‘You can dance, too,’ Savvy said, and Erin laughed and pretended to chase me around the table with the broom, and overall it was the most fun tidying a kitchen I had ever had.
By eight o’clock, the kitchen was sparkling, and Carina, Savvy’s sister, came in, all dressed up in wedge-heeled boots and a little black dress that looked like it had been sprayed on. She was wearing so much make-up there was an orange tidemark around her jawline where the foundation ended, and her false eyelashes were so thick they looked like she’d stuck spiders on her eyelids.
She looked like Savvy, but without the sparkly charm; her expression was bored, uninterested.
‘So, I’m going out,’ she said. ‘You’ll be OK, right?’
‘We’ll be fine,’ Savvy said. ‘We’re not babies, Carina!’
‘Whatever,’ she said. ‘Just behave. Don’t do anything stupid.’
‘As if,’ Savvy said.
Carina shrugged on a little jacket, tucked her handbag under her arm. ‘I won’t be late back. Not too late, anyway.’
She walked away, leaving a cloud of perfume in her wake. We heard the front door slam behind her, and Savvy threw her head back and laughed. ‘Finally!’ she said. ‘I thought she’d never go! Look, Alice, let me show you what we’ve set up!’
Someone came up behind me and whipped a clean tea towel around my eyes like a blindfold. ‘Surprise,’ Lainey said, as the fabric tightened and was knotted gently behind my head. ‘Trust us!’
I wasn’t sure if I did, but I wanted to.
Hands whirled me round in a circle – once, twice, three times – until I couldn’t tell which way I was facing. Cool fingers touched my elbow, guiding me forward. My heart thumped as I stumbled along the hallway, my fingertips stretched out before me, my mouth stretched into a smile.
‘This way,’ Savvy’s voice sang out ahead, and I heard the sound of a door opening and allowed myself to be led inside, my heels clipping sharply against a wooden floor.
‘She’s a good sport, at least,’ Erin commented.
‘Blindfold off,’ Savvy instructed. ‘Let her see now!’
I blinked and looked around.
The dining room was decorated with balloons and bunting. I could see Savvy arranging the jam tarts I’d brought on a fancy cake stand; all along the table there were plates heaped with beautifully decorated cupcakes, plates of quiche and triangular sandwiches with the crusts cut off. A big teapot with hearts and polka dots sat in the middle of the table, a label saying ‘drink me’ tied to the handle, and mismatched side plates and cups and saucers were set out in front of every chair. Playing cards were scattered across the tablecloth, along with red and white roses that must have cost a fortune.
‘What do you think, Alice?’ Savvy asked me. ‘Do you like it?’
My eyes shone. ‘I must be in Wonderland,’ I said.
‘Just you wait,’ Savvy said. ‘This is just the start of it. Lainey, can you send that text?’
Lainey smiled and tapped out a message on her mobile; a moment later a reply bleeped through.
‘Sorted,’ she said, grinning. ‘They’re on their way.’
‘Who are?’ I asked, confused. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Some friends,’ Savvy said, evasively. ‘Just a little get together. Don’t worry, Alice, you’ll like it!’
My happiness evaporated, replaced by uncertainty, anxiety. I wasn’t sure I would like it, not at all.
21
The Copper Kettle Cafe, Ardenley
Savvy toys with a strawberry milkshake, listless, sad-eyed.
‘You were so brave to go and visit,’ Erin says. ‘I know I couldn’t have. Hospitals creep me out. No wonder you’re all upset, Savvy.’
‘Her mum asked me if I’d come back,’ Savvy says. ‘Talk to her. The doctors think that hearing her friends talking to her might help. How do you think that made me feel? I wasn’t really her friend, was I? None of us were!’
‘She was a loner,’ Lainey says. ‘That’s not our fault.’
‘But you were friends with her once, weren’t you?’ Savvy points out. ‘In primary school? What went wrong?’
Yaz launches into a spiel about how Alice was given a lead role in the school play in Year Six and suddenly thought she was better than everyone else, but Savvy doesn’t look convinced.
‘She must have changed a lot, then,’ Erin says. ‘She’s never seemed that way at school, and she didn’t strike me that way on Saturday; not at all. I actually liked her. She was fun.’
‘She was great,’ Lainey agrees, taking her cue from Erin. ‘She probably has changed a bit. Grown up, you know? I think maybe we could have been friends again, if this hadn’t happened.’
‘We’re talking about her like she’s dead,’ Savvy snaps. ‘She’s not – but she’s really, really ill. I keep having these awful nightmares where she dies and comes back to haunt me and tells me it’s all my fault …’
‘She won’t die,’ Lainey says.
‘You don’t know that,’ Savvy snaps. ‘You haven’t seen her; how ill she looks. Those machines are keeping her alive, and all because I invited her to a stupid sleepover.’
‘You were trying to be nice,’ Erin says.
‘Yeah, right. We all know that wasn’t the reason I asked her,’ Savvy says. ‘We used her; tricked her. Why don’t we just say it like it is?’
The girls shift in their seats, sipping their drinks, touching up their lipgloss, checking their phones. The truth curls around them like a bad smell, but they pretend not to notice. Talking about it is too difficult, too shameful.
‘I might go and see her at the hospital, then,’ Yaz says into an awkward silence. ‘If you think it would help?’
‘It might,’ Savvy says. ‘You could talk about old times, happy memories. Maybe you can pull her back into the real world?’
‘I’ll visit too,’ Lainey offers. ‘For old times’ sake.’
Savvy pushes her glass away, the milkshake only half drunk.
‘Be prepared for a shock,’ she tells them. ‘She’s linked up to all these drips and wires and they had to cut her hair off for the operation. Her lovely long hair. I felt like crying when I saw her!’
‘That’s awful,’ Yaz says.
‘So sad,’ Erin agrees.
Savvy’s eyes grow wide. ‘Has anyone told Luke?’ she asks. ‘He might not know! I mean, they were old friends, once, weren’t they? And there was a bit of a thing going on between them the other night, definitely. Someone should speak to him. Maybe he’d like to visit?’
Lainey finishes the last of her milkshake, scooping up the remaining froth with the end of her straw.
‘I’ve got his number,’ she says. ‘I’ll sort it. No worries.’
22
Alice
‘Hello, Alice, it’s me again, Sister Fitzgerald. I’m just going to give you a quick wash, and change your dressings for when your visitors come, and I need to change your feeding tube too. It doesn’t look too appetizing, this soupy, liquid stuff they’re giving you. You should give the hospital food a whirl; it’s not bad! Y’know what, Alice? When you wake up I’ll make sure you get a feast. You can order anything you like. What would you pick? Roast turkey, or nachos with cheese and sour cream and jalapenos, or a big pizza with every kind of topping? Apple pie and ice cream or red velvet chocolate cake? Just tell me. And I’ll toast you, Alice, with a glass of champagne – or maybe lemonade, because this is the NHS we’re talking about, after all. Wake up soon, Alice. There are a lot of people missing you.’
I’m not sure how I got here. It’s dark, a kind of hallway with doors all around it, and there’s a funny little three-legged table with a bottle on it. The bottle has a label with ‘drink me’ printed on it in large letters.
It would be silly to drink it just because of the label, of course. It could be poison, or some nasty, foul-tasting medicine, left here as a joke. I pick it up and look at it carefully, then uncork the top and breathe in the aroma. I don’t think
it’s poison. I’m pretty sure it’s not.
I take a sip, and it tastes like cherry tart, custard, pineapple, roast turkey, toffee and hot buttered toast. And just as I am thinking that it’s the best thing I have ever tasted, I feel myself shrinking, getting smaller and smaller, until there’s barely anything left of me at all.
Sleepover
Savvy picked up the teapot and poured fizzy pink liquid into a vintage teacup.
‘Wonderland starts here,’ she told me. ‘We made some fruit punch earlier. Try it, Alice! It’s gorgeous! I put a whole handful of mushed-up strawberries in there!’
I took the teacup and saucer, obedient; a handwritten label saying ‘drink me’ was tied to the bone china handle. I lifted the cup and drank, sipping cold, fizzy liquid that tasted of fruit and sugar with something bitter and burny hidden beneath it.
‘What is that?’ I spluttered. ‘Alcohol?’
‘No, no, nothing like that,’ Savvy laughed. ‘It’s just lemonade, really, but we were experimenting a bit. There might be some bitter lemon in it. And possibly a dash of chilli sauce …’
I wasn’t stupid – I knew that bitter lemon, strawberries and chilli sauce were not supposed to smell this way; like a brewery, like the whiff of Dad’s hot, sour breath the morning after Uncle Jim’s stag party. I was sure Savvy was lying, but I pretended not to care. She poured out more of the punch and handed teacups to Erin, Yaz and Lainey. All four of them knocked back their drinks eagerly, pulling faces at the nasty taste, giggling like it was no big deal.
‘Oof; pretty strong,’ Erin said with a smirk. ‘Tastes rank …’
‘It’ll do the job,’ Savvy said. ‘Drink up, Alice! Don’t be a wuss!’
I didn’t want to be a wuss, but I didn’t want to drink the fruit punch either. I was certain it contained a generous slug of something stolen from Savvy’s parents’ drinks cabinet, diluted with lemonade and strawberries and half a ton of sugar.
I took another sip and my throat burned; my whole body felt warm and glowy. What happened in Alice in Wonderland when she drank the magic potion? She shrank right down to a few inches tall and stepped through a tiny doorway into a different world. In the book, the potion tastes of cherry tart and custard and hot buttered toast and a bunch of other things all mixed up; I was worried this drink was a bit more like the one the White Queen makes in the film – from worm fat, the urine of a horsefly, three coins from a dead man’s pocket and two teaspoons of wishful thinking.
Well, more than two teaspoons of wishful thinking, really. There was a whole bucketful of that swishing around inside me already. Wishful thinking was why I was there, wanting to fit in, to be a part of Savvy’s world, to have my old friends back. I just wasn’t sure that Savvy’s weird cocktail was the answer. A part of me thought that if I drank it, I might be transformed somehow, accepted. Another part knew that this was not a ticket to Wonderland, but to some other place; somewhere nightmarish, surreal, where I might shrink away, becoming smaller and smaller until there was nothing left of me at all.
‘Like it?’ Savvy enquired, watching me carefully. ‘There might be just the tiniest shot of rum in there; just enough to loosen us up, chill us out!’
‘It’s great,’ I said, trying not to cough. ‘Well, not exactly great, but … interesting.’
‘You’re interesting, Alice,’ she declared. ‘I had you down as an uptight goody-two-shoes, but I think there’s much more to you than meets the eye …’
I smiled, pathetically pleased to be described as interesting, but not pleased enough to finish the punch. I spotted a potted plant on a tall stand by the door and wondered if I could get near enough to pour my drink into that, but Savvy was at my side, an arm snaked around my waist.
‘Just drink it,’ she said, sweetly. ‘Knock it back; it’s the easiest way. It tastes disgusting, I know, but it will make you feel lovely, I promise! Just all relaxed and happy!’
‘I don’t really drink,’ I confessed as carelessly as I could. ‘It’s not my thing.’
Was it anybody’s thing? We were thirteen years old. Surely that was way too young to drink cocktails of rum and lemonade and strawberries with chilli sauce mixed in? I couldn’t imagine wanting to drink something like that at any age. It reminded me of the games I played with Lainey when we were really little, mixing up garden soups and stews for our teddy bears and dolls from mud and grass clippings and flower petals and rainwater.
Lainey was watching me, waiting to see what I’d do. Did she remember those garden brews too?
‘None of us really drink,’ Savvy said, laughing. ‘It’s just for fun; part of the Alice theme. Don’t wimp out on us.’
It was a tipping point, I knew. I could stay a victim, a loner; or I could take a risk and change everything.
I was still trying to decide whether I had the guts to drink it when the doorbell rang three times.
It was like an alarm bell going off: the girls went all wide-eyed and giggly, smoothing their hair and checking their cute little painted-on noses in the mirror above the sideboard. The doorbell rang again, but nobody seemed to want to actually answer it.
‘Who is that?’ I asked.
‘Our special guests, of course,’ Savvy said, laughing. ‘You didn’t think I’d gone to all this trouble just for us, did you?’
I had thought exactly that, of course, but now that I looked properly I could see that the dining table was set for a crowd, and that the plates heaped high with cupcakes, sandwiches, crisps and pizza held way too much food for just the five of us. I was invisible briefly in the sudden chaos of giggles and mirror-checking, and I drifted over to the big bay window, hiding the punch-filled teacup out of sight behind the heavy brocade curtain. Peeking out of the window from behind the curtain, I glimpsed a bunch of huddled figures clowning around on the path by the door and heard loud chat and whoops of boyish laughter. A pale face flashed out of the darkness briefly, grinning and pushing back an overgrown tawny fringe.
The face was familiar. I knew it well from primary school, from rehearsals for the school play, from that lost summer between primary and secondary school when I went to drama summer school. He was younger then, of course, his face chubbier, cheekier, but even so, I’d have known Luke Miller anywhere.
23
Number 63 bus from Leamington Spa to Ardenley
Luke is coming home from the drama class he takes on a Wednesday evening in Leamington Spa. The class is a long bus ride away but it’s worth it to be with other kids who love acting; sometimes they just do improvisation and character studies, but soon the teachers are planning to get them working on a play.
Luke had told Alice about the class at Savvy’s on Saturday, and she’d said it sounded great. He’d told her the date, the time, the place; asked if she’d come along. Alice said she might just do that.
He’d tapped her number into his mobile at the party, but although he’s texted her a few times since Saturday (OK, more than a few), she still hasn’t replied. He half hoped she might show up at tonight’s drama class, but of course she didn’t.
He takes out his mobile to check again, because he is a sucker for punishment and he can’t quite believe, after what happened at Savvy’s, that Alice can be blanking him now. Predictably, there are no new messages. It doesn’t make sense. Was she playing games? He expects that kind of thing from girls like Savvy – the popular, confident, princessy kind of girls; but he’d been sure Alice was different.
Then again, he’d given her his landline number back when drama club ended and waited for her to call; she never did.
Suddenly, his mobile begins to buzz with an incoming call; the name Lainey flashes up on the screen. Luke presses the screen to take the call.
‘Hello, Luke,’ Lainey says. ‘I thought I should ring. The thing is – well, it’s about Alice …’
‘What about Alice?’ he asks.
‘Look, I can’t really explain over the phone,’ Lainey says. ‘We need to talk; I could meet you tonight, if you�
�re not busy, or tomorrow. At the Copper Kettle Cafe, or the park – anywhere, really. And I can explain properly.’
Luke frowns, his mind working overtime.
‘Has she changed her mind?’ he asks. ‘I wondered why she wasn’t returning my texts or answering my calls. If she doesn’t want to talk to me, she just has to say; she doesn’t have to send a go-between!’
‘It’s not quite that simple,’ Lainey whispers. ‘I’m not her go-between. I can’t explain over the phone. Will you meet me?’
‘Look, I don’t like game-playing,’ he says. ‘This is ridiculous. Why can’t Alice talk to me herself?’
‘She can’t,’ Lainey insists. ‘You’ll understand when I see you and explain. It’s important, Luke, I promise. I need to talk to you. Tomorrow?’
‘I guess,’ Luke says with a sigh. ‘Ten o’clock at the cafe, then?’
‘Perfect,’ Lainey says. ‘I’ll tell you everything then; I swear.’
Luke doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he doesn’t have Alice’s address or home phone number. He wants some answers, and right now Lainey is his only chance of getting them.
24
Alice
‘Hello, Alice, it’s Dr Fleet. I’m working with some medical students today, and I’m hoping you won’t object if they help with the routine tests and checks. So, everybody, gather round: this is Alice, who had a very nasty fall on Saturday night. We’ve set some broken bones in her arm and operated to stop a bleed in the cerebral cortex, but she hasn’t come round yet. Don’t you worry, Alice, we plan to fix you up and ship you out of here just as soon as we can; you just have to wake up for us, OK?’
Looking Glass Girl Page 7
