Second Chance Read Online Free PDF Page A

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 the babble of voices, and then groans of, ‘Oh God, not again.’
    ‘I don’t know,’ Judy says as one of the other mothers shouts over. ‘Bodies everywhere. Happened just outside New York. Oh God, we’re bound to know someone.’ And all eyes suddenly turn to Sarah, who finds herself sitting on the ground of the car park, her legs having given way.
    ‘Sarah?’ A voice, gentle, on a level with her ear. ‘Sarah, are you okay?’
    But Sarah can’t speak. These things are not supposed to happen to people like her and Tom, but now it seems they have.

Chapter Two
    Holly Macintosh wakes up, as she has woken up every morning since she heard the news, and feels the weight of grief settle upon her chest.
    It is all she can do these days to get out of bed, to go to the kitchen and pour herself a coffee with a shaking hand, to sit at the kitchen table lost in a cloud of memories, of things unsaid, of might-have-beens and of missing Tom – the Tom she grew up with and the