by Judi Curtin
Alice Again
Judi Curtin
Illustrations: Woody Fox
For Dan, Brian, Ellen and Annie.
Warmest thanks to:
All my family and friends who have been so supportive over the years.
Ellen and Annie for their help with this book. Liz for the photo (again).
Everyone at The O’Brien Press, especially my editor, Helen. Andrea and Robert for their hard work in the UK.
The bookshops who displayed Alice Next Door so nicely, and also invited me to read – especially O’Mahony’s and Easons in Limerick, and Facts & Fables in Nenagh.
Limerick City Library.
All the children who wrote such interesting reviews, and who sent me wonderful e-mails and letters about Alice Next Door.
The many great schools who invited me to visit to read from Alice Next Door. These schools include: Holy Name Primary, St Dunstan’s Primary, St Bridget’s, St Catherine’s, St John’s, and Chorlton Park Primary (all in Manchester). Also LSP, Salesian’s Primary, Presentation NS and Milford NS in Limerick. I received the most wonderful welcome everywhere I went, and was treated like the celebrity I hope one day to become.
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter one
Chapter two
Chapter three
Chapter four
Chapter five
Chapter six
Chapter seven
Chapter eight
Chapter nine
Chapter ten
Chapter eleven
Chapter twelve
Chapter thirteen
Chapter fourteen
Chapter fifteen
Chapter sixteen
Chapter seventeen
Chapter eighteen
Chapter nineteen
Chapter twenty
Chapter twenty-one
Chapter twenty-two
Chapter twenty-three
Chapter twenty-four
Chapter twenty-five
Chapter twenty-six
About the Author
By the Same Author
Copyright
Other Books
Chapter one
There was a sudden loud whistle, and outside in the corridor, I could hear the train doors whooshing closed. I waved at my mum and my little sister Rosie who were standing on the platform. Mum reached up through the open window and squeezed my hand.
‘Bye Megan. Be a good girl at Alice’s place,’ she said. ‘And remember, no silly hiding under beds this time.’
I groaned. Mum never lets me forget what happened last year. You’d think I’d robbed a bank or killed someone or sent a computer virus around the whole world or something really bad like that. But all I did was try to help my friend when she needed me.
You see, what happened was, my very, very best friend Alice had moved from Limerick to Dublin with her mum and her brother, because her parents had split up. Naturally, Alice and I were really upset about that, so when she came to visit her Dad at Halloween, she came up with this totally crazy plan. (Alice specialises in totally crazy plans!) She hid in my house for days, hoping that her parents would get such a fright that her mum would move back to Limerick and they’d all live happily ever after.
It didn’t turn out that way, of course. Alice’s mother wouldn’t move away from Dublin, and Alice just got into loads of trouble.
Still, Alice’s mum did let her visit Limerick a bit more often after that, so I suppose her mad plan sort of worked, in a funny, mixed-up kind of way.
Anyway, that was all ages ago, and everyone has managed to forget it except for my mum who has a memory like an elephant. Now it was spring mid-term, and I was going to Dublin to stay with Alice for six wonderful nights.
Just then there was a horrible screechy noise, and the train started to move. All of a sudden, Rosie started to cry. She stretched out one fat little hand towards me, and huge, sloppy tears began to drip down her face. At first I thought that she was crying because she was going to miss me, and that made me feel kind of proud and sad at the same time. Then I decided that she was probably just jealous because I was getting to go on a train, and she wasn’t.
I put my face to the window. ‘Don’t cry, Rosie,’ I called, ‘I’ll be home soon and I’ll bring you back sweeties. Lots and lots of sweeties. All for Rosie.’ Mum shook her head, and gave me one of her world-famous cross looks. If she had her way, sweets would be banned. Rosie was suddenly happy though. She stopped crying and beamed at me.
‘Sweeties for Rosie,’ she said.
I laughed. Rosie is cute – most of the time.
The train was moving a bit faster now. Mum lifted Rosie into her arms, and walked quickly along beside us. I wished she wouldn’t do that. It was too embarrassing, and it’s usually at moments like this that Melissa, the meanest girl in my class shows up, like I’m not embarrassed enough already.
The train started to go even faster. Soon Mum was almost jogging along beside it, waving madly. You’d think I was going to America for a hundred years instead of just Dublin for a week. Poor Rosie looked a little bit scared as she bounced up and down clinging tightly to Mum’s neck. Mum’s face was all red and sweaty and her hair-slide had fallen off so her hair was flying madly around her face. I wanted to shout out and tell her to stop making a fool of herself, and, even worse, making a fool of me. I couldn’t do that though, I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. All of a sudden I remembered that the dreaded Melissa had gone to Lanzarote on holidays, so at least there was no danger of her showing up and then telling everyone at school yet another story about my crazy Mum. Then I didn’t feel quite so bad.
Mum began to slow down. I leaned out of the window and saw that she was running out of platform. Soon, if she wanted to keep going she’d have to run along an empty track beside the train. And even my mum isn’t that crazy. At last she stopped running. She stood still with a very sad look on her face. The train kept going, and soon Mum and Rosie were like miniature versions of themselves on the faraway platform.
I gave one last wave, and then I sat down in my seat.
Free at last!
* * *
I could hardly believe it was true. It seemed like only yesterday that I was first allowed down to our local shop on my own. And I was only allowed into town if I spent half an hour promising to be good first. Now here I was, on a train to Dublin, all by myself. I felt like pinching myself to see if it was true, then I realised that was the kind of thing that kids only do in books, so I resisted. Instead I just sat back and smiled and smiled until I noticed the old lady sitting opposite giving me funny looks. I stopped smiling, and she went back to her knitting. She was making a jumper out of disgusting bright orange wool. It looked all stiff and scratchy. Some poor child would have to wear that, I thought. Now I had two reasons to be happy. One – I was going to spend six whole nights in Dublin with Alice, and two – the knitting-lady wasn’t my granny.
I put my hand into my jacket pocket and pulled out the e-mail Alice had sent me a few days earlier. I’d already read it about a hundred times. I read it once more, slowly, enjoying every single word.
Hi Meg,
I can’t believe I’m going to see you so soon. And for six whole days!!! We are going to have the best time ever. EVER!!!!! EVER!!!!! I have it all planned. I’ve saved up loads of money and every day we’re going to do something special. We’re going to go to the cinema at least twice. We’ll go to town and we can get our nails done in this great place I know. And there’s a shop where you can design and make your own soft-toys. I’m going to make a bunny for Jamie (you know how he loves bunnies) and you could make a teddy for Rosie. And there’s this place where you can get the yum
miest hot chocolate with heaps of marshmallows – it’s all yummy and frothy – not a bit like the stuff you make at home. And Mum says we can go to this cool new Quasar place not far from our apartment. We are going to have soooooo much fun!
Luv
Al
I smiled to myself. I was really glad that Alice hadn’t any crazy plans for this trip. Life always became very complicated when Alice went into what I called ‘crazy-planning-mode’. I just wanted to spend a few days hanging out together. A few days free of organic vegetables, and Mum’s efforts to save the world. All I wanted was a few days of fun.
I closed my eyes and thought of all the cool things that Alice had planned. Alice always had the best ideas. Suddenly I felt all kind of tingly and excited. This trip was going to be great. I just knew it.
I folded up Alice’s e-mail and put it back into my pocket. There was another piece of paper there. I sighed as I pulled it out. It was the sheet of paper Mum had pressed into my hand as I boarded the train. I opened it up, and then I sighed again. It was like the ten commandments, only there were about a hundred of them, in Mum’s ultra-neat handwriting, covering both sides of a very big page. Mum believes in lists – the longer the better – and this time she’d got completely carried away.
Don’t talk to strangers.
Don’t forget to change trains at Limerick Junction.
Help with the housework.
Wear your coat when you go out – it’s still only February.
Wear your gloves and scarf. (I couldn’t obey that rule even if I wanted to because I’d taken my gloves and scarf out of my bag when Mum wasn’t looking, and hidden them at the back of my wardrobe.)
Don’t eat too much rubbish.
If there isn’t any healthy food, buy yourself some fruit every day.
Phone home at least once.
Don’t stay up too late.
Don’t go anywhere on your own.
Don’t go out after seven o’clock.
The list went on and on and on. A huge long line of do’s and don’ts. (Mostly don’ts). I felt as if Mum had climbed onto the train and was sitting there beside me waggling her finger in my face. I stopped reading and gave yet another big sigh. I knew Mum meant well, but sometimes she went a bit over the top. She badly needed to take a few chill pills.
I read quickly down to the end of the list just in case she’d written something crazy and wonderful like – I’ve hidden a hundred euro in the bottom of your bag, or I’ve arranged for a daily delivery of sweets to Alice’s place. (She hadn’t, of course.) Then I tore the paper into tiny little pieces, and squished them into the small metal ashtray beside my seat.
I checked that the woman sitting opposite wasn’t looking, and I gave another huge smile. Six whole days. Six days doing cool stuff with Alice. Six long, wonderful days before I had to go back to my own boring house, and all my stupid chores, and dinners with funny-looking beans in them. Six days of heaven!
It really was almost too good to be true, so I gave myself a small pinch, just to be on the safe side.
Chapter two
Despite all Mum’s dreadful warnings, the journey passed without any disasters. I changed trains at Limerick junction, and I didn’t talk to strangers, and I sat facing the front so I wouldn’t feel sick, and I didn’t touch the seat when I went to the toilet, and I washed my hands with soap and hot water, and I dried them on my t-shirt so I wouldn’t have to touch the filthy hand-towel. I felt a small bit guilty about tearing up Mum’s note, so I ate all of the carrot sticks and hummus and wholemeal crackers that she’d packed for me, and I didn’t buy any rubbish from the buffet car. All in all I was the perfect child. Mum would have been proud of me.
The journey went very quickly and it seemed like no time at all until we were pulling in to the station in Dublin. I got off the train and followed the crowds of people, who I hoped would lead me to Alice. After a minute or two, I got to a metal barrier, and stopped. The crowd of people broke up, and everyone went different ways. I felt suddenly afraid. All my confidence vanished as quickly as jelly sweets at one of Rosie’s birthday parties.
I looked all around and tried not to panic. There were hundreds of people in the station, but none of them was Alice.
What would happen if she didn’t show up?
What if she’d forgotten that I was coming?
Where would I go?
What would I do?
For the millionth time, I hated Mum for not letting me have a mobile phone. Why did she have to live life like it was still the dark ages?
I could see a phone box at the end of the next platform, and I had some change in my pocket. Maybe I should go across and phone someone. But then I thought, who would I phone?
If I rang my mum and told her I was on my own in Dublin, she’d go into a total panic. She’d dial 999 and have the railway station surrounded by guards and soldiers and ambulances in minutes. I’d probably end up on the six o’clock news, and everyone in my class would see it. Someone would tape it to show to Melissa when she got back from Lanzarote, and then my life might as well be over.
And Alice never bothered to switch her mobile phone on, so there’d be no point in trying to phone her on that.
And I didn’t know the number of Alice’s land-line.
A man with a huge battered suitcase hurried past me, knocking me backwards. I banged my elbow really hard on the metal barrier. It hurt like crazy. A lady gave me a kind look, and hesitated for a moment, but then she walked on. Everyone was pushing past me, busy with their own lives. Everyone except me had somewhere to go.
For one tiny moment, I wished I had stayed at home, where everything was familiar and safe. I could have gone to the pictures with my friends Grace and Louise, and then maybe Rosie and I could have baked an organic, sugar-free cake. I felt too young to be here in this big scary place on my own. It was stupid, I know, but I could feel tears forming, making my eyes go all blurry.
I was just reaching for one of the tissues that Mum had made me put in my coat pocket, when I heard a huge whistle that made all the people near me turn around in surprise. I smiled. I knew only one person who could whistle like that. Then I heard her voice, ‘Megan. Me-e-eg! Here, I’m over here!’
I turned and looked, Alice was running along towards me, waving and calling. I quickly wiped my eyes with my sleeve, picked up my bag and walked towards her. I’d never in my whole life been so glad to see her. Actually I don’t think I’d ever been so glad to see anyone.
Everything was going to be OK. The perfect holiday was just about to begin.
Alice gave me a little hug. Then she whispered. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. Something awful has happened.’
I stopped smiling. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
She shook her head. ‘Sorry, no time to tell you now. Mum’s waiting outside, and you know how impatient she gets. I’ll tell you when we get home, OK?’ It wasn’t OK, but I knew there was no point asking any more. Alice is the world champion at not telling stuff if she doesn’t want to.
She took me by the arm and led me towards the car park. Her mum’s fancy car was parked right next to a No Parking sign. I smiled to myself. My mum would die rather than park there. My mum loves rules, and Alice’s mum loves breaking them. I don’t know how those two women managed to have daughters who were best friends.
Alice climbed into the front seat, and I climbed into the back. Her brother, Jamie, was sitting there, stuffing his cheeky little face with crisps. The seat around him looked as if a crisp-bomb had just exploded and there was a disgusting stink of cheese and onions. When I leaned over to close the door, Jamie kicked me on the shin. It really hurt, but I didn’t want to say anything in front of Alice’s mum. I made a face at him, and he stuck his tongue out at me, showing me a huge mound of gross, slimy, half-chewed potato.
In a way, I was kind of glad that Jamie was being his usual horrible self. At least the awful thing that Alice had talked about wasn’t awful enough to make him change hi
s behaviour.
I edged myself as far as I could away from him, and fastened my seat-belt.
Alice’s mum, Veronica, half-turned around in her seat. She gave me the cold smile that always seemed a bit forced. Sometimes I thought she must practise it in front of the mirror. Maybe it was a special kind of smile that didn’t cause wrinkles. My mum has loads of wrinkles around her eyes. Maybe she should learn how to smile like that.
‘Megan,’ said Veronica. ‘How lovely to see you. I’m sure you and Alice are going to have a wonderful time together.’ Veronica looked like she didn’t really care if we had a wonderful time or not.
Then she turned away, and began to wipe some lipstick from her teeth with the corner of a tissue. Now I was really confused. If something terrible had happened, why was everyone except Alice acting so normally?
Alice turned around, and gave me a small smile, and I felt a bit better. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all. Alice was probably just being a bit over-dramatic as usual. She’s good at that.
Veronica pulled out onto the road. There was a squeal of brakes, and a taxi screeched to a halt, just missing us. The driver leaned out of the window and shook his fist. He was just about to say something, when Veronica rolled down her window. ‘I’m so dreadfully sorry. I just didn’t see you.’ I could see in the mirror that she was smiling a sweet smile. The taxi driver fell for it. ‘No problem, missus. On you go.’
Veronica drove on, ignoring Alice who was pretending to get sick into Veronica’s gorgeous white leather handbag.
Then Alice spoke crossly. ‘Mum, that is so sexist. You shouldn’t use your looks to get away with dangerous driving.’
Veronica laughed. ‘That wasn’t the slightest bit dangerous. He should have been more careful. Anyway, if I’ve got good looks, it would be wrong not to use them, wouldn’t it? After all, Alice, you’re brainy, and you plan to use your brains, don’t you?’