“He likes you Ali, he always has,” Mary-Anne insisted. “And we thought now that George was out of the picture and you should be moving out of your mourning period...”
“We, who?” A terrible thought struck Alison. “You haven't discussed this with Edward, have you?”
“I might have hinted—”
“God! I am mortified. He thinks I’m interested in him?” Alison closed her eyes. “Oh God,” she said again, “this is not happening.”
“He’s interested in—”
Alison opened her eyes and looked her sister straight in the face. “He is not interested in me Mare. He has a girlfriend, ok?”
“He never said—”
“No, he didn’t.” Alison paused. “I don’t know why, but he didn’t. Maybe because you’ve been so busy convincing him I’m in love with him that he feels he can’t say anything for fear of hurting me. Great!” She threw up her hands. “Now I’m pathetic.”
“I just thought—”
“No, you didn’t think. And that’s the problem.”
“He really has a girlfriend?” Mary-Anne asked in a small voice.
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you?”
“No.” She struggled but maintained her balance.
“Then how?”
“I met her. She told me.”
“Oh.”
“Yes.” Alison paused, then continued with some effort. “It was—it was difficult to hear. She told me with triumph so Edward must have told her whatever you told him. It felt like bloody high school. She would’ve fit right in with the bitch brigade. Sweet as pie to all the teachers but awful to everyone else, scheming, nasty.” She realised she was ranting and stopped. “That’s not entirely fair. I’m sorry, I got a bit carried away.”
“I can’t imagine Ed dating someone like that.”
“Neither can I.” Alison shrugged. “She acts really nice but that’s what it seems like—an act. But what could she gain from being nice to me?”
“And you’re really leaving? Not to be with Ed, you’re just leaving?”
“Yeah. I am.”
Mary-Anne started crying again.
Chapter 12
It felt strange to come home for family dinner after she’d moved out. Her companion made things easier.
“Everyone this is Maria, Charlotte’s daughter.” Alison introduced each person in turn. Mary-Anne and Margaret made the girl giggle by saying that she could be their sister as her name matched theirs. Alison was no longer bothered by feeling different from them.
“How long until dinner?” she asked.
“About twenty minutes,” her mother checked the timer on the oven. “We’re still waiting for Edward.” She and John disappeared into the lounge.
“I was making the salad. Would you mind finishing up for me Ali?” Mary-Anne rinsed her hands and handed Alison the knife. “I’ve just got to, um, get something.”
“Would you like to see my room, Maria?” Margaret asked. “The walls are made of windows.” When Alison had left and a larger bedroom had become available Margaret had chosen to keep her old room. With windows from waist height the room never felt small.
Maria nodded and took Margaret's offered hand. Margaret smiled over her shoulder as she followed Mary-Anne out of the room, almost pushing Maria ahead of her, leaving Alison alone for Edward’s entrance.
He didn’t knock, he never did, he walked in like he lived there.
They greeted each other across the kitchen.
“How’ve you been?” she asked, her eyes on the vegetables in front of her, wishing she had more to do.
“Good, good. You?”
“Yeah, good.” She wiped her hands.
“You’ve been drawing again. Who is this? God, she looks familiar.” Alison turned to face him. Edward was holding one of her sketches. She suspected Mary-Anne had left it to prompt this conversation.
“I’d hope so, that’s Lucy,” Alison forced a smile into her voice though she spoke past the tears in the back of her throat. “Your Lucy,” she added when he looked confused.
“My Lucy?”
“You can have it if you like,” she rushed on, moving towards him. “It’s just a sketch. I know you get to look at her every day and—”
“She looks like a lovely girl Edward,” Alison’s mother interrupted as she came into the kitchen and swept him into a hug. Alison sagged with relief. “Why didn't you tell us you had a girlfriend?”
“Girl—?”
“We’d love to meet her. She’s welcome any time, of course.”
“Edward!” Mary-Anne cried as she came into the room. “When did you get here? How are you? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages!”
“I’m fine Mary-Anne. How are you? You’re looking a lot better.”
“Thank you, Edward.” Then she continued with some effort, “You’ve got the picture of your girlfriend. Did Ali tell you she’s going back to study? She’s going to do art again.”
“No, I—”
“Edward!” Margaret reappeared, with Maria in tow, having finished the tour of the house. “How nice to see you. This is Maria, my new best friend.”
“Hello Maria. I’m Edward, nice to meet you.” He lent down and shook her hand.
“Edward, my boy.” Edward straightened to greet his father. “I thought I heard you. Why didn’t you come to say hello? Ah I see you’ve got Alison’s picture there. Beautiful girl, very beautiful.” He was overly jovial but a strain appeared in his voice as he continued. “Can’t imagine why you never brought her home to meet the family.”
“Dad, I—”
“Don’t put him on the spot John. Why wouldn’t he want to keep her all to himself?” Alison’s mother admonished.
“I wouldn’t want to bring anyone home,” added Margaret. Then everyone started talking at once.
Mary-Anne was telling Margaret off, Margret was defending herself. Their mother was trying to assure Edward that they would love to meet Lucy and console John at the same time. John was telling Mary-Anne that Margaret was entitled to her own opinion and trying to respond to Mrs Dash.
There was too much talking.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Edward said. And then louder as no one seemed to notice; “She’s not my girlfriend!”
Alison couldn’t speak, her eyes were fixed on Edward. There was an awkward silence. Then everyone started talking again.
Somehow her family migrated to the other side of the bench, she and Edward were grouped to one side, silent amongst the voices all talking at cross purposes, all trying to talk to Edward and have someone else on their side. There were too many people in the kitchen. Her mother leaning into John. Margaret still holding Maria’s hand, Maria with her big eyes looking from person to person as lost as Alison felt. Mary-Anne leaning forward and gesturing with her hands. Margaret crouching down to talk to Maria. Mary-Anne and her mother talking to each other across the room, the older woman bringing John into the conversation.
Alison could stand it no longer. She left the room at almost a run, she found herself sobbing, the tears she had kept back pouring forth. Edward saw her hurry away, and on the pretext of making a phone call, left the room himself, leaving the others’ questions unanswered.
There was a tap at her door, “It’s Edward.” He came in on her invitation.
With no preamble she burst out with, “Lucy’s not your girlfriend? Did you break up?”
He sat next to her on the bed. “She never was,” he sighed. “She’s my flatmate. There was one time when we were drunk but that was a mistake... Why does everyone think she’s my girlfriend?”
“Because she told me.”
“I thought she might like me but I never thought she’d go so far as to tell people we were together.”
Realisation dawned. “Oh god I’ve done it again! She didn’t say that. She said you lived together and then heavily implied that she was your girlfriend. But she’s not? Lucy’s not your girlfriend?” There was a st
range feeling inside of her, winning out over the mortification, the corners of her mouth pulled up of their own accord.
“She never was. Didn’t we just cover this? Um, Al, where's all your stuff?”
“I moved out. The little girl out there is Charlotte’s daughter. I'm staying with them for a little till I get my own place. Hell, I shouldn't have left her.” She stood to leave.
“Do you want to tell me why you were so upset?”
She shook her head. “Not really.”
“You had high hopes of marrying me off to Lucy? Planning the wedding? That sort of thing?”
She snorted and nudged him with her foot. “I’m not a schemer like my sister. She thought...she thought that you and I were carrying on a secret affair. Isn’t that ridiculous?”
“Right. Ridiculous....” He nodded but wouldn’t look at her. “Ridiculous because you’d never touch me with a barge pole ridiculous?”
“No, I never...”
“Never would touch me even with a barge pole?”
“Edward, I—” She struggled to find something witty to say in return. Her hand crept out to touch his arm. She moved to snatch it back but his hand found hers. “I like you. I know it’s an awkward situation with our family and everything,” she managed to stop herself before she went into full blown rambling, “but I like you. That’s all.”
“Do you remember when I used to stay here?” he asked.
“Of course.” Where was this going?
“And you’d visit me on my couch?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“I would—it seems so silly now—I stayed awake. Just in case you couldn’t sleep.”
“You were worried about me sleeping? You don’t have to look after me too Ed.”
“No, I-I know that. God I’m screwing this up.” His other hand rubbed his face.
“I don’t have trouble sleeping either,” she offered.
“You don’t?” The hand stopped rubbing and dropped to his lap. He still wouldn’t look at her.
“Nope. Never did.” She swallowed. “Well, unless you were on the other side of the wall.”
“Oh! Um, Alison? I’m really bad with girls.” Finally, he looked at her. He looked like the teenager she remembered.
She leaned forward and kissed him. It was the sensible thing to do.
Acknowledgements
In case you didn’t pick it up (did you read the book?) this work was heavily influenced by the writing of Jane Austen. I am eternally grateful to her for enriching my life.
My critique group; J.C. Hart, Leigh K. Hunt and Richard Parry I would not have gotten here without you. Special thanks to Cassie for her editing which made my book better, to Kate for the cover and to Richard for bringing us together. Thank you for the early mornings, the support and making my characters swear more.
My beta readers; Pippa and Katherine thank you for your often amusing input. I have no intention of writing about hovercrafts.
Thank you to everyone who reminded me of the importance of being my own person and living my own life whether you were doing this or the opposite. I wrote this for me but I think I wrote it for you too.
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Did you love Alison's the Sensible One? Then you should read Beautiful Abomination by Frances Duncan!
Her life is falling apart. It's Valentine's Day when Josie realises she's in love with someone else. As the city, broken by disaster, is rebuilt around her, she discovers a devastating secret about her past.It's the week prior to the 2011 Christchurch Earthquake. A mentally damaged vampire stalks the streets of the city. It has a connection to Josie — and to Gary, the husband she doesn't love.Shortlisted for Best Novella in the 2018 Sir Julius Vogel awards, Beautiful Abomination is a speculative tragedy set against the backdrop of life, love, and death in a city that has known loss after loss. Frances Duncan will take you on a bewitching tale where love and death are the strangest companions of all. Also by Frances Duncan - Alison's The Sensible One:"I would rate this a 4.5 star read!" — Kate"Great dialogue ... Try the sample: you won't regret." — Richard"Wonderful read!!!" — AllieFrances Duncan is an avid reader and sometime scribbler. When not bullying others into reading Jane Austen or Harry Potter, she goes for long walks in native bush. Her presence at writing groups is characterised by her persistence that the author kill whichever character they are writing about.
Read more at Frances Duncan’s site.
Also by Frances Duncan
Alison's the Sensible One
Beautiful Abomination
Watch for more at Frances Duncan’s site.
About the Author
Frances Duncan lives in Wellington where she runs the Jane Austen Society of New Zealand. Jane Austen is so much a part of her life that you'll find a little bit of Austen in each of her stories. In primary school the teachers used to take her books off her and tell her to go play. It seemed a natural progression to go from reading too much to writing.
Read more at Frances Duncan’s site.
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