by Lenny Brando
Cole sucked up the ham porno act as if it was real. “Yes. Yes. I love you Alice. You’re the best Alice.” He put his hands around her throat and thrust his pelvis into her like the piston he thought he was. He squeezed her throat, and she shook her head. “Not too tight Coley.”
He wished her face would turn red, but the thoughts of the minder bounding up the stairs with menace on his mind dissuaded him from further pressure. Instead he kept going. “Alice. Alice. Alice.” Moments later he could no longer contain himself, and he rolled off her.
“Fuck me, Alice. That was amazing. We must do this again.”
50
Alice sat in the hotel bar reading a magazine with a glass of wine. She wanted to be alone and had declined Connie’s dinner invitation with a lie about family commitments. She kept thinking about her mother and the past when it might have been better to forget it. But the memories resonated as strong as ever. During the passing years those memories had festered until she was convinced her mother’s actions were intended to harm. Now she wasn't so sure, and guilt ate at her for not giving her mother the absolution she wished for.
She decided she’d ask Connie’s advice tomorrow. In the meantime, she hoped the appearance of being engrossed in the magazine would act as a subtle warning to any talkative men. She sighed to herself. In her experience, men didn't get subtle warnings. Like the bearded guy at the far end of the bar, the one who had eyed her up several times already.
Alice finished her wine and ordered another. Her thoughts drifted as her anxious mind sought another crisis to revel in, and every now and then she glanced from her magazine to the phone. She resisted the temptation to reactivate her Twitter account, even though she wanted to know whether the hate had moved on to something else. But as she remembered the things people had posted, the lingering power of the hate in them undermined her confidence and made her glance over her shoulders, literally and metaphorically.
The barman put another glass of wine down for her. She nodded thanks and took a drink. As she returned to the magazine, a shadow loomed beside her.
A voice came from over her shoulder. “Excuse me?”
Alice’s shoulders knotted. She looked up. “Yes?” The bearded guy from the end of the bar now stood at her side.
“Where are you from?”
She rolled her eyes and turned back to the bar. “I’m sick of people asking me where I’m from.” When the guy had slunk away, she took a large gulp of wine and pretended to read her magazine. But too many things crowded her mind. The weight of her mother’s need for redemption amid impending death. Alice’s own public shaming and condemnation on social media. The revitalised memory of Ved Volden. All this pressed down on her. And on top of those, both the bearded guy and her reaction to him bugged her.
Alice got off the stool, grabbed her magazine and hurried back to her room, determined to sleep for the next 10 or 12 hours and calm her raging mind.
51
Two hours after his evening flight from Frankfurt landed at Heathrow, Ian lay on his back and stared at the ceiling in Jo Page’s bedroom. He tried to shake the guilty feeling that had taken hold as he wondered what life with Jo would be like. The fact that he even considered it suggested he was coming to a point where he would have to stop, but as Jo bounced back into the bedroom with two glasses and a bottle of wine, he realised he wasn't ready yet. In any case, why he should he feel guilty if Alice wouldn't sleep with him?
She put the glasses down and filled them as Ian watched. “What?” she asked.
“Huh?”
“You're looking at me funny.”
Ian smiled. “You’re gorgeous. You're naked. You know I can't resist you.”
“Oh yeah?” She climbed onto the bed and straddled him. “Prove it.”
“You’ll get me into trouble someday.”
“Better keep me satisfied then.”
“Will that keep me safe?”
“Afraid I’ll tell her?”
“Don't even joke about that.”
“Why? Because she’d want to fuck me instead of you?”
“Alice doesn't fuck anyone anymore.”
“Not that you know of. How do you know she’s not spending her Saturday night picking up some Danish hunk in a trendy Copenhagen bar?”
Ian laughed. “Yeah. Sure. If she did, I’d leave her and marry you.”
“I might hold you to that.”
“I was joking.”
“Many a true word...”
“Huh? No...”
She put her hand over his mouth. “Shh. Shut up and fuck me.”
52
Alice met Connie on Fiolstræde for lunch at an Italian restaurant. They sat at one of the few vacant tables outside and small talked until they'd ordered the food. When the waiter left, Connie tapped Alice on the hand. “You seem distant. What’s wrong?”
Alice rested her chin on one hand and shook her head. “Where do I start? I don't feel... I don't even know the right word… Safe?”
“It’s probably your mother. The influence our mothers have on us, even as adults, can be difficult to shake. It shapes our personalities. Our behaviours.”
Alice looked at her and winced. “Can you be my friend instead of my therapist?”
Connie looked surprised. “A good therapist is a friend who doesn’t judge. A good friend is a therapist who doesn't charge.”
Alice smiled and squeezed Connie’s arm. “Sorry. I guess that came out wrong. You’re right. And you are a good friend. I wish you lived in London. You could analyse me all you want.”
“Are you seeing someone? You know, someone like me. A therapist?”
“No. Been thinking about it though.”
“Best to do rather than just think.”
“I was doing fine until all this crap happened. The champagne tweet. Samir lying. The Twitter trolls. Getting arrested. Going to Ved Volden. Mama dying. Where will it end?”
“Do you want my advice or my support?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let me put it to you this way, support often means telling the person what they want to hear, which is fine in the short term, but won’t necessarily solve anything. Advice should offer a practical solution to the problem. Unfortunately, in times of emotional stress, people tend not to be practical.”
“God. I could scream.”
“Please don’t. People would stare.”
Alice laughed. “I wasn't serious.” Her laughter faded and she looked at Connie. “At least I don't think I was.”
Connie ran her fingers along the tablecloth as she spoke. “Here’s the practical. You want it?”
Alice nodded.
“It may sound like a lecture, but I don't intend it that way. Still okay?”
Alice waited a beat and ran her tongue along her teeth before she spoke. “Okay.”
“The Twitter storm will pass. You’ve deactivated your account. Open a new account in a few months if you must but forget about it for now. The police released you and eliminated you from the investigation. It was traumatic, and I would suggest therapy back in London to address that. Going to Ved Volden was a good start, but you’re not finished yet. Your mother’s apology will help in time. I think it’s good she did that, however, you should go back and see her again. Say goodbye.”
“I didn't forgive her. Didn’t absolve her.”
“You should.”
“Why? To make her feel better?”
“No, Alice. To make you feel better.”
*
Alice arranged to speak with a consultant at the Centre for Cancer and Health. Professor Anne-Mette Krüger took Alice into a quiet room overlooking a courtyard where they sat at a small table.
“What’s the prognosis?” Alice asked.
Prof Krüger tapped her pen on a notepad several times before she replied. “I’m really sorry. With the best medical technology, perhaps a month, but it could be less. The cancer has metastasised throughout. Her liver, kidneys and lungs are affected.
”
“The coughing and the yellow skin?”
Prof Krüger nodded. “There are multiple tumours in her lungs. Breathing is difficult. Not enough oxygen gets into the bloodstream, hence the mask. Her liver functions are failing, and once that goes…”
“Should I stay in Copenhagen?”
“That’s up to you, but like I said, you could be here for a while. It’s unknown. We have increased her medication, so she won't feel anything. However, she may not be fully aware of her surroundings or who she’s talking to. As her condition worsens, the drug dose rises, and her capacity diminishes.”
Alice stared out into the courtyard and shook her head as she watched two people smoking. “So, I should say goodbye now?”
“Yes, Alice. That would be a good idea.”
“Will she understand me?”
“She should. But she may not be very responsive.”
As Prof Krüger walked Alice to the door, she put her hand on Alice’s shoulder. “Marianne, one of the nurses, told me that a few nights ago, your mother called out several times. It took Marianne a while to understand, but she did eventually. Your mother was calling for you in her sleep.”
*
The room was quiet save for the hum of the air conditioning. Her mother lay on her back with the oxygen mask strapped to her face and her eyes were closed. Alice sat on the chair by the bed and took her mother’s hand in hers.
“Mama?”
There was no reaction. She looked to be in a deep sleep. Alice looked at her mother and shook her head, unsure of what she should feel. Minutes passed in silence. Then Alice let out a long breath, leaned in close to her mother and whispered in her ear. “I forgive you, mama. But not the others. That I cannot do.”
Alice got to her feet and walked to the door. As she went to leave, she looked back to the bed and mouthed goodbye.
53
Cole paced around his flat on Monday evening hoping Alice would return. Flanagan had said about a week, so she should show up in her bedroom tonight or tomorrow. He had the cameras set to record on motion detection to save the battery power, and even though each motion would trigger a push notification to the phone app, from time to time, he still switched the camera in her bedroom to the live view to check.
All he had so far were files of the boyfriend from Sunday evening and Monday morning. At least he knew the camera worked, but he had no interest in the boyfriend. This was all about Alice.
The waiting did his head in, and he continued stomping. Then he grew bored of walking in circles in his living room. He made a cup of tea, lit a cigarette and watched TV with his phone in his hand. Halfway through the TV show his phone beeped. He jumped to his feet and clicked on the corresponding app on his computer. His fingers trembled as he tapped on the full screen mode.
Alice walked to her bed, threw herself on it and stared upwards. Cole squinted to make sure the footage was real. At first, she didn't move. Then she ran her hands through her hair and sat up. She got off the bed and stretched. Cole felt his heart hammer in his chest. He held his breath when she looked straight at the disguised camera, but her expression never changed, and she walked into the bathroom.
Cole watched the empty room for 15 minutes until Alice came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. He leaned closer to the screen as she rummaged in her underwear drawer. But rather than drop the towel, she walked to the far side of the bed and sat with her back to the camera before she clipped on her bra and pulled up her panties.
A bra and pantie video wasn’t what Cole had in mind, and when she left the bedroom having dressed in jeans and a sweater, Cole told himself to be patient. He’d get what he wanted, it was only a matter of time.
54
Alice sat with Ian in the Ancient Raj near Ladbroke Grove, and chased pieces of lamb bhuna around her plate with a fork.
Ian glanced up from his food and watched her. “You okay?”
“Fine. Not hungry.”
“I feel like I haven’t seen you since you got back. Hardly had the chance to talk over the last few days. How’s your mother?”
Alice shrugged. “No change. Drugged up so much she doesn’t know anything or anyone.”
“Do you want to go back?”
She sighed and took a sip of her beer. “No point. And I don't even want to think about it.”
“Fair enough.” He spooned more madras onto his plate. “I spoke to Mark from the agency earlier. He said he had several places we might be interested in. He has two in Maida Vale. One for sale, one for rent. Three bed apartments.”
Alice shook her head. “Prefer a house.”
“Says another agency branch has a 4 bed terrace with garden near Wimbledon at 1.2.”
“Can we afford that?”
Ian nodded. “With a little help from my friends. Or in this case, my parents.”
“Might as well look at the house.”
“I’ll set it up.” He pointed at her beer. “Want another Kingfisher?”
“Small one.”
When the waiter brought two more bottles, Ian filled Alice’s glass and then his own. “How’s Kris? She find anymore condoms?”
“Come on Ian. It’s not funny.”
“Why are you laughing then?”
“I’m not.” She broke off a piece of naan bread and dipped into Ian's madras. “Well maybe a little.” She looked around the restaurant and leaned in closer. “Olivia said she used them on her vibrator because it was more hygienic.”
Ian sniggered. “Don't they use them on each other?”
“I don't know what they do…”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really.” She leaned back and pointed the piece of naan at him. “Don't go there.”
“All right. On a positive note, I checked Twitter. There’s been no new posts about you since last week. Looks like the idiots have moved on to someone else. Maybe you won't need that mace.”
“I put it in the drawer beside the bed before I went to Copenhagen. They’d arrest me again if I tried to bring it onto the plane.” She took a bite of the naan. “Spicy.” She waited until she swallowed the last of the naan. “I’m glad all the Twitter lort is over.”
“Will you miss Twitter?”
Alice ran her finger back and forth along her lips. “The crap? No. The good stuff? I guess. You know, maybe I should...”
Ian wagged his finger at her. “Resist the temptation.”
She scowled at him. “Please don't do that.”
“Sorry.”
“Besides all that, there’s something still bothering me.” She drank some beer and stared at the glass.
“Go on. What?”
“I haven’t heard from FMP, you know, the production company. They didn't return my call from before I went to Copenhagen.”
“I’d call again. Be proactive.”
“I don't know.”
“No point in hiding from it. It won’t change anything. Best to find out quick,”
Alice ruffled her hair with both hands, then brushed it from her forehead. “They know what happened. It was on the TV, never mind Twitter or FaceBook. They would have seen all those hash tags. Champagne terrorist, TV Girl Alice, lock her up. Even my name was trending at one point. #AliceMadsen. You can be certain they picked up on it.”
“But you had nothing to do with it. You’re as much as victim here as others.”
She pushed her plate aside with the food unfinished. “That doesn't matter. People died. Others have life changing injuries. Yet I survived unscathed except for a broken bottle of Laurent Perrier.” She swirled the beer around in her glass. “Lort, or shit if you prefer, well, thing is, it sticks. And it takes time to get rid of the stink. A long time.”
55
Cole spent several nights watching Alice in her bedroom without seeing anything worthwhile. His frustrations grew and he wondered whether he could afford Trixie again.
On Saturday, after a night down the local without getting too plastered, Cole watched as the
on-screen Alice pulled her jumper off. Then she undid her bra and tossed it onto the bed. “Turn around,” he muttered. “Please turn around.”
Her jeans slid to the floor and she stepped out of them. She stood there, her back to the camera, wearing a flimsy thong. Cole found it difficult to breathe. In that minute, nothing existed for him outside the view of Alice’s bedroom on his computer screen.
He swallowed hard when her thumbs hitched into the straps of her thong. She wiggled. Then she ran the thong down her legs and cast them aside. She stretched with her hands above her head.
Cole shouted at the computer. “Turn around. Turn around.”
The bitch was doing this on purpose. Like she saw the camera. She was doing it for Cole. A private show. Teasing him. He glanced to the left side of the screen towards the mirror in the bedroom, hoping for her reflection, but the angle was wrong. Several seconds passed.
Then Cole whistled. His eyes widened. He stared open mouthed at the screen. Get the fuck in there. He still whistled as he watched her walk to the full length mirror and admire herself. Then she felt her breasts. Cole stopped whistling. Alice put her hands between her legs. “Go on,” he said. “Do it. Do it, you bitch.”
But Alice walked from the mirror into the bathroom. “Slut. You teasing slut.” Several minutes later, Alice stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Much to Cole’s disappointment, she slipped into a robe as soon as she patted herself dry. No chance of her walking around naked then. Once he saw the footage had recorded, he downloaded the clip onto his hard drive. Then he watched it again. He paused the clip on a fetching full frontal of Alice, ran a finger over her digital body and knew he had to have the real thing.
56
Alice took the District Line to Wimbledon Park and walked to Revelstoke Road. As she rounded the corner, she saw a mini-skirted Kristin had arrived outside the house with the ‘For Sale’ board outside.
