Putting Alice Back Together (4 page)

I know that sounds anti-redhead, but I’m allowed to be, because I am one.

Think Ronald McDonald meets Shirley Temple.

I had the kind of hair that stopped old ladies in the street, made them pat it as they chattered away to my mother.

‘Beautiful hair. Of course, she’ll hate it later.’

I hated it already. By the time I was six it regularly reduced me to tears. Hour after hour was spent in front of my mother’s dressing-table mirror trying to brush out the curls. Night after uncomfortable night was spent sleeping with pins speared into my scalp in the hope of producing a straight fringe by morning. And as for the colour! I’d barely hit puberty before I bought my first hair dye and even now a very significant portion of my monthly pay cheque is spent on foils, serum, ceramic
straighteners, regular blow-dries and, if I ever save up enough, I’m getting that Brazilian keratin treatment.

Though I digress, there is a point—my hair is now strawberry blonde and straight. For the first time in my life I’m actually pleased with my hair and I do not need a reminder of the
au naturel
version of myself walking around the flat.

Not that Lisa needed to hear that.

Honestly, it was the most boring, pointless hour of my life.

Yes, I suppose sometimes I did get a bit homesick.

Yes, I’d been here for nearly ten years now since my sister Bonny had got married and emigrated.

‘But you only initially came to Melbourne for a year?’

‘That’s right.’ I nodded. ‘I just loved it, though. I got a good job…’

‘Doing what?’

‘Working on the classifieds section at the newspaper. Well, it was a good job at the time.’

‘And you’re still there?’ She peered at the form I had filled in.

I felt myself pink up just a little bit. ‘I’m a team manager now and I do web updates.’ I gave a little shrug. ‘It’s not my ideal job, of course…’

‘What is your ideal job?’

‘I don’t know…’ another shrug ‘… something in music, I suppose. My exam results weren’t great. That was one of the reasons I came in the first place—to have a break and work out what I was going to do.’

We chatted some more, or rather she dragged information out of me. ‘And are the rest of your family here?’

‘Just Bonny. My mum and Eleanor, she’s the oldest, live back in the UK.’

‘And your father?’

I felt my face redden. I mean, I hadn’t meant to leave him out. ‘He’s in the UK too.’ I waited for her to scribble something down, but she didn’t. ‘They’re divorced. I speak to him and everything… it’s no big deal.’

‘When did they divorce?’

‘When I was fifteen.’

Well, it would seem that I had my Valium. She pounced on the fact my parents were divorced. Really, she worried away at it for the rest of the hour. How did I feel when they broke up, had there been rows? I couldn’t convince her that it hadn’t been
that
bad. I mean, you hear all these terrible tales, but the truth is, Mum let herself go after I came along, Dad met Lucy and left. We still saw him. Every Friday night we stayed over while Mum did a night shift, and then on Saturday lunchtime he took us to the pub for lunch, just as he had done when they were still married. Mum had been upset, of course—depressed, in hindsight—but it really wasn’t that much of a big deal at the time. I told Lisa that as she started jotting down a little family tree and making copious notes.

‘Look, I’m not here about that.’ And I supposed, if I wanted the prescription, I was going to have to tell her. ‘I had an anxiety attack.’ My cheeks were flaming as I cringed at the memory of Olivia’s leaving do last week. Everyone gathering around, offering me water, paramedics, being strapped to a stretcher and taken down in the lifts and out onto the street. ‘Really, I’m not even sure that it was an anxiety attack—the doctors at the hospital
thought it might be an allergic reaction.’ She frowned. ‘I had a similar thing when I was seven and I ate hazelnuts.’ But still she just sat there. ‘The medicine they gave me at the hospital really helped, though.’

‘The Valium?’

‘Yes.’ I gave a little swallow. ‘I’m worried it might happen again, but if I had some Valium, just till I get the allergy tests done…’

‘You could just avoid hazelnuts!’ I swear her eyes crinkled. Honestly, I felt as if she was laughing at me, which she couldn’t be, of course.

But then she did.

She laughed.

I couldn’t believe it. She didn’t sit there and roar, but she gave a little laugh that made her shoulders go up. The type you do when you say something amusing, only this wasn’t funny.

I’d get her struck off.

If she didn’t give me my script.

‘Okay.’ She glanced at her watch and managed to contain herself enough for another little scribble on her pad. ‘If you can make an appointment again for about two weeks’ time. Now, don’t be surprised if you feel a bit unsettled over the next couple of days—we’ve touched on some sensitive areas.’

Which was news to me.

‘But what about…?’ I gave a nervous swallow as she stood. ‘The doctor said I should see a psychologist if I needed more Valium. He was only comfortable giving me ten.’

‘That’s very sensible.’

God, she wasn’t making this easy—I wasn’t asking her to buy them, just to write the bloody script.

I decided to go for direct. ‘Do you think you could write me up for some?’

‘I don’t prescribe medication.’

What the hell? My ears were ringing from her words as she droned on. I’d been through all of this,
all
of this, and she still refused to write me up for drugs—what did she suggest then? Was she some sort of alternative psychologist, was she going to suggest meditation? ‘I’m happy to write a note for your GP explaining that you are seeing me.’

‘But the doctor at the hospital said I should come and see you.’ I could hear my voice rising. I’d taken my last Valium yesterday and I had none left.

None
.

‘The doctor was recommending counselling, Alice. Your GP, if she does feel you need medication, is likely to suggest the same.’ She read my stunned expression and twisted the knife. ‘Even if I thought you needed it, I’m not qualified to prescribe medication.’

Well, what was the bloody point of that? I huffed, as I paid and left.

I was late for Nic. I’d wasted an hour talking about a stupid divorce that had happened more than a decade ago, and she’d charged me one hundred and twenty dollars for the pleasure. I hadn’t even got a script—let alone a single bloody insight.

I was not best pleased, I can tell you.

Five

I hate airports.

You know at the beginning of
Love Actually
where Hugh (Grant, not the ginger one that’s coming to stay) says you just have to go to the Arrivals at Heathrow to witness love, or something along those lines?

Well, there’s a flip side to that.

Departures.

If there is a hell, then for me it will be Departures at an international airport.

I won’t be shovelling coal for eternity into a furnace. Instead, one by one I’ll have to say goodbye to everyone I love and watch them disappear. It will be constant, it will be perpetual, and once I’ve said goodbye to everyone, just when I think I’ve got through it—it will start over again.

That’s my hell.

And contrary to Arrivals, after which you drive home with your loved ones and you can’t stop talking because there’s so much to catch up on, so much to say, the drive
to
Departures is a nightmare.

Every time.

Nicole was furious with me because I didn’t get back till ten to six and she wouldn’t let it drop.

‘I wasn’t late!’ I could see the picture of an aeroplane on the road signs for those who can’t read or can’t speak English. I needed to change lanes or we’d miss the turn-off, and I actually thought about it—honestly, that would have given her something to moan about. ‘You said we had to leave by six and we did!’

‘You’re so bloody selfish sometimes, Alice. You didn’t even answer my texts. Could you not just have come home? What was so important?’

‘I got stuck at work.’

I heard her snort and I turned and glared at her, which wasn’t a good idea, given I was going at a hundred down the freeway. ‘What? Just because I’m not some hotshot lawyer, I can’t be busy at work?’

‘Alice!’ Nicole was shrinking back in her seat and I turned my attention back to the road, but I was so angry I could spit. Just because I didn’t work in some top-notch job she assumed I couldn’t possibly know busy.

‘Why didn’t you tell me Paul rang last night?’

‘What?’

‘You know what, Alice?’ I didn’t want to know, but she told me anyway. ‘I think you’re jealous. I think you’re jealous of me and Paul.’

It was me snorting then.

I couldn’t stand Paul.

I mean, I could not bear him.

He was the most arrogant man I’d ever met.

And he’s stupid.

I’ve nothing against stupid people—but stupid people
who think that they’re clever just set my teeth on edge. Never mind Nicole’s a lawyer,
he’s
opening a coffee shop. It’s all he talks about. From the day I met him till the day he—thankfully—went back to the UK, it’s
all
he spoke about.

He’s going to have a loyalty card for his customers. For every ten coffees they get a free one and—wait for it—on their birthdays, if they have their driver’s licence with them and can prove that it is their birthday, well, they’ll get a free one on that day too. Oh, and he’s got this really good idea about providing the daily papers and
current
magazines for his customers. I kept waiting for the punch line. I kept waiting for him to walk into any other coffee shop in any other street and have a complete breakdown because someone had stolen his idea. Honestly, I have sat there cross-eyed listening to him droning on and on so many times.

And Nic thought I was
jealous
.

‘You’ve done everything you can to dissuade me from going.’

‘I’m driving you to the airport,’ I pointed out.

We were at the turn-off and I felt like pulling over and dumping her stuff on the side of the road and letting her walk.

‘You knew I was worried that he hadn’t called, you knew I was panicking he was having second thoughts whether he wanted me to come, and you didn’t even tell me he’d called. You didn’t even write it down.’

‘I forgot, okay?’ We were at the short-term car parking and I wound down my window to press the button.

‘Use your credit card,’ Nic said. This, from a woman who pays her monthly balance in full and sometimes a
little extra too on the day her statement comes. ‘It’ll be easier for you getting out.’

Not with
my
credit card. I pushed the button and took a ticket and I heard her irritated sigh because I hadn’t taken her advice.

I couldn’t stand this.

She was going.

In an hour or so she’d be gone and I didn’t want it to end on a row.

‘I just…’ We were through the barrier and going up the levels. ‘He rang just as I was dashing out. I knew you were waiting and I couldn’t find a pen—I just forgot, okay? I’m sorry.’ The place was packed and we drove around but ended up going up another level and I knew I hadn’t mollified her.

I didn’t want her to leave on a row.

I didn’t want her to leave on a row because it would make it easier for her to never come back.

‘I’m not jealous, Nicole.’ I found a parking spot, it was narrow and it would be hell getting out, but I squeezed in. ‘I’m just…’

‘Just what, Alice? Go on, just say it.’

How, though?

‘Just what, Alice?’ She insisted to my rigid face. ‘Come on, if you’ve got something to say then I want to hear it.’

‘I’m worried about you.’ I turned and looked her square in the eye and she stared right back. ‘Remember how badly you took it when Dean broke up with you?’

‘Paul’s nothing like Dean.’

‘Off course he’s not,’ I said quickly, and then paused
for a moment. ‘But he does live on the other side of the world. I’m just worried how you’re going to be if it all ends.’

‘It might not end,’ Nicole said firmly, ‘and if it does then I’ll deal with it. You don’t have to worry about me, Alice. I’m not like I was when Dean broke up with me. I know I was a mess, I know I must have been a pain to live with and how great you were and everything, but that was years ago.’

‘There have been others since then, though,’ I pointed out gently. ‘And you always seem so…’ I struggled to find a softer word than the one that was on the tip of my tongue, but none was forthcoming. ‘So devastated when you break up with someone. You’ve got so much pinned on this trip; I’m just scared you’re…’

‘Heading for a fall?’ Nicole asked, and I nodded, not sure how she’d take it, so I was infinitely relieved when she leant over and wrapped me in a hug.

‘Oh, Alice, that’s so like you.’ She hugged me tighter. ‘Always worrying about other people, and I suppose with my track record…’ She gave a little laugh and pulled away. ‘I know I’ve been an idiot over guys in the past, but I’ve grown up since then. I’m a lawyer, I see women every day moving on with their lives after their relationships break up—I’m not going to crumple in a heap if Paul and I finish.’

‘I know. I’m just concerned for you, that’s all.’

‘Well, you don’t have to be,’ Nicole said, but her words were gentler now.

‘I’m sorry I forgot to tell you he rang.’

‘I’m sorry for bringing it up, I was being stupid.’

And I left it at that.

We were friends again.

That was all that mattered.

We made an odd little group. We were rarely all together but Nic seemed genuinely delighted that we’d made the effort.

Dan was there waiting, the most beautiful man on God’s earth, and his face lit up when he saw me. I just fell into his arms and stayed there for a moment.

He knows me better than anyone.

He knew, more than anyone, how hard tonight was for me.

He just didn’t know it all.

‘She’ll be back,’ Dan said, and kissed the top of my head and held me for a moment. ‘How was last night?’