What Alice Forgot - Liane Moriarty [152]
Finally, she felt Elisabeth stir next to her. Alice held her breath.
Elisabeth said irritably, “Don’t you have things to do?”
“Nothing more important than this.”
Elisabeth grimaced and pulled at the blanket so it came away from Alice’s legs. Alice pulled it back over her.
M*A*S*H finished and Elisabeth changed the channel. Audrey Hepburn’s delicate features filled the screen. Elisabeth switched it again to a cooking show.
Alice felt like coffee. She wondered if it would break the moment, whatever this moment was, if she went into the kitchen and made herself a cup to bring back to bed. Oh, for a Dino’s large double-shot skim latte.
Dino.
She dived for her handbag, which she’d left on the floor next to the bed and rummaged through it. She pulled out the fertility doll and carefully placed it on the sheets between herself and Elisabeth. It looked back at them with inscrutable boggle-eyes. Alice angled it so it was facing Elisabeth.
More time passed and Elisabeth said, “Okay, what is that thing?”
“It’s a fertility doll,” said Alice. “Dino from the coffee shop gave it to me to give to you.”
Elisabeth picked it up and examined it. “I guess he’s trying to insure against me kidnapping more of his customers’ children.”
“Probably,” agreed Alice.
“What am I meant to do with it?”
“I don’t know,” said Alice. “You could bring it sacrificial offerings?” Elisabeth rolled her eyes. There was a glimmer of a smile.
Elisabeth put the doll on the bedside table next to her.
“It would be due in January,” she said. “If it . . .”
“Well, that seems like a good time to have a baby,” said Alice. “It wouldn’t be too cold when you got up in the night to feed.”
“There won’t be any baby,” said Elisabeth viciously.
“We could ask Dad to put in a good word for you,” said Alice. “He must be able to pull some strings up there.”
“Do you think I didn’t ask Dad with the other pregnancies?” said Elisabeth. “I prayed to the lot of them. Jesus. Mary. Saint Gerard. He’s meant to be the patron saint of fertility. None of them listened. They’re ignoring me.”
“Dad wouldn’t be ignoring you,” said Alice, and her father’s face was suddenly clear in her mind. So often she could only remember the face that appeared in photos, not the face from her own memory. “Maybe he’s got to deal with a lot of bureaucrats in Heaven.”
“I don’t think I believe in life after death anyway,” said Elisabeth. “I used to have all these romantic ideas about Dad taking care of my lost babies, but then it got out of hand. He’d be running a whole bloody day care center.”
“At least it would take his mind off the sight of Mum and Roger salsa-dancing,” said Alice.
This time Elisabeth definitely smiled.
She said, “Mum remembers all my due dates. She calls first thing in the morning and chats, doesn’t say anything about the date, just chats away.”
“She seems good with the children,” said Alice. “They adore her.”
“She’s a good grandma,” sighed Elisabeth.
“I guess we’ve forgiven her,” said Alice.
Elisabeth turned to look at her sharply, but she didn’t say “Forgiven her for what?”
It was something they’d never really talked about (well, as far as Alice knew they’d never talked about it); the way Barb had stopped being a mother after their dad died. She’d just given up. It had been shocking. Overnight, she became a mother who couldn’t care less if they left the house without warm clothes, or if they cleaned their teeth, or if they ate vegetables—and did that mean she’d only been pretending to care before? Even months afterward, she just wanted to drift around all day, holding their hands while she cried over photo albums. That’s when Frannie had stepped in and given their lives structure and rules again.
Alice and Elisabeth had stopped thinking of Barb as their mother and more as a slightly simple older sister. Even when she eventually recovered and started trying