Background
Lisa is on the train to London where she is meeting her mother so they can buy her uniform before going to the school the following day. Both she and Alan are heartbroken because she had to go.
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Lisa looked out of the train window feeling empty and utterly devistated. She was unable to stop the tears sliding down her face, and she didn't care who witnessed them. Everything she cared about, she had just left behind.
Alan was the same. As he drove back to the flat he was nearly blinded by his own tears, and he felt as though part of him had been wrenched away from him. The pain was immense. It would be the longest eight days of his life.
By the time he got back to the flat, he just wanted to go back to their room where the smell of her still lingered. He buried his head in her pillow and just wished that she was still there; he had never missed anyone so intensely in his life. When Carla had gone abroad, he had gone home and phoned all his mates, arranging diversions to fill his time. If he had felt the same way about Carla as he did about Lisa, he would have been on the next flight to Spain and followed her to the end of the earth. He knew they had done the sensible thing, but he also knew the odds were stacked against them.
His eye wandered over to the dressing table, where an opened letter lay. When he walked over to look, he thought it must be from Lisa because she had gone back to the bedroom just before they left. When he picked it up, he realised with dismay that it was the last letter Carla had written to him. Lisa must have taken it out of the drawer when she was doing her final check of the bedroom-- but why had she left it out? Alan picked it up and read the top page, which was in fact the last.
Carla had ended the letter telling Alan how much she was looking forward to coming back to him, and how she had missed him terribly in the six months that she'd been away. She also promised to be wearing the gorgeous underwear he’d bought her while on holiday when she flew back. She looked forward to him seeing it, and hopefully removing it as soon after she landed as possible. The letter was signed, as usual, 'Yours forever, Carla' with three kisses underneath.
He was annoyed with Lisa for reading it, and surprised that she’d left the evidence on the dressing table-- unless she wanted him to know she had read it, which worried him much, much more.
Lisa had read the letter, which she'd found the night before when she was clearing her few things from the dressing table. She felt guilty reading it but she couldn't help herself, and was surprised at the warmth and affection contained in the letter from Alan's unsuspecting fiancée. All along she had convinced herself that Carla couldn't possibly love Alan as much as she did. Believing that made her feel less guilty for taking him from her. But the letter proved otherwise. It said the same sort of things Lisa would say if she were writing to him, and the guilt came down on her shoulders like a ton of bricks.
Lisa wanted to tell Alan that she had read the letter because she didn’t want to have secrets ruining their relationship, but she had run out of time. In their last few hours, every moment had been so precious. There had never been the right moment.
Before she left, she decided to go back to the bedroom and leave it out, so he would see that she'd read it. She so regretted that decision now.
What if he thought she was deceitful for reading his personal letter, which she knew she was. What if he thought she was sending him a message by leaving out the letter to say, look how much this girl loves you? You can't possibly break her heart. She had left the letter out thinking it was an honest thing to do, and only now, when she couldn't explain it to him, did she realise what a stupid thing she had done.
Back at the flat, Alan was totally confused trying to work out what message Lisa was trying to give him by leaving out the letter. He lay on the bed and stared up at the ceiling while he tried to work it out…
When Lisa arrived in London, she went straight to the Excelsior hotel, which was just around the corner from the station. She was dreading meeting up with her mother, remembering the last time she'd seen her. She had already decided that if there was any sign of trouble, she would get straight back on the train to Chelmsford, using the return ticket Alan had insisted she buy. It had made sense anyway, because a single cost almost as much as a return. She clung on to the fact that Alan's insistence that she bought it proved to her that he wanted her to come back to him. Consoled by that thought, she watched the houses flash by, as the train took her further and further away from him, her heart silently breaking.
Fiona Collins sat in the reception of the hotel nursing a cup of coffee, wishing that she could have a drink instead. Her flight that morning had necessitated her getting up at six-thirty, and she felt tired with the effort of it all. She had been relieved when Scott had phoned her to say that Lisa had decided to go to the school. It was now down to her to make sure she didn't change her mind. Fiona just wanted to get Lisa settled in the school because there, she would be back under her control. She still couldn't understand why Lisa had run away in the first place, conveniently forgetting what had actually happened. The wine had blurred the memory of that morning in Dunoon, as it had during her conversations with the police, but she still believed that it was all Lisa's fault-- not hers.
Fiona was just weighing up whether she had time to break her resolve not to have a drink, when her daughter walked in.
Lisa saw her mother as soon as she arrived, and was relieved to see that she had a cup, not a glass, in front of her. Fiona stood up and smiled at her, holding out both her hands. Lisa had no choice but to take them and accept the hug her mother gave her, but she felt her body stiffen at her touch. At least her mother was making an effort, and Lisa sighed with relief. Perhaps it was going to be okay.
Fiona studied the clothes Lisa wore, unaware that they were Karen's cast-offs. She was appalled that Lisa could be wearing such ordinary clothes to come to London, but she would soon put that right.
“We have to go to Dickens and Jones for your uniform and then I thought, if we had time, we could shop for some clothes for you,” she suggested with a motherly smile. Sadly she couldn't help adding.
“I really don't like what you're wearing, Lisa...”
Her comment didn’t surprise Lisa in the least. She just wished she had worn her new suit, irrespective of the memories attached to it. She remembered how particular her mother was. Clothes were only good enough, if she had bought them, or they cost a lot of money.
“Okay,” she answered distractedly, not particularly caring one way or the other. If her mother wanted to salve her own conscience by buying her new clothes, it was fine by her. She couldn't care less.
Sorting out the uniform was pretty boring, and Lisa actually felt guilty that her parents were spending that kind of money on a uniform she was only going to wear for a less than a year, but her mother insisted she had everything on the list supplied by the school.
After that, they went to Harrods, where Fiona did some serious harm with her account card, and took advantage of the fact that Donald would have no idea whether the clothes were for herself, or Lisa, when the account came in. If she had to prove that she could be a good Mother, then so be it, she might as well reap some rewards along the way.
By the time they had finished shopping it was six o'clock, and even Fiona had to admit they couldn't carry another bag. They were laden down like pack mules and Lisa couldn't wait to get back to the hotel and escape to the privacy of her room and ring Alan.
The afternoon had gone surprisingly well, and Lisa hoped that the evening would too. She couldn't believe that her mother was the same person who had stood screaming in front of Alan's parent's house. It would be a long time before she would feel safe being left alone with her, but their shopping trip had actually verged on the edge of being enjoyable.
They finished the day by having dinner in the hotel restaurant and everything was fine-- until her mother ordered a third glass of wine. Lisa decided to excuse herself, claiming she had to be fresh for the next day, and she escaped to her room, ensuring she was safely out of her mother's way before she drank any more.
It was only nine forty-five, but Fiona was pleased Lisa had gone to bed early because the strain of being restricted to just a couple of drinks was beginning to wear her down. She finished her drink and ordered a bottle of wine, which she took to her room where she could drink it unobserved. It had been a long day…
Lisa didn't just go up early because she was worried that the third glass of wine might bring out the worst in her mother, but because she wanted to phone Alan from her room and explain about reading Carla’s letter. She also wanted to give him the address and telephone number of the school, which was in the back of the brochure she'd extracted from her mother earlier that evening. She knew he wasn't expecting her to ring until she arrived at the school the next day, but she was desperate to hear his voice, and tell him how much she missed him…
Alan had stayed in the flat all afternoon and most of the evening feeling sorry for himself. Mike tried cheering him up by giving him a couple of stiff drinks, but they weren't having any effect. He still felt wretched.
“I think I'll drive down to see Lisa as soon as she phones with the address,” he said, draining his glass.
Mike looked up at his friend and laughed.
“I thought you were going to drive down next weekend?”
Alan poured himself another Bacardi, hoping it would help ease the pain.
“I don't think I can wait till then,” Alan replied, feeling totally desperate.
Mike stared back at his friend. He had never seen him looking so miserable.
“My God you’ve got it bad, mate, she's only been gone a few hours!”
Alan pursed his lips and looked back at his friend.
“You’ve no idea mate. If I could jump in the car and bring her back right now, I would.”
Mike checked his watch, and seeing the time, got up off his seat and pulled his sweater on over his head.
“Well if you fancy jumping in your car, I've got a hot date with one of the barmaids at the Dorchester Arms. I wouldn’t mind a lift because it’s peeing down out there…”
Lisa had been ringing for a couple of minutes and there was no answer. She didn't know that Alan had, as usual; left his phone behind, because he thought that he would only be gone a few minutes. She hung up and decided to try again later…
The drive to the Dorchester Arms only took five minutes, and Mike undid his seatbelt as they drove up getting ready to jump out as they came level with the pub. Alan put his foot on the brake-- but nothing happened, and the car careered on unimpeded at forty miles an hour. Mike had his hand on the handle of the door ready to get out, and he couldn't understand why Alan hadn't stopped-- until he looked over at him and saw the sheer panic on his face as his foot pumped away furiously at the brake pedal. The car gathered speed as it hurtled down the hill and the car that pulled across their path didn't see them coming. Alan swung the steering wheel to the left to try and avoid it, and when they hit the tail end of the truck parked at the side of the road, Mike went through the windscreen and smashed into a wall. The car somersaulted several times, eventually landing on its roof at the bottom of the hill-- where it lay crushed and silent….
