What Alice Forgot - Liane Moriarty [174]
I hear Nick has a new girlfriend too, although she wasn’t there, thankfully. Nick was kept busy with his sisters and his mother. I believe the modern term for these women is “high maintenance.”
Everyone keeps telling me there is no chance of reconciliation between Alice and Nick. “No chance at all,” they tell me, as if I’m a deluded old woman. And yet . . .
Xavier and I happened to be sitting next to Nick, directly behind Alice and Dominick. When they announced Madison was the winner, Alice didn’t even look at Dominick. She turned straight around to look for Nick. She reached out her hand to him almost involuntarily. He took it. Just her fingertips. Just for a fleeting second. I saw the expressions on their faces. That’s all I’m saying.
Well, I think perhaps it’s time I signed off, Phil, and I hope you don’t mind, but I think this may be my last letter.
Xavier is waiting for me to come to bed.
Love,
and goodbye,
Frannie
Epilogue
She was floating, arms outspread, water lapping her body, breathing in a summery fragrance of salt and coconut. There was a pleasantly satisfied breakfast taste in her mouth of bacon and coffee and possibly croissants. She lifted her chin and the morning sun shone so brightly on the water, she had to squint through spangles of light to see her feet in front of her. Her toenails were each painted a different color. Red. Gold. Purple. Funny. The nail polish hadn’t been applied very well. Blobby and messy. Someone else was floating in the water right next to her. Someone she liked a lot, who made her laugh, with toenails painted the same way. The other person waggled multicolored toes at her companionably, and she was filled with sleepy contentment. Somewhere in the distance, a man’s voice shouted, “Marco?” and a chorus of children’s voices cried back, “Polo!” The man called out again, “Marco, Marco, Marco?” and the voices answered, “Polo, Polo, Polo!” A child laughed; a long, gurgling giggle, like a stream of soap bubbles.
We’re on the Hawkesbury River. This is our magical houseboat holiday.
Alice lifted her head from the water and looked at Gina. She had her eyes shut; her long curly hair was floating out from her head like seaweed.
“Gina! You’re not dead, are you?”
Gina opened one eye and said, “Do I look dead?”
Alice was filled with exquisite relief. “Let’s have champagne to celebrate!”
“Oh, definitely,” said Gina sleepily. “Definitely.”
There was someone swimming toward them. Bobbing up and down in a clumsy breaststroke. Brown shoulders rising in and out of the water. It was Dominick. His hair plastered close to his head. Drops of water sparkling on his eyelashes.
“Hi, girls,” he said, treading water next to them.
Gina kept quiet.
Alice felt embarrassed in front of Gina. For some reason it was wrong. It wasn’t right that Dominick was here.
Gina rolled over onto her stomach and swam away.
“No, no, come back!” shouted Alice.
“She’s gone,” said Dominick sadly.
“You shouldn’t be here,” said Alice to Dominick. She splashed him and he looked hurt. “This isn’t your holiday.”
The radio alarm went off. An eighties song, loud and jarring in the morning silence.
There was a flurry of movement and the quilt slid off her shoulders. “Sorry.” The radio was switched off again.
She turned over and pulled the quilt back up again.
A Gina dream. She hadn’t dreamed of her for so long. She loved those dreams that felt so real, it was almost like she was seeing her again, spending another day with her. Except Dominick shouldn’t have popped up like that. It felt like a betrayal of Nick to let Dominick into her houseboat holiday memory. Nick had loved that holiday. She could see him standing on the top deck of the boat, loping about, pretending to be a pirate. “Arg! Arg!” He would grab Tom around the waist and say, “Time to walk the plank, my boy!” and throw him high, so high in the air. She could see Tom’s exhilarated face so clearly, his little