Second Chance - Jane Green [35]
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that I once had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
Chapter Seven
It smells the same. Despite all the people crowding into the hallway, the living room, every available space, the first thing Holly notices as she walks through the door is that Maggie and Peter’s house still smells the same.
Like home.
The same dhurrie rugs thrown haphazardly in the entrance hall, the same huge squishy sofa, now covered with various throws, under the giant mirror against the back wall.
Paintings Holly recognizes, new ones filling every square inch of the walls. Large oils in elaborate frames, Matisse lithographs, line drawings of interesting faces, landscapes, abstracts, all thrown together and all working perfectly.
And then, above a console table, a framed line drawing of the Fitzgerald family – Maggie and Peter grinning with their arms wrapped around each other, and Tom, Will and Holly lying on their tummies in front. Happy Anniversary 1984! Lots of love, Holy written at the bottom. Holly had copied a photograph with her Rotring pen, then had added herself as part of the family.
Maggie is, as always, in the kitchen. Unwrapping cakes and platters of sandwiches on the kitchen table as friends of hers bustle around refilling the kettle and making sure there are enough cups.
The kitchen table is still the same, the kitchen cupboards updated – no longer seventies pine and mela-mine counters, the cupboards are now a pretty antique white with thick butcher-block counters, but the dresser holding all the plates is still there, as is the old church pew serving as a bench on one side of the scrubbed refectory table.
‘What do you think of the old place?’ Maggie looks up and sees Holly. ‘Hasn’t changed much, has it?’
Holly shakes her head with a smile. ‘Apart from the cupboards in here, it looks exactly the same. I keep expecting to see Boris leaping about the kitchen.’
‘Oh Boris.’ Maggie smiles. ‘What a good dog he was. A maniac, but a good one. Nowadays we have Pippa, who’s a rescue dog, although quite pretty. We think she’s spaniel crossed with retriever.’
‘Where is she?’
‘She hates lots of people so we moved her bed up to our bedroom. Olivia has taken her out for a walk.’
‘Ah, of course. The animal lover.’
‘Thank goodness I was able to say we rescued Pippa – I think it immediately put us in her good books.’
‘As if you would ever be anywhere else.’ Holly laughs. ‘Do you need help?’
‘No, love. I’m almost done. Anyway, keeping myself busy seems to be the best thing for me at the moment. I love all these people coming over all the time. I just wish it wasn’t under these circumstances.’ Maggie’s eyes glaze over for a second, then she shakes her head to dislodge the thoughts and reaches behind her for some plates.
Holly leaves the kitchen and continues walking down memory lane, loving how so little has changed. She pushes her way between the people standing around with cups of tea in hand, sharing their stories of Tom, and she walks upstairs, knowing she has to see Tom’s room.
Pushing the door open, she expects to see little changed. The rest of the house is exactly the same; why would this be any different? And of course in the movies, the bedroom is always just as it was. But bizarrely, this is the one room that is entirely different. The walls are a fresh yellow, framed prints of Babar and Le Petit Prince line the room, and there are pretty twin beds with teddy bears sitting atop the pillows.
Holly smiles. Of course. This is now Dustin and Violet’s bedroom, where they stay when they come over here. She walks over to the window seat and sits down, leaning her head on the windowpane as she looks out on this familiar view, remembering when she and Tom would lean outside seeing who could blow better smoke rings.
The door creaks and Holly turns around with a start, immediately feeling guilty about being in Tom’s bedroom, being somewhere