Second Chance by Sian James Page A

while. I know you’ll have got her the best possible lawyer. And that’s all you can do at the moment.’
    â€˜Oh God, how can you be so detached? What’s happened to you? We want you here. Annabel’s been asking for you and so has Francesca and I’m going to pieces without you.’
    â€˜You’re still in Cambridge, Paul?’ I suddenly realised that he hadn’t heard my news.
    â€˜Of course I am. Do you think I can leave Annabel while she’s in this state?’
    â€˜My mother died on Sunday, Paul. And the funeral is on Friday. I can’t seem to think of much else at the moment.’
    â€˜Oh Christ, I’m sorry. I took it, of course, that you were just visiting her while you had some time off. Oh Christ.’
    â€˜I’ll come to Cambridge as soon as I can. Tell Annabel I’m thinking of her.’
    â€˜Listen, I’ll try to make it on Friday. What time is the service?’
    â€˜Eleven at the chapel. But...’
    â€˜I’ll do my best to be there. I can get there and back in a day, can’t I? I’ll see you, darling. Oh, I’m so sorry about your mother. I’ll phone again tomorrow, darling.’
    Of course, I felt wretched about Annabel. I knew I’d be going to Cambridge as soon as I possibly could after the funeral. Even as I chopped up the vegetables for the evening meal, I was rehearsing the part I’d be called upon to play. ‘Look, Paul, even if you accept what the police say, even if you accept that Annabel did give, or even sell the drugs to this girl who died, she’s still innocent. How could she possibly have known what effect they were going to have on her? Paul, a wasp sting can prove fatal to certain people. You can be quite certain that Annabel takes these drugs and that they make her happy. How could she be expected to know that this particular supplier was selling contaminated goods? I took drugs when I was young, didn’t you, Paul? Pot, of course, and LSD from time to time. Well, there wasn’t any Ecstasy then, but I’d certainly have taken it if there was. How could anyone resist Ecstasy?’
    Of course, I was truly sorry for the young girl who’d died, and for her parents and friends, but that didn’t make me any less sorry for Annabel. Yes, she was a stupid, stupid child, but she must be going through hell at the moment.
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8
    Rhydian and Grace were late because Aled, their youngest lad, aged four, had objected to being left with his grandmother. I think they’d also had something of a row coming over, so that the first half hour was rather fraught. Grace’s pie had to be put in the oven for twenty minutes and by that time my dish of jacket potatoes with mushroom and garlic sauce had dried up and the avocados had, in any case, proved too hard to eat. However, the pie was good and so was the wine and by the time we were on to the pudding, we were all fairly relaxed.
    â€˜I hope you’re going to stay here for a while now that we’ve got to know you,’ Grace said. ‘You won’t be going back as soon as you’ve come, will you?’
    â€˜Damn, she’s got her work to think of, girl,’ Rhydian said. ‘She’s not going to give up her work, is she, because you and Edwina want to show her off.’
    Grace glanced at him, with pity, I thought, rather than malice. ‘Are you working on anything at the moment?’ she asked me.
    â€˜Not at the moment.’
    I must have looked worried; in fact, I was thinking again about Annabel and her problems. ‘But I’ve got to leave here very soon. On Saturday, I think.’
    Not wanting to worry them with that problem, I switched to a lesser one. ‘A chap called George Williams called on me today.’
    â€˜What did he want?’ Grace asked crossly.
    â€˜You know about him, then?’
    â€˜Edwina’s mentioned something about him, yes. But he’s got no right