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 reunion s 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, please …’ She pulled on his arm. ‘I really don’t think this is a good idea. I don’t even know where you’re going.’
‘I told you, to stay with relatives I haven’t seen for years.’
‘Which is exactly the point I’m trying to make. Why go back after, what, twelve years? It’s not like your parents are alive or you have any siblings. Why can’t we all go together, please …?’
He turned to look at her. ‘You know why.’
‘But this is the ideal opportunity to do something together as a family. Not for you to go off with Alice, abandoning me and Clare.’ My mother’s voice broke and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
‘Enough! Stop being overdramatic, woman. I’m going on holiday and Alice is coming with me. That’s all,’ he said. His voice, by contrast, measured and hard. And then, as he turned to Alice, the look of contempt and loathing disappeared, replaced by a tender one of love. ‘Come on, honey. Pop your coat on, there’s a good girl.’