Savvy reaches a hand out across the white waffle coverlet, letting her fingers touch Alice’s.
She bites her lip. ‘I just … wanted to say I’m sorry.’
18
Alice
‘I hope you can hear me, Alice. It’s Savvy, OK? I hope you wake up soon and that you’re all normal and stuff; I really do. I just sort of hope you can’t remember everything that happened at the sleepover, and if you can … if you do … well, please don’t tell them. Please?’
I’m lost. The trees close around me, shady and dark, and a mist slides around me as I walk. The mist seems to be inside my head as well as outside it, and it scares me. And then, out of the mist, comes a Fawn, a small deer that looks as frightened as I feel.
‘Hey, hey,’ I say, holding out my hand. ‘Can you help me? I think I’m lost!’
‘We’re all lost, here,’ the Fawn says. ‘In these woods, nobody can remember anything … and nobody knows who to trust. Beware!’
‘I can trust you, though, can’t I?’ I ask, and the Fawn just looks at me with huge, helpless eyes. I put my arms around its neck and we walk on together until the mist thins and the Fawn breaks free, disappearing into the trees again.
Can I trust her? I wish I could remember.
Sleepover
Savvy answered the door dressed as the White Rabbit, complete with waistcoat and pocket watch and fluffy white ears. She was wearing white tights, a little white skater skirt and white Converse. The tip of her nose was painted black, and long, spidery whiskers had been painted on her cheeks. She looked cute and quirky and beautiful in a way I knew I never could.
‘Alice!’ she said, her face lighting up at the sight of me. ‘You’re here! Come in, come in!’
She led me inside, smiling, complimenting my dress, my shoes, my hair. ‘Oh, Alice, you look amazing,’ she said. ‘Wow, you are so creative; I just knew you’d love the fancy-dress theme! Wait till Lainey, Yaz and Erin see you! We’re just through in the lounge.’
I followed Savvy through the hallway, and it did feel a little bit like Wonderland. The place was amazing. The hall floor was all Victorian mosaic tiles and there was a vase of red and white roses on a curved hall table at the foot of the stairs. I caught sight of myself in a huge antique mirror that rested on the table: a fleeting glimpse of long hair, smiling face, blue dress. It felt surreal.
Savvy led me into the lounge – which was pretty much the size of our entire house – and there were the others, draped across the fancy L-shaped sofa, face-painting noses and whiskers on each other and taking pictures of their new Alice-themed selves. There was an actual chandelier glittering above our heads and a big, abstract painting on the wall that looked like something my little brother might have done in playgroup, way back when. It was probably worth thousands.
Lainey was dressed as the Cheshire Cat. She looked nothing like the fluffy ginger version in the book and the films, though – her take on Cheshire involved black tights, black leotard, black velvet ears and a swishy tail that swayed as she moved. Erin was the Dormouse, in a beige onesie, and Yaz was the March Hare in brown leggings and a drapey brown tunic top and crêpe paper ears that kept falling down over one eye.
‘Look at you!’ Lainey gushed. ‘Alice, you look amazing! I’m so, so glad you decided to come!’
‘Definitely,’ Yaz chimed in. ‘It’s ages since we’ve hung out. We can have a real girly catch up!’
Erin just rolled her eyes. ‘You’re the one in the school play, right?’ she asked, as if I hadn’t been sitting three rows ahead of her in the same form room ever since the start of Year Seven. ‘Savvy thinks that’s cool.’
Clearly Erin wasn’t too impressed that I was there and she wasn’t scared to show it. At least she was honest, and I liked that in a way. I knew where I stood with Erin, but Savvy, Lainey and Yaz were acting like I was some kind of royalty, which was unsettling. A couple of weeks back, they wouldn’t have even looked at me, let alone bothered to speak; I couldn’t work out why things had changed, but I wasn’t about to question it too much.
Savvy linked my arm. ‘Come on, Alice. I’ve left my iPhone upstairs, so you and I can take your stuff up to the bedroom while these guys get on with their face paint. I’ll give you the guided tour!’
We wandered through to the kitchen, which was almost as big as the lounge. It was all black granite worktops and spotlights, with a brushed steel range cooker the size of a jeep, and the table was strewn with eggshells and jam, unwashed mixing bowls and used muffin tins. A couple of aprons were draped over a chair and an open recipe book, speckled with flour, lay in one corner. It looked like Lainey, Yaz and Erin had been there all afternoon, baking and not bothering to clear up behind them.
‘I’ll tidy it later,’ Savvy said carelessly. ‘Before Mum and Dad get home, anyway.’
I blinked. I had just assumed Savvy’s parents would be around, but apparently not. The knowledge that they weren’t at home sent a rush of anxiety and adrenalin through my body.
‘Where are they?’ I asked, as casually as I could.
‘Weekend away,’ Savvy explained. ‘In Cornwall. It’s their wedding anniversary or something. Don’t worry, my big sister Carina is here. She won’t bother us, though.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Cool.’
‘We’ve been making stuff for the tea party,’ she went on. ‘Cupcakes and stuff. We’ve set it all up in the dining room, but it’s a surprise. I’ll show you later.’
I took the Tupperware box of jam tarts out of my bag and handed them over, and Savvy prised off the lid and laughed out loud.
‘Perfect!’ she said. ‘We were going to make some, but we couldn’t get the pastry right. You’re brilliant, Alice! I’m so glad I asked you along!’
Savvy abandoned the jam tarts and pulled me onwards, past the dining room with its door firmly closed and back through to the hallway. We trooped up the stairs to the first landing, and Savvy opened all the bedroom doors so I could see inside. Her parents’ room had a king-size bed, the headboard made of shiny wood curved like a sleigh. There was a dressing room where Mrs Hunter’s designer dresses hung above a row of glass boxes lit by fairy lights to display Jimmy Choos and skyscraper Kurt Geiger stilt-shoes. I had a very strong impression that Mrs Hunter was nothing at all like my mum, whose favourite footwear was a three-year-old pair of pink fun-fur slippers. There was an en-suite bathroom with shelves full of white, fluffy towels and two guest bedrooms that looked like something from a boutique hotel.
‘Your house is amazing,’ I said, in awe. ‘Like something from a movie or a fairy tale!’
‘It’s cool, right?’ Savvy agreed. ‘I guess I take it for granted most of the time.’
‘I think it’s beautiful!’ I breathed, and Savvy seemed pleased by my enthusiasm.
‘Me and Carina are on the top floor,’ she said as we climbed another flight of stairs. ‘We have the whole floor to ourselves, and Carina will be going out later, so at least we won’t have to listen to her racket all night.’
‘How old is she?’ I asked.
‘Seventeen,’ Savvy told me. ‘But she thinks she knows everything. She’s so annoying.’
‘I only have a little brother,’ I said.
‘Lucky you.’
R&B music turned to full volume was pounding out of one of the bedrooms; Savvy just shook her head despairingly and opened the door next to it. Her room was stunning; a queen-size bed with a canopy made from purple sari fabric shot through with silver, an antique dressing table, a clothes rail hung with dozens of tops and dresses and jeans, a cream carpet that your feet just sank into as you walked. There was a whole wall collaged with photos of Savvy and her friends and family doing cool things: Savvy in the south of France as a small child; Savvy with her cousins in New York and Vermont; Savvy with her family at Glastonbury Festival; Savvy pictured with various celebrities, not looking even the tiniest bit starstruck. I kid you not, she’d met Emma Watson and Harry Styles and a whole heap of others. He
r dad’s best friend was a photographer and Savvy had clearly hung around a few celebrity shoots. There were tons of photos of Savvy, Erin, Lainey and Yaz doing fun stuff, too: ice skating, eating pizza, lounging in onesies, wearing bikinis and sunglasses on some beach.
A hundred different versions of a perfect friendship. I couldn’t quite see where I might fit in, although I knew that Lainey and Yaz had only been part of this golden circle for eighteen months. The picture wall showed glimpses of friendships past, smiling childish faces now relegated to the sidelines. It seemed that Savvy changed her friends as regularly as her hairstyle.
I was sure I recognized a shot of a much younger Savvy with a girl who looked very much like Serena; I hadn’t realized till now that her comments about Savvy might have been made from personal experience.
‘I didn’t know you’d been friends with Serena,’ I said. ‘Cool.’
Savvy wrinkled up her nose. ‘Serena?’ she echoed. ‘I don’t think so. I don’t know anyone called Serena!’
I pointed to the photograph, and Savvy rolled her eyes, laughing.
‘Oh, that Serena!’ she laughed. ‘Yes, she was in my ballet class when we were seven or eight. We were really close for a couple of months, but I haven’t seen her since then. I wonder what happened to her?’
‘She’s in our class at St Elizabeth’s,’ I said, incredulous. ‘Serena Tait. You must have noticed her!’
‘Frizzy hair and spots?’ Savvy puzzled.
‘Yes, and brilliant at science,’ I confirmed. ‘You really didn’t recognize her?’
Savvy shrugged, careless again. ‘It was a long time ago. We’ll take some cool pictures later, though – you’ll be up there on the picture wall too, Alice. Tonight is going to be so much fun!’
I put my bag down next to the bed and fluffed out my skirt, peering into the dressing table mirror, and then Savvy was beside me, iPhone in her hand, arm outstretched. ‘Smile,’ she instructed. ‘Strike a pose!’
I leaned against Savvy, smiling, then held my hands up, fingers spread wide, pulling a mock-surprised face as Savvy pouted and posed at my side. I caught a glimpse of us in the mirror; Savvy and her new friend, the looking-glass girl.
19
The Bandstand, Carrow Park, Ardenley
The girls sit on the bandstand steps in the thin spring sunshine, subdued and melancholy.
‘You should have seen her,’ Savvy says. ‘She looks terrible, I swear. She’s this awful grey colour, like cold porridge. And there’s a huge scar like a half-moon on her cheek, from the glass vase. I am not kidding, she looks half dead.’
‘Don’t say that,’ Yaz protests.
‘It’s true, though,’ Savvy insists. ‘It’s horrible; she just lies there, like … well, like she’s already dead. Like a shell of a person. And I had to talk to her and pretend she could hear me, but I don’t think she could. It was like there was nothing there, nothing at all.’ She leans back against the steps, hugging her knees, forlorn.
‘So she’s actually brain-dead?’ Erin wants to know. ‘Seriously?’
Savvy shrugs. ‘They say not, but I don’t think they actually know. It was horrible, Erin. The most horrible thing I’ve ever had to do!’
Tears well up in Savvy’s eyes and slide soundlessly down her cheeks, and Lainey puts an arm around her shoulders and tells her she’s amazing and brave and kind for going to visit.
‘Amazing and brave?’ Savvy echoes. ‘I don’t think so. Terrified, more like. Sick with guilt. Do you know why I went to see her?’
‘Because you care,’ Yaz says.
‘Because I had to know,’ Savvy corrects her. ‘I had to know how bad it was; and it is bad, Yaz – it’s really, really bad.’
‘She’ll be OK,’ Lainey says hopefully. ‘Hospitals always make things look worse than they are.’
Savvy stands up abruptly, kicking against the bandstand wall so a splinter of paint flakes away on the tip of her shoe. She looks angry enough to tear the whole building down, one kick at a time.
‘Don’t you get it?’ she growls. ‘This is serious, Lainey! It can’t be any worse than it actually is. She’s in the ICU, being kept alive by machines. It was awful going in there, but I had to do it. I had to say sorry, and you should say it too. She might die!’
An elderly man walking past with his dog glances at them, disapproving, and the girls exchange uneasy glances.
‘Shhh!’ Lainey whispers. ‘What’re you trying to do, get us arrested?’
Savvy seems to crumple, sinking down on to the steps again. She rests her head back against the bandstand and the breeze blows wisps of caramel-coloured hair across her damp cheeks.
‘Why on earth did you say sorry?’ Erin asks. ‘You didn’t do anything!’
‘I did,’ Savvy snuffles. ‘We all did, but I feel responsible …’
‘Savvy, that’s crazy,’ Yaz says. ‘It wasn’t your fault and it wasn’t Lainey’s either. If you start apologizing, everyone will be asking questions and sniffing around. We could be in real trouble!’
‘Nobody heard me say it,’ Savvy says, whispers. ‘Not even Alice. I wish they had!’
‘Savvy,’ Erin says, patiently. ‘I know you feel bad. We all do, but this was an accident!’
‘Yes, but …’
‘But nothing,’ Lainey insists. ‘We didn’t make her fall. OK, maybe we should have been honest about it from the beginning, but we weren’t – we panicked. That’s not a crime, is it? We decided not to tell the whole truth, but that doesn’t change what happened, or make it our fault. If we start changing our story now it’ll look really dodgy; you have to see that!’
‘Lainey’s right,’ Yaz says. ‘We have to stick to our story. If one of us starts telling the truth, the rest of us will be in trouble … and for what? We’re all sorry for what happened, we all wish she was well again, but we have to stick to what we said to the police that night, or they’ll think we were covering up something bad! Agreed?’
‘Agreed,’ Erin says, handing her friend a tissue. ‘Don’t mess up now, Savvy. It won’t help Alice!’
Savvy blots her eyes with the tissue, but the tears keep coming.
20
Alice
‘Hey, Sweetie, it’s Mum. Guess what; I’ve got some get well cards for you! There’s one from Auntie Jan and Uncle Pete, one from Auntie Lou and even one from Elaine and Yaz. I suppose they must be feeling bad. Well, anyway. It’s a very nice card, one of those big ones with two cartoon teddy bears on the front; I expect they thought it might make you smile. I wish you’d wake up and smile at me, Alice. I really wish you would …’
They are standing under a tree, arms wrapped around each other, so still they look like waxworks. They are big and clumsy-looking, funny old men dressed as schoolboys. I know who they are straight away; Tweedledum and Tweedledee. They smile and stick their free hands out towards me in greeting.
‘We should shake hands,’ one of them says. ‘It’s traditional. But it doesn’t mean that we can be friends, not nohow.’
‘Contrariwise,’ the other corrects. ‘It does mean that. And we’re not friends, are we? We don’t know each other at all.’
The hands are withdrawn hastily and hidden behind their backs.
‘I think I do know you,’ I say, frowning, because there is something strangely familiar about the situation. ‘I think we were friends, once, somehow …’
The pair shake their heads. ‘No, not nohow,’ the first one says.
‘Contrariwise,’ the other states. ‘We may have been friends, once. But friends aren’t always forever, you know. We should shake hands, start over!’
They offer their hands again, and, not knowing which to take first, I take them both. Instead of shaking hands, I find myself in the middle of a dance, the three of us circling round and round, going nowhere, until my head is reeling and the ground shifts beneath my feet, and I fall down all over again.
Sleepover
The others appeared in the doorway of Savvy’s ro
om, piled inside and started arranging sleeping bags and duvets and pillows on the thick, plush carpet.
‘You can put your sleeping bag here,’ Lainey said. ‘Next to me!’
Savvy switched her iPod on just as I was spreading out my sleeping bag, and I recognized the song at once.
‘Oh, Avril Lavigne,’ I said. ‘This was the theme tune to Alice in Wonderland, right? The one with Johnny Depp. It’s awesome; I don’t know which I love best, the film or the song! It’s on my iPod, too.’
‘You have such good taste, Alice,’ Savvy told me. ‘I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to get to know you!’
Yaz, Lainey and Erin smiled thinly, like the overload of sugary compliments from Savvy was melting their teeth. I pretended not to notice. If Savvy was a little over-the-top friendly, so what? It was better than being invisible.
‘We should go tidy that kitchen,’ Lainey said, checking her watch. ‘It’s past seven now; we’d better get a move on!’
‘Why?’ I asked. ‘What’s happening?’
Lainey just grinned and said I’d soon see.
‘Tidy-up time,’ Savvy announced, picking up her iPod. ‘We’ll all pitch in and blitz it!’ She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of there, the two of us laughing.
‘Alice (Underground)’ played on repeat as we washed the dishes and scrubbed the table and swept the floor; to get us in the mood, Savvy said. It did. Savvy started dancing first, waving a damp tea towel around in the air, wiggling her bum, strutting her stuff. One by one she took our hands and drew us in: first Erin, then Lainey, then Yaz, then me, until the whole lot of us were dancing around the kitchen with tea towels and brooms and pan-scrubbers. I had a dishcloth in one hand and Erin was waving an egg whisk in the air, still soapy from the washing-up bowl, and if there had been any frostiness towards me before, it vanished then. It was impossible to dance around with an egg whisk in your hand and keep a straight face.
Looking Glass Girl Page 6
