…
…
I panic. Did I…? No. Christ.
For a second I worried I’d fat-fingered and hit send. But my sad, desperate words just sit there. I wait. Willing her to reach out. But the three dots disappear. I delete my words, exit the app, and head towards the train station, before I do, or say, anything stupid.
46
ALICE
I can’t believe that Alice Winters lives so close. My engine ticks as I look across the road, the Radio 1 DJ laughing with a caller, about how they locked themselves out of their house in just their undies. I turn off the ignition, the end of the story lost to me.
All I had was her first name and an address she once lived at, and it was enough. If only it had been this easy to find Michael. I look at the address scribbled down. One quick check on the electoral roll, a Land Registry search, a skim through social media and I’ve found her.
I lock the car behind me. The wind picks up, my hair flashing across my eyes that are drawn upwards to the white house set behind tall steel gates. I can almost hear Spence whistling sarcastically at the grandeur.
I rub my sternum with the heel of my hand. That ache is there again, the one that’s been there since the night at the hotel, like something’s been hollowed out. I’d messaged him after I’d left Kate’s, a simple ‘can we talk?’ He’d replied saying that he needed some space. But the more space I have, the more I feel like I’m falling through it.
Spence has always been the one constant thing in my life, ever since I was a kid with grazed knees, sitting at the top of the stairs with my hands over my ears to block out my parents’ arguing downstairs. But now it feels like he’s too far out of my reach. The distance between us feels like it’s stretching, like I’m being pulled apart. I need to speak to him, but every time I try to put into words how I feel, I can’t find them. I can’t explain how I feel, because I don’t even understand it myself. I love him, I always have. Am I attracted to him? That night, my body was screaminghell yes. But I don’t know if that’s enough. Or if I’m just scared I’m about to lose him.I can’t keep being your safety net.
I’ve lost Ryan.
I’m about to say goodbye to Michael.
What will be left without Spence too?
I could tell him where I am and keep it neutral? It would be a tentative way to close some of that distance, right?
I pull out my phone, pulse quickening as I bring up his name. My knuckles white as I grip it.
He’s typing.
I rub my chest again, watching the three dots, holding my breath.
Say something, Spence.
Please.
Anything to let me know I haven’t lost you too.
I start to typeI’ve found her. You wouldn’t believe the size of her house…but my fingers pause. I want to addI miss you. Please don’t go.But that’s not what he needs from me.
I delete the message and press on the intercom.
There is a spit. A crackle.
‘Hello?’ The words are clipped but friendly.
‘Um, hi! My name’s Alice Barker. I’m here to see Alice Winters. I sent her an email?’
‘Just a second! I’ll just, hold on—’ Two yellow lights flash at the top of the posts and the gates grind open. I glance back down at my phone, but Spence has stopped typing. It’s like I’ve swallowed a stone. I make a ridiculous deal with myself – if I’m not watching the screen, if I put it away, he’ll reply. I push my phone into the side pocket of my bag, sandals crunching along the gravel driveway as I walk towards the house. My strappy blue maxi dress billows out around me as I pass a circular fountain, a mermaid spouting water. It’s over the top, clearly expensive, but there is no magic in her expression, no hidden pain, no hint of joy on her features. What would Michael have made of it? Somehow, I don’t think it would be a sculpture he’d find attractive. I can almost hear him laughing.Nowt says welcome home like a mermaid spitting out water like she’s swigged a brew with sour milk.
I make my way up the stone steps, two pillars either side, before knocking on the door. The sound is more confident than my shaking hands should allow. I resist the urge to check my phone as a cacophony of yapping dogs comes from behind. ‘Stella, Stephanie! Quiet now!’
The door opens, my eyes taking in the woman dressed in a white brocade dress, two Yorkshire terriers circling her feet. She’s tall, long, dark hair resting over her shoulders. I do a double-take; she looks much younger than Kate. This can’t be her. But as she smiles, her forehead remains smooth. Her lips are slightly too wide, too full. My eyes rove over her face, a spark of recognition running up my spine. It’s her.
‘Hi,’ I say brightly. ‘I’m Alice. Al,’ I add, stretching out my hand, hers taking it. Her skin is cold and smooth, despite the weight of the large diamond and other rings on her fingers. She smiles brightly.
