by Helen Jones
‘Oh, hello Alma,’ said Eleanor, looking around. ‘I didn’t hear you come in. How was the park?’ she said, her blue eyes momentarily concerned.
‘Fine,’ said Alma, ‘but I’m starving. See you in a sec.’ Pulling her head back she made for the kitchen, hungrier than usual, having had no time for breakfast in her mad dash from Ambeth. She made herself a sandwich and added a bowl of crisps and a large glass of mineral water, making her slow way back down the passage to the front room.
‘Where’s Dad?’ she asked, depositing her food on the table before sitting down next to her mother, exhaling a sigh of relief.
‘He’s working late again. Alma, don’t eat all that in here,’ Eleanor protested, but Alma cut her off with a look, pointedly indicating the popcorn on the table.
‘Mum, I’m fifteen, not five,’ she said, frowning. ‘And you eat in here all the time.’
Eleanor looked at Alma and her face softened. Smiling, she conceded. ‘Fine, but don’t spill anything.’ Leaning forward, she stole a crisp from Alma’s bowl and winked at her daughter. Alma rolled her eyes before picking up her sandwich, her mouth watering. Tuna salad, made with mayonnaise, celery and spring onions; one of her favourites. Opening the bread, Alma placed a few crisps on top of the filling, to her mother’s amusement.
‘Hungry, are we?’ she said as Alma took a huge bite of her sandwich, closing her eyes for a moment in contentment as she chewed.
She glanced sideways at her mother, swallowing her mouthful. ‘Oh, not you too.’
‘Not me too what?’ countered her mother, intrigued.
‘Oh. Well.’ Realising what she had just said, Alma took a moment to think of her answer. ‘It’s just, some of my friends give me a hard time about how much I eat, that’s all,’ she answered, taking another bite.
‘Really?’ said Eleanor, making a face. ‘Why would they do that? You have a healthy appetite, there’s nothing wrong with that.’
‘That’s what I say,’ said Alma through a mouthful of sandwich, and Eleanor laughed.
‘So, what’s on?’ asked Alma, once she could talk again.
‘Oh, it’s an old film,’ said Eleanor. ‘I started to watch the news but it was too depressing, so I put this on instead. Nothing like a bit of make-believe to make you feel better.’
‘Looks good,’ said Alma, reaching for her bowl of crisps and sitting back, a contented expression on her face.
Eleanor reached over and patted her daughter on the leg, ‘It’s nice to have you here,’ she said. Alma said nothing, just smiled at her mother and Eleanor caught her breath – it was almost, for a moment, as if Alma’s father was sitting there. Then Alma reached forward for her drink and the moment passed. Together they sat, mother and daughter, the flickering light from the TV on their faces as they immersed themselves in the fantasy playing out on screen.
***
It was Saturday, a bright cold day and Alma and Sara were slowly working their way through a rack of vintage dresses, each with several items over their arms already. The new store Sara had heard about was even better than they’d thought it would be. Hidden in a small arcade, it was lit with fairy lights and painted in swirling colours, the scent of fresh flowers on the counter fighting with the slightly musty smell of the old clothes crammed onto racks lining the walls. The proprietor, a young woman with unnaturally red hair worn like a 1940s pinup, sported an extraordinary array of items, from a Victorian lace chemise to a pair of shiny 60s go-go boots. Her smile as the girls came through the door was welcoming. She obviously loved her work.
‘So, what’s on for tonight?’ asked Alma as she moved hangers along, checking out each piece for wow potential.
‘Not much,’ said Sara. ‘Want to see a movie? We could get something to eat beforehand.’
‘Yeah, that would be fine,’ said Alma, only half-listening, taken with a velvet dress she had just found on the rack. Deep green, it had embroidered ribbons in cream and green that crisscrossed over the bodice and around the waist, the full skirt flaring out. It was an Ambeth dress if ever she saw one. She pulled it out and turned it around. It looked to be from the 1960s, a wild party dress from a wild era, but she knew it would be perfect in the Great Hall. Maybe Deryck would even…
‘Where on earth would you wear that?’ asked Sara, cutting in on her thoughts.
‘Oh! Well, I don’t know,’ said Alma, her face going red as she surveyed the dress. ‘I just like it, that’s all. But yeah, you’re probably right,’ she said, putting it back on the rack reluctantly.
‘Oh, try it on,’ said Sara, sounding amused.
‘Really?’ Alma ran her hand over the soft velvet, her mouth curved into a half smile. ‘Do you think so?’
‘Oh Alma, when do you ever listen to me anyway?’ said Sara, laughing, ‘Yes, try it on, the colour would really suit you, actually.’
Alma slung the dress over her arm with the rest of her goodies. Moving over to a nearby rack of skirts, she glanced at Sara, who was still concentrating on the dresses.
‘Are you doing anything tomorrow?’ she asked.
‘What, Sunday?’ said Sara, seeming a little distracted. She held up two different frocks as she tried to decide which one she liked better.
‘Yes,’ said Alma, ‘and I think you should try both of them.’
Sara looked surprised, then smiled. ‘Yeah, you’re right. Um, tomorrow…’ Her expression grew guarded. ‘Well, actually I’m spending the day with Colleen and Anna. We’re going to that artist’s market, you know, the new one?’
‘Oh,’ said Alma, ‘right.’ She didn’t say anything else. Her long red hair fell forward as she rummaged through the rack, hiding her expression from Sara.
‘Alma, I’m sorry I didn’t ask you,’ she began, ‘it’s just-’
‘No, it’s OK,’ said Alma, swinging her hair back to look at Sara, trying to hide her hurt. But Sara wasn’t fooled.
‘I would have invited you,’ she said, looking guilty, ‘but you’re never around on Sundays any more, at least not for the whole day. You always have to rush off to see David. And then you’re tired the rest of the time.’
Alma looked at Sara, her face perturbed. ‘Really, it’s OK,’ she said. ‘I understand. I know I haven’t been around as much lately. Don’t worry about it.’
‘Really?’ said Sara, sounding relieved. ‘I mean, I wish you were coming, you know? You still can, if you want.’
Alma shook her head, smiling. ‘No, you go,’ she said. ‘I’ll hear about it when you get back.’
‘Definitely,’ said Sara, smiling back. ‘Now, which of these do you think suits me best?’
***
Alma came through the Oak Gate, her bracelet warm on her wrist. The stars spinning across her vision slowly cleared to reveal Caleb waiting apprehensively. The woods were cool and breezy, the sunlight coming and going as white clouds scudded across the blue sky above the feathery treetops. Alma hid her smile, affecting a serious expression.
‘Alma, I’m-I’m so sorry,’ he began, his face anguished.
Alma looked at him sternly, shaking her head, but then could keep up the façade no longer. She broke into a broad grin that grew even wider as she saw his expression change from pained to hopeful. ‘It’s all right,’ she said, trying not to laugh. ‘Really. I mean, I wasn’t happy at the time, but it’s all worked out perfectly.’
‘How do you mean?’ asked Caleb, starting to smile as well.
‘Well, now I know I can stay over, it means I can be here for longer,’ she said, linking her arm with his as they started to walk through the woods. ‘So really, I have to be grateful to you. Even though I wasn’t at first,’ she went on, glaring at him for a moment then laughing at his shocked expression. In her bag was the green dress she had found in the vintage store. It had fit almost perfectly, needing only a few minor alterations and Alma had not been able to resist it, spending almost all of her money on it.
‘So you will stay? Tonight?’ asked Caleb, his pleasure appar
ent.
‘Yes,’ smiled Alma. ‘I even have a new dress for the occasion.’ Laughing, the pair made their way arm in arm through the whispering green woods to the field beyond.
***
Another meeting with the Elders, another lesson about Ambeth and the importance of the Balance that made her head hurt. She’d been starting to enjoy the meetings, fascinated by the rich history of Ambeth but today she was just too caught up in her own thoughts. As she made her way slowly to the library to meet Caleb, Alma couldn’t stop thinking of another library, and the concern on Sara’s face that she had tried so hard to hide. Concern that Alma was slipping away from her, distracted by something she wasn’t able to share.
Pushing open the heavy wooden door she saw Caleb, head down, studying from the pile of ancient texts next to him. If she had wanted to do homework, thought Alma wryly, she could have stayed at home. Still, Caleb was convinced that the clues they needed to find the Regalia were hidden here somewhere, and that Alma was the one to find them. The least she could do was humour him for now. ‘Hello, Caleb,’ she said as she neared the table, her tone subdued.
He lifted his head, looking pleased to see her. ‘Hello Alma – was it a tough session with the Elders today?’
Alma frowned at him. ‘No. Yes. I don’t know. Why do you ask?’ She sat down at the table opposite him and pulled the nearest pile of papers towards her, picking up the top one with a sigh.
‘Well, you just seem a bit… not yourself. A bit sad,’ he said, regarding her with a worried expression.
‘Oh,’ said Alma. She bit her lip, looking at Caleb, so obviously concerned about her. ‘No, sorry, you’re right. I am a bit down.’
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he said, closing his notebook. ‘These notes can wait for another day, if you like. Let’s go for a walk instead.’
‘Really?’ Alma’s face lit up, and she pushed her chair away from the table. Caleb regarded her with a droll expression.
‘I didn’t realise you disliked doing research so much,’ he said, his eyes twinkling as he came around the table to offer Alma his arm.
‘Oh, well, no, I mean, normally it’s fine,’ replied Alma, flustered, not wanting to hurt his feelings. ‘So, have you found anything new?’ she asked, feigning enthusiasm.
‘Well, there is an old scroll that mentions the sword,’ began Caleb as they left the library, walking along the echoing stone corridor towards the foyer. ‘It says…’ He stopped abruptly, noticing Alma wasn’t listening any more. ‘Hey,’ he said, his voice gentle, ‘are you all right?’
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s just, I was thinking about my friend.’
Caleb looked puzzled.
‘My best friend,’ Alma said. ‘In the Human Realm,’ she hastily added, seeing Caleb’s face cloud over. ‘Her name is Sara. I’ve never told you about her, I know, but lately, well, I miss her.’ Caleb nodded, his expression making it obvious he was trying to understand, and Alma loved him for it. Smiling at him she went on, saying, ‘I just wish I could share this with her, you know?’ Caleb looked at her quizzically. ‘All this,’ said Alma, indicating the magnificent Foyer as they walked through. ‘The magic of being here. I would love you to meet her, and I know she would love it here.’
‘So, why not tell her, bring her with you next time?’ asked Caleb, standing back to allow Alma to step through the doorway first. They linked arms and continued onto the Long Walk, squinting a little in the bright sunlight.
‘Apart from the fact that she’d think I was crazy, I’d love to tell her,’ replied Alma. ‘But I can’t take the risk. I mean, I know my bracelet protects me, lets me cross over when I wish, but there is no guarantee it would do the same for her. Imagine if I brought her here and then she couldn’t get back, or when she did get back fifty years had passed.’ Worried, she looked at Caleb, who was trying not to notice what the sun was doing to her hair and skin, or how good she looked in her new green gown.
Clearing his throat, he sought to comfort her. ‘But you spend time with her in your world, do you not?’ He looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘I’ve never really asked you, have I, about your life through the Gate?’
Alma shook her head. ‘It’s just never come up, I suppose. When I’m here, I really don’t think about it at all. Ambeth feels like home to me, as much as my own home.’ She realised she hadn’t really answered Caleb. ‘Yes, I do spend time with her, of course I do,’ she went on, ‘but not as much as I used to, and I guess that’s the problem. I feel guilty about it, but I can’t stop coming here, not now.’
Caleb looked at her aghast then hastily coughed, going red. ‘You wouldn’t, I mean, you can’t stop coming here,’ he said, his face so upset Alma felt it in her own heart. She reached out to console him.
‘No, no, never Caleb. How could I?’ she said, squeezing his arm and leaning her head on his shoulder for a moment as they walked. ‘I would miss you too much,’ she went on, pleased to see the distress leave his face, while at the same time sad she didn’t feel for him the way he obviously did for her.
‘Well, good,’ he replied, his voice gruff, not looking at Alma. ‘I mean, I can’t look for the Regalia by myself, can I?’
‘Well, exactly,’ said Alma, playing along. ‘But, let’s take a break from it for today, shall we?’ She led him through to one of the gardens she knew, a small dell furnished with cushions, the perfect place to relax and take a nap on a sunny afternoon.
‘Sit down,’ she ordered, indicating one of the big striped cushions. Caleb did as he was told and Alma plopped down next to him on another pillow, making herself comfortable. ‘Now, relax,’ she went on, ‘and, if you like, I’ll tell you about my life in the Human Realm.’
‘Hmm, I think I’d like that,’ said Caleb, lying back and closing his eyes against the warm sun, content.
***
The Great Hall was lit with flickering warmth from fire and lanterns. Alma sipped her drink as she looked around, enjoying the music being played by the trio near the dais. She smiled as she caught Caleb’s eye – he was at the buffet, loading up their plates with more food. Then she realised that someone had come to stand next to her. Looking up she was shocked to see Deryck, dressed in grey tunic and breeches, his golden hair falling forward as he smiled down at her.
‘Lady Alma,’ he murmured. ‘Such a pleasure to see you here, and looking so well, if I might add. Are you enjoying the music?’
She stared up at him thunderstruck, her cheeks aflame as she rubbed her suddenly clammy palms on the soft green velvet of her skirt. Across the room, a group of girls shot her dirty looks and, noticing this, she frowned. Deryck, momentarily confused, followed her gaze and let out a chuckle before turning his attention back to Alma, who had recovered enough to stammer, ‘Y-yes, they are very good.’
‘Do you think?’ He smiled at her, the interest in his face genuine. ‘I enjoy them as well. It is nice to meet someone who seems to appreciate music as I do. Perhaps some time – ah.’ He stopped as Caleb joined them, the expression on his face making it clear that Deryck was not welcome.
‘Lord Deryck,’ he said courteously, though without smiling.
‘Caleb,’ replied Deryck, his face expressionless as he inclined his head. Turning to Alma, the image of courtesy, he held out his hand and she took it. Bowing, he kissed her hand gently. ‘I hope we can talk again soon,’ he said softly as he released her hand with a warm smile. She felt breathless all of a sudden.
‘Yes,’ she said, managing to smile back at him. ‘That would be lovely.’
She could feel Caleb bristling with anger beside her. As Deryck turned to leave he bent over, hissing, ‘What did he want?’ into her ear.
‘Nothing, just to talk, I guess,’ snapped Alma.
‘Hmmph!’ said Caleb, watching the Dark Prince as he crossed the room. He sat down next to Alma and tried to catch her eye, but she was still watching Deryck. She took the plate of food Caleb gave her with thanks, but her appetite was gone. Across the room,
Deryck caught her eye and winked. Her eyes widened in response, but then a group of dancers moved across the room and the contact was broken.
***
It was Friday evening, a week later and Alma was sitting on the kitchen sofa, fidgeting in her seat as she looked out onto the darkening garden. Eleanor, busy preparing dinner, glanced at her in amusement.
‘Off to the park again tonight?’ she asked, as she deftly peeled potatoes and dropped them into a pot.
‘What? Um, oh yeah, I guess so,’ said Alma, squirming in her seat. ‘Um, so, how long til dinner?’
‘Maybe an hour,’ replied Eleanor, her lips twitching. ‘So, why don’t you go now, you know, before it gets too late. I imagine you’re seeing Sara later?’
‘Oh, right,’ said Alma. ‘Well, yeah, maybe that would be good…’ She trailed off, thinking hard. Then her face lit up and she looked at Eleanor. ‘Really?’
‘Just go,’ smiled her mother. ‘But don’t be late back,’ she called. But Alma had already dashed out the side door, which banged shut behind her.
She ran through the cold December dark to the Armorial Park, her stomach burbling with excitement. Reaching the Gate she stood and caught her breath as she looked up at the silent trees, their bare branches black against the purple sky. Then she began to focus, feeling the familiar flare of warmth under her palm as she stepped through the Gate. Ooh. She staggered out into wet and cold woodland, raindrops hitting her head and face as she tried to regain her balance. Once she could stand she dug in her backpack to find her waterproof, hastily shrugging it on over her long-sleeved top. But where was Caleb? Alma looked around, realising with surprise that he was not there as usual to meet her. All around her were green and dripping branches, but nowhere could she see Caleb in his habitual brown and green attire.
A blackbird hopped past, its shiny black eyes regarding her quizzically. It shook its feathers to clear them of the crystal raindrops weighing them down. She smiled - the Narnia books had been favourites of hers when she was younger, especially the bits about the talking animals. Now she had her own enchanted place, she still didn’t know what was going to happen next – maybe the blackbird would speak to her. The thought made her laugh out loud and, smiling at her fancy, she greeted the little bird with a cheery ‘Hello’. But there was no answering chirrup – instead, he flew off, no doubt looking to shelter from the rain. With a sigh, Alma decided to start on the path that led out of the woods and find Caleb. Turning, she let out a squeak of shock, which, red-faced, she tried to cover with a cough. Deryck, clad in grey and holding a large umbrella, was standing on the path, an amused expression on his face.
