Alice in Time Read online

  It’s a bit spooky in here at night and I don’t know if Seth realises I’m a bit scared or whether he is as well, but he takes hold of my hand and we wander across the grass towards the swings. I’m very aware of his hand in mine and how much pressure to put into the hold. I don’t want my hand to be floppy in case he thinks I don’t want it held but then I don’t want to hold on too tight and make it uncomfortable. God! Stop stressing and try to enjoy the moment, I tell myself, but I know that in the back of my mind I’m storing up how everything feels so that I can remember it later.

  We sit on the swings and chat for a bit. I know I sound all relaxed and calm but my insides are churning with nervousness. I know it’s silly but I’m panicking about him kissing me, which obviously he isn’t about to do because he’s sitting on the next swing. I actually really want him to kiss me but at the same time I’m dreading it in case I do it all wrong. Suddenly he jumps off the swing and runs over to the roundabout.

  ‘Come on,’ he calls, ‘I’ll push you.’

  And that’s where I get my first kiss, spinning round on a kids’ roundabout. He pushes it as fast as it will go and jumps on to the seat beside me and when I turn to smile at him he leans in and our lips meet and I wonder what exactly it was I was worried about because it feels so wonderful. And if anything does go wrong I can blame it on the fact that we’re spinning round. But nothing goes wrong. Our teeth don’t clash, our lips aren’t too soggy – his are all warm and soft – our noses don’t get tangled up and he doesn’t try to stick his tongue down my throat, which I realise is the part I was most dreading. In fact, it’s perfect, and I know I’ll remember this moment for the rest of my life. As we’re sitting there, joined at the lips, the roundabout slows down, and I wonder if I ought to pull away and what to say, if anything. I hope there isn’t going to be an embarrassed silence. I open my eyes, because I’ve had them shut and he pulls away and smiles. I don’t know if he’s about to say something or go back in for another kiss, because at that moment his phone rings.

  I’m really hoping he’ll ignore it and kiss me again but he sighs and gets it out of his pocket. I can hear some pretty frantic babbling on the other end.

  ‘OK. Just calm down . . . I’m coming.’ Seth takes hold of my hand again and says, ‘Do you mind running? I really have to get back. There’s a gap in the fence at the other side of the park, nearer to where I live. My step-sister is in a right state.’

  By now we’re trotting across the grass.

  ‘I’ll just check on her and then I’ll walk you home.’

  Of course I’m aware of the fact that I should be getting back myself, but I don’t want to walk across the park on my own and if I leave now I won’t get another kiss because Seth is in such a hurry. It just feels wrong to be going in the opposite direction and I’m beginning to worry about leaving Imogen for so long, although we were only in the park for about half an hour. I’ll make it up to her when I get back by ordering an extra-large pizza.

  ‘God, I’ll kill her if this is nothing. I bet she’s just trying to ruin my evening,’ he says as we squeeze through the gap.

  But when we get to his house it’s immediately obvious that there’s something very wrong. The front door is wide open and there are loads of people in the front garden. It’s a huge house and it looks very familiar somehow.

  A group of about six boys are shouting a football chant at the tops of their voices and I really don’t want to go up the path but Seth still has hold of my hand as he charges through the crowd and in at the front door.

  And that’s when the penny drops. I recognise the house because this is where Sasha lives. I have just walked into Sasha’s birthday party. Sasha is Seth’s new step-sister. My brain is computing these facts quite dispassionately while the rest of it is taking in what’s happening. The whole house has been trashed. I don’t need to see it all to realise that. I can see into the sitting room where most of the noise is coming from: loud music, people jumping all over the sofa and chairs, couples joined together – I have to avert my eyes. Not that I’m a prude or anything. Well, maybe I am a bit because I’m sure I’ll never do those things in public. Seth is practically tearing his hair out.

  I spot some girls from my form at school. Lucy and Miranda, Anna, Jade and Luke all traipse past me. They’re heading for the front door. I don’t blame them and have an overwhelming urge to follow, but I can’t just run out and leave Seth on his own. There’s a couple propped up against the wall, kissing. Seth grabs the girl by the elbow and pulls her out of the embrace.

  ‘Where is she? Where’s Sasha?’ shouts Seth over the music.

  The girl points to a closed door down the corridor. I look a bit closer. Bloody Hell! It’s Stephanie Young and Henry Trotter: two of the geekiest, shyest people in my form, and I wonder vaguely how they managed to kiss with so much metalwork in their mouths. Then I realise that they’re both extremely drunk. In fact, Henry is looking a bit green, like he’s about to throw up.

  I suddenly realise that I can’t be here. I have to get out before Sasha sees me. Apart from the fact she’ll accuse me of gatecrashing, I know for a fact that she’ll never forgive me for seeing her humiliation and what happened to her precious party. As I grab hold of Seth to tell him that I’m going to have to go, I spot a security box on the wall behind him.

  ‘Is that a burglar alarm?’ I yell. He nods, distractedly. I’ve just had a brilliant idea. If the alarm goes off everyone will leave the house. ‘Can you set it off?’ I ask him.

  ‘I think so,’ he says and starts fiddling with the buttons. I go into the sitting room and locate the source of the loud music, then turn it off. There’s an awful few moments when everyone turns and stares at me and I just want the floor to open up and swallow me. Then the alarm goes off in the silence and everyone jumps, but nobody makes a dash for the door. Instead the racket seems to make them even more excited. What was I expecting? That they’d think it was a fire alarm and all file out neatly like at school? I’m definitely losing it, but it does give me another idea.

  ‘Fire!’ I yell at the top of my voice, but nobody takes any notice.

  Then Seth sticks his head round the door and yells at the top of his voice, ‘POLICE!’ It certainly does the trick and the cry of ‘Police!’ goes up everywhere, spreading through the house as fast as a socially unacceptable disease. There’s a mad dash for the door with people pushing and shoving, until eventually nearly everyone’s gone. The burglar alarm stops and there’s an ominous silence.

  ‘Now why didn’t I think of that?’ I say to Seth.

  He looks really miserable. ‘The police will come out. They always do when the alarm goes off. That’s why we’re not supposed to touch it.’

  ‘Well, it was an emergency,’ I say, looking around the room. And it definitely looks like they’ve been burgled. I can’t believe the extent of the destruction. It’s not just a mess that can be sorted out by a quick tidy-up. Things have been destroyed.

  Someone has tried to smash the glass-topped coffee table. It’s got cracks radiating out from the point where it was hit by – I’m guessing – a beer bottle which is lying on the carpet underneath. In fact, someone’s been round the room smashing everything in sight – the glass in the picture frames and the doors of a display cabinet that holds Sasha’s mum’s porcelain figure collection.

  As I pick my way through the debris on the floor towards the cabinet, I remember playing in this room with Sasha when we were little. It’s funny, but I never really think about how we were friends when we were little. At some point, when we’d just started school until we were about seven, we were best friends. We’d gaze at the figures for hours, making up names and lives for them. The case was always locked and we weren’t allowed to handle them. Luckily the case is still locked and although most of the figures have fallen over they appear to be undamaged. I can’t remember what happened to make me and Sasha fall out, but I guess that’s just kids for you.

  I check the time. It’s jus
t gone eight o’clock. That means Imogen has been on her own (if you don’t count Rory – which I don’t) for over an hour. I really have got to get back. I poke my head round the sitting room door to check that the coast is clear. It is, so I make a dash for it, but before I get to the front door a load of people flood out of the room, the one Stephanie said Sasha had locked herself in. They all spill out into the hallway and before any of them catch sight of me, I dive through the nearest door, which I’m pretty sure is the downstairs loo. Sure enough, it is, but I’m not alone. Henry is leaning into the toilet bowl and Stephanie is perched beside him rubbing his back. I put my fingers to my lips but they’re so wrapped up in themselves that they don’t seem to be bothered that a third person in squashed in there with them. There’s a disgusting smell of sick and I open the door a crack and peer through the gap, as much to get some air as to see what’s going on in the hall.

  Sasha’s out there, surrounded by a group of her friends. She’s obviously been crying, and who can blame her. She is going to be in so much trouble. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

  Suddenly Seth comes down the stairs. ‘I’ve rung our parents,’ he tells Sasha. ‘They’re on their way home. Has anyone seen Alice?’

  No, no, no!

  ‘Alice! What, you mean you brought Alice here?’ Sasha is screeching in a most unattractive way.

  Seth disappears into the sitting room and I can hear Chelsea saying to Sasha, ‘I thought you didn’t invite Alice,’ and then Clara chips in with ‘Is Seth going out with Alice?’

  There’s something very uncomfortable about hearing people talk about you when they don’t know you’re there. I consider just making a dash for the front door now Sasha knows I’m here anyway. I really need to get home. But I freeze when I hear what Sasha says next.

  ‘Of course not, stupid. But I did have a bet with him that he couldn’t get into her knickers. He was probably trying to win that. He didn’t have to bring her here, though.’

  If the loo wasn’t already taken I’d probably have turned round and been sick right into it. Luckily, at that moment, everyone in the hall moves off towards the kitchen so at last I can make my getaway. I have to struggle with the front door because I’m blinded by tears, but I get it open and slam it behind me. As I run down the path I hear the front door open again and Seth’s voice calling me. The bastard. How dare he? Is he hoping I’ll go back so that he can get into my knickers and win his bloody bet? I keep running until I get home.

  Chapter Ten

  Before I open the front door and apologise to Imogen for taking so long, I try and compose myself a bit. If she sees that I’ve been crying I’ll just pretend that I’m upset about Miss Maybrooke.

  But when I get inside I can hear voices in the sitting room. Damn, I think as I open the door, I’ll have to put Rory to bed. But it’s not Imogen and Rory in there. It’s Imogen and Mum!

  They both turn and stare at me. Why is it that everyone seems to be staring at me tonight? Then Mum goes ballistic.

  ‘Where have you been?! I was about to call the police. You’re a thoughtless, selfish girl! As if I haven’t got enough on my plate!’

  This is typical. My mother thinks that she is the only person in the world with problems.

  ‘Imogen says you told her I rang you and you had to go to the nursing home. I think you’ve got some explaining to do.’

  Hell! I don’t know what to say. I glance at Imogen, but she’s just staring blankly at the television screen, which is a bit odd as the telly isn’t even on. I’m desperately trying to come up with a solution to my lie having been discovered and I’m just contemplating saying that I really wanted to go and see how Miss Maybrooke was doing but was too embarrassed to admit it to Imogen, so I made up the bit about Mum ringing. However, even I can see that this was a bit weak as excuses go, and doesn’t account for the fact that I’ve been gone for nearly two hours and never even turned up at the nursing home.

  But as I’m wondering what to say, Mum goes off on one. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so angry. It’s like a dam bursting. She starts off with how hard she’s tried to keep the family together and hold down a job. This is a bit rich, I think, as it was her who left Dad, which is hardly keeping the family together. Then it’s on to me and how selfish I am and how I do nothing to help her and that it’s about time I grew up and realised that not everything revolves around me . . . I won’t bore you with all the details. Normally I’d butt in and have a go back at her about how it’s not me that’s selfish, it’s her, for ruining my life, etc, etc, but, like I said, I’ve never seen her so angry and I can’t get a word in. Also, it’s really embarrassing because Imogen is sitting there having to listen to the whole tirade.

  The only good thing is that Mum seems to have forgotten about the tiny question of where I have actually been. By now she’s close to tears and is trying really hard not to cry. It turns out she got to the nursing home just in time, because Miss Maybrooke passed away shortly after she got there.

  ‘Not only have I just lost a very dear friend and could have done without coming home to your thoughtlessness, but don’t forget that this house belonged to her and there’s a very real possibility that we could soon be homeless.’

  After this devastating announcement, Mum rushes from the room, no doubt because she can no longer hold back the tears.

  I feel completely drained. Too much has happened this evening and none of it is good. Well, the kiss from Seth was good at the time, but now I know his real motive it is ruined forever in my mind. Everything is ruined. My whole life is a complete disaster.

  I flop down on to the sofa next to Imogen. Why, oh why did I invite her back here! Why didn’t I just accept, at the beginning, that my evening was ruined instead of making it so much worse? If I’d just come home I’d be sitting in my room now, wishing that I’d been able to go out with Seth but blissfully unaware about what a rat he is. It strikes me that Imogen is being very quiet and I suddenly feel bad about her having to witness all that.

  ‘Sorry about my mum,’ I say. ‘She doesn’t half go on.’

  Still nothing from Imogen, only silence. I steal a quick look at her, then wish I hadn’t. I’ve never seen anything so scary. She’s clutching a cushion and her knuckles are white where she’s gripping it so tightly. She looks too angry to speak, which is just as well because I don’t think I can take any more tonight. I’m just wondering if I should suggest that she rings her dad to come and get her when she turns to me.

  ‘I can’t believe how you’ve used me.’ This is forced out between clenched teeth, and I involuntarily cringe back into the corner of the sofa.

  ‘You planned this right from the start, didn’t you? You got me here so you could sneak out. I bet you were meeting that boy from the Sixth Form. Don’t give me any more lies,’ she adds as I open my mouth to defend myself. ‘I’ve had to spend the last week watching you mooning around after him like some dumb-struck idiot. And to think I spent the whole afternoon helping you to get ready! What were you going to do? Pretend that you had to go home and go and meet him when you were supposed to be at my house?’

  I can feel myself going red as she hits on the truth. We had actually had a really good time today, shopping and doing my make-over, but now my ulterior motive has been uncovered it does seem like I was just using Imogen.

  Although a part of me feels really bad, there’s another part that is angry. If Imogen was any kind of friend I could have told her about my date. I could have asked her to cover for me and everything we did this afternoon would have been her helping me and supporting me. So it’s not my fault, it’s hers – for not understanding.

  OK, so I didn’t tell her what was happening and that I had a date and give her a chance to help me, but somehow I just knew that she’d be dismissive of the whole thing and tell me I was wasting my time with him. It doesn’t help that she would have been right, either. Perhaps I ought to point this out to her. It doesn’t look like I’m going to get a chance, th
ough, because Imogen hasn’t finished yet on ‘the failings of Alice Watkins’.

  ‘Your mum’s right. You are selfish. All you ever think about is yourself. You’re always going on about how terrible your life is, but you don’t know how lucky you are. If you think your life is horrible, you ought to try mine.’

  I know my mouth is hanging open, but I can’t seem to close it. What is Imogen going on about? How could she side with my mum? What does she mean, ‘lucky’?

  ‘At least you’ve got a mum and dad,’ I say, ‘and you live in a nice house, so I don’t know what you’re complaining about.’

  ‘Big bloody deal!’ Imogen says. ‘You live in a nice house and you have a mum and a dad, they just happen to be divorced. Well, I wish my parents were divorced; then I wouldn’t have to put up with both of them. All they care about is each other. I don’t even know why they bothered having me – I just get in their way. All they do is slobber over each other – it’s sick! I feel like a bloody lodger! In my own home! Except it isn’t a home and we’re not a family and I can’t wait to get out of there.’

  Imogen is nearly in tears now and I don’t know what to say. Then I remember earlier when I was thinking about her and her mum.

  ‘But your mum,’ I tell her, ‘at least you’ve got something in common with her. You know – her being an artist and everything.’ If I was hoping that this would cheer Imogen up, I couldn’t have been further off the mark.

  ‘My mum’s not a bloody artist,’ spits Imogen. ‘Just because she thinks she is doesn’t make her one. Throwing paint at a canvas doesn’t make you an artist.’ Imogen’s voice is oozing contempt. ‘You know, my mum can’t even draw. She hates the fact that I can draw – she hates the stuff I do – the manga and my sketch books. She hates ME! I just get in the way of her precious life and her self-obsession.’

  I’m amazed. I’ve always been jealous of Imogen’s life; the fact that she doesn’t have an annoying brother and that her parents are still together and that she has such a nice bedroom and everything. But if it’s true about her mum then I don’t blame her for wanting to go away to boarding school.