The Liberation of Alice Love (14 page)

“For victims of domestic abuse?” Alice ventured. She felt painfully self-conscious, intruding somewhere she had no right to.

Hazel nodded. “That’s our primary focus, but we also offer help for rape, abuse, all kinds of things.”

“Oh.” Alice looked around, unnerved. She’d never been one to sense the atmosphere in buildings—that kind of fluttering had been left to Flora—but there was a definite emptiness hanging in the corridor. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what its inhabitants had been through. “And the volunteers?” Following Hazel back to reception, Alice began her subtle questioning.

“There’s a range of different things.” Edging into the tiny kitchen, Hazel gestured toward the kettle: “Tea?”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

She flipped the switch on and rinsed a mug in the sink. “We’re always looking for help-line staff,” she told Alice, over the running water. “Training for that takes a month, to qualify you in basic counseling. But we do need someone in the office. Our last volunteer just left us.”

Alice spied her opening. “Was that Alice?” she asked casually.

Hazel blinked. “That’s right. You know her?”

“Not well,” Alice covered quickly. “But I heard her mention this place. Did she work here long?”

“No.” Hazel’s face tightened. “She stopped coming about a month ago, really left us in the lurch. Something like this is a commitment,” she added, giving Alice a stern look. “A lot of people rely on us.”

Alice nodded quickly in agreement. “I’m sure she didn’t mean to,” she found herself saying. “I heard something about her sister being taken ill. An accident, in Australia.”

“Oh, no.” Hazel softened. “That’s terrible.”

Alice nodded again. Why was she making excuses for Ella, after everything? But for some reason, she didn’t want Hazel thinking badly of her. Every week, Ella had trekked out to this miserable corner of the city to do something good. And that was more than Alice had ever done. “I think everything’s all right now,” she added. “But it must have been a shock, for Alice. Probably why she left without warning.”

“Well, if you see her, send our love.” Hazel poured out the water, adding a tea bag and sugar. “She was a good worker. Kept to herself, but she was very conscientious. She set up the whole database and managed everything by herself.”

Alice nodded, even more confused. She was used to people telling her how outgoing Ella had been or what fun she’d brought to the cooking class or dance group, but this sounded like a different person.

“I should probably leave you to it.” Alice’s discomfort finally became too much. “If I take some leaflets…”

“Sure, I’ll just find you the info.”

Drifting back to the reception area, Alice hovered while Hazel assembled an information pack. As she waited, a man in a reflective jacket appeared, from what Alice presumed was the main office. “The estimates will be done next week.” He turned to the red-haired woman who followed him out. “But we should be set to start work by the end of the month.”

“Wonderful!” She looked genuinely thrilled, giving Hazel a thumbs-up as she showed him out.

Alice gave Hazel a questioning look.

“We’re extending, into next door,” she explained. “We’ve owned the building a while, but it’s been in such a bad state, we haven’t had the funds to fix it up.”

“Oh, shame,” Alice murmured, taking the handful of leaflets she offered.

“But we had a great big donation, just a few weeks ago,” Hazel continued chatting. “So it’s back on. There’ll be room for more temporary housing and education facilities. It’s amazing what thirty thousand pounds can buy!”

“Thirty thousand?” Alice looked up.

“That’s right. Well, thirty-two thousand, really. Isn’t it wonderful?” Hazel clasped her hands together, obviously contemplating what good the money could do. “And it was anonymous too, so we’ll never know who to thank.” The phone rang again, so Hazel gave her a bright smile and mouthed good-bye as she answered. Alice forced a smile and backed away, almost tripping on a stray jack-in-the-box toy in her haste to leave.

Thirty-two thousand pounds.

Alice felt a strange bubble of laughter well up in her throat as she stood on the grimy pavement outside, breathing in wafts of exhaust fumes but barely noticing the traffic or bustle around her. Thirty-two thousand pounds.

It was her money.

The miraculous donation, the anonymous gift—it was her money. It had to be. The amount and timing was too exact to be a coincidence; Ella had stolen her entire life savings—and donated it to charity.

Chapter Fourteen

Now that Alice knew her life savings weren’t lining the pockets of a criminal mastermind or being distributed around the luxury shops of the Caribbean, she felt a surprising relief. Ella may have stolen twice that amount again via the credit cards and bad loans she’d accumulated in Alice’s name, but that still seemed like paper money. The real funds—the money she’d earned and carefully saved, little by little for years—that money had gone somewhere good at least, and Ella had herself shown a glimmer of humanity in the process. Alice was even shocked to feel a sense of reassurance. All this time, she’d been shamed, even resentful, thinking she’d trusted someone without an ounce of truth or decency. This new discovery felt like a vindication. Ella’s moral compass may be decidedly skewed, but it existed. In fact, the more Alice thought about it, the more it seemed exactly like something Ella would do. She had always tried to find change for a
Big Issue
vendor and talked about volunteering, one day; a spontaneous gift to charity fit what Alice had managed to glean of her character perfectly—particularly if she wasn’t actually the one providing the funds.

But now that she knew what Nathan and the solicitor had yet to discover, Alice was faced with a new worry. Should she tell?

“Stefan, can I ask you something?” After mulling the issue for days, Alice made a tentative approach at breakfast. Stefan was back from his latest trip, drinking his coffee in the morning sun.

He lowered his newspaper. “Of course. What is it you want to know?”

Alice perched on the edge of a wrought-iron patio chair, her hands wrapped around a mug of herbal tea. “It’s about my money. What happens if Ella’s spent it all? Say she…bought something.” Alice paused. “Could the bank demand the money back—from whoever has it now, I mean?”

Stefan looked thoughtful. “If the vendor took the money in good faith—that is, they had no reason to suspect it was stolen—then no, I don’t think so. The account was insured, so the bank has to pay you regardless.”

Alice exhaled. Even if they traced that money back to Safe Haven, nobody would be demanding it back. She took a long sip of tea, relieved. Then Stefan continued, “They might take steps to recover it, however.”

Alice tried not to splutter. “What do you mean?”

“Well, there’s no specific legal basis for them to reclaim the money.” Stefan folded the business pages, inspired now by the hypothetical wranglings. “But they would certainly try—appealing to the vendor’s sense of duty, et cetera. And, I suppose, it could also fall to you, to decide whether you wanted to honor that transaction.”

“Oh,” Alice answered faintly. Safe Haven would insist on returning the money, she knew that for certain. Worthy, charitable organizations did not base their business on lies and fraud. So, the decision would be hers: take her savings back and ruin their plans to help the desperate victims of abuse or forfeit her hard-earned security and future. Alice gulped.

“What if you can’t track down the money?”

Stefan gave her a reassuring smile. “Like I said, the account is insured. The bank is doing everything they can to get around it, but don’t worry—they’ll replace the funds in the end.”

He went back to his newspaper, oblivious to her dilemma. Alice slowly sipped at her tea and took in this new irony. For weeks now, she’d been hoping fervently they would track down her missing money; now, she had to hope just as hard that they wouldn’t.

***

Lucky for her—and any impending moral dilemmas—Nathan was distracted by a multimillion-pound CEO embezzlement case and flew off to Switzerland the very next day. The bank, meanwhile, finally tired by the solicitor’s stern letters and photocopied, dated affidavits, conceded that Alice might just have been the innocent party in her theft. They were refunding the contents of her current account and would, at some nebulous point in the future, be restoring her savings to their former glory—provided that there were no “major developments” in the case.

Alice rejoiced. The specter of Safe Haven still loomed, uneasy on her conscience, but for the first time in weeks, she could treat Flora and Stefan to dinner, replace her worn summer raincoat, and even purchase a new dress in the sales. She had never been particularly extravagant, as Ella had commented on several occasions, but Alice’s spending habits since the fraud had been positively frugal; suddenly released from her careful budgeting, she had to admit, she went a little wild.

“Did you do something to your hair?” Julian met her at their usual Saturday morning rendezvous at a Primrose Hill deli. It had been a couple of weeks since they’d managed to catch up, Julian’s workload as heavy as Alice’s now that tax season was well under way. He paused by the cold display, assessing her. “You look…different?”

“Really? Hmm, it’s nothing new.” Alice reached past him for a bottle of juice, breezily dismissing his claim despite the fact that everything aside from her hair was, in fact, new. Her sundress was her favorite shade of navy, but it billowed to the floor from a beaded neckline in a goddesslike style, matched with a bright bracelet of thick-cut gemstones borrowed from Flora. Alice felt more elegant and feminine than ever before, thanks to the impulse purchases. She’d seen the item listed on Ella’s debit card, but it wasn’t until she was in French Connection, looking at the soft folds of fabric, that she’d been tempted to purchase it for herself. They shared a similar complexion, so of course, it suited her perfectly.

“Anyway, I was thinking we could do something else today.”

Julian looked surprised. “What do you mean? We always picnic if the weather’s good.”

“I know.” Alice followed him down the aisle of fresh-baked breads. “But there are lots of other things on today. I read about an art fair on Brick Lane, or there’s a festival at Southbank…”

“Maybe if we’d planned it.” Julian took a baguette and added it to his basket of cheese and olives. “But I told Yasmin where we’d be. She’s just checking some things at the office.”

“So text her; say to meet us somewhere else,” Alice protested, but Julian was already pondering the fresh salads, deep in thought. “Jules?” she prompted.

“Maybe another time, OK?” He shot her a quick smile, clearly distracted by the choice between nicoise and mozzarella. “Besides, the weather’s glorious. You don’t want to be inside or crammed in some car park on a day like this.”

“All right,” Alice sighed.

She wandered the deli, trying not to feel frustrated by the regularity of their routine. The problem was, those weeks she spent poring over her bank records hadn’t just revealed Ella’s spending, but Alice’s old patterns too. Her life, according to the dense print of her debit statements, was painfully predictable: her penchant for Marks and Spencer meal deals, bought at the station on her way home from work twice a week; the lunch trip to the deli, always resulting in a salad and single piece of fruit; the collection of toiletries she’d buy fortnightly in Boots, gradually accruing her meaningless loyalty points. Alice had always liked the reliable structure of her days, but seeing her life laid out in those dull lines of data had shifted something. She wanted to do something new, exciting for a change.

“And get crisps too,” Julian called from the next aisle. “Those Kettle ones you know I like!”

Perhaps tomorrow.

***

The weather was indeed glorious. Alice and Julian set up their picnic in the civilized shade of their favorite tree, with London stretching below them in a clear, sun-drenched view. A tartan blanket, the newspapers, and a bottle of white wine—it was the leisurely weekend idyll, and as Alice snapped the lids from their array of food containers and spooned the contents onto plastic plates, she tried to dwell not on how many times they’d done this before but on the loveliness of their surroundings.

“Cheers.” Julian bit hungrily into his cheese-smeared bread, sprawling back on his elbows in contentment.

“Cheers,” Alice echoed. She hitched up her long dress and shifted her legs into the sun. “So, what’s been happening with you? How’s it working out, living with Yasmin?”

Julian chewed thoughtfully. “Interesting…”

“Hardly a glowing review,” Alice noted, reaching for the bread. She tore off a hunk and waited patiently for the litany of Julian’s minor irritations that would, as always, add up to the end of the relationship. The anti-butter stance would, she predicted, rank high on his scoreboard of domestic disharmony.

But this time, Julian wasn’t forthcoming. “It’s an adjustment,” he said, as if trying to convince himself. “It’s been a while since I lived with anyone—except you, of course,” he added. They’d been flatmates for a couple of years, when Alice had first moved to London, during which time she hadn’t lifted a finger in the kitchen and had gained at least fifteen pounds of dessert weight.

“That’s right.” Alice thought hard. “Who was it last? That environmental woman, Whitney?”

Julian nodded. “Whitney…That was, God, two years ago. Or was it three?”

“We’re getting old.”

“Tell me about it.” He sighed, wistful. “And I’m even older.”

“By two whole years,” Alice protested. “That’s nothing.”

“I don’t know…” Julian rolled onto one side, looking at her across their debris. He tilted his head, giving her a curious half smile. “I always thought something would have stuck by now. Someone.”

“Well, Yasmin seems nice enough.” Alice tried to be diplomatic. “She’s very ambitious and together. And you need someone who can keep you organized,” she added, playfully tossing a strawberry at him.

“Why? I’ve got you for that.” Julian retaliated with an olive. Alice caught it and popped it in her mouth triumphantly. “No, the thing about Yasmin, is—”

“There you are!”

They both looked up. The woman herself was approaching, in a crisp emerald sundress with matching sandals. “I’ve been trying to call.” Yasmin stood over them, breathless. “Did you leave your phone off?”

Julian checked: “Oh, yes, sorry.”

Yasmin rolled her eyes. “Jules! This park is enormous, you could have been anywhere.”

“Hi, Yasmin,” Alice ventured brightly. She shifted over to make room, clearing some of their food aside. “How are you?” Leaning in, they exchanged air kisses while Julian foraged for another wine glass and plate. “Thank God you came to help us eat all of this.” Alice added, “I don’t know why, but Julian always buys enough food to sustain a small army.”

“He does get carried away,” Yasmin agreed. Carefully arranging her skirt, she accepted the wine and settled back. “Oh, I need this. They left such a mess at the office; I thought I’d never get away.”

“Well, this is an official stress-free zone,” Alice announced. “Which is why I’m sticking to the review sections. Hand them over.” She passed the news pages to Julian in exchange, stretching out lazily to read while Yasmin updated him on various high-finance wranglings.

“And how about you, Alice?” Yasmin asked eventually. She was resting one hand on Julian’s chest, taking small sips of her wine. “That awful fraud must still be a nightmare.”

Alice looked up. “Actually, it’s all getting cleared up now.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. Julian said it was taking its toll.”

“I was stressed, for a while,” Alice agreed, remembering the early, fraught weeks. “But Stefan and his people have absorbed most of the chaos.”

“Crap.” Julian blinked. “I was supposed to get back to him, about that squash match.”

“You mean, squash massacre.” Alice laughed at the idea.

“Hey! I happen to be rather adept with the racket.”

“Adequate, maybe.” Alice smirked. “I remember a certain rather-painful tennis game…”

Julian pointed the baguette at her in mock threat: “Of which we swore never to speak.”

Yasmin blinked back and forth between them. “I didn’t know you played tennis, sweetie.”

“‘Playing’ is an overstatement,” Alice told her with a grin. “Even Flora can beat him.”

“The honor is in the noble attempt,” Julian declared grandly. “And I still say I let her win.”

“Of course you did,” Alice laughed.

Yasmin turned to Julian, stroking his hair. “The company has tickets for Wimbledon next week. We could go, if you want.”

“That sounds great.” Julian lit up. “What do you say, Aly? Come cheer on some other great British failures?”

A look of annoyance flickered across Yasmin’s face, so Alice just shrugged. “I don’t know…”

Julian frowned. “You were just saying you wanted to do something different.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Actually, I think I can only get two seats,” Yasmin interrupted. “So, perhaps not this year.”

Alice met her with an even smile. “Perhaps not.”

There was a pause, and then Yasmin leaned in to murmur something to Julian. He laughed, kissing her fondly. Alice ate another strawberry. She hadn’t realized it, but she’d hardly spent any time alone with Julian and Yasmin before: somehow, they usually met at some distracting event or with Ella around to act as a convenient buffer. Now, for the first time, she was aware of the small but noticeable moves Yasmin made to mark her territory.

“Have you got any more business trips coming up?” Alice tried a more friendly tone. “You’re always off to such exciting places.”