Other Alice

by Michelle Harrison

  ‘The switch used up life number one,’ said Tabitha. ‘So, at that point, I was on the second, with seven left. We were in hiding by then. The whole town had witch fever – if they had found me, they’d have ripped me apart with their bare hands, let alone burned me. I knew it wouldn’t be long before they discovered my hiding place.’ She gave a sad little hiccup. ‘Once she was in my human body and I was in this one, she drank a sleeping draught I’d mixed. I’d made it strong enough so that she’d never wake from it. She slipped away in her sleep. After that, I coloured the tip of my tail and one paw white with flour to disguise myself, and made my escape.’

  ‘Poor cat,’ I murmured, breathless now. I looked uphill. ‘Are we nearly there yet?’

  ‘Shouldn’t be far now,’ said Piper. ‘Let’s just hope the weather stays dry— Yeeouch!’ He broke off, his shriek scattering birds from the trees overhead. Tabitha had leaped on to his shoulder and was hanging on with her claws as he tried to shake her off. ‘What are you doing? Get— Ouch! Get off me!’

  ‘I’m tired,’ she complained, retracting her claws and arranging herself round his neck. ‘There. Is that better?’

  ‘No!’ he spluttered. He jerked his shoulders and she landed neatly on all fours. She shook herself and glared at him.

  ‘What?’ he said. ‘You said you wanted to stretch your legs.’

  ‘They’re stretched,’ she said coldly.

  ‘Try that again and you’ll say goodbye to another life.’ Piper rubbed his back. ‘Probably by strangulation,’ he muttered under his breath.

  ‘I heard that.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘How were the other two lives used up?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, those?’ the cat said airily. ‘I gave them willingly.’

  ‘Gave?’ Piper scoffed. ‘You’re not completely selfish then?’

  ‘Most of the time, yes,’ said Tabitha, without a hint of embarrassment. ‘In my experience, being nice doesn’t get you very far. But on this occasion I owed a favour.’

  ‘To who?’

  ‘To someone who had saved one of my lives – or probably all of them.’ She sighed. ‘I’d got myself noticed, you see. Talking when I shouldn’t have been.’

  ‘There’s a surprise,’ said Piper.

  ‘Don’t interrupt,’ said Tabitha. ‘Anyway, I’d been caught by this horrible boy who was doing all sorts to try to get me to talk again. Goodness knows how far he’d have gone if I hadn’t been saved. So, you see? It was a pretty big favour. It was only fair I repaid it.’

  ‘What did you do?’ I asked, unzipping my coat. The climb was making me warm now; I could feel the blood humming through my legs.

  ‘Same as before,’ she replied. ‘I switched places with a human in a tricky spot, then later on switched back again.’ She sighed. ‘The switching back was regrettable, but it was part of the deal. Still, there’s always hope for a permanent trade one of these days.’

  ‘You’d rather be a human?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course. Spending two-thirds of your time asleep gets dull after a while. Plus, the diet is terrible.’

  ‘Who—?’ I began, but broke off as Piper gave a shout.

  ‘We’re here.’ He broke into a run, haring off ahead with Gypsy behind him.

  I loped after him, my limbs heavy. A high wall came into view through the trees. Further on, on a tall stone pillar mounted above an overgrown pavilion, was the stag. A gravel road swept past it to a vast house, plainly derelict, set some way back.

  ‘Look at this place,’ said Piper, pausing as Gypsy and I caught up to him. ‘No one’s been here for a long time.’

  Gypsy pointed, mouthing two words: Someone has.

  At first, I couldn’t see it, but then a huddled shape under the pavilion came into view.

  ‘Great,’ said Piper. ‘S’all we need: some drifter in the way.’

  ‘Looks like they’re asleep,’ I said as we drew nearer. The ground was bumpy and scattered with litter: signs of other trespassers. For now, though, it was just us, plus the figure under the pavilion. For the briefest of moments, I wondered if it could be Ramone; after all, he was the reason we’d come here. Could it be that easy?

  Piper squinted. ‘Is that definitely a person? Not just a pile of old clothes?’

  ‘No, it’s a person all right,’ I said. ‘Look, there’s a leg . . .’

  I stopped walking. For a moment, it felt as though my heart had stopped, too.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Tabitha asked.

  ‘That’s not Ramone,’ I whispered.

  Before I knew what I was doing, I found my feet were pounding the ground, running harder than I’d ever run before.

  ‘Midge, wait!’ Piper shouted after me, but I couldn’t stop, not now I’d seen that leg . . . and recognised those pyjamas. I heard the others running behind me, trying to catch up, but I reached the pavilion first, leaping into it and skidding across the marbled floor.

  There were four stone benches curving round, sheltered by the roof. She lay on one, curled up on her side, her hands placed together under her cheek like a child. Her eyes were closed and her lips, pale but still pink, were slightly parted.

  I was afraid to touch her, but I reached out anyway, placing my fingers on her cheek.

  ‘Alice,’ I whispered. ‘Alice, wake up!’

  She didn’t move.

  I grabbed her hand. ‘Please wake up!’ I was having trouble seeing for some reason, my vision kept swimming in front of me. It was only when Gypsy reached out and wiped my face that I realised I was sobbing. ‘Why won’t she wake up?’ I croaked. ‘Is she . . . ?’

  Piper knelt at Alice’s side and touched his fingers to her neck. ‘She ain’t dead. She’s breathing and warm somehow.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ I whispered. ‘But how? She’s been gone for nearly two days . . . she must have been here all night!’ I saw it now, the slight rise and fall of her chest as she drew breath. I felt an arm round me, smelled a familiar scent that was so like Alice, but not. Gypsy had pulled me to her. ‘We need to get her up,’ I babbled. ‘She’ll die if she stays in the cold. It’s a miracle she’s even alive out here in her nightclothes . . . in February! We have to get her to a hospital!’

  Piper brushed a strand of hair from Alice’s cheek. ‘She looks just like you, Gyps,’ he said, his voice soft. ‘It’s like looking at you.’

  Gypsy’s face was a mask of shock – she was unable to tear her eyes from Alice. I slipped my arms round her and hugged her back.

  ‘You’re right, let’s get her somewhere warm,’ said Piper. He slid his hand under Alice, cradling her head, and shifted her weight into his arms. Something fluttered out of her hands and landed at my feet.

  I picked it up, already knowing what it was. I recognised the pattern on the back. It was still warm from having been pressed between Alice’s hands.

  ‘A fortune card,’ I whispered.

  I turned it over. The image on the other side showed a young woman in a deep sleep. She’d clearly been there for a long time, for her hair had grown long, spreading over her pillow and spilling round the room. The background showed a spinning wheel overgrown by thorny brambles.

  ‘The curse,’ I muttered.

  ‘I thought she was called Sleeping Beauty,’ said Piper.

  ‘She is,’ I said. ‘But she was cursed, like Alice . . . and like Gypsy.’

  ‘Got herself in a right pickle,’ said Tabitha, shaking her head at Alice. ‘Even without that card, it’s obvious this is no catnap. Medicine and hospitals aren’t going to help her.’

  ‘Alice was trying to break the curse,’ I said slowly. ‘She must have come here for the same reasons we did – to find her dad. But she was too late.’

  ‘Juicy,’ said Tabitha, curling her tail into a neat loop. ‘Plot twist or what?’

  ‘All this time I thought Alice was in the story,’ I said. I remembered the coal dust on her face when she appeared after the Summoning, and the coal dust on the paper I’d found on the he
arth. ‘Unless . . . unless she is in the story in a different way.’

  ‘What about when she popped up in my cup of tea, hmm?’ Tabitha said. ‘Was she here, there, or in the story? She can’t have been in all three.’

  ‘But she must have been, don’t you see?’ I said. ‘Her body was here – she must have come to this place straight after she left home. But her mind . . . that’s in the story.’ I looked at the fortune card. ‘Like a dream she’s stuck in. The Summoning couldn’t bring both parts of her back – only the strongest part. Her mind. That’s why she appeared as a reflection.’

  ‘So where’s Ramone?’ Piper asked, throwing up his hands in annoyance. ‘We’ve come all the way here and there’s no sign of him.’

  I searched the grounds, but there was no one else in sight. ‘I don’t know. We must be missing something.’

  I stepped off the pavilion and jogged a few paces to get a better look at the stag, the first proper look I’d taken. There were two letters cut into the curved stone walls of the pavilion, W and S. Initials of whoever had once owned the house, I supposed. And it was then that I noticed something else.

  ‘It doesn’t have five legs,’ I said. ‘We were too busy looking at Alice on our way up to it that none of us noticed. But look.’

  Piper came to stand beside me. Gypsy and Tabitha stayed where they were, Gypsy cradling Alice on the stone seat.

  ‘How many does it have then?’ Tabitha asked.

  ‘Four,’ said Piper. ‘Plus an extra lump of wood that’s been added in, like a support or something. From a distance, it looks like a fifth leg.’

  I gazed at the stag, unable to stop feeling disappointed. I’d wanted it to be true, that once there might have been such a creature as a magical, five-legged stag. I stayed silent for a moment, thinking. It was exactly the sort of thing Alice would put into a story, only she’d invent some wonderful tale behind the reason for the fifth leg.

  ‘We’re still no closer to finding him then,’ Piper said angrily.

  ‘What about the house?’ I said, desperate. I turned to it, searching its boarded-up windows for a sign someone could be in there, but it seemed unliveable in – except perhaps for foxes or rats, or people who had fallen on very hard times.

  Piper made a scoffing noise, drawing his coat further round him. ‘No one’s in there.’

  I stared at Alice. ‘Ramone Silver, where are you?’ I whispered.

  As the words left my lips, a gust of icy wind chilled my cheeks, and Alice’s hair whipped across Gypsy’s face. At the same moment, a thin, creaking sound came from above us. I glanced up.

  The stag was moving, swinging wildly to face the other direction. I ducked, thinking it was going to topple and fall, but it settled in place as the wind died down.

  Piper pointed to the letters carved into the stone and began circling the pavilion. I followed, and soon it became clear: W and S. Not initials, but simple directions. West and south, followed by east and north.

  ‘It’s a weathervane,’ I said. ‘And it’s pointing north.’

  I felt a weird fluttering in my tummy and my heart began to thud. A bit, I thought, like the hooves of a stag pounding the ground. ‘So north must be where we have to go to find Ramone Silver.’

  19

  Story Born

  WE PUT ALICE ON THE bottom bunk bed back on Elsewhere. Gypsy brushed the tangles out from her hair, and placed Alice’s hands on her chest over the blanket that covered her.

  ‘Now she’s a proper Sleeping Beauty,’ Piper murmured.

  I stared at Alice. She was so still that it was hard to see that she was even breathing, or any sign of the pulse that fluttered faintly in her neck. The only indication that she was alive was her eyes. Under her closed lids there were occasional movements, as if she were dreaming.

  ‘Or Snow White,’ I added. Only this time it was not a bite of poisoned apple that kept my sister from waking up.

  ‘Does Alice have anyone . . . a boyfriend?’ Piper asked.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I answered. ‘There was someone she liked . . .’ I hesitated. ‘He looked a lot like you. But she’s always been so shy.’

  I looked at Gypsy. Her lips were pressed in a thin line. I turned back to Piper. ‘You were thinking about those stories, weren’t you? Snow White and Sleeping Beauty were both woken by a kiss of true love.’

  He shrugged. ‘It was just a thought. But if she has no one—’

  Hope stirred within me. ‘There is someone, though. There are different kinds of love. It’s worth a try.’

  ‘No point if you ask me,’ said Tabitha, blinking sleepily. She’d curled up on Alice’s feet at the bottom of the bed. ‘Even if we do find Alice’s father, how can he love her if he barely knows her?’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of Ramone,’ I said. ‘I was thinking of me. No one could love Alice more than I do.’ I stroked Alice’s cheek, then bent over and kissed her on the forehead.

  ‘Wake up, Alice,’ I said softly. ‘I need my big sister back.’

  There was the tiniest of twitches around Alice’s mouth, like the start of a smile, but it vanished before I was sure it had even been there. She slumbered on.

  ‘Any more bright ideas?’ said Tabitha.

  ‘No.’ I gave her a cold look. ‘But if you have any feel free to share them.’

  Gypsy went up on deck to steer. We were heading north and, though none of us had said it, we all knew that it could only be a matter of hours before we were forced to turn round and go back if we were to make Dolly’s deadline.

  ‘I’ve got an idea.’ Piper took out his flute.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

  ‘Speeding things up.’ He walked to the steps to go up on deck. ‘If he’s anywhere within earshot, I can bring him to us.’ He vanished outside, leaving me alone with my sleeping sister.

  Moments later, a lilting tune carried down from above.

  I sat down at the table, closing my eyes. Piper really could play. I’d never heard anything like it. It was more powerful than what he’d been playing the day I met him – the tune Alice had been humming. This was richer, and I couldn’t imagine wanting to ever stop listening. I followed the tune, every note of it, in my mind. Followed Piper through the canal waterways, through the streets, through the seasons: bright, spring daffodils; cool water washing over hot sand; filling my pockets with smooth, brown conkers; the smell of the air just before it snows. The tune was painting all of those pictures, erasing any sense of where or who I was . . .

  My eyes snapped open to a light creaking sound. I turned my head, dazed. The music had stopped and so had the boat. All I heard now was the ticking of the little clock nearby. I looked at it . . . and did a double take.

  What had felt like a few minutes had been over an hour.

  I leaped up and went outside. Piper and Gypsy stood by the tiller, gazing across the water. There was a bridge behind us and another narrowboat. A solitary figure stood on it, staring straight at us as he moored. I squinted through the sharp sunlight, trying to make out his features. His hair was shaggy and grey, resting on his shoulders, and thick, grey bristles covered the lower half of his face. His clothes looked old and grubby.

  ‘What’s he staring at?’ I asked.

  Gypsy nodded to the boat, her eyes wide.

  ‘Is that him?’ Piper said. ‘Is that Ramone Silver?’

  Gypsy tugged at my arm, pointing to something she’d written.

  Look at the name of the boat.

  ‘Can someone tell me what I’m missing?’ Piper demanded.

  ‘The name of the boat is the same as Gypsy’s,’ I told him. ‘Elsewhere. Alice must have taken the idea for the name from there.’

  The man hopped off his boat and crossed the bridge. He walked with a slight limp, as if one of his hips were troubling him. His boots thudded on the wooden boards and then crunched up the towpath. He stopped by the boat, shielding his eyes from the sun. His face was brown with deep lines, but his eyebrows were black and,
beneath them, silvery grey eyes that were exactly as piercing as Alice had described.

  ‘Well, well,’ he said, revealing a crooked bottom row of teeth. His gaze was fixed on Gypsy. ‘I thought that was you.’

  Gypsy stared back at him, silent.

  He rubbed his hand over his beard. ‘It was the name of the boat that caught me to start with, then I saw you. It’s been what . . . ? Five years now? You’ve grown up, but I’d still know your face anywhere.’ He sighed impatiently, but there was something else mixed in, too: sadness. ‘You need to stop looking for me, Alice. You know your mother doesn’t like it. You belong with her, not me. Go home.’

  ‘She’s not Alice,’ I said. ‘Her name is Gypsy.’

  ‘I think I know my own daughter—’

  ‘Good,’ said Piper. ‘Then maybe you’ll know how to help her.’

  The man rolled his eyes. ‘Alice, what’s going on here? Who are these kids? Why are the three of you out here alone and, more importantly, are you going to stop gawping and actually speak to me?’

  ‘She can’t speak, because she’s NOT Alice!’ I yelled.

  ‘Who do you think you’re talking to?’ he snapped.

  ‘I know who I’m talking to,’ I said. ‘You’re Ramone Silver, Alice’s father. I’m Midge, her brother.’

  His expression softened and he nodded. ‘Alice told me about you. I can see it now. You look just like her.’

  ‘Like Alice?’ No one had ever told us we looked alike.

  ‘No,’ he replied. ‘Like your mother.’

  His eyes swept over Piper from head to toe. ‘And you’re a . . . friend of Alice’s, are you?’

  ‘Not really.’ Piper shifted from one foot to the other, using his sleeve to polish his flute. ‘Can’t say we’ve met, not properly anyway.’

  ‘None of you are making any sense,’ said Ramone. ‘So, if you’re going to waste my time, I’ll leave now.’ He turned away from us.

  ‘His name is Piper,’ I said quickly. ‘And he’s a character from one of Alice’s stories. So is Gypsy.’

  Ramone froze, then slowly turned back. ‘What?’