by A J Waines
With Karen, I never felt like I was a disappointment. That thought brought another memory of what Mum had said on meeting Karen that one time at our graduation ceremony. ‘She’s something special that young lady,’ she’d said wistfully. ‘She’s going to go far.’ Then she’d given me that earnest look of hers and said, ‘Stick with her, my girl, she’s worth having on your side.’
Karen got up with a start. ‘Better just check something,’ she said. I followed her into the kitchen, where she opened the door to the space under the sink. ‘The landlady said there was a bit of a leak in the U-bend and we’d need to keep an eye on it.’ A squashed-up cloth was already saturated at the back. ‘Damn – it needs a bucket,’ she said, tutting. ‘There’s one in the scullery.’
‘I’ll get it,’ I said. I wanted to show her how helpful I was going to be; to prove to her that inviting me was the right decision. I found one next to a sack of logs and brought it through.
She reached out to take it, but I held on. ‘It’s okay, I can do it.’
‘The bucket’s quite tall,’ she said, as I got down onto the ice-cold slabs. ‘You’ll need to tip it to get it right underneath.’
It was a tight fit and I strained and stretched to get it upright in the right spot, half my body squashed inside the cramped space. Finally, I heard a plunk as the first drip slapped against the tin base. ‘Done it,’ I said, starting to back out.
At that moment, Karen said something, but I didn’t catch her words. In my concern not to miss anything, I snapped my head up – and bam! There was a stab of excruciating pain as the tap of the metal stopcock rammed into my temple. I cried out, then felt my body dissolve under me before tiny pinpricks of light gave way to blackness.
Chapter 4
Karen was slapping my face, calling my name.
‘Alice, Alice…are you okay?’
I blinked, trying to sit up. I was on the sofa under a blanket.
‘Bloody hell,’ I said taking my hand up to the side of my forehead. A bad taste like burnt metal was clinging to the roof of my mouth. I must have bitten my tongue. ‘What happened?’
She was hovering over me, a dripping glass of water in her hand. ‘You banged your head getting out from under the sink,’ she said. ‘You’ll be fine in a minute.’
I rolled my fingers gently over the tender spot. ‘It really hurts...’
‘It’s not cut or anything,’ she said, peering over me. ‘Just a bump. I’ll get some ice.’ She came back with cubes wrapped inside a tea towel and held the bundle carefully against my head.
‘How long was I out for?’
‘Only a few seconds,’ she said, without concern. ‘I got you straight in here.’
I sat up trying to convince myself I was okay. Karen shook a packet of painkillers in front of me. ‘Have a couple of these and get an early night. If you feel awful in the morning I’d better get you to A&E.’
That was the last thing I wanted. Poor Karen had spent most of the last few months tramping up and down hospital corridors and I was determined not to drag her back there for my sake. I hated the idea of spoiling things.
I swallowed the tablets and rested my head against a cushion. I glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece – it must have been fast. Karen said I’d only been unconscious for a few seconds.
‘It’s just a little bump,’ she insisted. She made a cup of tea and ladled sugar into mine.
‘Thank you,’ I said trying to hide my grimace. It felt like I’d been in some dark faraway place for longer than a few seconds and I was on the verge of changing my mind about A&E. I could always get a taxi and not bother Karen. On the other hand, I didn’t want to kick up a fuss and come across as a dreary hypochondriac. I was sure Karen would have taken me without hesitation if she’d thought there was any serious concern.
‘So – tell me what you’ve been up to,’ I asked with fake levity, ‘What happened to Roland?’
‘Roland? He’s been and gone. That was a long time ago. I’ve no idea what he’s up to now.’
‘Anyone else on the scene?’ Karen always had a man in tow.
‘I’m taking a break,’ she said unexpectedly. ‘Don’t you find relationships can be hard work sometimes?’ I smiled, but didn’t have enough experience to be able to share her sentiments. ‘I’ve got someone lined up for when I get back,’ she added. That sounded more like it.
‘Where do you work? Where do you live?’ I asked.
‘Well – in the last few years, I’ve been working in West Hollywood as an au pair for a film star – did I tell you?’
‘What? The Hollywood?’
‘Yeah,’ she pulled a funny self-congratulatory face. ‘I met this amazing actor over there and things were going really well, but then,’ she shrugged, ‘I got pregnant.’
‘Right.’
‘He was too high-powered, you know,’ she rolled her eyes, ‘so I couldn’t tell him.’
‘Who was he? This actor. Would I know him? Tell me.’
She took her eyes away, ignoring my questions. ‘It was only a fling for him and we split up. I wanted to keep the baby so I came back to Britain. After Melanie was born, I worked from home doing telesales and was a doorstep rep for a make-up company. Then I needed more flexibility, because Mel kept having to go to hospital. Things got really complicated when she was moved to Glasgow. I’ve been doing the odd bar shift near the hospital up to now.’
I wanted to ask why, with a first-class degree in Anatomy and Human Biology, she’d settled for doing au pair work in the first place, but I didn’t want it to sound like a criticism.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said. ‘I could have done a lot better for myself. But au pair work gave me the freedom to live my life. I didn’t want to be stuck in an operating theatre with brown-nosing high-fliers – all that cut-throat rivalry.’
Except that was the Karen I knew in a nutshell – she was ruthlessly competitive and always took the lead, out manoeuvring anyone who got in her way.
‘You seemed so ambitious at Uni, talking about medical school and becoming a surgeon.’
She laughed, scoffing at her old dreams. ‘I realised, in practice, it was going to be a long arduous slog to get that far.’
‘But you were so keen – you couldn’t get enough of dissection. I thought that was what you wanted – the challenge of learning…saving lives…’
‘People change, Alice,’ she said sweepingly. ‘I’m glad I gave it up – now I’ve seen the daily grind inside a hospital rather too often, with Mel. Then there’s all the funding cuts and pressure. I made the right choice.’
I dropped it. ‘So, what made you decide to go to America?’ I asked.
‘Oh – there’ll be plenty of time to tell you all that. It’s pretty boring really.’
I was disappointed. She was fast-forwarding through all those missing years too soon. I wanted to be the judge of whether I found her life interesting or not. There was a hole – six years deep – since I’d last seen her and I wanted to find out what was inside it. What did she do? How had she changed? Maybe it was too early to go deeper. Like she said, there would be plenty of time to find out more. All the same, I had the feeling she was shutting me out.
At that moment a harsh wail broke through the baby monitor. Karen excused herself and went upstairs to check on her daughter. She crept back ten minutes later. ‘Sorry about that,’ she said. ‘She’s been waking up all the time. It’s all so new – being outside the incubator at last and back in the real world.’ She sank down beside me on the sofa. ‘Where were we?’ She spoke again before I could answer. ‘I know. Jobs. What about you? What do you do?’ she said.
I fiddled with my hair, tousled from my scramble under the sink. ‘Oh – I just do office admin at the moment. At a college near St Pancras.’ I glanced down.
There was a short gap before she spoke. ‘Good for you. Sounds great. Do you enjoy it?’
I decided not to gloss over the truth. ‘Not really. I’m looking for some
thing new. I’ve been on self-development courses and had life-coaching. I’ve got goals now.’ It came out sounding rather pompous.
She didn’t seem to notice my self-righteousness. ‘To do what?’ She sat forward, looking impressed.
‘I’m going to train to be a primary school teacher. I’ve got a place at college.’
‘Hey – I can see you doing that. What a good idea.’
In spite of the bad head, I found myself sitting a little taller.
‘So you’re in Wandsworth?’ she went on.
‘Yeah.’ I toyed with a loose thread on the arm of the sofa. ‘With my parents,’ I added, wishing straight away that I hadn’t.
‘O-k-a-y.’
‘But, I’m moving out soon – they’re driving me bonkers. They’re so old-fashioned – more like grandparents. I’m going to share a flat or get a bedsit. How about you?’
‘After these months up here, I’m going back to Brixton.’ She didn’t seem to want to elaborate.
‘My parents expect me to be married by now,’ I said, hoping to draw more from her. ‘At Sunday lunch, Dad says things like: Time’s ticking on, Alice, you don’t want to leave it too late before you settle down and start a family, then he’ll suddenly pitch to one side as Mum kicks him under the table.’
She laughed, but didn’t offer me anything personal in return.
‘Your parents were never the most broad-minded people,’ she said.
I rolled my eyes. I’d had to fight to go to University; my parents saw it as a hot-bed of temptation that could only result in debauchery. Instead of a degree, they thought I’d emerge with twisted values; depraved and morally corrupt. Mum gave me ‘the talk’ several times before I went, but it turned out to be another in a long series of mixed messages. Apparently, boys between the ages of thirteen and thirty were ‘dangerous and to be avoided’ – so how I was expected to get married without meeting one was beyond me. Perhaps they thought I ought to marry an overseas pen-pal.
‘Listen. Are you hungry?’ Karen said.
‘Well…’ The nausea I’d felt when I came round was still bubbling at the back of my throat. ‘I’m sure I’ll manage something.’ I tried standing up and shuffled behind her into the kitchen, trying not to move my head.
‘I’ll make supper – I don’t want you to do a thing,’ she said, realising I was having difficulty walking in a straight line. ‘You sit here and talk to me.’
As she took two pieces of cod out of the fridge, I spotted the clock on the kitchen wall; it said the same time as the one in the sitting room. Later than I thought.
Karen set about frying the fish and I insisted on preparing the vegetables, but as I chopped the carrots, I kept having to stop and shut my eyes. I didn’t say anything; I didn’t want her to see how bad it was.
She asked me about boyfriends and I admitted there hadn’t been a great deal of action in that regard. ‘I met someone on a meditation course,’ I told her, ‘and we dated for a few weeks, but I think he was really looking for someone to take care of his children. There was a guy at work, but I found out he was married. And also a sweet guy at Dad’s church, but he’s moving to Spain to teach English.’
‘Have you joined any dating agencies, gone online?’
‘Yeah – I have. I’m sick of being single.’
‘Go for it, Ally.’ No one but Karen called me that. ‘There’s someone out there for you. I know there is.’
‘I’ve still got the book,’ I said, sensing she’d know exactly what I meant. In our first year at Uni, Karen and I had what was, for me, a risky and challenging chat about sex. I thought I was the only virgin in the entire place and trusted her with my mortifying secret. She bought me a tasteful ‘manual’ and shared her own experiences with me; explaining about condoms and foreplay and all the basics. She was never once condescending or patronising. It was one of the most wonderful things she ever did for me.
Another three months went by and I was able to tell her my good news: ‘You’ll be pleased to know I’m no longer as pure as the driven snow!’
She’d squealed and asked me for all the details. ‘I’m so proud of you – I knew everything would work out. You needed time, that’s all.’
Karen had her back to me, browning the fish in the frying pan, turning round every so often as if checking I was still there. She licked the spoon and smiled, taking me back to yesterday evening, before I’d packed, when I dug out my photos from our Leeds days, eager to hold Karen’s face clearly in my mind. In every photo she appeared in, she shone. Parties, barbecues, sunbathing, our trip to see the tennis at Wimbledon.
There was the weekend in the second year when we went to Brighton. She took me to my first comedy club (an eye-opener) and Salsa dancing (my hips actually had rhythm). It was during that weekend when we were on the beach and she was goading me to go into the water, that she found out I couldn’t swim. So that became her project for the following term.
‘You will float, Alice Flemming,’ she said. ‘Not only that, but you will glide through the water like a mermaid.’
One of the best things about Karen was that she believed in me.
She was right too. She became my dedicated personal trainer at the University pool and after seven weeks I was doing doggy paddle – it was splashy and uncoordinated, but I didn’t go under. A few weeks after that I mastered breast stroke.
Without warning, Karen came over from the stove, wiped her fingers on her apron and gave me a broad hug. ‘I’m so glad you’ve got all these plans and are doing so well.’
‘A lot of it’s down to you, you know.’
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘It is. Honestly. You took me under your wing at Leeds and showed me what was possible.’ I stopped there. I didn’t want to embarrass her.
But there was something else.
She was saying all the right things, but none of it felt quite genuine. Karen had been my glorious vision of the person I dreamt of being and I wanted her to be that person again. The strong, intrepid woman who spoke her mind and relished a challenge. What wasn’t she telling me?
When she dished up I tried to look pleased, but I wasn’t the least bit hungry. I felt like someone was boring a pneumatic drill into my head and was still waiting for the tablets to kick in.
I glanced up at the clock again. One thing was clear. Karen had been mistaken about the time earlier – or maybe she hadn’t wanted me to worry – but I hadn’t been dazed for only a few seconds. I’d been out cold for at least twenty minutes.
Chapter 5
We’re here and everything is set up. It’s going to be a very lonely road from now on. I need to keep track of every detail. Mustn’t stuff up.
Alice is so innocent and unaware. She has no idea why she’s here. Quite sad, to be honest – she’s clearly missed me heaps and is so keen and excited about being invited.
Had a near miss soon after we arrived, when she went and banged her head under the sink. Totally blacked out and I was in a real stew thinking I was going to have to rush her to A&E. I checked her pulse, of course, and made sure she wasn’t having any weird kind of fit. She moaned a bit and when she finally came round I managed to convince her it wasn’t that bad. Luckily, she trusts me. Really didn’t want to risk her being kept in for observation or whatever – I need her right where I can see her, the whole time.
If only she knew why I’ve got her here. If it all goes smoothly she’ll never know. I’m banking on her, hoping that she won’t ask awkward questions. Or, if she does, she’ll take my word for it and shut up when I tell her to.
She’s come a long way emotionally by the sounds of it – trying to stand up for herself and be her own person. Good luck to her. She’s trying at least. I don’t mind a bit – as long as she doesn’t get too big for her boots and mess everything up.
Chapter 6
When I woke the next morning, the world had changed. It was eerily quiet and still; as if all the sounds outside the cottage had been sucked away. I c
ould tell from the quality of the shimmering grey light that there had been a fall of snow and I tugged at the curtains to see how deep it was.
Living in London again, I’d forgotten about the impact of a vast snowfall. Not just a dusting, but the dense accumulation that smothers everything in sight by dawn. I’d forgotten how it blanches the colours out of the air, smoothes over hard edges and creates new plump mysterious shapes.
I could see shades of white backed up for miles across the valley, over pine trees, crags and the occasional rooftop, but the scene was quickly closing in on itself. It felt as though the whole world had stopped and I’d stepped inside a black and white photograph. Nothing moved except the hands of the clock.
As soon as I turned round the headache hit me again. It was like being smacked by a blunt instrument. I knew the only reason I’d slept at all was because I’d taken a sleeping tablet.
Thank goodness I’d brought them. I’d grabbed them only as an after-thought, once my bags were packed and lined up by the front door. This was such a special opportunity and I didn’t want to be so overexcited that I didn’t get a wink of sleep. I’d never used the pills before. They were meant to be a last resort after I was mugged in September, but with the bang on my head yesterday, I don’t think I’d have had a decent night without them.
I put the heater on and huddled under the covers. I waited and waited; the heater clicked and rattled, but it felt like the temperature was still hovering around zero degrees.
My mind drifted back to the day Karen and I met. We didn’t share lectures or any of the same subjects. All we shared was a kitchen – known as B2 – with around twelve other students along the corridor. In fact, I didn’t even belong there; my designated kitchen was at the other end, but for some reason the reception I got in mine was standoffish, verging on hostile.
