The House That Alice Built

by Chris Penhall

  About the Book

  The House That Alice Built

  by Chris Penhall

  Home is where the heart is …

  Alice Dorothy Matthews is sensible. Whilst her best friend Kathy is living it up in Portugal and her insufferable ex Adam is travelling the world, Alice is working hard to pay for the beloved London house she has put her heart and soul into renovating.

  But then a postcard from Buenos Aires turns Alice’s life upside down. One very unsensible decision later and she is in Cascais, Portugal, and so begins her lesson in ‘going with the flow’; a lesson that sees her cat-sitting, paddle boarding, dancing on top of bars and rediscovering her artistic talents.

  But perhaps the most important part of the lesson for Alice is that you don’t always need a house to be at home.

  Winner of:

  Stories that inspire emotions!

  www.rubyfiction.com

  Contents

  About the Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Thank you!

  About the Author

  Introducing Ruby Fiction

  More from Ruby Fiction

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright information

  Chapter One

  Alice wearily trudged down the street towards home, the rain a constant pitter-patter on her umbrella, her ankles damp from the water kicked up in puddles as she moved. She had opened the curtains that morning to blue skies and fluffy clouds – a perfect day for her friend, Kathy to visit, who had flown over from Portugal for a meet-up for the first time in about five years. She wanted everything to be just right, including the weather. However, it had been a disappointing kind of day, with rumours of job losses murmuring around work, a truculent colleague causing more stress than was absolutely necessary, and the low clouds drawing in. But as she turned the corner towards her little terrace, the early blossom on the trees outside seemed to shine through the rain. It almost felt as if the whole house was basking in a welcoming glow, lifting her mood and making her feel safe, as it always did.

  Why, why, why when I have my hands full do my keys decide to jump down to the bottom of my bag and hide? she thought as she got to the door, umbrella handle tucked under her chin whilst she rifled around trying to find them. Kneeling down, she emptied the contents onto the path, accidentally dropping the umbrella at the same time, whilst her laptop case slipped from her arms onto the muddy grass. ‘I know you’re there,’ she whimpered. ‘Come out, come out, wherever you are. Please.’

  ‘Lovely weather,’ said a voice behind her. ‘No wonder I don’t come back to London very often.’

  She jumped up and turned around, her knees covered in grass and mud, whilst several drops of water slid down her face from her rain-sodden hair. Alice smiled – despite feeling damp – at Kathy standing in front of her, tanned, glowing and laughing. And not wet. In fact, the opposite of Alice in every way.

  ‘You should have taken a taxi from the station,’ she said. ‘That’s how you avoid rain damage. That’s why I’m dry and you’re … not!’

  ‘Ohhhh, Kathy, Kathy!’ Alice stood up, hugging her tight. ‘Whoops – you’re wet too now. Sorry.’

  Kathy laughed again. ‘Okay, I deserved that. Is this what you were looking for?’ she asked, bending down and picking up a set of keys from the path.

  ‘God, thanks,’ sighed Alice, opening the door and picking up her shopping.

  ‘What’s that? I hear the sound of clinking bottles.’ Kathy grinned.

  ‘A teeny bit of Prosecco and cheesecake for our girl’s night in.’

  ‘Night in? We’re going out.’

  ‘Are we?’

  A slight frown flickered across Kathy’s face as she picked up the laptop case from the ground and carried it inside. ‘Still bringing work home all the time?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, that’s my life,’ said Alice, bristling a little. ‘I’ve got to keep on top of things otherwise it all gets disorganised and spirals out of control.’

  ‘Even more reason to go out tonight to make sure you don’t take a sneaky peek at some training plan when I’m in the loo or something.’ Kathy laughed. ‘When was the last time we were in London together and went out on the town?’

  Alice paused for a second. She couldn’t remember. ‘A while ago.’

  ‘Come to think of it – when was the last time you went out on the town?’

  Alice winced. ‘No idea – lost in the mists of time. Come in.’

  Kathy put her rucksack down in the hall, gave Alice the laptop back, spread her arms wide and breathed in slowly. ‘Oh, Alice – I do love your house. It feels so nice. And it looks so nice. And it smells really, really, really nice.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Alice beamed. ‘I love it too, as you well know.’ As they walked into the kitchen, she began to move several piles of paperwork that were on the table. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she said to Kathy.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like, I do all that work at home. Like I’ve turned into a workaholic. I am not a workaholic.’

  ‘I never said you were.’ Kathy calmly pulled out a chair and sat down.

  Alice took her coat off and put it in the cupboard under the stairs. ‘Work’s a bit, well, miserable at the moment, to be honest,’ she said.

  ‘Miserable?’

  ‘Lots of rumours of redundancy. It’s very unsettling. So, I’m making sure I’m indispensable.’

  ‘Of course you are,’ said Kathy. ‘You’ve been working there for years. You’re a top training manager now.’

  ‘Several take-overs later, I’m not so sure.’

  ‘Right,’ said Kathy, standing up again. ‘Time for medicinal action. The fizz is chilled enough for our needs from your walk home. Shall I put the other one in the fridge and pour us a couple of glasses from this one?’

  ‘I was going to put the kettle on.’

  ‘Well, you can have tea with it if you want.’

  ‘Oh, I give in,’ said Alice walking into the living room and sinking onto the sofa. ‘I’ll change later. Bring on the warm wine.’

  Kathy brought two glasses over and sat down. ‘I just wanted to celebrate seeing you again after all this time,’ she said. ‘A toast to friendship. Even if it’s far apart.’

  ‘Friendship,’ echoed Alice, holding her glass aloft.

  ‘Let’s down it in one!’ Kathy suggested with a laugh. ‘Come on.’

  They drained their glasses quickly. Alice sneezed and then giggled, enjoying the warm tickle of the bubbles as they fizzed in her mouth.

  ‘Why haven’t you come to see me in Cascais?’ asked Kathy eventually.

  Alice thought for a moment. ‘Life, the universe, responsibilities, I don’t know … time goes. I visited you when you lived in Lagos though, remember?’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Kathy. ‘But it was with Adam the controlling arse. It would be more fun in Cascais with me now he’s trotting round the world. He wouldn’t be allowed to come anyway. Every time I phoned you he’d be the one to pick up the call. He always said, “How are things in Ca
scayce then?” Always!’ She shook her head and smiled. ‘And I’d tell him, no, no it’s pronounced Cashcishe, Cash … cishe … and he’d ignore me and called it Cascayce again.’

  Alice closed her eyes for a moment to try to erode the image of her ex that had just pushed itself into her mind.

  ‘You’ve still got it,’ said Kathy pointing at a colourful ceramic bowl on the coffee table.

  ‘Ah, yes.’ Alice smiled sadly.

  ‘I remember the day you completed on the house, the two of you had been out looking for duvets and furniture and everything. And all you managed to buy was the bowl.’

  ‘We were very proud of it, though.’

  ‘Rightly so. It’s very pretty.’

  ‘It’s the only thing we agreed on about the way the house should look.’

  ‘Typical.’

  ‘Very symbolic.’

  ‘You’d love Cascais. Life is so much more laidback, the weather is better, it’s sociable. I’m nowhere near as stressed as when I worked in the city even though I’m working for myself.’

  ‘And how is the beauty business?’ asked Alice, noticing how happy and relaxed her friend looked.

  ‘It’s going well – I did tell you I moved it to a hotel from the shopping centre, didn’t I? Anyway, the whole place is kind of magical.’ She poured them both another glass.

  Alice shifted uncomfortably. She knew what Kathy was going to say. She had been sending her messages, photos and postcards for some time hinting at the same thing.

  ‘You could have an adventure,’ said Kathy. ‘He’s not here to bother you – you could give up your job, rent out the house and travel the world.’

  ‘I knew you were going to say that,’ said Alice, trying to smile, ‘I can’t give up my job.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I have a mortgage to pay.’

  ‘If you rent it out, you could pay the mortgage – have a bit left over to live on …’

  Alice picked up her glass and took a swig from it. ‘I can’t rent the house out to be honest. Adam is co-owner and needs to sign things and I don’t know where he is. He just went one day and left a note. That’s it.’

  ‘You can e-mail him – we have the internet and everything these days, Alice.’

  ‘Nope – he blocked me – he told me he was going to. Said we needed a clean break. Said he was going to cleanse himself of social media and the internet. That was in an e-mail he sent me from Alaska. I can’t find him anywhere, and I’ve been looking, believe me. All I get from him are bloody postcards.’

  ‘Bloody postcards?’

  Alice stood up, walked to a drawer and pulled it open dramatically. ‘Here,’ she said, waving some cards at Kathy. ‘This one’s from Rio, this one’s from Guadeloupe, this one’s from Costa Rica and this one’s from Patagonia. I got rid of all the others.’

  ‘All the others?’

  ‘Yes – he sends them every three to four weeks. So, that’s been two years’ worth. I tear them into little pieces and throw them in the bin. I sometimes set fire to them.’

  ‘Why does he send them to you? Controlling little—’

  ‘Oh, do you know, I’m past caring,’ sighed Alice. ‘I’ve just thrown myself into work, finished off the stuff that needed doing in the house and … hibernated!’

  ‘You’re far too much fun to hibernate, Alice. We used to go off and do all sorts – remember Glastonbury? Remember us trying to learn how to sail!’

  ‘Oh dear, yes. Don’t think we’d be welcomed back to that particular sailing school.’ Alice took another sip, guffawed suddenly at the memory, and began to splutter.

  ‘When you met Adam, you were both so much fun. What happened to him? He got all … pompous. Quite early on.’

  Alice thought for a moment. ‘He did, didn’t he? Out of the blue. Never saw it coming. He was pompous for years before he had his mid-life crisis. Now I’m used to him not being here I don’t want him back. But I’m a bit stuck. And I wish he’d stop sending those bloody postcards.’

  ‘You need a mid-life crisis yourself, Alice Dorothy Matthews,’ announced Kathy. ‘A life-changing, mind-bending, irresponsible, irrepressible one. But where I can keep an eye on you. So, you have to come to Portugal.’

  ‘I can’t. Like I said, I have to work.’

  Kathy laughed. ‘Take a break then. You can have one during a two-week holiday, Alice. A short-but-sweet and intense one if you can’t manage any longer. Better than nothing.’

  Alice swigged her drink again. ‘Point taken.’

  Kathy looked through the postcards. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Get your glad rags on – I have an idea.’

  ‘Have you got them?’

  ‘Yes, here,’ said Alice, taking the postcards out of her bag, pleased that the rain had finally stopped.

  ‘So – does this seem appropriate?’

  ‘Tower Bridge – couldn’t be better. This is where he first kissed me. Bastard.’

  ‘Are you ready to rip and tear?’

  ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘One, two, three … Go!’

  The fragments of postcard scattered from the bridge into the River Thames, floating like confetti towards the water.

  ‘How do you feel?’ asked Kathy.

  Alice watched them sink slowly into the river, and imagined it was Adam disappearing into the cold, grey murkiness. ‘I should have done this sooner!’ she admitted.

  ‘Right,’ said Kathy, pulling her away from the railings. ‘This way and don’t look back. I’ve booked us a restaurant in the Shard and we’re running late.’

  ‘I feel bad about dropping litter in the river,’ said Alice quietly.

  ‘Think of it as bedding for seagulls. They’ll swoop down before it lands and use it. Recycling.’

  Chapter Two

  The girl in the sepia postcard strode along the city street, handbag swinging, purposeful and optimistic, her white sundress almost shining against the damp pavements, her straw-hat protection from the rain, not the sun. Even though she was walking away. Even though you could only see her back, you could tell. She exuded it. Blue skies were coming and that’s where she was going. Let it rain.

  Alice read the message on the back again.

  It was absolutely brilliant to see you the other week. The water’s lovely over here. Why don’t you just come and dip your toes in it. Portugal awaits. Love, Kathy xxx

  She put it on the dresser next to the other one. The black and white one. The one with a solitary cowboy passing through a bleak expanse of sparse, grey fields, framed by a range of hard, desolate charcoal mountains. She didn’t have to read the message on the back of that one again. She had read it four times already. The words were seared into her brain without her consent. She didn’t want them to be there, but that was Adam all over, she thought, getting under her skin, unwelcome, unwanted and callous.

  Hey Alice, just arrived in Buenos Aires for some R and R! Things going well here. Book deal in the offing and a brand-new project in the air. Think it’s about time we sold the house. I’ll be back in the UK at the end of next month and we can start the process then. Can you be a darling and get a couple of estate agents to value it? Cheers, A.

  The cards had arrived at the same time, lying innocuously on the door-mat. How could Alice have known that one was good and one was evil?

  Although her mind was fuzzy with stress, she remembered reading Kathy’s first because she knew it would make her smile. And then she had read Adam’s postcard. It didn’t make her smile. It made her panic. It made her sad. And it made her angry. So, she had tried to calm down by putting things in order which is what she always did, instinctively rearranging the postcards and ‘The Letter’, which had arrived the day before, so they looked neater together on the dresser: the postcards either side, the cream official envelope in the middle. Then she realised what she was doing.

  ‘What the bloody hell am I doing!’ she had shouted, walking over to a drawer, opening it and then shutting it again, loudly, just be
cause it made her feel better. ‘Three bits of paper that sum up my life. Adam wants the house, Kathy is having a lovely time and wants me to visit. And my redundancy letter. My redundancy letter.’

  She had run upstairs and thrown herself into cleaning the bathroom, scrubbing and polishing, and putting old bottles in the bin aggressively, trying to escape from the present the only way she knew how, only returning to the kitchen when her heart had stopped racing.

  And now here she was – the letter still there, along with the postcards. They weren’t going to go away.

  She opened and shut the drawer again and paced around the kitchen. Finding herself near the kettle she switched in on. Hot sweet tea. That’ll help. That’s what they do in films, she thought. Sitting at the table waiting for it to boil, she drummed her fingers, staring at the dresser, mind racing wildly. And that’s when the girl in the sepia postcard really got her attention.

  Why was everyone else having fun except her? Why did Adam think he could just waltz back and make decisions about her life? Hadn’t HR at work already made a decision about her life that she hadn’t been consulted about? Standing up she poured water over the tea bag, watching it scorch the liquid brown. Shovelling in some sugar and throwing in a splash of milk, she sat down again, sipping it angrily. Picking up Adam’s postcard again she scrutinised it just in case he’d hidden his new e-mail address on it by accident.

  On the table was the bowl they’d bought when they first moved in. Adam had paid for it, smiling. ‘We’re going to make this place distinctive and individual,’ he had said. ‘Our house.’

  ‘Our home,’ Alice had said, remembering the first time they’d seen it, how they had planned the way they were going to bring the worn and musty building back to life. But they had bought it in the throes of early, hopeful, passionate love and Adam had slowly abandoned it, both emotionally and materially in the same way he had abandoned Alice.

  She took her tea and sat on the stairs for a while, her head against the wall. She was told the news about the job a month ago and had finished two weeks early to use up all the leave she never bothered to take. But she was frozen, unable to look for more work, let alone apply for it, her brain seemingly unable to focus on anything apart from panic. Her shoulders were constantly tense, and her eyes twitched with nerves as soon as she woke up.