The Liberation of Alice Love - Abby McDonald [142]
She shook her head again. “Mum didn’t think I should go to school. She said I’d learn more from living in the world with them. It was nice there. I had a red bicycle.” Flora sounded vaguely wistful, as if she was dreaming of whooshing down those Catalan hills. Then she sighed. “He fell in love with the au pair next door in the end, and Mum met Terry.”
“Terry?”
“He was trying to plant a vineyard,” Flora explained. “In Cornwall. So, we moved again. He was the last one before she met Dad. Your dad, I mean.”
Alice was silent for a moment. It had never really occurred to her to think of Flora’s life before arriving at her door, the years of trailing after Jasmine as she flit across the European landscape—just as Alice had wandered after her own mother, from cocktail party to expensive hotel suite, until she left for good.
They all did their damage, just in different ways.
Alice reached over and took Flora’s hand. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” She gave an encouraging smile. “How about we go inside and see if there’s something left to eat?”
“I don’t think there’s anything,” Flora replied, but she didn’t resist when Alice tugged her gently to her feet. “The heating’s off, and I can’t figure out the electricity. I didn’t…I didn’t really think it through, coming here.” She looked forlorn.
“Never mind. We’ll just have to rough it,” Alice proclaimed. “I can build us a fire and figure out the fuse box. It’ll be an adventure!”
***
As expected, the dusty pantry held nothing but tins of cat food and baked beans, but a rummage in the dark utility room yielded more: salt-and-vinegar crisps, a box of trifle sponges, some long-life milk, and—the real prize—a half-full bottle of gin.
“Ta da!” Alice displayed her goods. “What have you got?”
“Some rice crackers and Marmite? And ginger beer,” Flora added, dangling the cans from their plastic casing. “They’ve got another month until the use-by date.”
“Perfect.” Alice ushered Flora back to the sitting room, which they’d set up as a makeshift camp with blankets and pillows in front of the flickering hearth. The flames cast a warm glow around the room, and with the night-lights Alice had carefully set out, it was almost homey. “Just be glad there was lighter fluid,” she said, nudging the fire with the heavy old poker. “I don’t think I could have managed from scratch.”
“I could.” Flora munched on a rice cake with surprising enthusiasm. The change of scene seemed to have fortified her; the helpless dejection in her eyes had softened to something calmer. “I learned in Brownies. I got a badge for it and everything.”
They fell silent again, picking at the strange assortment of food while the fire settled into low, golden flames. It felt cozy and companionable in the small room, despite the circumstances hovering over the both of them, and Alice felt the warmth of an affection that so often seemed to elude her in that house. This was her family.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t around much,” she said at last, looking over at Flora. “When you were younger, I mean.”
Flora paused nibbling on a sponge, a cautious expression on her face. “That’s OK. You were…busy.”
“I know, but…” Alice exhaled guiltily. “I’d spent so long looking after Dad. Keeping everything in place here, after Mum left. I just wanted to get away completely.”
Flora gave a small nod, her pale hair tangled in wisps around her face. “I know.” She looked down, toying with the ring pull on her ginger beer. “It’s not like we were…sisters, or anything.”
Alice felt a pang at the wistful note in her voice. All those years she’d been so relieved to escape her father’s vague chaos, she hadn’t even noticed that Flora was living through it all alone—with the added trials of her own mother’s various eccentricities as well.
“No,” she agreed quietly. “But we are now. Which is why you need to tell me what’s wrong. And don’t pretend that nothing is, because I know you better than that.” Flora bit her lip, but she didn’t reply. “Flora,” Alice implored her. “Come on. Here, drink this, and then tell me everything.