The Liberation of Alice Love (31 page)

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.” She reached for the dusty gin bottle and poured a liberal dash in Flora’s drink.

“I…can’t.” Flora gazed miserably at the can.

“Yes, you can.” Alice took her hand and squeezed it. “You can tell me anything. I promise I’m on your side, no matter what. Is it your art? Or Stefan—is something happening with him?”

The candles flickered around them as she waited, watching Flora’s face for any hint of the truth.

Flora’s lip began to tremble. “No, I mean…I can’t drink it.” She finally looked up at Alice with that expression of utter hopelessness.

“You’re…?” Alice drew in a sharp breath as the implications became clear. “You’re pregnant?”

Chapter Thirty-one

There was silence for a moment, filled only by the distant sound of the rain. Then Flora gave a forlorn shrug. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

Alice could hardly comprehend the idea; Flora always struck her as such a child herself that the possibility of her having her own. “Have you taken a test yet?” she asked eventually. Flora shook her head. Alice reached out and gently brushed hair out of her eyes. “You should. You need to know for sure.”

Flora nodded. It was clear from the tears filling her blue eyes that whatever the outcome, this was not an event to be celebrated.

“And you haven’t talked to Stefan?” Alice tried to draw out more.

“No.” Flora’s voice was small. She lifted her head. “He…he’s always wanted them. Children, I mean.” She let out a sniffle. “His parents split up when he was younger too, so we were going to have one of our own. A family. Without anyone leaving, or giving up, or changing their minds.” Her voice twisted on the last part, and Alice could picture it perfectly: Flora, at twenty-one, wanting so badly to have the security she’d never known, and Stefan, sturdy and solid and adoring, wanting nothing more than to give it to her.

Alice shifted closer, until she could put her arm around Flora’s shoulders and rub in slow, soothing strokes. “Even if you are pregnant, you don’t have to go through with it.”

Flora curled against her. “I…I couldn’t.”

“I did.”

Flora drew back, staring up at her with obvious surprise. “An abortion?” She paused for a long moment before venturing, “Was it…with James?”

Alice shook her head. “No, before him. I was about your age,” she realized, remembering the panic of those little blue lines and the relief—oh, the relief she’d felt when it was over. “It was all very straightforward, once I’d made my mind up.” She spoke quietly, staring over Flora’s head at the dark center of the fire. “I didn’t even tell anyone. I don’t know why not.”

Flora pulled the blanket up around them. “Maybe…” The word came out a whisper. “It’s just…I always said I wouldn’t turn out like her.”

It took Alice a moment to understand whom she meant. “Jasmine?”

Flora nodded against her. “I said I wouldn’t put myself first, and do what I wanted, never mind…Never mind what it meant for everyone else.”

“Sounds familiar,” Alice murmured, thinking of her own mother and the way her eyes would drift past Alice to other, better things. “There isn’t anyone else though, not yet,” she reminded her. “And Stefan would understand. He’d do anything for you.”

Flora swallowed. “But we made plans. I said this was what I wanted.”

“Is it?”

The question went unanswered as the flames slowly died to glowing embers and then began to fade out altogether. The women snuggled on the floor in the middle of a vast mound of blankets and mismatched crocheted throws. Alice found a few more logs and a twist or two of newspaper, applying a liberal splash of that lighter fuel until it was crackling merrily again. She grew sleepy, lulled by the silence and strange sense of isolation cloaking the cottage—as if they were children, buried deep in a makeshift fort. London, and the mess of her own life, seemed blissfully far away.

“Why don’t you show those paintings?” Alice asked, at last, when they were lying side by side. “The angry ones, I mean. I think they’re beautiful. Vaguely disturbing,” she added with a wry laugh, “but beautiful.”

She felt Flora sigh next to her. “Those were just…experimenting. Nobody was supposed to see.”

“But they’re good!” Alice insisted. “You can’t just keep hiding them away, not when you’re capable of so much more. And that art residency, in Florence, those paintings would win it for you, I’m sure.”

Flora’s body tensed, just slightly. “I’m not applying for that, I told you. It’s not worth it.”

“Why not?” Alice probed. This wasn’t just about the pregnancy, she could tell. That portfolio she’d seen stretched much further back. Years, even. “You’re too young to just settle into a routine—you can travel, try new things…”

Flora rolled onto her side, close enough that Alice could see the teary blue of her eyes. “You don’t understand,” she whispered, her face inches from Alice. “We made plans, I made a deal. And if I change that, everything will just…fall apart.”

“No, Flora—”

Flora shook her head, just once, and it seemed to Alice that there were years of disappointment in her next words.

“When you don’t need them anymore, they leave.”

“Is that what you think?” Alice felt her heart break, just a little, as Flora’s lifetime of vague wafting suddenly shifted into focus. All this time, Alice had thought her drifting and incapable, but really, she realized, her sister had never let herself so much as try; scared of what she’d seen with her mother, and all those men who must have slipped in and out of her childhood with such ease when they found that Jasmine’s charming delicacy, in fact, hid a single-minded focus that was for her art and not them.

“Stefan’s different,” she promised softly, trying to reassure her. “He wants you to be happy, to have a life. He’d support whatever you wanted.”

Flora gave a weak smile. “But would he, really?” she asked, already defeated. “If I were the one away all the time, and he were the one left waiting for me?”

The question lay between them, full of Flora’s private fears. No wonder she let Stefan guide her through the world, Alice realized. If he was holding her hand the entire time, then, of course, he couldn’t walk away.

“Look, can we…can we not talk about it anymore? Not tonight?” Flora asked, still almost whispering.

“In the morning then,” Alice nodded. She got up, pulling her blanket around her shoulders as she gathered their plates and took them through to the kitchen. Flora trailed after her, barefoot on the flagstone floor.

“It’s your turn now.” Flora watched as Alice began to rinse the dishes. “What happened with Nathan? I saw him at the office, and he looked a mess.”

Alice couldn’t help but feel a perverse note of hope at the news. “Did he ask about me?”

“No.” Flora gave her a sympathetic smile. “Sorry.”

“That’s OK.” Alice sighed, but her voice betrayed the truth.

Flora watched her. “So, it’s serious?”

Alice nodded, squeezing out the dishcloth and wiping down the surfaces. “It’s…bad,” she admitted. “I think it’s over.”

“No!” Flora protested. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. This is just some little tiff, you’ll see.”

“No.” Alice gave her a pale smile, surprised to feel her eyes well up. “It’s more than that.”

And she told her everything.

***

There wasn’t much Flora could offer her, beside sincere reassurance that Nathan would forgive her—eventually—but Alice was glad to have a confidant all the same. She hadn’t told anyone the full, unedited version of affairs, and in unburdening herself to Flora, Alice felt a curious release.

“Is it bad, that I don’t regret everything?” she whispered, when they’d tucked themselves in for the night, clustered beneath the blankets in front of the now-fading fire.

Flora shook her head, loyal to the end. “You meant well.”

Alice wondered if that were entirely true. The consequences may have thrown her life into disarray, but when she forced herself to look back over the past months of tracking clues and digging deeper into Ella’s psyche, she had to admit, there were uncomfortable truths lurking there. It would be easier to write the entire summer off as a grave lapse in sanity, but Alice knew it would be hypocritical of her to reject the lies that had hurt Nadia and exploited Carl, when those same untruths had yielded such insight, adventure, and, yes, fun. Without the lies, there would have been no Italy, no seizing her independence at the agency, no new confidence and self-possession. The end may be tainting all that came before, but what had unfolded that summer had been, for a brief while, glorious.

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 me. I may not make enough compromises, but you’re the one making too many.” Flora visibly recoiled, but Alice felt she’d had time enough to face reality. “You need to call him.”

Flora shook her head.

“You need to call him, now,” Alice repeated, fixing Flora with an even gaze. “I know you think this is all on you, that you have to deal with how you feel alone, but sweetie, we’re talking about Stefan. He’ll do anything for you.”

It didn’t seem as if her words had any impact, but then Alice caught sight of a flicker—just a flicker of longing in Flora’s expression.

“You miss him, don’t you?” Alice asked softly. “I can tell you do; you’ve checked that phone for messages a dozen times in the last hour.”

Silence.

“So let me call him for you,” she offered. “I won’t say what’s been going on, but I could get him down here. Then, you could talk, properly, away from everything.”

Flora was wavering, she could tell, so Alice unleashed her final weapon: guilt. “Has he ever let you down before?” she prompted, looking right in her eyes. Flora shook her head slowly. “So why don’t you give him this chance—hasn’t he earned that much by now?”

It was a low blow, and a slow tear began to trickle down Flora’s cheek in response, but Alice was determined. If it had been anyone else, she would have taken Flora’s side unreservedly. But for all her sister’s anxiety, Alice knew in her heart that Stefan was made of sterner stuff. A foreign residency, some violent paintings, even the delay of his much-wanted family—he would give it all to Flora in a heartbeat, despite what she may fear.