Second Chance - Jane Green [13]
This was not supposed to happen.
But she can’t sit at home doing nothing, replaying in her head all the memories, all the horror stories of how Tom might have died, how it must have felt. Did he know, was it quick?
Do the others know? Their gang from school, people she hasn’t spoken to for years but who suddenly seem as close as the day they finished their A levels, old friends she now feels compelled to see.
She phones Paul first. Given his high-profile wife, he is easy to track down. A phone call to Anna Johanssen at Fashionista, an urgent message left with the assistant for Paul to call, and he rings later that afternoon.
‘Holly Mac!’ he says when he phones. ‘How lovely to hear from you, what a tremendous surprise!’
‘Well – actually,’ Holly pauses. She hasn’t worked out what she is going to say, the right words to use. A couple of phrases had come into her head but they sounded so clichéd, so completely out of a film that she knew the best thing to do would be to just phone and hopefully the right words would come.
But of course there are no right words to say that someone you both love has died. Holly has cried more tears these last few days than she thought possible. Her head feels woollen, she is exhausted with the constant thump of a headache from too much crying. And now, now that she has Paul on the phone, Paul with whom she knows Tom is still in touch, Paul who has remained friends with Tom, Holly cannot believe that she is the one who has to give Paul the news.
She half hoped Paul would know. Paul does not know; she must now be the one to tell him.
‘It’s not good news, I’m afraid,’ Holly says, her voice dropping. ‘It’s Tom.’ She waits to hear whether Paul might know.
‘Tom?’
‘Yes. You know he and Sarah live in Boston. He was on a business trip to New York, and he was on the train that was bombed…’ Her voice is remarkably calm. She was expecting to burst into tears again, but if grief is indeed a process, then perhaps this is the first part of the process, that you are able to be the bearer of the worst news you have ever had to give anyone in your life, and you are able to give it with pathos and sadness and without breaking down in floods of tears.
There is a gasp and a long silence.
‘You mean he’s dead?’ Paul’s shock comes down the phone in waves.
‘Yes. Tom’s dead.’
Another long silence. Then a whisper. ‘I don’t believe it.’ There are a few muffled moments as Paul turns away from the phone. When he comes back, his voice is already starting to break. ‘I’ll have to call you back,’ he says, and puts down the phone.
An hour later he rings again.
‘I don’t know when the funeral is,’ Holly says.
‘It’s family only,’ Paul tells her. ‘Saffron spoke to Tom’s dad. He said they knew how many people wanted to come, so they decided to do two memorial services. There’s one in America, I think, and then the one here at the family church that’s open to everyone, because they’re keeping the funeral private. So the service is on the thirtieth. I thought maybe we could all go together. I’ve spoken to Olivia and Saffron’s flying over. I know this is crazy, that none of us have seen each other in years, but I just want us all to be together again. I thought maybe we could all have dinner the night before…’
‘Yes,’ Holly says quietly. ‘That’s a wonderful idea. I’d love you to come here.’
‘Then we will,’ Paul says. ‘October the twenty-ninth?’
‘October the twenty-ninth,’ Holly repeats. ‘I’ll see you then.’
Paul puts the phone down in the cradle, not noticing how much it is clattering, how his hand is shaking uncontrollably.
He makes his way from the desk to the sofa, numb, not aware that the kettle is still whistling on the stove, that he hasn’t saved the piece he was working on when he took a break to call Holly, that it is quite possible, given how his computer has been playing up recently, he will lose the damned thing, but he doesn’t do anything other than sit on the sofa and stare into space.
His thoughts are a jumble. The phone rings and he can’t move, can’t pick it up. It was all he could do to call