Other Alice (22 page)

She walked slowly towards us.

‘Dolly Weaver’s the name,’ she said, then flashed her red smile. A chill went through me.
Dangerous . . . and crazy
. That was how Alice had described
her.

‘But some of you already knew that, didn’t you?’ She straightened one black leather glove, then winked at Piper. ‘And others I’m already acquainted with.’

Piper scowled, but placed himself between Dolly and Gypsy. ‘What do you want?’

‘Don’t ask silly questions,’ she purred. She nodded to Gypsy. ‘I want Goldilocks over there to read those pages, then give them to me.’

‘Why would we give you anything?’ I said shakily. ‘You’re the one who broke into my house!’

Dolly laughed a tinkling laugh and held up her gloved hands. ‘Guilty.’ She reached into a little black shoulder bag and pulled something out. ‘I suspect you’ll be wanting
this?’

‘That’s my sister’s notebook,’ I said, my temper rising. ‘Give it here now.’

‘I’ll swap you,’ said Dolly. ‘Those pages, and whatever else is missing from it, in exchange for the rest.’ She flicked through the notebook. ‘It’s a
pretty good offer, given that I have the larger chunk.’

I clenched my fists. ‘You’ve got no right to—’

‘Oh, I’ve got every right.’

Something about the way she said it made my body tense even tighter. She
knew
.

‘I reckon I can get it,’ said Piper, stepping towards Dolly.

She smiled wider, but didn’t move. ‘I really wouldn’t attempt it if I were you. It would . . .
upset
me.’ She pulled off a glove and inspected her
hands. They were every bit as horrible as Piper had described, her fingers caked with blood and black with something congealed round her fingertips. As I looked at them, I wondered what kind of
things they were capable of. And what they might have already done. ‘When I get upset, things can sometimes get broken. Fingernails . . .’ She took something else from
her bag and threw it. It landed at my feet, a grubby green strip of fabric. ‘Collars . . .’

I picked it up with trembling fingers. It had been savagely torn in two. A few silky, black hairs were caught on the buckle.

‘. . . .urry little necks,’ Dolly finished, smiling like she’d just offered us a slice of warm cake. ‘So, if you’d like to see that cat again,
you’d better give me what I want.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m fed up with the tiresome thing anyway. It refuses to speak. I’d be glad to give it back, or kill
it.’ She inspected her nails. ‘Your choice. I don’t mind which.’

‘What do you m-mean our choice?’ I stammered. I shot a warning look at Piper, afraid he might mention Tabitha on Gypsy’s boat – but he was tight-lipped. I wondered what
Dolly would do if she knew it wasn’t Tabitha she’d taken, just an ordinary cat, who was non-magical? Would she still think she had something worth trading? And, if she thought Tabitha
were valuable, did she really mean to give her back at all – or was having the rest of the notebook even more important to her? ‘How do we get her back?’

‘By co-operating.’ Dolly pulled her glove back on and put the notebook in the bag. ‘I can see you’re not ready to just yet.’ She shrugged. ‘That’s all
right. I’m a patient lady. I understand that you’ll all want to read those pages before handing them over, well . . . all except
you
, Piper dear.’

Piper said nothing, but his expression said more than a thousand words of hatred ever could.

Dolly laughed and blew him a kiss, then gave Gypsy a playful look. ‘How are you enjoying it so far? She has quite an imagination, doesn’t she, this Alice?’

For the first time since Dolly had appeared, I looked at Gypsy properly. Her eyes were darting between Dolly and the pages, but it was the story that had most of her attention and her face was a
mixture of disbelief and confusion. I knew then that my fears had come true. Gypsy had seen her name.

‘Are you getting it yet?’ Dolly asked. ‘Are you wondering how someone you’ve never met could know so much about you? And why it is that this person, this Alice, looks
just like you?’

‘What’s she talking about?’ Piper demanded, trying to look at the pages as if he could make sense of them. ‘How could Alice have written about you if she’s never
even met you?’

‘Don’t feel left out,’ Dolly cooed. ‘You’re in there, too, dear Piper. And me, and the pesky cat for that matter. We’re all there, all just paper people.
Though, admittedly, Gypsy is the . . . what’s the word?
Protagonist
.’

Gypsy’s head snapped up, a flash of understanding in her eyes.

‘What’s a protag . . . protagon . . . ?’ I began.

‘The main character in a story,’ Dolly said. ‘So what’s it like, Gypsy? Finding out your entire life is a lie dreamed up by someone else? I mean, I know how
I
feel, and I can’t feel too sorry for you, not when you’ve got the starring role. The
heroine’s
role.’

The colour had drained from Gypsy’s cheeks. She tore her gaze away from Dolly and turned the page over, her eyes racing over the words on the back.

‘Still,’ Dolly continued, ‘everyone knows that villains always get the best lines, so I can’t grumble too much.’ She paused and winked. ‘They sometimes get a
fluffy kitty, too!’

‘Are you demented or what?’ Piper asked. He spoke slowly, like he was talking to someone very young, or stupid. ‘Do you know how
nutty
you sound? Don’t listen to
her, Gyps. She’s two licks short of a furball.’

He put his hand on Gypsy’s arm, but she shook him off.

‘But hark at me going on. I promised myself I wouldn’t give away any spoilers, but I just couldn’t help it. I’ll leave you to it now.’ Dolly’s voice changed,
became sharp, and she looked at me. ‘And, speaking of furballs, you have exactly twenty-four hours.’

‘To do what?’ I asked, unable to disguise the fact my voice was shaking.

‘Before we meet back here and exchange our sections of the notebook, plus the cat. That’s more than enough time for you to read your part of it, and by then my patience will have
worn rather thin. So, if you’re not here, the cat dies and the notebook is destroyed. If you try to pull any tricks or forge the story in some way, the cat dies and the notebook is destroyed.
Got it?’

‘How do we know you haven’t already killed the cat?’ I said. ‘Or faked Alice’s notes yourself?’

Dolly waved a hand. ‘All that can be verified tomorrow. Besides, you really don’t have a choice.’

‘We do,’ I said, more boldly than I felt. ‘We don’t have to do what you say.’

‘Maybe
you
don’t,’ said Dolly spitefully. ‘But Gypsy does.’

Gypsy looked up again, ashen-faced. She shook her head, but it was unconvincing to us all.

‘Yes, you do.’ Dolly’s voice was soft. ‘Because you’ll want to know what happens. You’ll want to know your destiny and what’s written for you in the end
– or at least where your story is going.’

‘And you?’ Piper asked and even he sounded rattled now. ‘You’ve read most of it already. Why do
you
want these pages so badly? There’s hardly anything here
compared to what you have.’

‘No,’ said Dolly. ‘But I like to have all the information to hand before I make any decisions, particularly when the outcome for me doesn’t look good.’ She smirked
at Piper. ‘Same goes for you.’

‘What are you talking about?’ he asked.

‘The ending,’ Dolly said. ‘I don’t like how things are shaping up. Now I know that dear old Alice hasn’t finished it yet, so I’m going to give her a
hand.’

‘You’re planning on finishing Alice’s story?’ I asked.

‘
Finishing
it?’ Dolly pouted. ‘Why would I want to do that when I can live as I please here, in your world, with no rules? Anything I want to happen
can
happen. So Alice finishing the story really isn’t part of my plan.’

I stared into her mad eyes, finally understanding. ‘You want to kill her.’

The pouting lips stretched into a grin. ‘Well, I told you I was the villain, didn’t I?’

A
CHOKED SOUND CAME OUT
of gypsy. She pushed the pages at Piper, who grabbed them clumsily. Tears streamed down her cheeks
and she turned and ran, sobbing.

Dolly cackled, breaking the stunned silence.

‘Gypsy!’ I yelled, but found I was rooted to the spot, torn between running after her and getting the pages from Piper in case he was thinking about giving them to Dolly. I moved
closer to him and held out my hand. To my surprise, he handed the pages to me without arguing. He was pasty-faced now, unsure of himself and everyone around him. Despite my distrust of him, I found
myself edging closer. Piper might be a liar and a thief, but right now he was all I had.

‘The plot thickens,’ said Dolly. ‘How juicy! I wonder what Alice would make of all this if she were here to see it. I think she’d approve actually.’

‘How do you know she isn’t writing this right now?’ I said, saying it as the thought popped into my head. ‘Making all this happen? She could be hiding out somewhere,
writing a new version.
This
version.’

‘Doubtful,’ Dolly said. ‘You really think if Alice were in control we’d still be here?’

‘Maybe,’ I said hoarsely. ‘She wrote
you
. She created you. She can snuff you out just as easily.’

Dolly sneered. ‘Don’t kid yourself. She did the groundwork, but then she lost the plot. The story isn’t Alice’s any more. It’s there for the taking. Anything can
happen now.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s Alice’s and always will be. Whatever you are, it’s because she decided it. So she’s stronger than you. She has to be.’

‘Dream on,’ said Dolly. Her pale eyes glinted. ‘Alice created in me what scares her. All very well when you’re reading it on a page, but facing your fears for real? Not
so much.’

‘You don’t know her,’ I whispered.

‘I don’t need to. She knows
me
. And she knows I’ve killed before.’

I couldn’t speak. Terror stuck in my throat like a poisoned apple.

Dolly ran her tongue over her red-tinged teeth. ‘I’ll see you back here this time tomorrow. And don’t be late; it makes me cross. I might be crazy, but I’m always
punctual.’ She giggled and began walking away, her heels and laughter echoing over the cobbles as she vanished into Pike Street.

‘We have to find Gypsy,’ I said. ‘Then look for Alice’s dad. He must know how to end this and how we can find Alice.’

‘And what happens if you get Alice back?’ Piper asked. He was staring at his hands like he was trying to remember what they were for, as if nothing made sense any more. ‘Gypsy
and me . . . we just . . . disappear? Go back to being nothing, except in your sister’s head? That’s what Dolly said, ain’t it? That we’re made
up. Just characters in Alice’s book.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘No stories or characters ever disappear, not really. They’re always there.’

‘Only when someone reads them,’ Piper said bitterly.

‘I don’t think that’s true. Alice says stories never start at the beginning. They start when something is about to
happen
. And, when we close the book, does that mean
it’s the end for the characters? No. They still go on, but without whatever problems they had in the story.’

‘Then that must mean there’s a reason for me to be in it, too,’ said Piper. ‘That I’m not . . .
useless
. But . . .’ His
face darkened.

‘What?’ I asked.

‘Dolly said she didn’t like what Alice had written for her, that the outcome didn’t look good. And she looked at me and said, “
Same goes for you
.”’
He was speaking quickly now, panic making his voice rise. ‘What if . . . Alice is gonna kill me?’

‘We don’t know that,’ I said. ‘Dolly could be lying, trying to get you to switch sides.’
That’s if Piper is even on anyone’s side but his own
,
I thought privately. ‘And anyway the story isn’t finished yet.’

‘How do you know Alice isn’t writing it right now?’ he asked bitterly. ‘You said to Dolly she could be hiding out somewhere—’

‘I was bluffing. Not that she believed it.’ I shook my head. ‘Wherever Alice is . . . she’s not writing this now. She’s not writing
you
. . . .ny of you.’

He nodded slowly, calmer now.

‘We need to get Gypsy and find Alice’s dad,’ I repeated. ‘Where would Gypsy have gone?’

He shrugged. ‘I ain’t a mind-reader.’

‘But you know her better than I do.’

‘You think?’ He chuckled and bitterness crept back in. ‘I don’t know anything. How can I if I’m not even real?’

‘You’re real to Alice – and Gypsy,’ I said. ‘And you’re real to me now, too.’

He sniffed. ‘So we have to get to the stag. How far is it? Can we make it there and back again by tomorrow?’

‘I don’t know, maybe. We need a map. Then we can work out how far it is and the best way to get there. And I think I know where we might find Gypsy.’

‘Where?’ Piper asked.

‘The same place we’d find Alice if she’s upset about something,’ I said softly. ‘Somewhere with books.’