‘Hey,’ Luke said, nudging my elbow while the others were busy posing and preening for Lainey’s iPhone. ‘It’s been a while, Alice. How come you don’t go to drama club any more?’
I blinked. ‘I thought it closed,’ I said. ‘It did, didn’t it?’
‘It did, but I found another one in Leamington that’s just as good,’ he told me. ‘A few of the old group go; I just assumed everyone knew. You’d like it, Alice. The teachers are great. We put on a summer production every year, and work on some really cool projects in between. It’s six till eight on Wednesdays. You should come; seriously!’
My cheeks burned with the pleasure of being remembered, being wanted. It felt like Luke had thrown me a lifeline.
‘Maybe I will.’
‘Cool! Give me your mobile number and we can meet in town; take the bus together,’ Luke went on. ‘They’d be glad to have you, I’m sure!’
He took out his mobile and tapped my details into his contacts list. My mobile was in my coat pocket upstairs, but still, my heart thumped at the idea that he might message me. Maybe one day soon we might be sitting on a bus together, heading for Leamington and drama club, and it would be just like old times, only better.
‘Hatter!’ Lainey’s voice rang out. ‘Where are you hiding? I need you in these photos! C’mon, Luke, don’t be shy!’
He rolled his eyes and allowed himself to be drawn back into the photoshoot, and I perched on the arm of a chair and watched and tried not to feel sad that nobody called out for me to join in.
When Savvy and Josh came back from their seven minutes, it was his turn to spin the bottle; he ended up with Yaz. So it went on. Yaz ended up with Robbie; Robbie got Savvy; Savvy tugged the rug a bit until she got Dex. Some people got their seven minutes with a bunch of different partners – but I missed out every time. There was a lot of cheating and nudging the bottle and pulling at the rug, but I didn’t care. Erin ended up with Kamil and Kamil got Lainey, and Lainey, of course, with a little extra shove of the bottle, picked Luke.
I was surprised at how hurt I felt as the two of them left the room. Lainey had liked Luke for years, I knew that, but still, I felt crushed.
The others were watching some funny YouTube video Josh had on his phone, of dogs trying to sing along to a One Direction song. They’d lost interest in the game. I watched the living room clock; the hands dragged round like they were made of lead, but finally Lainey and Luke came back. Lainey had an arm snaked around his waist and her eyes were shining.
I remembered how back when we were friends she’d always had a knack of getting what she wanted: the best toy, the cutest dress, the biggest ice cream – the one with chocolate flakes and strawberry sauce and sprinkles. Lainey always managed to get it.
And now she had Luke.
‘What will we do next, Savvy?’ Lainey asked, hanging on to him so he couldn’t get away. ‘Your hide and seek game? That would be cool!’
‘We haven’t finished this game yet,’ Luke pointed out. ‘Don’t I get a chance to spin the bottle? It’s not fair, otherwise. Everyone should have a go, surely?’
‘Sure, whatever!’ she said. ‘It’s just that it’s getting late and Savvy wanted to try this team thing.’
‘It’s a grown up version of hide and seek,’ Savvy explained. ‘Two teams: boys and girls. To keep the Alice in Wonderland theme going I’m going to paint hearts on the girls’ cheeks and diamonds on the boys’.’
Lainey was grinning, sure she’d got her own way, but then Savvy spoke again.
‘I can do the face-painting while Luke takes his turn,’ she said. ‘Then we’ll call it a day and move on. Anyone who didn’t get a go can get first shot in the next game, OK?’
Lainey’s face fell, but we sat down again and Luke sent the bottle spinning, and when it slowed and threatened to stall by Lainey, he nudged it with the toe of his Vans deck shoe and the whole bottle skidded across the rug and almost landed right in my lap.
‘Cheating,’ Lainey accused, her face sour.
‘You cheated too, Lainey,’ Kamil pointed out. ‘Everyone’s cheated, pretty much.’
‘Kind of fits, too,’ Savvy decreed. ‘Alice and the Hatter; I like it!’
Lainey didn’t like it, though. Her eyes were dark with sadness or anger – I couldn’t tell which – and when I shrugged and tried to mouth ‘sorry’ she turned away.
‘Timer’s on,’ Savvy said. ‘Seven minutes, guys.’
Luke jumped up, swept off his hat and bowed low, then took my hand and led me from the room.
27
ICU, Ardenley General Hospital
‘Oh my God,’ Lainey says. ‘I know they said she was sick, but this is worse than anything I imagined. She looks awful! Like all those tubes and machines are just keeping her alive. I’ve seen things like this on TV – it’s horrible. And sometimes the person never comes round again, and they have to switch off the life support …’
‘Lainey, shhh,’ Luke whispers. ‘What if she can hear you? Don’t say those things!’
Lainey’s eyes fill with tears. ‘It’s just, well, you know how close we were at primary school. Alice was my best friend. And we haven’t always been close just lately, but best friends are forever, right? And now … oh, I can’t bear it! Look at her! She’s like, just a shell! It’s like she’s already gone!’
Lainey starts to cry, and Luke puts an arm around her shoulder and offers her a tissue, trying to edge her towards a visitor’s chair. To tell the truth, he is just as shocked as Lainey at how sick Alice looks. This is serious.
Once, long ago when all of them were six or so, Luke remembers that Alice had been chasing Lainey and Yaz across the playground in the middle of some game when she’d tripped and fallen so hard she’d torn her navy blue woolly tights and skinned her knees. Luke had stopped his game of football and gone over to help her up, and then Lainey and Yaz had taken over, bringing her across to the playground attendant who’d cleaned her up and splashed on antiseptic and stuck big wads of lint on to Alice’s knees with beige sticking plaster.
She had looked so cute with those crudely plastered knees sticking out from the holes in her tights; it was probably around that time that Luke had realized he really liked her, in a gruff, no nonsense, six-year-old kind of way.
This, though; this is way scarier than skinned knees. This makes Luke sick with fear. He doesn’t like hospitals at the best of times; the sharp, antiseptic smell of them, the uniformed nurses with serious faces and clipboards filled with ominous information, the machines, the syringes, the too-bright look in the eyes of every visitor.
And Lainey is right; Alice looks terrible. She is deathly white with smudges of mauve beneath her eyes, that big crescent-shaped scar, her cheeks and lips bleached of all colour. She looks like a broken doll.
Lainey is snuggling into him, looking for comfort, but Luke can’t find the words to tell her that things will be fine; things don’t look fine at all. He takes his arm away before Lainey gets too attached, and the two of them perch on chairs at Alice’s bedside.
‘What is it they call it?’ Lainey is saying. ‘When somebody is stuck in a coma for years and years and there’s no hope left for them at all? A persistent vegetative state, that’s it. Do you think that’s what’s happened to Alice?’
‘Shhh,’ Luke says, angry now. ‘Lainey, what if she can hear you?’
‘She can’t hear,’ Lainey argues. ‘You know she can’t, Luke. Don’t kid yourself. Just look at her! She’s like a – well, a vegetable!’
Luke takes Lainey’s arm a little too roughly, pulling her to her feet.
‘We should go,’ he says. ‘This isn’t working.’
‘I know,’ Lainey snuffles. ‘It’s heartbreaking. It’s just too cruel. She was my best friend. Not now, maybe, but once – and I can’t forget that, Luke, not ever!’
He grits his teeth and steers Lainey out of the room into the corridor. ‘I’m sorry, Luke. I know we’re supposed to pretend she’ll get well again, but �
�’
‘Shhh, Lainey,’ he says. ‘Her parents are in the family room right over there. Can you just shut up, please? Have some respect!’
‘I do!’ Lainey protests. ‘I do! I’m just gutted. I had no idea it would be this bad …’
‘Hang on,’ Luke says. ‘I’ve forgotten something. I’ll see you down in the lobby in five minutes, OK?’
He propels Lainey out of the ICU and leaves her standing, open mouthed and tearful, on the far side of the double doors. Luke walks back to Alice’s room, enters quietly and walks over to the bed. He cannot blame Lainey for her reaction; Alice looks like a broken girl, expertly put back together, but no longer quite whole.
His fingers reach out to touch her hand, cool and bird-like as it lies on the coverlet. The last time he held her hand, Luke thinks, Alice leaned against him so her long hair fell like a curtain between them, softly crimped and smelling of coconut shampoo. Today he can smell nothing but the sharp, chemical smell of disinfectant, and Alice’s hair, if it hasn’t all been cut off, is hidden beneath a cocoon of bandages.
‘Alice?’ he whispers. ‘Look, I’m sorry about Lainey. She found it all a bit … too much. I’ll come back tomorrow, on my own, I promise.’
28
Alice
‘I’ll be back,’ Luke promises. ‘Hang on in there, Alice. I’ll come back tomorrow, like I said. I know that you’re lost right now, but I hope you’ll come back, too.’
‘We’ve been here before,’ the Hatter says, pouring tea. ‘Do you remember?’
My head aches with the effort, but I can’t seem to dredge up the memory. I would like to remember, though. I really would. I’m sure the Hatter in the book I once read wasn’t this young, this smiley. I’m sure he isn’t supposed to make my heart race.
‘I don’t remember,’ I admit. ‘I don’t remember anything!’
‘You will,’ the Hatter promises. ‘You’re just a little lost right now, but I’m going to find you, I promise …’
I reach out to take the offered teacup, but suddenly someone yanks the tablecloth and everything flies up in the air in a mess of china and cutlery and fabric, as if a hurricane has hit. I’m pulled into the whirlwind too, into the vortex, as if I’m being dragged back up the rabbit hole this time instead of falling down it. And then the hurricane dumps me down again, alone in the woods in the darkness. I can hear the Hatter’s promise swirling around my head, but he has gone, and the ache of loneliness in my throat is so sharp I think it might choke me.
A single tear slides out from beneath the lashes of the girl lying motionless in the ICU. The tear slips down her cheek, but the nurses are brisk and busy, checking machines and drips and temperature and blood pressure. Checking for tears is not on their list, and in the half-light of a hectic ICU, nobody sees.
Sleepover
So … yeah. Seven minute heaven.
I was beyond embarrassed. I followed Luke into the shadowy hallway, a few half-hearted wolf-whistles and catcalls following us, my face aflame.
‘I hate this,’ I said. ‘I might as well just tell you now, Luke. It just feels so fake, so cringey. I didn’t think people actually acted this way outside American teen movies.’
Luke laughed. ‘I don’t think they do. Savvy’s great, but she’s trying a bit too hard …’
‘All-girls school,’ I said. ‘We tend to either over-compensate and go wild – that’s Savvy – or else just freeze up totally when there are boys around. I fall into the second category, obviously.’
‘You don’t look frozen to me,’ Luke said. ‘Spin the bottle is really not my style, but I wanted to talk to you, so don’t go freezing up on me, Alice Beech. So. How do we get out of here?’
‘Out of here?’ I echoed. ‘I don’t think we do …’
Luke had other ideas. He spotted the back door, turned the handle and we stepped out on to the darkened patio. I remembered the bit in Alice in Wonderland when Alice wants to shrink and step through the tiny door into a magic garden, and wondered if it would have felt this way.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked.
‘Exploring,’ Luke said. ‘Or maybe escaping. Who cares?’
He took my hand again in the dark and I felt a jolt of pure joy fizz through me. I wanted to throw my head back and laugh at the velvet night sky, the stars that seemed to be shining just for us.
Then I remembered that Luke had just spent seven minutes alone with Lainey, and my heart stopped soaring and sank like a stone. I was an idiot, so easily fooled it was a joke. I pulled my hand away.
‘What’s up?’ he asked.
‘Did you have fun with Lainey?’ I asked. ‘I bet she didn’t mind holding hands.’
Luke laughs. ‘She didn’t mind at all,’ he said. ‘She practically had me in a headlock. She kissed me, which was flattering, I suppose, but look, Alice, I don’t like Lainey; I like you.’
I battled with jealousy, pride and distrust. ‘You really don’t like Lainey?’ I checked. ‘Are you sure? Because she seems very keen on you …’
He held his hands up in the darkness, grinning. His blue eyes seemed as dark as the sky; brighter than the stars.
‘She’s a nice girl,’ Luke said. ‘Friendly …’
‘Very,’ I said.
Luke just laughed. ‘You want the truth? It wasn’t a good kiss. It was a bit like being pinned down by an overenthusiastic Labrador. Don’t tell her I said that …’
‘I won’t,’ I said. ‘A Labrador? Really?’
‘Come on, Alice,’ Luke said. ‘You know I’m not interested in Lainey, I’m interested in you. We used to be friends, once, and then you dropped right off the radar and vanished. I mean, people do lose touch, right? I wanted to talk, that’s all. I’ve missed you.’
I smiled in the darkness.
I felt stronger, braver, more alive than I had in ages. I wasn’t acting, I wasn’t playing a part – I felt like the last couple of years had never happened. Shy Alice, quiet Alice, loner Alice – it was like she’d never existed.
Whatever I’d felt about Luke in the summer after Year Six, this was different. Attraction fizzed through me like Savvy’s fruit punch, sweet and tangy and unexpected. And Luke had missed me; that knowledge made my cheeks burn with pleasure.
We were at the bottom of the garden, standing under a huge oak tree that had an old tyre swing hanging from one sturdy branch. I tried to imagine Savvy or her glamorous big sister as kids, shrieking and swinging through the air on the tyre swing, and failed. I ducked away from Luke and walked up to the swing, pushing it a little so that it swayed gently. The rope creaked as though it was waking up after years of being asleep. I felt kind of the same.
‘You’d have been up on that swing, a couple of years ago,’ Luke teased. ‘You had a bit of a tomboy streak then. Remember when you climbed that tree by the junior school playground because Peter Kelly threw Yaz’s skipping rope into the branches? You rescued it, too. I was impressed.’
‘That was in Year Four,’ I remembered. ‘I only did it because Yaz was crying. I never did like Peter Kelly.’
‘Do you remember the rice pudding day?’ he asked, reminding me of his truth or dare revelation from earlier. ‘D’you forgive me?’
‘I might …’
On impulse, I gripped the weatherworn rope and placed a foot on the tyre swing, pulling myself up. The tyre swayed lazily and I closed my eyes and imagined I was nine years old again; the kind of girl who loved life and climbed trees and had the whole world at her feet. The kind of girl I used to be, and wanted to be again.
Luke just laughed and within minutes he’d grabbed the rope and hauled himself up to face me, the tyre swing lurching haphazardly from side to side.
‘Is it strong enough to hold us both?’ I asked, my voice no more than a whisper. Luke’s feet were pressing against mine from either side; his hands were clasped just above mine on the weathered rope, and his face was so close I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek and inhale the sharp spearmint smell o
f his chewing gum. My hair fell like a curtain between us and Luke raised a hand to push it away, his fingers grazing my skin.
He didn’t answer my question; I think we both forgot I’d even asked it. The tyre swing steadied, slowed, and the two of us held on, a breath apart, until he moved or I moved and somehow we weren’t even a breath apart any more.
29
Luke
Luke has a thing about making playlists. He takes his iPod everywhere with him and has a playlist for every mood. After he’d kissed Alice on Saturday he started thinking about the songs he’d pick for her; he imagined the two of them walking along together, holding hands, sharing one earbud each to listen to the perfect set of songs.
Now, with Alice ill in hospital, the playlist changes. Luke spends hours scrolling through his favourite songs, trying to guess if they’d appeal to Alice. A Robbie Williams song they once learnt in primary school, a Beatles track from the CD Miss Harper used to play on rainy lunchtimes, the Avril Lavigne song they’d all sung at the start of the Alice in Wonderland school play; these are songs he can guess at, a part of their shared past. For the rest, he scours his own song lists, a wild, eclectic mash-up of tracks from the past forty or fifty years.
Luke’s dad works as a sound engineer for a theatre, but he once worked for a record company. Luke’s mum was once in an 80s girl-band called the Crêpe Suzettes; the press photos show a trio of teenage girls with wildly crimped and backcombed hair and lots of ribbons, polka dots and Doc Marten boots. He finds it hard to tally this image with his mum as she is now: a youth counsellor working with troubled children and teenagers. She no longer backcombs her hair or wears polka dots, but the Doc Martens are still part of her trademark look.
Luke grew up listening to a patchwork of weird and wonderful music, and he picks out tracks from this now, things that Alice might like. Lainey calls him three times as the evening goes on, but Luke ignores each call. He knows that Lainey is hurting just as much as he is, but right now he cannot handle her awkward, frightened comments; her conviction that Alice is smashed beyond repair.
Looking Glass Girl Page 9
