Second Chance - Jane Green [10]
And that was the thin end of the wedge that lodged itself into the heart of Tom and Holly’s relationship. At first it was just a splinter, but the more the four of them endured one another, attempting to find a way of turning Holly and Tom’s friendship into an equal friendship among the four of them, the larger the splinter grew until Holly and Tom were forced to sneak in the odd lunch or phone calls from work. It was a friendship that suffered from lack of contact but became more precious precisely because of it.
Years ago, Holly would call Tom in Massachussetts, praying that Sarah wouldn’t answer the phone, praying that she wouldn’t be forced to go through the obligatory small talk. Eventually she had stopped phoning.
Holly always thinks of Sarah as Scary Sarah. It had slipped out once, by accident, when she and Tom were having lunch, and Tom had almost spat out his drink, he was laughing so hard. It is still a shared private joke between them, something that indicates the intimacy they had before.
‘Hey, stranger!’ Holly taps into the computer, her need to get in touch with Tom suddenly all-consuming.
Have been wondering where/how you are, my
friend. Not sleeping well at the moment and finding
myself thinking about my past and realize it’s been
AGES since we spoke. How are you? How’s Sarah?
And those little munchkins? My own munchkins are
as delicious as ever. Have you been in touch with
anyone? Read something about Saffron the other
day – she’s got a small part in some new film with
Jim Carrey– whaddya think?–could this be the big
time we’ve all been waiting for? (Unbloodylikely, I’d
say. Ouch!) How’s Paul? Any little ones yet? Would
love to hear from you. Actually, would love to see
you – can’t you do a business trip over here? Just
think, we could have long liquid lunches like in the
old days. Anyway, thinking of you and sending you
much love. Send my love to Scary Sarah. Big kiss,
Holly xxxxx
Much later, Holly will find out where Sarah is at the precise moment she hits the send button on her computer.
Sarah is, at that moment, shouting up the stairs to Violet to hurry up or they will be late for school. Violet is four, in her last year of pre-school before starting kindergarten, and as slow as molasses, particularly when her mother is in a hurry.
‘Come on, honey!’ Sarah shouts. ‘It’s your field trip today. You can’t be late. Oh Violet!’ she says, as Violet appears in the doorway of her bedroom, naked, clutching her threadbare pet elephant. ‘I asked you to get dressed!’ Sarah snaps and Violet starts to cry.
‘Oh God,’ Sarah mutters. ‘Please give me patience this morning.’ Last year she complained to Tom that it was like this every day, always running late, having climbed out of bed too late and spending too long over breakfast, forgetting to get the kids’ clothes ready the night before, not able to find the car keys.
Every day last year she woke up and vowed that today would be different, today she would be fun, nice, loving Mommy; and by the time they all piled into the SUV in the driveway, she was back to being stressed, shouting Mommy, hating herself for doing it, but somehow being unable to stop.
Sarah takes a deep breath. I will not shout at the kids this morning, she tells herself. So what if we’re a bit late? It’s only pre-school, for God’s sake. It doesn’t matter. And feeling calmer, she grabs her camera from the dresser in the bedroom and takes the kids down to the car.
An hour later – so many mothers to catch up with in the car park – Sarah is about to get in the car when Judy, another mother, races up, her face stricken.
‘Have you heard?’ she says, her eyes wide with excitement and horror.
‘What, what?’ The mothers clamour around her, some turning as mobile phones started to ring simultaneously.
‘Another terrorist attack! Right here! They bombed the Acela!’
Sarah’s focus shifts as everything becomes fuzzy. The Acela Express. The high-speed Amtrak train that covers the north-east. That can’t be right. Tom is on the Acela.
‘No! What happened? Is it bad?’ comes