Down the Rabbit Hole

by Evelyn Amber

  “You should really put a password on your phone,” Justin said, the smirk still plastered on his face. “Anyone could get on it.”

  “English please,” Alice snapped. “That sounded like gibberish to me.”

  “I turned your alarm off last night.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you needed the sleep.”

  “What about the shop?” she squealed.

  “I think dolphins just heard that,” Justin said. “Kyle is manning it.”

  Alice relaxed, but only momentarily before her shoulders rose again.

  “He’s more than capable,” Justin said, answering her next question. “And before you ask, it was his idea.”

  “I appreciate it,” Alice said, looking back in the mirror to wipe the patch of mascara that had crusted on her cheek. “But after a cup of tea, I would have been right as rain.”

  Alice rubbed at the mascara to no avail. She rubbed harder, but still it didn’t budge, and started to throb. She leaned in until she was close enough to realise it wasn’t mascara but a bruise.

  “That looks sore.” Justin nodded at her cheek through the mirror. “Minnie has got a pretty good punch. Shocking, considering how tiny she is.”

  Alice looked at Justin, not amused in the slightest.

  “I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you, Justin.’”

  “Thank you, sweetheart,” Alice said. “But what about Kyle?”

  “He loves working there,” Justin said, waving his hand. “Don’t tell him I told you that though.”

  Alice smiled and let herself relax. As much as it pained her to agree with Justin, she was incredibly tired, and she felt like she had not had more than an hour’s rest. She couldn’t recall waking up at any point in the night, but small threads of nightmares clung in her mind, letting her know the amount of sleep didn’t make up for the quality.

  She turned away from her pitiful reflection and trudged to the kitchen, craving something warm. Justin placed his arms on her shoulders and steered her to the front room.

  “I’ll make tea before I go,” he said. “Just try and relax. You still look half-dead.”

  Alice sank into her couch slowly, trying to blink away her exhaustion. Her lids were too heavy to fight and as soon as she stopped resisting, she dozed off.

  A soft bang woke her, and she shot up into a sitting position. She was dazed for a few moments before she heard the bang again. She gazed at a cup of untouched tea on the table that had started to grow a film and concluded that she’d slept for a few hours at the very least.

  She shuffled into the hallway, still feeling lethargic. When she opened the door, it took her a second glance to figure out that it was Thomas looking back at her. His usual suit had been replaced with a casual white shirt that hinted at a toned torso, completed with snug fitting dark jeans and heavy boots. He had his briefcase with him and it looked out of place next to his casual outfit.

  “Alice!” Thomas said, widening his perfect smile.

  She wiped her eyes and yawned.

  “Hi,” she croaked.

  “You look lovely as always.”

  She raised her brow at him. The urge to disagree was strong. Her hair was a matted mess, she had a huge bruise on the side of her face, and she was sure the mascara had turned into something that resembled panda eyes, but she held her tongue. She didn’t think she was any sort of rare beauty, but he seemed like the sort to like those bashful girls that would argue to be modest, and she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

  He hovered in the doorway, his smile unmoving. He reminded Alice of a robot that barely passed as human. She gathered he wanted an invitation inside, and the people pleaser inside her opened the door wider.

  “Would you like to come in?”

  “I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he said, but stepped into her cottage anyway.

  She hadn’t realised until now how tall he really was. Her cottage was one of the bigger ones in Ashbrook, but he had to lower his head to avoid the beams.

  “How quaint,” he said as he looked around at her decorating choices. “Cottages have a certain appeal that you just can’t find in a standard building. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Alice nodded and smiled, she was glad they could at least agree on something.

  “Would you like a drink?” Alice asked.

  “Do you have coffee?”

  “Yes,” she replied, but paused. “I only have instant though.”

  “Instant is fine,” he said rubbing his hands. “Black, please.”

  “Just take a seat in the front room,” Alice said. “I’ll be five minutes.”

  Thomas walked through while Alice headed to the kitchen, catching her reflection as she passed the mirror. If she thought she looked bad before, she looked worse now. She tried to flatten her hair but questioned why she even cared and moved on.

  She prepared the drinks quickly and made a coffee for herself. Her limbs still felt tired and she needed the extra boost.

  She carried the two drinks back, wondering if she had misjudged Thomas. She decided that until he proved her otherwise, she would still have her reservations.

  “There you go.” Alice passed him the drink and sat in the same place she had when Faith had visited.

  He sipped the brew slowly and he looked like he was trying to distinguish if he liked it or not.

  “The good stuff,” he smiled.

  “I wouldn’t take you for an instant coffee kind of guy.”

  “I’ve grown to like it.”

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” Alice said, “but was there a reason you came here?”

  “Ah yes.” He sat up straight and pulled his briefcase onto his lap. “As you know, I’m a man of business.”

  Alice waited for him to carry on, so when he didn’t, she nodded.

  “Well,” he said, clicking his briefcase. “I have heard from a somewhat reliable source that you own a valuable book, and I’m very interested in taking it off your hands.”

  “Who is this source?” Alice asked, wondering which book he was talking about. “Because I think you need to reconsider where you get your information.”

  “You’re funny.” Thomas laughed deeply. “It’s Barry. He might not be reliable in other areas, but his ability for spotting valuable and rare books cannot be discredited.”

  “What ‘rare’ book have you been informed of?”

  “He told me about a copy of Pride and Prejudice.” His eyes gleamed, as though he was already counting coins in his mind. “He said he spotted it a while ago when you invited him in for tea to discuss books. From his description, it sounded like a first edition original. Who knew this town had so many books of great value? It’s practically a gold mine.”

  “You must be mistaken,” Alice said with a dry laugh, knowing exactly which book he was talking about. “My ex-husband bought it from a car boot sale for 20p.”

  “Would you mind if I looked at it?”

  “Sure.” Alice shrugged. “But I’m afraid you might have had a wasted trip.”

  “Not at all,” he grinned behind the cup.

  Alice knew the intention behind the comment and she felt a little uneasy at the swirling in her stomach. She stood and rifled through her bookshelf behind her, glad she had the distraction to hide her burning cheeks. Once she felt the heat in her cheeks subside, she plucked the book from the shelf and handed it to Thomas.

  He plucked a pair of glasses from his briefcase and turned it in his hands, inspecting every inch of the old book. He turned a few of the pages and his smile grew as wide as the Cheshire Cat’s.

  “Barry wasn’t wrong.” Thomas pulled off his glasses. “This book is rare indeed. And to be sold for 20p is almost criminal.”

  “Are you sure?” Alice asked, staring at the tattered old book with a sceptical arched brow. “It’s been gathering dust on my shelf for years.”

  “I’m positive.” He wagged his finger in the air. “Of course, I would have to get it cr
oss-referenced and appraised, but I’ve never been wrong in the past.”

  “How much is it worth?” Alice asked. “If it is, as you say, a rare copy.”

  Thomas paused and appeared to calculate the figures in his head. “It could be in better quality, but that aside, I’d guess it’s worth at least £2500. I estimate it to be worth much more in the hands of the right buyer.”

  Alice jaw hung in astonishment. It had been a surprisingly romantic present from Gordon, and at the time, the sentimental value had been priceless. The fact it was worth so much money was almost unbelievable.

  “That’s an incredible amount of money for a book.” Alice stared at the book clutched in Thomas’ hands. “But I’m not sure I want to part with it.”

  Even though Gordon had left her long ago, it was still a reminder of happier days.

  “Of course,” Thomas assured her. “I don’t expect you to make up your mind right now. Books are valuable in personal ways too. Sleep on it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “On a lighter note,” Thomas said, switching from a professional to personal tone in a second as he placed the book on the coffee table. “I believe you’re a great reader.”

  “I am.”

  “I have a gift,” he said, producing a metal bookmark from his briefcase. “From one reader to another.”

  He passed it to Alice and she looked down at it. It was silver and curved into a point at one end, at the top a circle was attached, with a delicately carved sunflower.

  “I collect them,” he admitted, his tone suddenly reserved. “I have a huge collection.”

  He took a few out and showed them to her. They were all varied in colours with different adorned patterns.

  “They aren’t worth anything, but I like having them. I feel like each book has its own mood, and they need a fitting bookmark to go along with it.”

  “I can’t accept this,” Alice said. “I don’t deserve it.”

  She thought back to the jabs and insults she had thrown his way and the guilt rose in her throat as she looked into his excited eyes.

  “A good reader needs a proper bookmark,” he assured her.

  “Thank you,” Alice said, looking back down at it. “It’s lovely.”

  Thomas placed his own collection back in the briefcase before snapping it shut.

  “May I use the restroom?” he asked. “That coffee has gone straight through me.”

  “Upstairs, to the left.” She pointed up the stairs before looking at his empty cup. “Would you like a refill?”

  “That would be great.”

  Alice watched him head up the stairs, trying to ignore the fluttering in her chest. What was wrong with her? Thomas was nothing like her type, and yet she felt drawn to him. She looked at the bookmark, the gesture of the gift a surprising one. A possible future by his side flashed through her mind, catching her off-guard. Shaking her head, she put it down to her lack of sleep.

  “You barely know the man,” Alice whispered to herself as she placed the bookmark onto the table, “and he barely knows you.”

  She headed out of the room and stopped in her tracks when she noticed eerily familiar muddy footprints on the hallway carpet. She felt the colour drain from her face when she realised where she recognised them from. Even through her murky memory, the imprints of heavy work boots had run through her mind several times; she felt something clicking into place. She couldn’t be sure, but she was as certain as she could be that they matched the size and pattern of the boot prints she had seen at Trevor’s cottage.

  The toilet flushed, and Thomas appeared at the top of the staircase. Could it all be a coincidence? Her heart thumped as she tried to rationalise the connection.

  “Are you okay?” Thomas asked as he made his way down the stairs. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  She looked down at the footprints and Thomas’ gaze followed her.

  “I’m sorry,” Thomas said, tutting at himself. “These boots are a mud magnet.”

  “It’s okay,” Alice croaked, unable to look him in the eye. “I’m suddenly not feeling well.”

  Alice hurried into the sitting room and grabbed his briefcase.

  “You look perfectly fine,” Thomas said as she thrust his case into his arms.

  “I think I might be coming down with something.”

  She turned him around and guided him to the front door, her eyes pinned on his boots. She could feel him resisting her, but she needed him out of her cottage.

  “Another time perhaps?” he asked, spinning around on the doorstep.

  She nodded as she slammed the door. She twisted the keys and pulled the chain across. Leaning against the door, she thought about the bookmark and how it had made her feel, but she was suddenly apprehensive to believe it had purely been an act of kindness.

  After scrubbing the mud stains off the carpet, she was even more exhausted. She didn’t care if they could be evidence, she didn’t want them on her floor.

  It was just past nine in the evening when she crawled into bed, her hair damp from a shower. She tossed and turned all night trying to think of anything other than Thomas. Her clock ticked away, the sound of the hands taunting her.

  She felt like Alice at the mad tea party, and the irony of it wasn’t lost on her. She threw the covers off and ripped the clock from the wall, removing the batteries and shoving them in her cupboard. She plopped back down in her bed and tried to force any horrific thoughts out of her mind. Like Alice, she was falling down with no one to help. She laughed at her own delirious thoughts.

  After more tossing and turning, her phone told her it was already two in the morning. She groaned and pulled the covers over her head. She closed her eyes and she finally felt herself drifting off.

  The sound of rustling jerked her awake, and she looked through her open curtains, the moon still high in the sky. She listened out for over a minute and heard nothing. Blaming her heightened nerves and interrupted sleeping pattern, she closed her eyes again. A louder noise caused her to jump, and she now knew it hadn’t been her imagination.

  She scrambled for her phone on the night stand to use as a torch before sliding quietly out of bed. She tiptoed along the floorboards and grabbed her dressing gown. After opening her bedroom door as quietly as possible, she stood at the top of the stairs and paused, but she heard nothing other than her own strong heartbeat.

  She pointed her phone down the stairs and took them silently, letting her light guide her. There was a slight breeze as she reached the kitchen, and she noticed broken glass scattered across the floor. Someone had smashed the glass in her back door and broken in.

  Against her better judgement, she ran to the door and swung it open. She scanned the dark garden with her light, but she saw nothing. Whomever had been in her house was now long gone.

  After she called Justin, she decided to do some more inspecting. She wandered cautiously into the living room, and her eyes homed in on a familiar farmer’s hat. It was identical to the one Barry wore.

  She picked it up and clenched it in frustration. She felt violated that Barry had broken into her home. She was even more furious when she noticed why he had broken in. Her copy of Pride and Prejudice was missing.

  Justin arrived not long after and Alice hadn’t even noticed she was sat in complete darkness with Barry’s hat still clenched tightly in her hand until Justin flicked the light on. She quickly shoved the hat down the side if the sofa and looked up at her son.

  “What happened?” he asked. “There’s glass all over the kitchen floor and the door is wide open. Did someone break in?”

  “It looks like it,” Alice replied with a huff.

  “We need to call the police!”

  “No, no.” Alice shook her head. “I’ve had enough of the police. It was probably just kids messing around.”

  Justin pursed his lips, but he didn’t argue.

  “I’ll clean the glass up, and we’ll have to call somebody tomorrow about the window,” Justin said.
“I’m staying tonight. I don’t want you here by yourself.”

  If it weren’t so early in the morning, Alice might’ve put up a fight, but she was too exhausted; she would feel safer with Justin there.

  After the glass had been cleaned up and she’d drank a cup of chamomile tea to settle her nerves, they went to bed. She led in bed as Justin snored softly in the pull-out bed in the corner of her room.

  She didn’t know if Barry was working with Thomas or not, but tomorrow, she was going to put an end to the mess once and for all. Either Barry or Thomas killed Trevor, and she wasn’t going to let them get away with it without a fight.

  13

  The next morning, Alice took Thomas’ business card out of her pocket and dialled the number. The phone rang out a few times before she got an answer.

  “Thomas?” Alice called. “It’s Alice Taylor.”

  “Alice!” Thomas replied over the receiver. “I can’t say I’m not glad you called, but I’m surprised to hear from you after yesterday.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” Alice said. “I really wasn’t well.”

  “How are you feeling now?”

  “Much better,” Alice replied as she twirled the business card between her fingers. “Great in fact. It was one of those twenty-four-hour bugs.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re well,” he said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  Alice paused for a moment. She knew that she had to tread carefully if she wanted her plan to work out; she couldn’t afford to slip up.

  “I thought about your offer,” she said, listening for any small sign that would give him away.

  “Oh?” he said. “What have you decided?”

  “I think it’s better if we discuss it in person,” she said with a fake girlish laugh. “You won’t be disappointed. I thought we could discuss it over dinner, perhaps?”

  “That sounds like a brilliant plan,” he said. Alice could practically hear the smile over the phone. “I haven’t had a chance to try any of the local cuisine outside of the inn, so consider yourself the teacher.”

  “I was thinking somewhere a little out of town,” Alice said, hoping he would fall for the bait.