Jeremy was nothing if not overly ambitious on Alice’s behalf, believing in her more than anyone other than Susan ever had. But he didn’t seem to understand that Alice wasn’treadyfor this next step, not yet. It wasn’t something she felt like she could be honest with him about – it was something she’d only ever admitted to Susan.
Next, she opened an email from her father, which contained the link to a newly published article about moss classification and the note:
A colleague in biology sent this to me – thought it might interest. Could you confirm you received the wedding invitation?
Cordially,
David
Alice put her head in her hands, massaging her temples. Quickly assessing that there was no way she would be able to respond in her current state, she moved on. Her dad was sure to send her another academic article within the next month anyway. Then there was an email from her flatmate in London.
Alice–
I’ve been texting you but my messages are not delivering, so I looked up your email on the Oxford server. Apologies for any intrusion. Are you alive? Landlord has not said anything, so I assume you’ve paid rent?
Your plants are suffering in your absence. Please advise on their care and, if possible, when you will be returning.
–AHR
He had attached several pictures of her plants in various states of withering, which Alice flipped through, growing increasingly sure that she had made a terrible mistake. The fact that her flatmate, who she’d never had a proper conversation with and who frequently disappeared for weeks at a time, was concerned enough to reach out to her was a sign that this whole scheme had been the maddest decision of her life.
As if mocking her, the landline started ringing. Alice closed out of her email, trudging into the hall.
‘Alice Hughes, camp director, speaking.’
‘Hello, this is Cynthia Smith. I got your voicemail about my son, Robin?’
Alice closed her eyes. ‘Thanks for returning my call. I was just calling to let you know that Robin is feeling homesick at the moment. He’s quite upset—’
‘I’m sorry,’ Robin’s mom interrupted, ‘but don’t campers get homesick all the time? There are other English children there, too. Surely you’ve handled this sort of situation before.’
Alice studied the grooves of the wood-paneled wall in front of her, trying to think of reassuring words for a mother who had placed her child in Alice’s incapable hands. ‘Well, yes, of course the staff at Camp Lakeside have dealt with this before…’ she started vaguely.
‘He’ll get over it soon enough,’ Cynthia said. ‘His older brother, Timothy, went through the same thing when he first got to camp. But he did fine, and so will Robin. Frankly, I’m surprised that you’re giving me a call about this. Susan wouldn’t have bothered.’
Alice blinked back what felt suspiciously like tears. She hadn’t let herself cry at camp yet and she wasn’t planning on starting any time soon, no matter what happened.
‘No, she wouldn’t have.’ It occurred to her that she should have asked Briar to make this call. As Susan’s daughter, she seemed to have more authority with the parents, and was more liked in general. But Briar was mysteriously missing, leaving Alice to deal with the stuff she was worst at, again.
‘Look,’ Robin’s mom said, in what was maybe meant to be a comforting tone, but just came off condescending, ‘honestly, you seem a little overly anxious. Kids will be kids.’
‘Right,’ Alice said dully, not feeling better at all. ‘I’ll take that under advisement.’
‘Great!’ Robin’s mom said cheerily, and hung up.
Alice sat there, staring at the wall for a few minutes, dread that she couldn’t shake off settling heavily on her chest. She couldn’t face Robin, now that she knew for sure that there was no way for her to help him.
The door creaked open and shut behind her.
‘I need a hand with—’ Briar broke off when Alice didn’t turn to look at her. ‘Is something wrong?’
Alice wiped away an escaped tear, glancing over her shoulder at Briar. ‘Everything’s fine.’
Briar squinted at her. ‘You have that classic sad Alice posture,’ she said, gesturing in a way which clarified nothing. ‘Easy to spot from miles away. It’s how you’d look when you got a B on a test.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Alice said, scowling. ‘I never got Bs on tests.’
‘It’s the angle of the shoulder hunch,’ Briar explained, and then seemed to realize at the same time as Alice that she was digging herself into a hole.
