Arriving at Alice’s blue shutters and seeing them in real life and knowing what lies behind them makes me a bit nauseous. But oh, the gladness in my giddy little heart. What if Naomi has said something about me to Ted, or even to Alice? What if Violet has contacted them too? I check all of Alice’s social media platforms– there appears to be no link to Violet.
I knock on Alice’s front door and, when it’s left unanswered, I move around to the back door, hoping to see an open window. I’m pondering my next step when an upstairs window opens and a freshly showered Alice pokes her head out, wrapping a towel around her as steam escapes the room.
‘Esther,’ she says, almost to herself. ‘Hi. Why… How are you…’
‘Oh, Naomi gave me the address,’ I say breezily, although this information doesn’t appease her. ‘I was just in the neighbourhood, seeing a friend.’
‘Look, I’m in the middle of… stuff here,’ Alice starts, apologetically, tightening the towel.
‘I know it’s not a good time but whenever it is, I’d like to help with Ted,’ I say. ‘Naomi told me a little about what’s going on with you guys.’
Alice processes this information, not entirely pleased. ‘Right,’ she mutters. ‘Give me five minutes.’ Naomi must have kept her word in the end, about not saying anything.
Eleven minutes later, Alice is on her own doorstep, barefaced with wet, stringy hair. She’s somehow even more beautiful than usual. We walk into her cosy sitting room with its bookcase-lined walls, velveteen sofa and vintage drinks trolley. Her non-pedigree dog– of course she has a mutt– sits back on the sofa.
‘That’s Oscar.’ She points out at him, mid-stride. He regards me, all haughty and suspicious, as I give him my best ‘be my friend, dude’ look.
She disappears into the kitchen and returns with a cerulean-coloured glass of water. I will not be getting tea or coffee today. This is a glass of water visit. Still, I make a mental note to ask her later where the glass came from.
‘What exactly did Naomi tell you about…?’ Alice asks.
Yikes. I make sure not to fall on specifics. ‘Not much. Just that, well, you guys have been having kind of a hard time.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t call it that. I’m not the one having a hard time at all. I’m exactly where I need to be, where Iwant to be. Your friend’s step-brother is the problem.’ A boil has been lanced.
This is confusing. I am caught between defending Ted and needing to find out more.
‘Why did Naomi think you would… I mean, do you have a drinker in the family too?’ she says.
I’m shocked at this revelation about Ted, but I give her a knowing, conspiratorial nod.
This seems to loosen her up a bit. ‘I mean, I like to party too. I can rip it the fuck up.’ She smiles sadly. ‘But this is… different, I guess. He has this temper. There’s no handbrake.’
My eyes widen involuntarily, causing her to take some sort of mental step back. ‘I mean, he doesn’t do anything as such, just… shouting and stuff. But I don’t like it, you know what I’m saying? It’s not the relationship I’ve ever seen for myself. But look, there’s still a lot of love there. I’m not ready to give up on it…’ I can see it in her eyes. She has said too much, a betrayal of the other person.
Her words pass through me like a buzzsaw. They’re the kind of thing my mum would say, crying into a cold cup of coffee in our kitchen, the dust from my father’s five-alarm-fire fury, or of Patrick’s, falling all over our shoulders. But Ted isn’t and cannot be like them. Ted Levy is a victim himself, a man of integrity who has the courage of his convictions, who is willing to swim against the tide as an artist. He’s a good person.
Another thought soon takes form, although I’m not entirely sure I like the sound of it; if Alice doesn’t want him, so much the better. That works out more than OK for me.
‘Look, trust me when I say I know how to handle this,’ I say decisively. ‘Do you want me to have a talk with him?’ All I need is some time with him, alone. I can take it from there.
‘Oh God, no,’ she replies. ‘I don’t want him to know about any of this. He’d go crazy.’ Is this why Naomi was so hesitant to introduce me to Ted? It makes all kinds of sense now.
‘It’s tough. Trust me, I do know. I’ve been there with my own father,’ I tell her.
That beautiful Ted Levy could be anything like my father feels like a whack with an old roll of carpet.
The sound of the front door opening makes the room spin, because I know what’s coming next. Finally.
With Ted here, the room becomes a nightclub, a paradise, the backdrop of a thrilling origin story. I have a hard time seeming casual, because I am seeing fireworks right behind my eyelids.
As he goes to embrace Alice, he nods an amiable ‘hey’ in my direction, looking into my eyes for a split second. I study him without looking directly at him. That would probably make me fall in a heap to the floor. I keep him in my peripheral vision, snatching quick glances at his ears, his belt, his shoes, his hands. I look away each time, savouring the snapshot, turning the details over and over in my mind’s eye.
Alice has stiffened, because the dust of her confession is still all around us, floating in the air.
‘I’m just going to do something with my hair,’ she says, gesturing to its dampness. She doesn’t introduce us, I notice, as she leaves the room.
‘You wanna get takeout later?’ Ted shouts up the stairs after her, angling his body a little bit away from me. ‘What about the place from Saturday night?’
