it this afternoon. I don’t want her to get too carried away and scare Alice off.’ I’m waffling. Embarrassed by the old feelings that have paid a fleeting visit.
Tom pushes his hands into his trouser pockets. He has a small smile on his face and his eyes are dancing with amusement.
‘What?’ I say.
He gives a shake of his head and bends down to pick up his briefcase. ‘Relax, Clare, it was only a friendly hug.’
‘Yeah. I know that,’ I say, feeling stupid for overreacting. ‘My emotions are a bit all over the place this afternoon.’ I give him a hug and a peck on the cheek, just like the sort we usually share. Good friends. Mates. Work colleagues. ‘And that’s to prove I know it.’
I arrive home and Luke is upstairs bathing the girls. He has a streak of yellow acrylic paint in his hair and a small smudge of blue across his cheek.
‘You found a bit of time to get some painting done, then,’ I say. ‘How’s it going?’ I kneel beside him and trickle water down Chloe’s back as she squirms and giggles in delight.
‘Not too bad,’ says Luke. ‘Couldn’t really get into it today. Might give it another go when these two terrors are in bed. Come on, Hannah, time to get out. Here’s a towel.’
‘Here, hold my hand,’ I say, helping Hannah step out of the bath and wrapping a towel around her.
‘Out. Out. Me out!’ It’s Chloe. She always wants to do what Hannah is doing. It reminds me of how Alice used to be. She would follow me around all day, asking to join in with my games or asking me to play with her. Most of the time I would, but I remember sometimes she used to annoy me. I wanted to be left alone. I would go off down to the bottom of the garden and hide from her. As usual, this thought makes me feel guilty. I’ve spent twenty years feeling remorseful, wishing I hadn’t said no to her. Wishing I could somehow make it up to her. And now I have the chance to do just that.
Between us, Luke and I get the girls ready for bed. I sit with Chloe tonight and watch her drift off to sleep as more thoughts of Alice flood my mind. It’s as if, by making contact, she has given me permission to revisit those memories.
I can see Alice in the garden. We’re having a dolly-and-teddy tea party on a pink-and-white gingham tablecloth. We have picked some blackberries and raspberries from the vegetable patch. We know it’s okay to eat those.
Then, for some reason I cannot remember, I pick a couple of mushrooms that have grown in the lawn and put them on the tea plates. When I next look up, Alice is eating one. I tell her off and think no more of it, but after we have finished playing, Alice goes indoors and is very sick.
In the end Mum calls the doctor, who can’t explain it. I’m too scared to say anything. Dad will kill me if he finds out. When Mum sees the doctor out, I make Alice promise not to tell anyone about eating the mushrooms. Fortunately, Alice is fine the next day, but I’ve still never told Mum about the incident.
The bedroom door opens and a chink of light from the landing streaks through. It’s Luke.
‘You okay, Babe?’ he whispers.
Taking one last look at Chloe sleeping peacefully, I get up and follow him through to our bedroom. ‘What’s Hannah doing?’
‘She’s downstairs with your mum, having some supper.’ He pulls me into a hug. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘I’m okay. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Alice all day.’
‘That’s hardly surprising.’
‘It’s exciting but it’s also a bit scary.’
Luke brushes a strand of hair back from my face. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but be careful. Don’t go rushing in. I don’t want you getting hurt.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, it’s been a long time. You don’t know each other as adults. Sometimes these reunions don’t always work out the way we expect.’
‘You sound very negative about her.’ I move from his embrace and begin undressing. I always look forward to getting out of the skirt and blouse of my working day and into my comfy tracky bottoms and T-shirt.
‘Not negative, just cautious.’ Luke goes to say something else but stops himself.
‘What?’ I press, pulling my T-shirt over my head. ‘What were you going to say?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Yes you were. I can tell.’
Luke gives a shrug. ‘You don’t know her agenda.’
‘Her agenda? What is that supposed to mean?’ He’s beginning to annoy me now. Why can’t he share in my excitement and be happy for me? He knows what this means to Mum and me, so why the negativity?
‘You don’t know what Alice has been told about the family breaking up. She might have a totally different take on it all.’ He lets out a sigh. ‘Look, Clare, I’m glad Alice has been in touch. It’s a part of you that has always been in pain, and if her coming back stops that pain, then I’m all for it. All I’m saying is, be careful, take your time and with any luck it will be a smooth ride.’
Luke goes downstairs, leaving me to think over what he has said. A small flicker of doubt begins to dance in my mind. What does Alice know about us? What has she been told? Does she remember anything of us? I think back to the day Alice left.
I was sitting in the living room, helping Alice colour, when I heard the beginnings of what I assumed would be a normal altercation between my parents.
As the argument rumbled on, I became aware my mother’s voice had risen, not just in volume but in pitch. I couldn’t hear her exact words, but I remember the sound as they were forcibly expelled, as if there wasn’t enough room in her throat for them all to come out freely.
My father’s voice, on the other hand, was so deep, it boomed through the walls. His voice grew louder. Even from the kitchen, it filled the living room with an ice-like quality. Cold and harsh.
I heard the door to the kitchen being flung open, the handle smashing into the wall. There was a crumbly groove there, from where the door had made similar contact many times before. My father’s footsteps thudded down the hall towards the living room. My mother’s pitiful crying followed him.
I retreated to the sofa, sinking back in to the depths of the cushions, seeking warmth from the folds of the fabric. I brought my knees up and hugged them tightly, burying my head in my arms. I shivered. I felt the cold.
Alice stayed on the floor, colouring in her princess book, seemingly oblivious to the storm heading our way.
Alice never felt the cold. She was warm. She was loved.
The door to the living room opened and my father strode in. My mother close behind.
I sneaked a look.
Her eyes were pink and wet. She made no attempt to brush away the tears streaking down her face. She didn’t register me. She was pleading with my father.
‘Patrick,
