29
I Can See Clearly Now
Alice and I said our goodbyes, and I still didn’t know what she’d said that had set my heart racing. But I knew enough to follow my gut, so instead of walking south from Chiltern Street to Oxford Street, I found myself heading north to Baker Street tube.
Then it came to me: I was overwhelmed by the conviction that I had to talk to Marcie again. Her house was only a couple of stops away on the Jubilee Line. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say – it sure as hell didn’t have anything to do with chicken or lamb. But I just knew I had to speak to her.
Then suddenly, everything pulled into focus, and Alice’s story made sense. I should never have tried to talk Jess round into forgiving Marcie, I should have persuaded Marcie that she didn’t need Jessica’s forgiveness.
Just as Alice had been intimidated by her parents and initially taken the easier path, I’d let myself be intimidated by Marcie.
Excitement bubbled in my gut. Could I pull this off? My hope faltered when I remembered I still had to get past the intercom password.
As I waited on the platform for the tube, a woman walked past me carrying a Bonnie and Clyde tote bag.
I froze.
What if the same password I’d used a couple of weeks ago still worked? Could it really be so easy?
My confidence surged. What was the harm in trying? What did I have to lose?
The train arrived and I calmly boarded. I got off one stop later at St John’s Wood, then, on autopilot, I retraced my steps to Marcie’s house.
Before any doubts got the better of me, I pressed my finger to the buzzer.
‘Hello, who is it?’ came the disembodied voice.
‘It’s Bonnie and I’m here to see Clyde.’
I held my breath as I waited for the response.
Please, please, please.
‘I’m sorry, you must have the wrong house.’
Damn.
The password had changed. Nick had warned me that they rotated.
I kicked the wall in frustration.
But what if they were all based on films that Marcie loved? I pictured the other posters she’d had up:Gone with the WindandButch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Not a fan of happy endings, then.
But who did Marcie most relate to – southern belles or outlaws?
I cleared my throat and on instinct I announced: ‘It’s Butch Cassidy and I’m here to see the Sundance Kid.’
Long, long moments passed. But then the door buzzed and clicked open.
Success!
Amazed, I slipped through the widening gap and hurried to the front door.
Ronan was standing at the threshold with both dogs on leads. They barked as I approached.
‘Hi,’ I said confidently, both for his benefit and so the dogs wouldn’t sense my anxiety.
‘Most people don’t get two attempts at the password,’ he said. ‘But I figured I’d bend the rules because I owe you. I screwed up when you were last here. I should have been watching Marcie, not trying out new recipes, and she got drunk. But you didn’t tell anyone, and I appreciate that. After this, though, we’re even.’
