Second Chances (43 page)

'How?'
she
asked
delighted.
'What
about
your
classes?'

'I
have
no
idea,'
he
laughed.
'But
I
will.'

*

Alice
decided
to
walk
back
to
her
flat.
To
make
ends
meet
since
the
beginning
of
the
year
-
well
since
everything
in
her
life
had
gone
into
a
kind
of
frenzied
free-fall,
she
had
been
teaching
in
the
evening
at
the
local
art
college.
But
the
principal
–
now
that
the
summer
term
was
drawing
to
a
close
-
wanted
a
decision
about
her
return
in
September.
She
stopped
off
at
the
small
supermarket
at
the
end
of
her
road
to
pick
up
coffee,
eggs
and
croissants
and
when
her
phone
rang,
she
glanced
at
the
caller
ID,
then
ignored
it
until
it
went
to
voicemail.
You
had
to
be
in
the
right
frame
of
mind
for
Victoria.
And
she
was
in
no
mood
for
her
sister's
quite
tiresome
self-absorption.

'Al?'
came
her
sister’s
brisk
voice.
'It's
me.
I
just
wanted
to
warn
you,
birthday
or
no
birthday,
I'm
going
to
give
Conrad
a
rocket.
Can
you
believe
how
long
all
this
is
taking?
It's
Dad's
estate
for
God's
sake,
not
Bill
Gates.
I
could
do
with
some
cash
as
well.
Call
me
when
you
get
this.'

Alice
ignored
this
last
imperious
instruction.
Victoria?
Strapped
for
cash?
She
cast
her
sister's
elegant
Dad-funded
empire
under
swift
mental
review.
The
Kensington
town
house
in
an
achingly
exclusive
garden
square,
a
battalion
of
people
to
keep
her
home,
and
indeed
Victoria
herself,
in
a
state
of
absolute
perfection.
True,
her
acting
career,
such
as
it
was,
appeared
to
have
stalled
and
her
fame
these
days
rested
almost
solely
-
and
much
to
Victoria's
annoyance
who
would
much
have
preferred
'theatre
star'
or
'screen
star'
instead
of
now
being
stuck
in
the
tabloids
as
'soap
star'
-
on
a
three
month
appearance
well
over
a
year
ago
in
a
soap
playing
someone’s
gangster
girlfriend.
But
needing
money?
Oh
stop
it,
Alice
muttered
to
herself.
Instead,
as
she
crossed
the
main
road
leading
to
her
flat,
she
rang
Grace.

'What
a
bugger,’
Grace
groaned
when
Alice
called.
'What
do
they
expect?
The
Ritz?
Alice?
I
don't
suppose,
your
mother-'

'No,'
Alice
cut
in.
She
sat
down
on
a
low
wall
leaning
forward
so
the
twigs
of
the
hedge
didn’t
stick
into
her.
'She
couldn't
anyway.
The
estate's
still
frozen.’

“Why’s
it
taking
so
long?’
Grace
asked.
‘Til,'
she
broke
off
to
call
to
her
shrieking
daughter.
'Look
Mr
Tumble's
on.
Come
and
watch.
Okay,'
Grace
said
coming
back.
'Favourite
programme.
We've
got
three
minutes.
Don't
waste
it.'

‘Something
to
do
with
the
insurance
not
paying
out,'
Alice
said.
'Dropping
dead
like
that.
Nothing
can
be
sold
because
the
market
is
so
rotten.
She
said
Conrad
is
all
for
her
hanging
fire
for
a
bit.
Wait
until
things
pick
up.'

She
stood
up,
shifting
her
canvas
tote
bag
onto
her
shoulder
and
began
to
walk.
‘Even
so,
I
wouldn’t
ask
her.
Too
painful.
No,'
she
said
with
more
determination
than
she
felt.
'I
can
get
another
terms
work.
So
that’s
something.
Listen.
I'm
nearly
home.
I'll
call
you
later.'

‘Paris?'
Grace
pointed
out.
'That'll
cheer
you
up.'

'Can't,’
Alice
said.
'Mum's
birthday.
He's
coming
here
instead.
Tuesday.'

'Hurray,'
Grace
gave
a
little
cheer.
'How's
your
Mum?
Any
better?'

'Not
really.
Well
…'
Alice
struggled
for
accuracy.
'Sometimes
you
think
she
might
be
alright,
but
then
it
all
crashes
over
her
again.
She
won't
talk
about
him.
Actually,
none
of
us
do.
She
misses
him
so
much.
God,
Gracie,
if
only
…'

'Hey,'
Grace
interrupted
gently
'Stop
beating
yourself
up.'

'I
can't
help
it.'

'Alice,'
Grace
said
patiently.
'He
practically
lived
in
a
plane.
It
was
the
flight…'

'It
wasn’t,’
Alice
insisted.
‘It
was
me.
Don’t
try
and
make
me
feel
better.
I
know
what
happened.
He
looked
pale.
He
was
out
of
breath.
I
should
have
got
a
doctor,
instead
of
sending
him
over
the
top.’