Second Chance - Jane Green [92]
‘No wine for me, thanks,’ Saffron says, knowing that at some point she will have to explain. She always does, but not yet. ‘But if you wouldn’t mind coming down with me that would be lovely.’
‘Oh by the way,’ Anna says slowly, ‘how do you feel about sleeping bags and floors?’
‘It doesn’t look like I have much of a choice.’ Saffron laughs. ‘I’ll pick up one of those inflatable mattresses on the way.’ And promising to call as soon as she lands, she puts the phone down.
The first-class lounge is quiet, but, even with few people there, Saffron is aware that everyone is staring at her. The staff have been whispering non-stop behind the bar, shooting surreptitious glances over at her, and free newspapers are scattered around for everyone to read the latest instalment.
She supposes a part of her ought to be grateful. Who was it said there’s no such thing as bad publicity? But being famous has never been her motivation. Acting, for Saffron, is a craft, and the only reason she would want to be famous would be to get better roles in movies. This sort of publicity is not what she has ever wanted although she knows there are many – Alex, for one – who would kill for this kind of attention, however badly they may come across.
For that is what is so hard. Nobody is reading about the wonderful love story that Saffron has with Pearce. They are painting Saffron as a marriage-wrecker, a cheap harlot who set her sights on Pearce and is determined to break him up with his wife. Ghastly men she has dated once or twice have emerged to say that Saffron is the most ambitious woman they have ever met, that she has always said she would do anything to go out with a Pearce or Mel or Tom, that nothing could stand in the way of her drive.
None of it is true.
An hour to go before her flight is called, Saffron finds herself walking past the bar. A wall of free drinks. In the old days, she would have perched on a stool and ordered one after another, just because it was free and because she could.
But she doesn’t do that any more.
‘God grant me the serenity…’ she starts to recite in her mind, but the serenity prayer is drowned out by a buzz. A buzz she hasn’t felt for a long time, a buzz that seems to drown out everything else, all sane thoughts, any mechanisms she may have used to stop herself.
She should call her sponsor. Call someone in the programme. Anyone who could talk her down from this.
But the buzz has propelled her to the bar.
Fuck it. After what I’ve been through, I deserve a drink. Just one, just to calm me down, and who wouldn’t deserve a drink after this? What normal person wouldn’t be entitled to one drink after all this?
And what harm could it do? I mean, really. What harm could it possibly do?
Chapter Twenty
Holly phoned Marcus that morning and asked if they could go out for dinner that night. It’s been a long time since they have properly talked, and there are some things Holly wants to discuss.
And this time Holly really does want to talk. Her conversation with Maggie has stayed with her, and although, as time progresses, she is becoming more and more unhappy, she knows that she can’t just let things slide without involving Marcus. She’s never told him anything about how she feels about him or their marriage, other than the perfunctory ‘I love you’ after they have sex, or occasionally on the phone.
They never talk about what each of them wants, where they are going, or whether they are continuing to grow in the same direction. This, particularly given her growing friendship with Will, bothers Holly the most.
What if Marcus could be a different man? she keeps thinking. Would I love him then? Would I be happier? The devil on her shoulder repeatedly whispers that