The Other Alice

by Michelle Harrison

  ‘And then you met up with the cat . . . well, the cat in your body, and switched back,’ Gypsy finished.

  ‘Exactly.’ Dolly beamed and tickled Tabitha’s ears. ‘We’re a great team, aren’t we?’

  The cat stretched lazily, then stood up and moved, settling on the end of the bed near Alice’s feet.

  I glared at Tabitha. ‘You betrayed us for her? Do you actually even like her?’

  ‘No one said I had to like her,’ Tabitha said gloomily. ‘I just have to do as she says.’

  ‘Unless someone else becomes your master,’ I said.

  ‘Tut-tut.’ Dolly pouted at Tabitha. ‘You haven’t been trying to escape me, have you? Giving these people riddles, to try and find a new master?’

  ‘For all the good it’s done me,’ the cat muttered, flicking her tail again.

  The answer to the riddle was on the tip of my tongue. Dare I say it and risk Dolly losing her temper? Besides, what good would it do to be the cat’s master now? After her betrayal of us, I didn’t want anything to do with her.

  But she could save lives . . .

  Perhaps I’d need her after all before the night was over. If, I reminded myself, she’d been truthful about having any lives left.

  ‘What do you want, Dolly?’ Gypsy said tersely. ‘You want the missing part of the notebook? We’ll give it to you. You want the story that Ramblebrook stole? We have it.’

  ‘Give them to me.’

  I opened the rucksack and took them out, placing them on the bed before backing away.

  Dolly brushed aside the pages of the notebook and picked up her story, grinning broadly. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Where’s my cat?’ I asked. ‘You said you wouldn’t hurt her.’

  ‘I haven’t.’ Dolly was distracted, scanning the pages of her story and smiling broadly. ‘I never had your silly little cat. I just wanted you to think I did – it gave me more power over you.’

  ‘You had her collar.’

  ‘I tried to grab her,’ Dolly admitted. ‘But she was too fast. The collar came off in my hand. So I figured I’d bend the truth a little. I needed another reason for you to come back, just in case you realised the notebook was worthless.’

  She slid her hand beneath the cushion under Alice’s head and withdrew the rest of the notebook, tossing it on the floor.

  I made no move to pick it up. ‘So where is she?’

  ‘Probably still skulking in the back garden,’ Tabitha said sheepishly. ‘She tried to come back in once or twice, but I chased her off.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Even cats don’t like talking cats apparently.’

  ‘So you never wanted the other part of the notebook?’ Gypsy said.

  ‘No,’ Dolly answered. ‘I wanted you to lead me to Alice – the notebook was just an excuse. The story changed when Alice brought us here. She may have created us, but now we’re the ones in control.’ She brushed Alice’s hair away from her sleeping face. I shuddered as her fingertips wormed over my sister, the skin around Dolly’s nails chewed and bloody, inky and stained. She looked up at Gypsy, licking her shiny, red lips. ‘Let’s keep it that way.’

  A faint creak behind us caught my attention. Then slowly, so slowly it was only noticeable to those of us who were standing, the boat shifted very slightly with the weight of another person. Someone who was trying to be quiet.

  Piper.

  ‘What do you mean, “let’s keep it that way”?’ Gypsy asked.

  Dolly shifted position. Alice’s head rested on her lap, like a child sleeping on its mother, but there was nothing tender about it.

  ‘You want her to wake up?’ Dolly sneered. ‘You know what’d happen to you if she does?’

  ‘She’ll finish the story,’ said Gypsy. ‘And we’ll go back to where we were before.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Dolly. ‘You’d go back to being Gypsy Spindle, searching for her voice. Think about it! You could stay here, wear her clothes, speak with her voice. Would it be that much of a sacrifice to give up being Gypsy Spindle and be Alice instead?’

  Gypsy’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears.

  ‘What’s she ever done for you?’ Dolly whispered. ‘Except cause you misery? Everything that’s happened to you is because she made it happen. She took your mother away from you. Then she took your voice. Why not take it back?’

  ‘Gypsy, don’t listen to her!’ I pleaded. ‘She’s poison!’

  Unthinkingly, Gypsy touched her throat. Her lips.

  ‘You could do it.’ Dolly moved closer. ‘You could be her. You’d be doing her a favour. After all, you’re the best version of her. The version she wants to be.’ She slid the knife across the bed, the blade between her thumb and forefinger, the handle pointing towards Gypsy, just an arm’s length away. ‘All you have to do is make sure she never wakes up . . .’

  The blade glinted hypnotically, so shiny that Dolly’s blackened, bitten fingers were reflected in it.

  ‘Could you kill her?’ Dolly whispered. ‘Do you have the courage to take control of your destiny? Do you have the guts, Gypsy?’

  A tear spilled over Gypsy’s cheek.

  Dolly sneered. ‘No, I didn’t think so. You’re too weak.’

  ‘No,’ Gypsy said, through clenched teeth. ‘I won’t do it. Not because I’m weak, because I’m anything but that. I’m stronger than you. And the reason I’m strong is because of what I’ve been through. It’s made me what I am. Killing Alice would be your way. Becoming her would be the easy way. But I’m not Alice. I’m Gypsy Spindle and I always will be.’

  Dolly’s fingers closed round the knife blade, her eyes narrowing. Red droplets oozed out of her clenched hand, seeping into the blanket beneath. ‘Oh, stop being so honourable, it’s boring!’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I could envy you, Gypsy. I’ll admit, I did at first. Knowing you were the good girl, the heroine, the one everything would come right for in the end. You even got the fairy-tale name, while I got plain old Dorothy Grimes. I was always going to be the bad one, who came off worse. But you know what? It’s better than being a sap. So you sit back like a good girl and wait for your voice to be given back to you, Gypsy. Dum-de-dum-de-doo!’ she sang goofily, before her face changed again, becoming a snarl. ‘I don’t envy you any more, I pity you. If you’d only had the guts, you’d have learned that it’s far more fun being bad.’

  She released the blade of the knife, now smeared with her blood, then grasped the handle, raising it high. A bead of red dripped off its point, landing on Alice’s heart.

  ‘No!’ I yelled. ‘We gave you what you asked for! You said you wouldn’t harm Alice!’

  Dolly’s mouth twisted into an ugly grin. ‘I’m a writer. That makes me a good liar.’

  I rushed at her in fury, but was brought to the floor as Piper came crashing into the boat and landed on me hard, knocking the air out of my lungs.

  ‘Stay away from her,’ he gasped, rolling off me to his feet. ‘She’ll kill you!’

  ‘Oh, pipe down,’ she said with a cackle . . . and plunged the knife into Alice’s heart.

  The scream that left my mouth was a noise I hadn’t known a person could make. I tore myself away from Piper’s grasp and ran towards Alice, shoving Dolly aside and cradling Alice. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t woken, hadn’t anything. Her face was peaceful, as if she hadn’t felt a thing. But she didn’t need to do anything. I was screaming enough for the both of us, like it was my heart that had been cut in two. I reached for the knife still buried to the hilt in Alice’s chest, wrenching it out.

  ‘Leave it!’ Piper rasped, too late. His voice was weak.

  I blinked tears away, confused. Why would he say that? Surely he must know I couldn’t leave the knife in Alice’s chest . . . and then I saw why.

  A dark stain spurted over the sea-green dress she wore, spreading with each dying beat of her heart. I’d made it worse.

  I stood up, looming over Dolly, my hatred for her overpowering me . . . and saw that something was happening to her. She had slumped back, one
hand over her heart. A dark, wet patch bloomed beneath her fingers. She lifted them away to look at them and they came away black.

  Not blood. Ink.

  A groan sounded from behind us. I whipped round, crying out.

  Piper and Gypsy lay on the floor side by side, a black pool stretching between them. Gypsy’s mouth moved wordlessly, one hand holding Piper’s. Her other hand fluttered at her chest, pulling at a flap of wool in Alice’s cardigan. It peeled back in a neat slice, but on the other side were words, black on white – like paper. Piper rolled over, his face grey. He placed his hand over Gypsy’s heart, as if he were trying to patch the tear up. There was a dry, hollow sound, like paper being torn.

  He coughed, spraying ink droplets into the air. They hit Gypsy’s face in a fine mist. ‘Hang on, Gyps,’ he whispered. ‘You’re not getting rid of me that easily.’

  They were dying.

  ‘No!’ I shouted. There had to be a way . . . Alice’s story couldn’t end like this. Alice couldn’t end like this! But as I looked at her face, draining of colour, I knew I was losing her.

  I ran to the kitchen and found the paring knife, cutting Ramone’s bonds and shaking life back into his fingers. ‘Wake up,’ I pleaded. ‘Ramone, we need help!’

  His eyes flickered in his head, still struggling to focus. ‘Alice . . .’ he muttered, rolling on to his knees before collapsing once more.

  I skidded back to Alice, tripping over my rucksack. A tangle of items flew out; the fortune cards scattering across the floor. One landed at my feet: the Black Cat.

  Nine Lives.

  With a jolt, it hit me. I could still save them. I opened my mouth, ready to utter the riddle’s answer . . . then froze as Dolly heaved herself up, gasping. For the first time, I saw that Tabitha was barely moving, too, her fur slick with ink.

  ‘Are you ready, Tabby?’ Dolly grimaced, her teeth tinged with black. She cast her eyes over Alice, then Piper and Gypsy. But, unlike them, her expression was not one of shock, or hopelessness. It was one of victory. ‘Do it now. Save us.’

  In a flash, I understood.

  ‘You knew this would happen,’ I whispered. ‘You knew that, by killing Alice, none of you could survive. That you only exist as long as Alice does.’

  ‘Close enough.’ Dolly reached towards the cat. ‘I thought perhaps just one would die with her; the one who did it. That’s why I tried to convince Gypsy to finish her off, even though I guessed it . . . guessed it might not . . . work.’ She paused, wincing. ‘But I was prepared for this and how to save myself. I win, Gypsy.’ She turned to the cat. ‘What are you waiting for?’

  Tabitha dragged herself to her feet pitifully. She turned to me, her golden eyes burning into mine, then bowed her head. ‘Forgive me.’

  A spasm went through her, like an electrical current, jerking her limbs. When she stilled, she remained weak but stood more easily. She’d saved herself, using up a life. She looked at Dolly, and a second spasm took hold, this one more forceful.

  Dolly sat up slowly, touching the sliced fabric over her chest. Already I could see that any wound she’d had was healed. Another of Tabitha’s lives had been spent.

  ‘Tail!’ I yelled.

  Dolly’s eyes widened. ‘No,’ she whispered in horror. ‘No, you can’t . . .’

  ‘The answer to the riddle is “tail”,’ I repeated. ‘Which makes me your new master.’

  ‘Stop!’ Dolly moaned, but before the word was even on her lips the cat had hauled itself to my side. Dolly lunged for the knife once more, but she was weak and I was faster. I snatched it, running to the steps, and threw the knife as hard as I could out over the water.

  ‘You annoying little swot!’ Dolly hissed. ‘I’ll kill you all with my bare hands when I’ve regained my strength.’ She fell back, sinking into the pillows and cursing.

  ‘Tabitha,’ I said urgently. ‘Save them! Save them all: Alice, Gypsy and Piper. Hurry! They’re almost gone!’ The boat swayed violently and an odd sound reached my ears with each movement. Not a creaking exactly, but a crackling. Like paper being twisted.

  Something dripped on me from above. I looked up, finding that the roof of the boat was no more than paper, leaking ink. I crouched by Gypsy and Piper, touching their faces. Their skin crackled under my fingers, translucent, black and white. Words ran beneath the surface like veins. I turned away, unable to watch. In that moment, they were more real than they’d ever been.

  I crawled to Alice’s side, slipping on the fortune cards. Alice’s story, jumbled into a mixture of images: Sleeping Beauty, the Pied Piper, the Black Cat . . .

  ‘Midge?’ A voice croaked.

  ‘Alice!’ I cradled her head. Alice’s eyes were open, blinking slowly. Tears spilled down my cheeks, and I hugged her and hugged her and hugged her. She kissed my wet face, then lifted her hand, rubbing sleep from the corners of her eyes, trying to sit up.

  ‘Steady,’ I told her. ‘Take it slowly.’

  Dazed, Alice crawled over to Piper and Gypsy. They were huddled together, weak, but steadily growing stronger, life flooding back into them. Behind them, Ramone’s legs twitched. He stirred with a low moan and rolled on to his hands and knees.

  ‘Midge,’ Alice said. ‘You’re Tabitha’s master now. She has one life left.’

  ‘I know,’ I said.

  ‘Do you remember what she wants?’ Alice asked.

  I nodded. ‘She wants to be human again.’

  Alice nodded, her eyes hard as they rested on Dolly. ‘Do it.’

  ‘Tabitha,’ I said. ‘Use your final life to switch places with Dolly. You’ll take her body and she’ll be in yours.’

  ‘What? No!’ Dolly protested, her glassy eyes bulging in shock.

  ‘Yes,’ said Alice. ‘This is how it ends.’

  With a scream of fury, Dolly dragged herself up and flew at Alice, grabbing for her throat . . .

  But Alice did not move, or even flinch, and Dolly staggered and cried out as Tabitha sprang at her. I saw the cat’s body convulse again, but this time, so did Dolly’s. As I watched the air between them rippled like heat rising off a road on a hot day, and I knew the switch had taken place. The cat rolled away, hissing, and Dolly – or rather, Dolly’s body, for it now had Tabitha in it – held up its hands and looked at them in awe.

  ‘It’s done,’ she whispered. ‘No more claws!’

  A split second later, a sleek, black cat hurled itself at Alice, hissing and scratching, and spewing out venomous words.

  A swipe of Alice’s arm sent the cat rolling away from her, unsteady on its four unfamiliar legs. ‘You’ll pay for this!’ it yowled. ‘You haven’t seen the last of me!’

  ‘Perhaps not.’ Alice’s voice was soft. ‘But you can’t hurt anyone again.’ She turned to Gypsy and took her hand. ‘I owe you a voice. And I’ll make sure you get it, I promise. Your happy ending will come, Gypsy. I just got a little lost on the way.’

  ‘Alice?’ Ramone had dragged himself to her side. ‘Alice, I’m sorry. All this is my fault . . .’

  ‘It doesn’t matter now.’ Her voice was gentle as she met his eyes. ‘It’s done.’

  I clung to her, marvelling at how strong she felt. How tall she stood.

  Like Gypsy.

  My boat, Gypsy mouthed suddenly, looking down.

  Water was pooling round our feet. The floor was buckling and fading before my eyes. Fading to white, with dark lines looping in a familiar scrawl. Alice’s handwriting.

  And it wasn’t just the boat. Piper and Gypsy and even Tabitha were fading, their skin thinning and paling . . . just like paper.

  ‘You’re going back,’ I said gently. ‘Back into the story.’ I took Gypsy’s hand. It crumpled in mine. I placed it in Piper’s and he pulled her into his arms.

  ‘Don’t be scared,’ he told her, even though his own eyes were afraid. ‘The story don’t end when you close its pages . . . right?’

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘You’ll still be real somewhere.’ And I cried then, because I would mis
s them, both of them . . . and even Tabitha. Even though they would go on, not just in the story but in my heart.

  ‘We need to get off the boat,’ Ramone said. ‘We don’t have much time; it’s going fast now.’ He tugged Alice’s sleeve, but she hesitated.

  ‘I’ll never forget you,’ she told Gypsy. She reached out, touching Gypsy’s face. ‘Goodbye.’ She gazed through watery eyes at Piper. ‘You, too. Look after her.’ She sniffed and lowered her eyes. ‘I mean, I know you will . . .’

  Water gushed into my shoes as the floor of the boat gave way.

  ‘Go, now,’ Ramone urged, pushing Alice and me to the steps. ‘There’s no time!’

  We crawled through the collapsing boat, the smell of canal water seeping up into our clothes, our hair, weighing us down.

  ‘Swim!’ Alice gasped, tearing a chunk from a sunken wall and pushing me through it. I emerged, spluttering, joined seconds later by Ramone and Alice. Together the three of us swam clear of the mass of paper and words that was Elsewhere, and dragged ourselves out of the stinking water.

  As it slipped beneath the surface, something that might have once been a black cat skittered down the towpath ahead, but by the time my eyes caught up with it I saw that it was nothing more than a scrunch of faded paper carried by the breeze.

  We stood there, shivering, until the water was still. Fortune cards dotted the surface like water lilies, arranging themselves into some new story.

  But it wasn’t ours.

  ‘Once upon a time, there was a girl called Alice,’ she said quietly, breaking the silence. ‘She told stories, like her father. But she never really knew him, even though she longed to know that he loved her, and for a happy ending.’ She stopped, her voice breaking. ‘I came to find you, Dad. Please don’t tell me to go away again.’

  ‘I won’t, Alice,’ Ramone murmured, his eyes glistening. ‘You’ll have your happy ending this time. You’ll see. We’ll write it together.’ He pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead. ‘This is only the first chapter.’