A Desirable Residence

by Madeleine Wickham

  It was dark when the train arrived, and even colder than before. Hurrying along the streets, Piers wondered idly if it might snow. He was not normally one to rejoice at snow; Ginny’s inevitable raptures at the sight of even one snowflake usually amused and sometimes irritated him. But even he had to admit that a snowy Silchester might be quite pretty. And it was certainly cold enough. Bloody freezing. As he strode along, he pictured in his mind the comforting image of a roaring, crackling, log fire. A glass or two of mulled wine. Perhaps even some mince pies. It wasn’t quite December, but Christmas had been apparent in Silchester’s shops for quite a while. He should be able to get hold of them. He looked at his watch. Half-past four. He would take Duncan along with him to the supermarket. Duncan would know what to put in mulled wine.

  But as he neared twelve Russell Street, he saw that the windows were darkened, and a sense of disappointment came over him. He was in a mood for people and noise and celebration; the house would be cold and dark and empty. He was almost tempted to head back for the bustle of the town centre.

  Then he saw a pair of feet poking out from the doorstep. His first thought was that it must be Ginny or Duncan, locked out, and he began to hurry towards the house. Ginny, in particular, was not good in the cold; if she had been sitting there for long, her fingers would be blue and she would be miserably snappy. He began to wonder if the water was on; if he would be able to run her a bath straight away and get a fire going downstairs. As he neared the gate, however, he saw that the legs were skinny and clad in thick tights, and that the feet were shod in incongruously large boots. It couldn’t be Ginny. Of course. It was the kid. Alice.

  He opened the gate, and she looked up, with a pale, startled face. She was sitting wedged up against the door, with her shoulders hunched up in her jacket and a pair of earphones on her head.

  ‘Hello there,’ he said cheerfully. ‘No one home?’

  ‘No,’ she said hesitantly. She reached inside her jacket pocket and turned off her Walkman. ‘I wasn’t going to wait long. I just thought I’d see if anyone came.’

  ‘And a good thing you did,’ said Piers heartily. In principle, he thought they were seeing a bit too much of this kid. She seemed to appear nearly every day, awkwardly popping her head round the kitchen door, or arriving in the front garden, waving at them through the sitting-room window. She never rang the bell; sometimes he wondered whether there were times when she’d failed to catch anyone’s attention and had simply gone quietly away again. ‘Now you can help me,’ he continued. ‘I need someone to come shopping with me to buy stuff for mulled wine. You know what to get for mulled wine, don’t you?’ Alice thought frantically. It was spices. She didn’t know what sort. But she couldn’t say no.

  ‘Yes,’ she said breathlessly.

  ‘Good,’ said Piers. He put his key in the lock. ‘Now, come in for a sec. I want to get out of this jacket and put on something warmer.’ He looked at her suspiciously. ‘You look freezing. Do you want to borrow one of Ginny’s sweaters?’

  ‘No, no,’ said Alice, ‘thanks.’ She blushed, but Piers was opening the door, and didn’t see.

  ‘Right,’ he said, bounding up the stairs. ‘Won’t be long.’

  Alice hovered in the hallway and hugged herself, half from cold, half from an unspecified nervousness. Even though she’d been coming round to see Ginny and Piers and Duncan quite a lot, she hadn’t really ever spent any time with Piers. He unnerved her slightly; his voice was so loud, and sometimes she wasn’t sure if he was being serious or not.

  Ginny and Duncan were much easier to get along with. They always seemed pleased to see her, and made her cups of tea, and asked what had happened at school. Which was, in a way, Alice admitted to herself, just what her parents did—but with them it was completely different. When she told Ginny and Duncan about things, it all suddenly seemed far more interesting than before. Duncan always listened really intently, and made loud exclamations all the time, and called it the Unfolding Saga of St Catherine’s. And Ginny always knew what she meant and understood why things were important, not like her mother, who always said things like, But if you’ve got a free period, why can’t you spend it getting some of your homework done?

  Sometimes Ginny would tell her to come upstairs, and show her some clothes she’d bought, or some perfume, or make-up. Once, she’d made Alice up to look really glamorous, and another time she’d actually given her a brown jumper which she said she couldn’t wear and would look stunning on Alice. Sometimes she brought stuff home from work and asked Alice to give her a hand, folding up press releases and putting them in envelopes, or labelling photographs of big country houses. She’d promised that when Alice had to do work experience for school, she could come and work in her office, and actually go on a press trip with real journalists.

  Duncan didn’t ever seem to do any work, but he always had funny stories about what he’d done during the day and about what he called the Good Burghers of Silchester. At first Alice thought he meant Burger King and McDonald’s, but then she’d realized he actually meant all the people he met in the town centre. He seemed to go into town nearly every day, and he always saw something exciting or weird or revolting, or had a long conversation with a complete stranger. He never seemed to do normal things.

  Sometimes Alice wondered whether she went round to see them all too much. Once or twice, when she’d arrived, Ginny had said kindly, ‘Actually, Alice, this isn’t a great time,’ and Alice always felt like running away and never ever going back. But then Ginny always said something like, ‘But how about tea on Saturday?’ or ‘You will come back tomorrow, won’t you?’ And so she always did.

  And, really, she couldn’t bear to keep away. When she was with them, everything seemed exciting and glossy and fun. It made home seem even more drab and boring. Once, Ginny suggested that they should invite Alice’s parents round for a drink, to meet them properly.

  ‘They’re very trusting,’ she said, ‘letting you spend all this time with a bunch of people they hardly know. Why don’t you bring them round sometime?’ Alice wriggled uncomfortably on her chair, and said her parents were very busy, and never went out, and they didn’t mind where she went, honestly. In fact, that wasn’t quite true. When she’d eventually told Liz and Jonathan where she was spending all this time after school, Liz had immediately suggested that Ginny and Piers come round for supper. Alice gasped in horror.

  ‘They’re really busy,’ she said, ‘and they never know when they’re going to be free. But I’ll ask them,’ she added hurriedly, as she saw her mother opening her mouth to protest. ‘I’ll ask them.’

  Ask them! Alice shuddered at the thought of it; of leading Ginny and Piers and Duncan through the empty passages and classrooms of the tutorial college; of taking them up the narrow stairs to the tiny flat, of expecting them to sit down and eat shepherd’s pie and talk to her awful parents. Her mother would pretend to be really hip, as if she knew all about acting, and her father would say things like, ‘Which one is Summer Street? Is it the one in Australia?’

  Alice now knew all about Summer Street. She knew that Ian Everitt was leaving the series, that they’d definitely decided to recast his part and that they’d asked Piers to audition for it. And she knew that he simply had to get it.

  A few weeks ago, she and Ginny had spent the evening together alone while Piers and Duncan were seeing a play in London, and after a few glasses of wine, Ginny had told her all about it. How Piers hardly had any work any more, and how wonderful it would be if he was in Summer Street, and how then they could afford to move to a big house in Berkshire and have lots of children and Alice could come and stay with them every summer. She got really excited about it, and so did Alice, and then they opened another bottle of wine and phoned up for some pizza and watched all the videos of Piers in old episodes of Coppers.

  Alice had never seen Piers on television before, and she was amazed. Amazed at how good he was, just like a proper famous actor, and amazed at how spooky it was,
seeing him on the screen. And how weird she felt when she saw the bit where he kissed one of the police girls. She wanted to ask Ginny what she felt like when she saw that, but didn’t quite dare. So they both sat, hugging their knees, watching in silence, as Piers slowly undressed the girl, and murmured things against her neck, and kissed her all over, and then the next thing it was morning and Piers and the girl were in bed together.

  And then Ginny looked at Alice really strangely, and started asking her about her parents. Things like how long they’d been married, and wasn’t it really hard for them running a business, and did her mother get much chance to have a social life. Alice had never really thought about either of her parents having a social life before. But she answered all Ginny’s questions as best she could. And then suddenly Ginny leant over and gave Alice a big hug, and said, ‘Oh, poor little Alice!’

  Alice thought it was all a bit odd. But when she shyly told Duncan what had happened, he said that was just like Ginny, the old lush. And then he explained what a lush was, and then he somehow ended up being Sir Toby Belch for the rest of the evening.

  ‘Right then!’ Alice gave a startled jump as Piers appeared by her side, now wearing a huge cream aran jersey under a Barbour. ‘Let’s go shopping!’

  They headed off down the street, Piers striding along briskly, Alice scuttling beside him; taking three steps for every two of his. For the first few minutes they proceeded in silence. Alice tried frantically to think of something to say. At one point she actually opened her mouth, but then thought better of it. It was only when they got to the short cut that she spoke.

  ‘Actually, this way’s quicker.’ She flushed, as Piers stopped in his tracks.

  ‘Really? Down there?’

  ‘It’s a short cut. I mean,’ she floundered as his gaze fell on her, ‘we don’t have to go that way. We could carry on. It’s just—’

  ‘Of course we’ll go that way.’ Piers bestowed on Alice a charming smile as they began to walk again. ‘Aren’t I lucky to have had you with me? I would never have thought of looking for a short cut.’ Alice glowed silently with pleasure.

  ‘I went to see the producer of Summer Street today,’ said Piers suddenly.

  ‘Really?’ Alice looked up at him in awe. Piers had never said anything to her about Summer Street, only Ginny.

  ‘It’s all looking quite good,’ Piers added. ‘He’s going to set me up with an audition in the New Year.’

  ‘Wow. That’s so cool. Will you meet, like, all the people?’

  ‘Yes.’ He looked down at her. ‘In fact, that’s part of the audition. I’ve got to get along with the cast. Be part of the team.’

  They had arrived at the supermarket now, and Piers held open the door for Alice. He picked up a basket and looked around expectantly.

  ‘Now come on,’ he said. ‘What do we want? Cinnamon sticks? Cloves?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Alice vaguely. She had just spotted Antonia Callender on the other side of the shop, with her mother. It would be so cool if she could just walk past with Piers, and kind of nod to Antonia. She tossed back her hair nonchalantly and risked a friendly smile at Piers. Antonia might even think Piers was her boyfriend.

  ‘I think the spices might be that way,’ she said, pointing to the other side of the shop.

  ‘OK then.’

  As they approached Antonia, Alice could feel her cheeks becoming pinker. She clenched her hand in her pocket and squeezed the lining material tighter. Any minute now, Antonia would see them and . . .

  ‘Hi, Alice!’ Antonia’s voice rang across the aisle. Alice waited for a second, then casually looked up at Antonia’s eager face. Antonia’s gaze shifted to Piers, and then back to Alice. Her eyes were bright. Alice gave her a blank look, almost as though she didn’t recognize her. Then a bit of a smile.

  ‘Hi, Antonia,’ she said shortly. Antonia looked at Piers again and blushed.

  ‘Oh, hello, Alice.’ It was Antonia’s mother, coming over from the frozen fish counter, looking disapprovingly at Piers. ‘Doing some shopping for Mummy?’

  ‘No, actually, we’re buying some stuff for mulled wine.’ Piers’s voice resounded through the shop, confident and arresting. ‘Is it cinnamon we want? And cloves?’

  ‘Well, it depends.’ Antonia’s mother looked at Alice again. ‘The way I usually do it is to stick some cloves into oranges. And add brown sugar and water.’

  ‘That’s right,’ exclaimed Piers. ‘I remember now. And lots of brandy.’

  ‘Well,’ said Antonia’s mother. ‘It depends how strong you want it. It depends who’s going to be drinking it.’ She looked meaningfully at Alice. Antonia shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

  ‘Oh, I think we want it as strong as possible,’ said Piers cheerfully. ‘Don’t you, Alice?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Alice joyfully. She grinned at him and forced herself not even to look at Antonia. ‘Had we better go?’ she added bravely.

  ‘Yes, we’d better crack on.’ Piers smiled charmingly at Antonia and her mother. ‘So nice to meet you,’ he said. ‘And thank you for the cookery tips.’ His voice held just the faintest tinge of mockery, and as they walked away, Alice could hear Antonia wailing at her mother, ‘Mummy, why did you have to say that?’

  ‘Friend of yours?’ Piers asked, as they rounded the corner.

  ‘Enemy,’ said Alice succinctly.

  ‘Thought so,’ said Piers. They grinned at each other; collaborators’ grins, and Alice felt a sudden pull of yearning in her stomach. She looked at Piers, and felt herself growing hot. Somewhere, dim and distant in the back of her mind, resided permanently the silhouetted image of a couple kissing each other passionately. The girl was Alice; the man had always been faceless. But now, in spite of herself, she could see the face of the man. And it was Piers.

  When they got back, Ginny and Duncan were sitting on the floor, playing Scrabble. Ginny’s head shot up as they entered.

  ‘How was it?’

  ‘What, the supermarket?’

  ‘The meeting! Summer Street!’

  ‘Christ, yes. I’d almost forgotten about it.’ Piers grinned and began to shrug off his Barbour.

  Ginny sat perfectly still and waited. She mustn’t say anything; mustn’t start hectoring him. But a throbbing feeling, somewhere between excitement and dread, was nearly driving her mad. It couldn’t be bad news, surely. Not with Piers looking so cheerful. Now he was going out to hang his Barbour on the banisters, and she nearly squeaked with annoyance. Why couldn’t he chuck it onto a chair like he usually did?

  ‘It went really well.’

  ‘What?’ Her head jerked up.

  ‘I think he likes me. He said, get this, “We know you can act.” ’

  ‘He said that to you?’ Ginny’s eyes lit up. ‘Alan Tinker?’

  ‘It was practically the first thing he said.’

  ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘I can’t remember. I think I just sort of nodded.’

  Ginny drew her knees up, and hugged them tight, trying to quell her pounding exhilaration. We know you can act. Her mind lingered lovingly on the phrase for a few moments, then firmly put it away in the back of her mind, to be brought out and savoured in the future.

  ‘And then what happened?’

  ‘Then he said he’d fix up an audition after Christmas, and that the most important thing is being able to get on with the rest of the cast.’

  ‘What?’ Duncan looked up. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Oh, you know. The usual bollocks. Team work and stuff. I guess they don’t want some prima donna.’

  ‘Oh well, you won’t get the job then,’ said Duncan. ‘Everyone knows what a bitch you are to work with.’ Ginny gazed at Piers with anxious eyes.

  ‘How do they decide that bit?’

  ‘I spend an afternoon working with the cast. Something like that.’

  ‘And what are they like? Will you get on with them all right?’ Too late, Ginny realized how worried
she sounded.

  ‘I would hope so,’ said Piers, with a hint of tension in his voice. ‘Unless I’m being my usual charmless self.’

  ‘Of course! I didn’t mean—’

  ‘Of course he will,’ said Duncan easily. ‘Piece of piss. Now come on, you two, join in our game of Scrabble.’ He waved his rack of letters at Piers and Alice, so that the pieces scattered all over the floor.

  ‘We’ve got stuff for mulled wine,’ said Piers. ‘And I’m going to light the fire.’ He dropped a kiss on Ginny’s shiny blond head. ‘Do you know how to make mulled wine? We bought cloves and stuff.’ Ginny looked up at Piers, and gave him a penitent smile.

  ‘That sounds lovely. I could do with some mulled wine. And I’m sorry, Alice, I haven’t even said hello to you yet. How are you?’

  ‘Alice helped me buy the cloves,’ said Piers.

  ‘And now she can help me make the mulled wine,’ said Duncan quickly. ‘I am the world’s leading expert on mulling, as you might be aware.’

  ‘And the world’s worst fire-maker,’ added Piers. ‘We know.’

  Half an hour later, they resumed the game of Scrabble in front of the beginnings of a fire, armed with glasses of steaming, aromatic mulled wine.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ said Piers, as he took a sip. ‘What’s in this?’

  ‘About three bottles of brandy,’ giggled Alice. She and Duncan had already had several glasses, and she could feel herself getting drunk.

  ‘My go,’ said Duncan. He stared at the Scrabble board. ‘Oh bugger. I can’t do anything.’ He paused, scratched his head and took a few sips from his glass.

  ‘Is there such a word as X-Y-N-E?’ he said eventually. ‘Xyne. I’m sure it was in Shakespeare.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Ginny. She sat comfortably with her back against a chair, tilting her face to the glow of the flames. Piers’s fingers were linked with hers, and with every sip of mulled wine she could feel herself relaxing. ‘I think you’ve just made it up.’

  ‘Xyne,’ said Duncan musingly. ‘Xyne. Isn’t it a form of meditation? Xyne karma.’