The Liberation of Alice Love - Abby McDonald [145]
The room fell silent again, still and black, but it wasn’t long before Flora’s sleepy voice drifted up again. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.” Alice yawned.
“Why haven’t you looked for her? Your mum, I mean.”
Alice paused, staring up at the darkness. It hadn’t even occurred to her; it had been so many years. “Some people…” She exhaled. “If you have to go looking for them, they’re not worth finding.”
Flora thought about this for a moment. “But you were looking for Ella.”
“That’s different. She’s…I don’t know.” Alice trailed off, unable to describe the vivid compulsion she’d felt to discover her former friend, an urge that still lingered beneath all the guilt and recrimination. “She has answers.” She told Flora instead, “I want to know why she did it.”
“And not your mum?”
“No.” Alice paused, listening to their soft breath in the dark. “It’s been too long. There’s nothing she can say that would make me…make me understand.”
“Oh,” Flora replied. “OK.” This time, she was the one to reach over, softly squeezing Alice’s hand. “Thanks. For, you know, coming.”
“Always.”
***
Flora must have been exhausted by her troubles, because she was still fast asleep when Alice woke the next morning. Slipping out of the covers, Alice trod quietly upstairs, managing what cleanliness she could with a flannel, cold water, and a spare toothbrush as she planned her day. There was nothing calling her back to London for the weekend, she decided; the change of surroundings, perhaps, would offer some clarity about her future.
Half an hour later, she returned from the village, bearing fresh groceries, milk, and a slim paper bag of pregnancy tests.
“I have to?” Flora blinked at the haul, wrapped in a hideous quilting project of Jasmine’s.
“Yes.” Alice was firm. She plucked the first rectangular box from her bag and held it out. “You can’t avoid this for long, not if you want options.”
Flora nodded slowly, but still, she didn’t move.
“I got more than one,” Alice added. “So, either way, we’ll know. I’ll be right outside the door.” She started to nudge Flora toward the yellow-tiled bathroom. “I’ll even hold your hand while you wait.”
“But…What if—”
“Just do it, Flora. I’m right here.”
By the time the third white stick showed only the minimal number of little blue lines, it was clear: Flora, to both of their deep relief, was not pregnant. Nor, however, was she convinced that she needed to talk to Stefan about her worries. Her lower lip began to tremble, and those blue eyes filled up with tears at even the mention of it, so Alice let her recover in peace. For the rest of the day, no more was said of the weighty matters in either of their lives. They feasted on a delicious fried breakfast, took a muddy walk across the nearby fields, and after Alice managed to fix the electricity, they spent the rest of the afternoon cocooned back in the sitting room, watching those dusty VHS tapes of Mr. Darcy and Miss Eliza Bennett.
“You’re too much like Lizzie,” Flora decided, sucking on a lemon drop from the bagful they’d bought at the corner shop. There was color back in her pale cheeks, Alice noticed with relief, and the sight of petticoats and breeches had clearly restored her spirits. “You’re so used to doing everything on your own, it’s like there isn’t room for anyone else. Any man,” she added, with a meaningful look.
“Is this a hint to swoon softly into Nathan’s arms and beg forgiveness?” Alice replied drily, taking her own sweet from the sticky paper package. “Because I’m trying that already. Sort of.”
“No! I just…I don’t understand why he’s throwing everything away.” Flora looked genuinely bewildered. “I mean, you’re wonderful.”
“That’s sweet,” Alice laughed. “But don’t think you’re going to turn this around on