Second Chances (45 page)

*

'What's
she
doing?'
Alice
asked
Elsa
without
turning.
Elsa
peered
round
her.

'Cleaning
her
windows
with
something
pink.'
Elsa
turned
and
locked
her
separate
entrance
to
the
house.
'Silly
cow.
Listen,
must
dash.'

'Any
luck?'
Alice
asked
opening
her
own
door.

Elsa
sagged
in
the
doorway.
'No,
not
a
sausage.'

'That's
a
bugger,'
Alice
sympathised.

'It’s
the
way
I
look,
isn’t
it?
You
think
if
I
just
toned
down
the
hair
and
found
something
less
challenging
to
wear,
I'd
get
a
job.’

'What
I
said,'
Alice
calmly
contradicted.
'Was
that
you
might
want
to
rethink
all
those
studs
until
at
least
you've
got
a
job.
I
wish
I
could
offer
you
more
than
an
afternoon
a
week
with
me.'

'You've
done
enough.'
Elsa
assured
her.
‘You
know
you
have.’

‘Nonsense,’
Alice
retorted.
‘Anyone
would
have
done
the
same.’

A
year
ago
now
it
had
been.
Alice
had
found
her
crouched
in
the
doorway
that
led
to
the
flat
upstairs
that
she
had
rented
out
to
help
pay
her
mortgage,
to
this
tiny
girl
from
Yorkshire.
Elsa's
face
was
grey
with
pain.
'My
baby,'
she
had
managed
to
whisper.
‘I
can’t
get
an
ambulance.’

'Dear
God,'
Alice
muttered.
'Don't
move,'
she
ordered
unnecessarily.
She
grappled
for
her
mobile
in
her
pocket,
rang
for
an
ambulance,
stripped
off
her
parka
and
wrapped
it
around
the
pathetic
figure
with
her
eyes
closed,
immobilised
with
pain.
It
was
hard
to
know
how
old
she
was.
Around
two
a.m
Elsa
lost
her
baby.

'I'm
so
sorry.'
Alice
whispered
clutching
Elsa's
hand
when
they
allowed
her
to
see
her.
'It's
me.
Alice.
Can
I
ring
anyone?’

Elsa
shook
her
head.
Tears
coursed
in
silent
little
rivulets
down
her
plump
cheeks.
'No,'
she
begged.
'
Please.
Don't
tell
anyone.
My
-
my
boyfriend.
He
doesn't
know
-
and
please
I
don't
want
him
to.
We
broke
up.
It
was
a
mistake.
Now,'
she
said
as
a
fresh
bout
of
tears
welled
up.
'Now
there's
no
need.
Oh
God,
my
baby.
I
so
wanted
it.
It's
why
I
came
to
London.
No-one
here
to
make
me
give
it
up
-
but
my
Dad,
he'd
be
straight
down
here.'

'But
they
said
you
had
no
family.
'
Alice
whispered.

Elsa
carefully
turned
her
head
on
the
pillow
to
scan
the
ward.
There
wasn't
a
nurse
to
be
seen.
'I
told
them
that.
My
father,
It
would
kill
him.
He's
got
enough
problems.
My
stepmother
couldn't
wait
to
get
rid
of
me.
Now
he
doesn't
have
to
know
at
all.'

'Friends?'
Alice
asked
worriedly.

Elsa
shook
her
head.
'Not
in
London.
Not
close
ones.
One
or
two
from
Uni.
I
know,'
she
whispered
still
clutching
Alice's
hand.
'It's
a
mess.
I'll
be
fine.
And
you
should
go.
I
can
never
thank
you
enough-'

'Don't
talk,'
Alice
said.
'Try
and
get
some
sleep.
I'll
come
back
tomorrow.
Promise,
I
will.
And
take
you
home.
Don't
worry.
I'll
look
after
you.'

And
she
had.
Until
Elsa
was
back
on
her
feet,
Alice
had
checked
on
her
daily,
made
her
eat
and
eventually,
when
she
realised
that
Elsa
had
to
get
a
job
in
order
to
pay
the
rent,
suggested
she
worked
one
day
a
week
at
the
gallery
until
she
could
sort
herself
out.

'You
don't
scrub
floors,'
Alice
now
said
severely.
'You
said
you
use
a
machine.
What
you
don't
use
is
that
degree
of
yours.'

'Yes
I
do,
'
Elsa
grumbled.
'On
every
CV
I
send.
It
says
in
big
bold
letters,
2:1
in
Agricultural
Science.
C'mon,
even
you
have
to
admit
there’s
not
much
call
for
the
principles
of
arable
farming
in
the
middle
of
Fulham.
Look,
gotta
go.
Carbolic
soap
awaits.'

Elsa
disappeared
into
the
street.
Alice
watched
as
she
ruffled
her
short
spiky
bleached
hair,
baggy
jeans
sliding
over
her
not
terribly
slim
hips.
She
wore
a
T-shirt
emblazoned
on
the
front
with
'all this futility must have a point'
.

'None
that
I
can
think
of,'
Alice
sighed
and
closed
the
door
behind
her
leaving
Nora
still
absently
wiping
the
windows
with
her
brushed
nylon
nightie,
and
not
for
the
first
time,
to
fail
to
fathom
out
what
a
tycoon's
daughter
was
doing
living
in
a
one
bedroom
flat
in
a
road
like
this
even
if
she
did
own
the
house.