Neither of them had grasped the concept of twenty-first century living; Mum still made her own clothes and Dad smoked a pipe. The most high-tech appliance we had in the house was a television, but they still seemed to prefer listening to the radio. Our home wouldn’t have looked out of place re-created at the Victoria & Albert Museum – to show what living in the tough 1940s was like.
Here, the tapestry fireguard, the broken grandfather clock, the rickety wooden clothes horse – were all embarrassingly familiar. Bare essentials instead of luxuries; it wasn’t going to be the least bit comfortable, but at least Karen was here.
I glanced over and her eyes had fallen shut; her belly rising and falling under her clasped hands. I watched her for a few moments, relishing her presence, not wanting to disturb her.
I always felt I’d let my parents down; at best I scraped average at everything – school work, baking, sewing – and for most things I didn’t even get as far as ‘average’. I tried hard; I just always seemed to be behind.
By the time I was about eight both Mum and Dad had lost interest in me, giving me menial tasks to do around the house to make up for the fact that I never excelled. One year they asked me to decorate our Christmas tree and I stood my masterpiece too close to the door, so when Dad came in the whole thing fell over, smashing baubles and sending pine needles everywhere. I can still hear the contempt in my mother’s voice when she told a neighbour about it: ‘She can’t even get that right.’
With Karen, I never felt like I was a disappointment. That thought brought another memory of what Mum had said on meeting Karen that one time at our graduation ceremony. ‘She’s something special that young lady,’ she’d said wistfully. ‘She’s going to go far.’ Then she’d given me that earnest look of hers and said, ‘Stick with her, my girl, she’s worth having on your side.’
Karen got up with a start. ‘Better just check something,’ she said. I followed her into the kitchen, where she opened the door to the space under the sink. ‘The landlady said there was a bit of a leak in the U-bend and we’d need to keep an eye on it.’ A squashed-up cloth was already saturated at the back. ‘Damn – it needs a bucket,’ she said, tutting. ‘There’s one in the scullery.’
‘I’ll get it,’ I said. I wanted to show her how helpful I was going to be; to prove to her that inviting me was the right decision. I found one next to a sack of logs and brought it through.
She reached out to take it, but I held on. ‘It’s okay, I can do it.’
‘The bucket’s quite tall,’ she said, as I got down onto the ice-cold slabs. ‘You’ll need to tip it to get it right underneath.’
It was a tight fit and I strained and stretched to get it upright in the right spot, half my body squashed inside the cramped space. Finally, I heard a plunk as the first drip slapped against the tin base. ‘Done it,’ I said, starting to back out.
At that moment, Karen said something, but I didn’t catch her words. In my concern not to miss anything, I snapped my head up – and bam! There was a stab of excruciating pain as the tap of the metal stopcock rammed into my temple. I cried out, then felt my body dissolve under me before tiny pinpricks of light gave way to blackness.
Chapter 4
Karen was slapping my face, calling my name.
‘Alice, Alice…are you okay?’
I blinked, trying to sit up. I was on the sofa under a blanket.
‘Bloody hell,’ I said taking my hand up to the side of my forehead. A bad taste like burnt metal was clinging to the roof of my mouth. I must have bitten my tongue. ‘What happened?’
She was hovering over me, a dripping glass of water in her hand. ‘You banged your head getting out from under the sink,’ she said. ‘You’ll be fine in a minute.’
I rolled my fingers gently over the tender spot. ‘It really hurts...’
‘It’s not cut or anything,’ she said, peering over me. ‘Just a bump. I’ll get some ice.’ She came back with cubes wrapped inside a tea towel and held the bundle carefully against my head.
‘How long was I out for?’
‘Only a few seconds,’ she said, without concern. ‘I got you straight in here.’
I sat up trying to convince myself I was okay. Karen shook a packet of painkillers in front of me. ‘Have a couple of these and get an early night. If you feel awful in the morning I’d better get you to A&E.’
That was the last thing I wanted. Poor Karen had spent most of the last few months tramping up and down hospital corridors and I was determined not to drag her back there for my sake. I hated the idea of spoiling things.