer went up, and even as Omar leaned forward to grab her and give her a big sloppy kiss on the lips, he was watching that other girl out of the corner of his eye. As soon as the drinking games started, he had noticed that she’d begun slowly edging her way backwards through the throng of people, discreetly trying to disappear into the dark shadows of the club before she was spotted and made to participate in a “Blow-job”.

He
grinned again as she was spotted, arms grabbed her and pushed her back towards him, ignoring her pleading smiles and protests.

‘It’s okay, pretty lady,’ he said, as she was firmly shoved before him. He was sitting on the bar now, legs spread, the girl having been made to stand right up against his crotch. ‘You don’t have to do the “Blow-job”… We do something nice, okay? See, Omar is good guy! I look after you!’

Allegra
smiled uncertainly, slightly relieved. Maybe he was a nice guy, maybe he wouldn’t force her to humiliate herself totally in front of her baying co-workers, most of whom were male and in dreadful states of total intoxication. The traditional company anniversary party organised by the magazine had sunk to new levels of drunken debauchery this year. The production guys, for one thing, had set upon drinking their way through the entire cocktail menu, and back again.

The
atmosphere of out-of-control chaos made her think of Lord of the Flies. Little boys running amok. The publisher had already taken his shirt off earlier in the evening, and a bunch of the accounts guys decided to moon the room en masse. Glancing at the other end of the room, she saw that Barbie from circulation had been captured as well, and was similarly trapped between the entwined legs of another bartender, who was also sitting atop the bar. Oh well, Allegra thought, just get it over and done with, and at least I won’t be the only one to lose the last shreds of my dignity tonight.

Omar
hopped off the bar, grabbed Allegra and lifted her up onto the bar where he had just been sitting. Then, he swung her legs up and, agile as a monkey, he leapt up and straddled her. Allegra’s heart sank. Oh God, what now?

‘Maybe you want to take your top off, pretty lady?’ he said, grinning. ‘It’s very nice and you don’t want to get it messy… Because it’s time for “Screaming Orgasm”, yeah, baby, yeah!’

Bollocking,
bollocking bollocks, Allegra thought, as she saw cans of spray whipped cream and maraschino cherries being handed to Omar. Taking a deep breath, trying to conjure up an out-of-body moment, she pulled her top over her head and handed it to Richard, the only guy in the crowd she could trust at the moment to look after it, him being gay and all.

Fortunately,
she was wearing a clingy camisole top underneath. Unfortunately, she’d opted not to wear a bra, so the outline of her nipples elicited a huge cheer from the boys. Omar grabbed her arms, lifted them over her head and wrapped his belt around her wrists. Then, she was made to lie back as he sprayed mounds of whipped cream onto her breasts and crotch, decorated them with cherries and then proceeded to eat them off her. Allegra closed her eyes, trying to block out the whooping of the frenzied crowd, the pounding of the music, the little voice in her head going “What the f…?!”

Feeling
her wrists finally being released from the belt, she sat up, relieved that it was over, seeing that Omar had unbuttoned his shirt and, still straddling her, was grinding away on top of her. Then her heart sank again. He was handed a huge glass of some vile concoction that looked like chocolate milk, but Allegra had no doubt that it was anything but that.

‘Come on, baby, suck me,’ Omar urged, the glass now wedged into his crotch.

Allegra
leaned forward to steady the glass in her hands, put the straw to her lips and took a huge gulp of the mixture. That was a mistake. It was a blend of Baileys, Kahlua, everything sweet and creamy and alcoholic. And now she had a mouthful of the toxic stuff. She knew that if she tried to swallow it, she’d be sick.

She
looked up at Omar, who had taken off his shirt and was whirling it over his head, whooping like a cowboy riding a bucking bronco. ‘Fuck you,’ she suddenly thought. She put her hands on his hips, pulled herself closer to him, lifted her chin, looked him right in the eyes and spat. A great big spray shot straight into his face, dribbled down his chest, and he leapt off her in shock.

Allegra
grinned. Then she looked at all the blokes around her, still pushing against the edge of the bar, still braying like maniacs. Bastards. So she took another mouthful of the drink and sprayed them. Repeatedly, until the glass was empty. As they backed away, laughing, she swung herself triumphantly off the bar, did a little curtsey and went in search of Richard.

He
was laughing his arse off at the back of the room. ‘That, my darling girl,’ he said, kissing her on the cheek and helping her put her top back on, ‘was the greatest comeback I’ve ever seen.’

‘Yeah, and if you happen to see any of my self-respect left lying around anywhere, pick it up and bring it over to me, would you?’ she said, kissing him back. ‘How do I get myself into these situations?’

At
that point, the publisher had staggered over, leered up against Allegra and put his hand out to stroke her left breast. ‘I really like you,’ he slurred, as she reeled back, overcome not so much by what he was doing as by the alcohol fumes on his breath. ‘You’re one sexy lady, lady.’

Richard
stepped in between them, slapping the other man on the back and congratulating him on a superb party. He signalled behind his back for Allegra to flee while she could, so she slipped over to the bathroom to check the damage that the “Screaming Orgasm” stunt might have wrought on her.

At
the door to the ladies’ room, Edwin grabbed her, slipped his arm around her and began groping her bottom. Edwin was cute. He played in a band at night, and he had a great voice, in addition to being really sexy on stage. Allegra smiled at him, then yelped as he slid his hand between her legs from behind, his fingers now firmly on her crotch.

‘Woah, cowboy,’ she said, easing herself out of his reach. ‘I really need to use the ladies’ room now, but I’ll be back soon, okay?’

Edwin
had grinned lop-sidedly at her, and staggered back to join the production boys at the bar, now on their sixth journey through the drinks menu. Allegra shut the bathroom door behind her and breathed a sigh of relief. Straightening her hair and her clothes, she slipped out quietly, avoided the bar area as much as was humanly possible, found her handbag, said her farewells to Richard and ran up the stairs to street-level.

As
the taxi shot off down Nathan Road, Allegra comforted herself with the thought that everyone else would be feeling far more ill than she would tomorrow morning. And chances are, no one would have anything but the haziest recollection of whatever had taken place that night. She hadn’t even wanted to go to the party, but the rest of the staff had persuaded her that she’d have fun.

Unfortunately,
being the most sober person in the room is never fun.

Back
home, Allegra quickly switched on the radio and caught the last 20 minutes of Jackson Flye’s show as she readied herself for bed. Scrubbing her face, cleaning her teeth vigorously and yanking her brush through her hair, she finally switched off the radio, turned out her bedside light and tried to sleep.

She
dreamt of trying to walk up a flight of stairs in a shopping mall, but it was flooding and water was gushing down the steps, making it a struggle to keep her balance. She had to get to the top of the staircase, she had to, her children were up there, waiting for her to rescue them. But the water just kept coming, kept pushing her further away from them.

Just
as the steps started caving beneath her feet, Allegra woke with a start, staring into the darkness, her heart pounding. Before, whenever she had these terrible dreams, she’d quietly slip into the children’s bedroom, kiss Bella gently on the forehead as she slept and then crawl into bed with Daisy, cuddling up with her, holding her close, listening to her breathe. Now, she was in a flat by herself, where their bedroom was empty. Allegra cried herself back to sleep.