Second Chances (6 page)

And
so it was she held her head up high and made like everything was the way it was before he had walked through that door, when really, it wasn’t. She wasn’t. He’d changed everything, changed her, made her feel and think about things she had deliberately not felt or thought about for years because it was just easier that way.

She
began drinking a little more than she did usually, mostly so that she could blame everything she might feel or think on being tipsy or, as was more often the case given how easily she succumbed to wine, flat-out drunk. But there he would always be again, the next time, while she was still sober, before she’d had time to have enough to drink to help her pretend; smiling, stroking her arm, putting his around her, grabbing her around the waist and almost but not quite nuzzling her neck.

Chapter Nine

‘YOU’RE NOT GOING to get totally pissed and puke in a bucket again tonight, are you?’ Liz asked, accusingly. She pulled a skin-tight black stretchy top over her head. Shaking her hair loose, she tugged the top a little lower, not so much to cover her belly as to make sure a bit more of her gorgeous, creamy-white cleavage was exposed. She turned towards Allegra and arched an eyebrow.

‘Because if you are, I’d better get the bucket ready and warn Clive. He’s the only one with the strength to break down the bathroom door if it comes to that.’

Allegra
groaned and laughed at the same time. One bad evening ending with her bringing up her guts in a bucket and no one was ready to let her forget it, least of all Liz. Mind you, she could hardly blame her; it had been Liz who’d held her head up and her hair out of the way while she was convulsed with vomit. On Liz’s bed. Allegra had been sufficiently compos mentis at the time to be sure to avoid getting any puke on the counterpane, though; you’d think Liz would show some gratitude for that, at the very least. She sighed.

‘No, I swear to God, I am going to be good. Getting drunk is too painful. Recovering is even worse. I am too old for that kind of shit anymore. So I’m going to pace myself. One glass of wine now. Then onto the soda water over dinner, and I may allow myself another glass of wine while we’re watching the movie. Okay?’

And
she meant it. She wanted to be as much in control of herself, her emotions, her words, her feelings, as she possibly could this evening, because she was so damn frightened of… well, she didn’t quite know what.

‘I’ve heard that one before.’ Liz grinned. Allegra was crap when it came to drinking. Lightweight. Half a glass of wine and she would be wandering around telling anyone who’d listen that she loved them. Liz made a mental note to make sure Clive was never left on his own with Allegra at any point that evening, particularly if the silly bint did go and get herself spannered.

Clive
was like an annoying dog, drooling after Allegra and practically humping her leg at every opportunity. He seemed to think it was sexy and endearing and that it was therefore only a matter of time before Allegra succumbed to his questionable “charms”. God knows why.

The
evening proceeded far more smoothly than they had hoped. Everyone had arrived at a respectable moment of “lateness” so as not to appear either too eager or too rude. Well, except for Clive. He’d turned up bang on 6pm, waving a bottle of expensive plonk at Allegra in a patently obvious attempt to impress her. Liz, sighing, had simply grabbed the bottle, examined the label, declared, ‘This is French shit’ and dumped it into the ice cooler, hopefully along with Clive’s ardour, she thought darkly.

Jack
had been the last person to arrive. Even Brian, who lived a good two hours away on public transport and had got lost trying to find Liz’s house despite the crystal-clear directions and map she’d provided, was well stuck into the food and drink by the time the doorbell rang and Allegra’s heart leapt into her throat.

She
very deliberately refused to get up from her seat at the table out on the patio, instead trying to breathe calmly and prepare a nice, suitably welcoming smile on her face as Jack walked through the sitting room and out into the back garden where everyone was finishing up dinner. She noted with guilty relief that he’d come on his own, no girlfriend in tow.

‘Wide-mouthed
tree-frog,’ she thought to herself, as he loped over towards them, greeting everyone with a big smile and a handshake, before finally coming over to her and flinging his arms around her in a great big hug which lifted her out of her chair.

‘Hello, angel…’ He breathed into her neck. ‘You smell gorgeous.’ He set her down on her feet, stepped back, dropped his duffel bag and grinned again. ‘Sorry I’m so late.’

God,
how was she supposed to resist him?

And
that voice. Warm and melting, like hot honey. Allegra had a vague sense that she’d heard it somewhere before, somewhere unlikely, somewhere she couldn’t quite pinpoint, but shook it off. Told herself she was being daft. Of course she’d heard that voice before. It was Jack, wasn’t it?

Cross
to find her knees actually trembling, Allegra managed to ask if he wanted something to eat (he didn’t) or at least something to drink (he did). She pointed in the direction of the cooler and he bounded over, giving her the opportunity to wobble over to a sofa — thank God Liz had had the foresight to put her old sofas out in the back garden, rather than just chuck them out — and sink into it, curling her legs up beside her.

Jack
came back over, ignoring everyone else, and dropped down next to her. He took a swig of his beer and grabbed her hand, placing it possessively on his leg, at the curve where hip met thigh. Their fingers intertwined, and Allegra had one of her moments where her mind shot off somewhere else and missed the next 15 seconds or so of what was going on because she was thinking of a scene from the movie The Lover, where Jane March and Tony Leung had what she could only describe as “hand sex”, when their hands slowly touched for the first time, finger stroking finger, until they were gradually interlocked as hers and Jack’s were right now.

‘Sorry, what?’ She came back suddenly, realising Jack had asked her a question and not knowing for the life of her what the hell it was. He grinned at her. Damn him, why couldn’t he stop smiling at her like that? Or if he had to smile, what was with the extended eye contact? That look in his eyes? He leaned toward her, nuzzled her neck again.

‘Where were you? You disappeared for a moment there.’

‘Sorry, got distracted,’ she mumbled, not knowing how else to answer the question. Hoping that she wasn’t smiling as idiotically as she felt she was, beaming a great big light of happiness at him. She was saved from herself by Liz briskly marching over, grabbing her soda water and shoving a glass of wine in her hand.

‘It’s Clive’s French shit, so don’t expect too much. With any luck it’ll be so bad you can’t drink it and make a total twat of yourself, though, so maybe there’s something to be said for it.’ Liz grinned wickedly and winked as she spun around on her four-inch heels and clomped back into the house with the remnants of Allegra’s soda water.

She
stopped as she got to the patio doors, turned back and called out, ‘Movie time, everyone! Inside, and bring your plates with you because buggered if I’m cleaning up after you lot.’

‘I’d better give her a hand,’ Allegra said to Jack. They stood up together and she was aware of his hand in the small of her back as they walked towards the house.

‘Listen,’ he said, suddenly, holding her arm, making her stop in her tracks. ‘I wanted to say how sorry I am about your father… Liz told me.’

Allegra
took a deep breath. She’d asked Liz to please not tell anyone, she didn’t want other people to be brought down by her own grief. Never mind. Hopefully, it was only Jack who knew. ‘Thank you,’ she said, softly, turning her face away. ‘I’m… I’m okay, really. But thanks.’

‘Well, if there’s anything I can do for you, however unlikely it seems, please just ask me, okay?’ Jack pulled her close, hugged her tenderly. ‘I worry about you…’

Allegra
excused herself as quickly as she could at that point, terrified that she was going to start crying in front of Jack. Carefully stepping over the dog, she headed into the kitchen, where Liz practically leapt out from her hiding place beside the refrigerator and grabbed her. Giggling, she pulled Allegra into the corner, out of sight of everyone else.

‘So what’s with the huggy-huggy, touchy-feely stuff with you-know-who then, hmmn?’ Liz asked, eyes gleaming with mischief and glee. ‘You should see Clive’s face, he’s practically having an aneurysm, he’s that jealous…’ She trailed off into peals of laughter, shoulders shaking, trying hard to be discreet and failing.

‘I don’t know!’ Allegra said, in a whisper, glad to have something to think about other than her father’s passing. ‘He just sort of came over and… I don’t know! Oh God, Liz, it’s been so long since a cute boy held my hand or put his arm around me or even just said nice things to me… What does he want?’

‘He wants you like a starving man wants a packet of peanuts,’ Liz whispered back, as Allegra stared at her blankly. Even for Liz, the analogy was obscure in the extreme. ‘…Meaning to say, he can’t wait to taste your finger-lickin’ salty goodness.’

Allegra
howled with disgust. ‘Liz, you really are the limit,’ she said. ‘That is just so incredibly vile that I can’t even begin to… oh, yuck! And to think, all I wanted to know was if you thought that maybe, just maybe, Jack actually likes me. But I don’t think I’ll bother asking you now. You are a woman of absolutely no class whatsoever.’

Liz,
as merrily drunk as she was, however, sensed that Allegra needed a serious response to her question. It had been years since… hell, forget that, she couldn’t remember ever seeing Allegra this happy, or in the company of a boy who so clearly fancied her madly. Allegra might be a lot older than she was, but was certainly not wiser, especially when it had anything to do with cute boys and relationships and fancying people and whether or not they fancied you back.

‘Hun,’ she said gently, looking directly at Allegra and making sure she was paying attention. ‘He can’t keep his hands off you. I think our boy has a huge, not-at-all-secret crush on you. Why, I think… I think… I think he luuuuuuuurves you.’

Liz
batted her eyelashes furiously, trying to look coquettish and shy, but ruining it by shaking so hard with laughter that she almost dropped her wine glass.

They
burst into another fit of muffled giggles. Anyone who overheard them put it down to the two of them being once again drunk and insane. That suited Allegra and Liz fine; it left them pretty much to their own devices and they could amuse themselves for hours, talking nonsense, finishing each other’s sentences and concocting bizarre stories and jokes with little taglines which would eventually become their private catchphrases and codes for whatever make-believe dramas they cooked up starring themselves and the boys.

‘Do you really think so? I mean, really? Because, oh God forgive me, I really, really like him,’ Allegra whispered, serious again.

‘Well, I don’t know if he loves you, but he sure as shit wants to fuck your brains out, hun,’ Liz replied. ‘Remember, though, he’s spoken for… oh what the hell, he’s a big boy. Just don’t you go getting yourself hurt. Now go back out there and drive him wild. And see if you can get him to wash his hair while you’re at it.’

She
shoved Allegra out of the kitchen, turning back to scrape and stack plates ready for the dishwasher.

Outside,
the party had grumbled good-naturedly and begun clearing up the table as ordered, gradually moving inside to the living room and nabbing prime viewing spots in front of the huge widescreen TV. Their movie evenings had become something of a ritual; Allegra and Liz, mostly for personal amusement, often shot and put together little films about anything and everything that made them laugh.

Every
four or five months, they’d arrange a party, get people over, get them royally drunk and “premiere” their new masterpiece. Their latest venture had been their most ambitious yet. This time, it wasn’t just them with a bottle of wine mouthing off in front of a video camera propped up on a tripod. This latest film involved location shoots, costumes, music, actors playing parts… hell, it even had a script for a change. Both girls felt a twinge of combined excitement and nausea, hoping desperately that everyone would like the end result.

Too
nervous to stay in the sitting room and feeling an urgent need to chainsmoke, Allegra hovered by the patio door, which allowed her both to continue smoking and a good view of the screen, as well as of the assembled throng. Every time they had such an event, she tried to watch the audience as opposed to the film — after all, she’d edited the damn thing, had seen it a hundred times — but mostly she was so caught up in watching her own work with a harshly critical eye (“Bad transition there… awful splice here… audio drop-out at that point, should’ve caught that”) that she didn’t really take in the reactions of those people seeing it for the first time.

This
time, though, it didn’t matter, because the laughter was so loud that it managed to penetrate even her fuddled consciousness. They’d just finished watching the wheelchair segment (her and Liz in bathrobes and bad wigs) to howls of glee and disbelief from their friends, and the movie moved on to the interior sequences, shot in a bar. This was where Jack’s scenes came in. He hadn’t yet seen any of his footage, never mind the final edit.

Allegra
was dimly aware that he had gone inside the house some time earlier and that he had watched the first part of the film standing behind one of the sofas, laughing. Irritatingly, Clive had taken the opportunity of Jack’s absence from Allegra’s side to come and join her at the patio door, ostensibly to smoke as well.

Then
came Jack’s scenes with Allegra. She peered round the frame of the door, almost afraid to see his reaction across the room. There she was on screen, proclaiming that he needed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation as he lay sprawled on the floor, having seemingly been knocked unconscious by Liz for daring to say that The Beatles were over-rated.