The House That Alice Built

by Chris Penhall

  ‘But if you do see him, what will you say?’

  ‘He may not find me.’ Her voice was still calm, her heart beating fast.

  ‘His mother called me. The little bastard is really on the warpath.’

  ‘I’ll deal with it if it happens. Please don’t worry.’

  ‘I can’t help being worried.’ There was a pause. ‘You need to speak to your solicitor. I know Tara has tried to persuade you.’

  ‘I will when I’m ready.’

  ‘You are so stubborn, Alice.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose I am,’ she said, knowing it wasn’t stubbornness. It was fear.

  ‘I know. You could fly home. Confuse him by not being there.’

  Alice saw herself sitting at her computer in her living room looking for jobs she didn’t really want, exhausted and fragile. She couldn’t go back to that. Not yet anyway. ‘Interesting idea, Mum, but I think here is better for the time being. Besides, I’ve got some more orders for bracelets, photos and a couple more of my mosaic houses. I actually have work to do. I mean it’s for tiny amounts of money, but I’m really enjoying it.’ She could sense her mother relax.

  ‘Well done, darling. Really, well done. Don’t let him spoil it.’

  ‘I won’t. And don’t worry, please. It will be resolved. When I’m ready. Bye, Mum.’ She put the phone down and walked onto the balcony. The sky was a perfect blue, the air still and warm. ‘I won’t let him spoil it,’ she said. And something inside her shifted again.

  The following day Alice worked on her projects, swam twice and walked along the sea road towards Guincho to clear her head. The spectre of Adam seemed to put an invisible force field between her and the centre of town. Why tempt fate? she thought as she turned and strode west rather than east. But the day after, she sat up bolt upright in bed.

  ‘Right,’ she said to Aphrodite who was sitting on a pillow, staring at her. ‘I’m allowing him to bully me into hiding, and I don’t even know if he’s here. For. Goodness. Sake.’

  Aphrodite jumped onto the floor and began to walk towards the door. ‘Why tempt fate?’ Alice muttered. The cat stood and turned her head. ‘But then, why hide from him, Aphrodite?’ She climbed out of bed and walked towards the kitchen ‘I suppose I do need to get more bits for the necklaces – and paints. And I suppose I should check how my photos are selling. If at all. It’s my job, after all. The one I’ve always wanted.’

  She fed the cat, showered, dressed, put on her bright trousers and enormous straw hat, and headed into town.

  It was the middle of June and the streets were full people, busy locals zipping around clusters of ambling holidaymakers. Alice was always impressed with the ability of the tourists to slow down to a snail’s pace seemingly almost minutes after they’d arrived by the sea. It had taken her a few weeks to master the art of the amble. But now she was an expert. But not today. Today Alice was darting from shop front to display board to shadowy corner like a very bad cartoon spy wearing very visible clothing, trying to avoid eye contact with everyone, ears alert for the sound of Adam’s gruff laugh, searching for the top of his head above the crowds.

  Pausing outside one of the shops stocking her photographs to let a family out, she saw a couple pick up one of her Sintra prints and admire it.

  ‘Look at the colours,’ said the woman. ‘They are so vivid. Where was this taken?’

  ‘The gardens at Sintra,’ said the owner. ‘In spring the woods are full of wild flowers.’

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ said the woman, placing it on the counter, and stepping back to get a better look.

  ‘It would look good in the study,’ mused her husband. ‘Get it framed in silver, or blue.’

  Alice beamed, pretending to look at postcards.

  ‘We’ll buy it,’ said the woman.

  Yes! thought Alice. Yes, yes, yes! Someone likes my stuff! She tried to imagine it hanging up in their home. Something that she saw and captured only a few weeks ago was about to become part of their lives. She hadn’t thought of it like that before. She walked into the shop and smiled at them as they carried her work of art out into the big wide world.

  ‘I just sold one of your prints,’ said the owner.

  ‘Yes, I heard! That’s really good news,’ said Alice. ‘How are they going?’

  ‘I sold two yesterday, two today. Last week five.’

  ‘Is that good?’

  ‘It’s very good for a new artist.’

  ‘Do I need to supply any more?’

  ‘In two or three weeks maybe. I will let you know.’

  Alice floated along the street. A new artist … a new artist … that’s me! The craft stall that sold her bracelets was surrounded by people examining its goods, so she hovered by the window of the pastelaria next door, pondering the rows of meringues, pastries and tarts displayed tantalisingly inside, unable to decide which to buy. A baby began to cry, snapping her out of her reverie and she glanced up. Behind her reflection, she caught a fleeting glimpse of a familiar-looking tall man with wavy fair hair striding purposefully by. Heart pumping, Alice pulled her hat further down over her head and furtively examined his back as he waited to cross the road. It’s not him. It’s not him. It’s not him. The words spun around her head as she hurried into the shop and joined the queue, glad of a place to hide.

  Ten minutes later, four pasteis de natas were packed into a gleaming white box. Alice held it in front of her as if it was a shield and re-joined the throng.

  The calm shade of the art shop provided a pleasant respite from the anxious journey around town. Alice lingered, picking up pencils and brushes, examining them closely, then placing them back on the shelves. A pale blue watercolour paint held her attention for a while, and she held the palette up to the light to compare it to a slightly darker version. By the time she had decided which glue to buy, after ten minutes of carefully reading labels, Alice felt strong enough to re-enter the world outside.

  ‘How are the bracelets going?’ Alice scanned the craft stall for her creations.

  ‘Muito bem,’ beamed the woman who ran it. ‘Very good. I have one left.’

  ‘One?’ Alice beamed back. ‘One left?’

  ‘Have you any more?’

  ‘Yes, back at the apartment. How many do you want?’

  ‘Forty. Same price as before.’

  ‘Okay. I can get them here the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow would be better.’

  ‘How about after three o’clock tomorrow then?’

  ‘Okay, fine. That would be good. It’s coming up to peak season, so I like to keep good sellers in stock.’

  Alice wondered if any of the passers-by could see the golden happy glow that surrounded her body, then realised she would have to hurry home. She only had ten. Thirty more bracelets had to be made by the following afternoon. Weaving around the crowds purposefully, mind buzzing with beads and tiles and ribbon, she automatically cut through the square. A brightly patterned scarf caught her eye and she dipped into the shop to look at it. Everything was inspiring ideas for more projects, and she felt invigorated. Smiling to herself, she noted how the colours intertwined and merged. She checked her purse and found only three euros. I’ll buy it tomorrow, she thought, and drape it over a chair so I can see it whilst I’m working. About to step once again into the bright sun, a familiar deep laugh stopped her in her tracks, and almost physically pushed her back inside. For a few minutes Alice had completely forgotten him. But now her heart was racing again, and her mouth began to feel dry. Turning her attention to a rack of postcards, she tried to decide what to do next. It may not be him, she thought. But what if it is?

  ‘Alice!’ Carlos shouted at her from his café. ‘You dropped some paint from your bag … and you are wearing your big hat again. Those trousers are very bright. That’s not like you. Are you going to take more photographs of the cobbles?’

  She stepped back behind a row of sunglasses.

  ‘Are you in disguise again?’ he laughed.

&nbs
p; ‘Is Alice in there?’ It was Ignacio. ‘Oh yes. Alice. I see the brim of your hat! Will you have coffee with us?’

  Pulling the hat further down, she waved limply and picked up a German newspaper, holding it in front of her face, clutching at her cakes and bag of materials.

  ‘Carlos,’ said Ignacio loudly, ‘Alice is in the shop. I’ve asked if she would like to join us. It’s such a beautiful day.’

  ‘Oh God, why don’t you just put a giant arrow pointing at me,’ she muttered, literally backing herself into a corner.

  ‘Alice?’ Ignacio was now in the shop. ‘Alice? My nephews are about to perform again across the square. Do you remember them last month? They have been practising … listen …’ A slow and tentative jumble of accordion and electric keyboard drifted into the shop. ‘... I think it’s …’ He closed his eyes and concentrated. ‘Ahh … “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking for”… U2? They are very ambitious boys. Don’t like to make it too easy.’

  She put the newspaper down and stepped forward. ‘Could you drive me home?’ she said. ‘I don’t feel all that well.’

  Ignacio looked at her for a moment, confused, then nodded. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Can you not stay?’ asked Carlos as she scuttled behind Ignacio.

  ‘Sorry, no. Not well,’ she said, head down. ‘See you soon.’

  She glanced across the tangle of tables stretching across the cobbles. A man with wavy fair hair sat next to the statue of Luis de Camoes, watching the commotion. His female companion leaned towards him and whispered in his ear. It was Adam. He was here.

  Clambering out of the taxi, Alice almost ran to the lift, to the safety of the apartment. As the doors opened, her phone rang. Another unfamiliar number. Her heart beat fast. It was Adam. He’d seen her. There was no hiding now. She jumped into the lift, and reluctantly clicked on the voicemail, her heart pumping. It wasn’t him. It was the ex-colleague she’d emailed about work. ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Great to hear from you, Alice. I haven’t got anything at the mo, but I’ve got a friend who’s looking for training consultants. I’ve sent him your details and he’ll be in touch soon.’ As the doors closed, her heart lurched with relief that it wasn’t Adam. But she wasn’t as happy as she had expected to be about the possibility of a job at home, even though that was what she wanted. Wasn’t it?

  Rushing through the apartment door, Alice threw herself onto the sofa and phoned Kathy, deciding not to say anything about the job. ‘He’s here. I saw him.’

  ‘Oh. Well, he’ll never find you. He may not have seen you.’ Kathy’s voice sounded weary.

  ‘I’ve got to go back into town tomorrow to that craft stall.’

  ‘It’s so busy. Don’t worry. He’ll never spot you.’

  ‘I don’t want this to happen. Everything is going so well.’

  Kathy sighed. ‘Alice. You were always going to have to do something eventually.’

  ‘He should have waited for me to go back to London.’

  ‘You may never go back.’

  ‘Of course I will,’ snapped Alice. ‘I’ve got a mortgage to pay, a job to get.’

  ‘Mmmmm … well…’ There was a pause.

  ‘You sound terrible,’ said Alice eventually. ‘Do you want me to come round later?’

  ‘No. I’m okay. Just tired. Getting through the working day then falling asleep as soon as I walk into the apartment.’

  ‘Do you want me to get you anything?’

  ‘Oh, for some of Mary’s special tea.’

  ‘No. Never ever again,’ said Alice.

  ‘You could calm Stephano down for me,’ said Kathy.

  ‘Is he pleased?’

  ‘Yes. And nervous. And over-protective. And driving me mad.’

  ‘He always did drive you mad.’

  Kathy sighed. ‘Yes, yes, I suppose. It’s all a bit overwhelming. Unexpected. He’s smothering me a bit.’

  ‘You both need to get used to the idea. It’ll be fine.’

  ‘I suppose,’ said Kathy. ‘Are you okay? How are you going to deal with Adam?’

  ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘Thought so. Look I’ve got to go back inside. My next appointment’s arrived. I’ll call tomorrow and we can do something. Even if it’s just me coming to your place and falling asleep.’

  Alice put the phone down and stared out of the window. Funny how you can just stand still but things change around you, she thought, remembering her much-loved house where she had stood still and safe for so many years. She suppressed a sob caught in her throat. Everything jumbled together in her head – Adam, the job, Luis, Cascais, her house. Her home. He was going to try to take it away. Not this time. She took a deep breath and began to gather the beads for the bracelets.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Aphrodite jumped into the middle of the pile of broken tiles, kicking several off the plastic sheeting onto the marble floor.

  ‘Stop it!’ shouted Alice, as the cat skittered around the room, pushing and chasing the tiny shard which had caught her eye. ‘I think you’re hungry,’ she said, taking the opportunity for a rest. Aphrodite abandoned her prey and trotted to stand at her feet as she opened a tin of cat food. Alice stretched and glanced at the clock. ‘Eleven already. Twelve bracelets made … eighteen more to do.’ She glanced at her phone to check there were no notifications. There weren’t, and she sighed with relief, longing to go back only two weeks ago when Adam was just a shadow outside her little bubble, something she knew she had to deal with, but hadn’t crashed through yet. Suddenly her mind was in London again. Adam was walking through the door dragging a suitcase. ‘I’m back,’ he’d said. ‘I made a mistake. Please please forgive me … I wasn’t in my right mind.’

  And she had. Or she’d thought she had. It was grief that had made him behave that way. His brother. Killed in a car crash. So young. How could she not understand? How could she not try to forgive his betrayal? Then she was standing at the table in the hall six months later reading a note.

  I’m sorry. I can’t do it any more. I’m going travelling. I’ll be in touch. A.

  And that was that. Everything left hanging in the air. A drip, drip of jaunty postcards from trendy destinations across the world. Never a return address. So even if she had wanted to sort out the legal side of the house, she couldn’t. The sick, sad, frightened, lonely feeling that enveloped her back then began to seep into her again. ‘No no no no no,’ she said, almost physically pushing the dull, sad ache away. ‘I am never ever going to allow you to make me feel like that again, Adam. Ever.’ Pouring herself a glass of water she walked back into the living room, fighting the urge to go and lie under the bedcovers and give in to the feeling.

  ‘I’ll make three more bracelets tonight then get up at seven to finish the rest,’ she said loudly as if he could hear. ‘I have work to do.’ She restlessly picked up some beads and sighed, suddenly wanting to speak to Luis, hear his warm, deep voice comforting and reassuring her. She picked up the phone and called him. He answered immediately.

  ‘Alice,’ he said. ‘I haven’t long – I’m on in ten minutes. I’m so glad you called.’ His voice sounded tense.

  ‘I’m so glad you answered,’ she said.

  ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Yes,’ she lied again. ‘I just wanted to hear your voice, that’s all, as you’re going to be a bit scarce.’

  ‘I know, I wanted to hear your voice too. It’s starting to get a little difficult with the bank. They’ve started to drop hints that their patience may run out very soon.’

  ‘Oh dear. I’m sure you’ll find a buyer.’

  He sighed. ‘Yes. I’m sure. But it’s a little bit stressful.’ Someone shouted his name in the background. His voice dropped. ‘God, the band. I don’t want to do it, but I need it.’

  ‘It’ll be fine.’ She wanted to reach her arms through the phone and put them around him.

  ‘Luis … busy again …’ Alice could hear Marcella’s voice close by. ‘I was hoping I could talk to
you about a little proposition. I want you to teach me to play the guitar. I mentioned it to you before, remember?’

  ‘I’m sorry Marcella, I’m on the phone …’

  ‘Luis …’ said Alice, feeling uncomfortable.

  ‘It’s okay, Alice,’ he said. ‘People get like this when a gig’s about to start.’

  ‘How much do you charge an hour?’ It was Marcella again.

  Luis’s voice was quietly irritable. ‘I don’t give lessons Marcella, I’m sorry. And I’m on the phone. Excuse me.’

  Her voice began to get shrill. ‘You seemed perfectly happy to speak to my aunt earlier on.’

  Alice almost stopped breathing. Something wasn’t right, she knew it. ’Her aunt?’ she said.

  ‘Yes. An old friend from when we first started. It appears her and Marcella are related.’

  ‘I’d bet you would give her guitar lessons,’ said Marcella.

  ‘Does Marcella know you are talking to me?’ asked Alice impatiently.

  ‘I’m going into another room,’ he sighed. She could hear a door close. ‘That’s better.’

  ‘Luis?’

  ‘We bump into people all the time who used to follow the band,’ he said. ‘Older, wiser, married, children, but still want to know what we’re doing.’ He paused. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?

  ‘Yes. Just wish I could be there with you.’

  He laughed a hollow laugh. ‘Even I don’t want to be here with me! I’ve got to go. I’ll call tomorrow. Bejinhos. Kisses.’

  ‘Kisses,’ whispered Alice and put the phone down. She forced herself to make the three bracelets and went to bed.

  Alice breathed in the hot spicy steam from the tea. She knew it was a bad idea, but it was all she could think of to distract her from her visit into town to make her delivery. Luis hadn’t responded to a text she’d sent just before she went to bed and Kathy was struggling through her working day. With no motivational talks from them she was on her own with the potential ‘Avoid Adam’ assault course awaiting her as she left the building.

  So it was just her and the stash of tea she’d found shoved to the back of the cupboard; the remainder of the potent batch Kathy had made. The first sip made her shiver with guilt. Then she sat on the balcony and savoured it slowly, knowing that there was none left. This was it. She’d infused all of it into the hot water – probably about four cups worth. As she drank she tried to visualise a calm and successful journey into town and back with no interruptions from intimidating ex-partners. In fact, she visualised Adam on a plane home at that very moment.