alexandra, gone

by Anna McPartlin

“I think that you should do what makes you happy.”

  “Then I think I should go.”

  “I think that’s brilliant,” Elle said. “I’m so happy for you, and I’m proud of you. You’re a fighter, Leslie. Not all of us are.”

  After lunch, briefly, if only for a second, Leslie thought about Elle’s demeanor, and it dawned on her that she seemed altered—calmer, more considered, happier, resigned even. But then Jim waved at her from across the street and she forgot all about Elle.

  At home, Elle took great care to ensure that her presents were wrapped perfectly. She took time writing the cards, as she wanted everyone she loved to know how much she loved them.

  She put them under the tree that Jane had made Kurt carry in from the car. Elle had pulled out her box of decorations, and she and Jane went through them. Jane held up the papier-máché angel that she had made when she was ten.

  “I can’t believe you still have this,” she said.

  “I love it,” Elle said, taking it from her.

  “It’s horrible.”

  “It’s lovely. It’s just too broken—it keeps falling off the tree.”

  “So throw it out,” Kurt said.

  “No,” Elle said and placed it carefully back into the box.

  Rose knocked on the door, and before Elle yelled “Come in!” she was sitting on a chair directing Kurt where to put the figurine of Joseph that Elle always insisted on hanging on the tree.

  “Kurt, put him a bit higher than that—after all, he put up with an awful lot.”

  Kurt wasn’t looking forward to Christmas Day. He was back with Irene, and she was determined they spend Christmas with her mother. Kurt had promised his girlfriend that he would make more time for her during crisis talks a week earlier, and so he couldn’t back out of her mother’s invitation to Christmas lunch without being accused of welching on their agreed terms.

  “Just dump her,” Rose said with her usual tact.

  “I love her, Gran. I don’t want to lose her.” Then he added with an ironic twist of his mouth, “At least not until I’m over second year.”

  Jane laughed. “That’s your idea of love?”

  “You know what I mean,” he said, placing a bauble on the tree.

  “No,” Jane said, “I don’t.”

  “Yeah, well, Mum, when it comes to love you’re hardly the greatest example.”

  “Thank you, son, happy Christmas.”

  Elle looked around at her family, her mother sitting on the chair sipping from a mug pretending it was tea, her sister and her nephew engaging in some good-natured sniping. Her little cottage was lit up and full of Christmas cheer. Elle felt content. When they left, she went into her bedroom for a nap, and when she closed her eyes she saw her father hanging from the rafters of his home office by Jane’s jump rope and under him she saw herself sitting on the floor playing with her dolls. She looked up to watch him swing, and when he stopped she tipped him so that he’d swing again. She had been seeing this image since Jane had told her about their dad, and every time she was alone, eyes open or closed, she saw the same image. In her head she heard him crying and gasping and struggling, gurgling and dying.

  I’m sorry, Dad, I should have known, but I know what to do now. You won’t be alone anymore. I’m so sorry you waited so long. I’ll see you soon.

  Then she fell asleep.

  Since their sleeping together that one time, Tom and Jane’s relationship had not been defined and neither of them was in a particular rush to do so. They didn’t talk about having sex, and both of them were able to put it to the back of their minds so that they could still be friends. Jane and Tom behaved as if that night had never happened. It was Frankie who broached the subject with Tom one day when she met him accidentally in the fruit section of the local supermarket they shared.

  “It was nice of Jane to come to Breda’s funeral,” she said.

  “She was fond of her,” he said.

  “She’s fonder of you than Breda.”

  “Oh Frankie, please don’t.”

  “You like each other,” Frankie said, “and that’s a good thing.”

  “And what about Alexandra?”

  “Let’s get coffee,” she said.

  They dropped their baskets and went to the coffee shop next door. When they were sitting with coffee in hand, Frankie made the point to her brother-in-law that she had long been dying to make.

  “You need to move on.”

  “Easy for you to say,” he said.

  “It’s not easy for any one of us to say. We all loved Alexandra. But Tom, it’s been a year and a half, you know the statistics, and you know what the liaison officer has said time and time again.”

  “People are found all the time,” he said, but it was without the conviction with which he had once spoken.

  “Bullshit. Wake up and get off the sofa. You’re wasting your life. Start up your company again, or start up another one, or go to college or travel the world or buy a fish shop or join the monks, but do something, Tom, something other than chasing a ghost.” And while she was waiting for his response, she bit down on her muffin so hard that she chewed on her tongue. “Ouch! I keep doing that.”

  “I do like Jane,” Tom said after Frankie had composed herself.

  “Good.”

  “No. Not good.”

  “Why is it not good?”

  “Because I don’t know if I could ever love her.”

  “Well, of course you don’t. The first few years Eamonn and I were together I wasn’t sure that I even liked him, let alone loved him.”

  “Finding Alexandra will always be at the back of my mind.”

  “The back of your mind is better than the front.”

  “If only I knew what happened.”

  “We might never know.”

  “How’s Ben?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Good days and bad days,” she said. “He’s staying with Kate, and you should visit.”

  “I don’t want to intrude.”

  “You’re family.”

  “Not anymore,” he said, and she didn’t argue because since Breda had died it was hard not to feel that Tom’s final link with the Walshes was truly severed.

  When he returned home he found a message from Jane.

  Hi, Tom, Jane here. Just wanted to invite you to Christmas dinner. I’ve got a huge turkey, Rose and Elle will be there, but please don’t hold that against me. Kurt is going to Irene’s, so there will be plenty of food, and we’d love to see you.

  Tom sat on his sofa and thought about what he was doing with his life, what he wanted, what he didn’t want, where he would go, what he would do, and he didn’t have one answer to any of those questions. The only question he didn’t have trouble answering was yes to Christmas dinner with the Moores. Where else would I go?

  Leslie and Jim didn’t make it to Florida. Leslie became sick with a very nasty flu that forced her to stay in bed for the duration of the holiday. Because she woke up with the flu on the morning they were due to fly out, she didn’t bother to tell anyone that she was staying home. Jim moved in to care for her, and for the first two days she spent most of her time asleep. She woke long enough to have some of the Christmas dinner he had made, but she was miserable, shaking and sweating like a pig, and so she was put back into bed and was asleep again within half an hour. Jim spent the day with Leslie’s cat, eating chocolates, drinking beer, and watching classic films, which was his favorite way to spend Christmas anyway.

  Elle and Rose were already sitting at the table when Tom arrived. He brought a few bottles of wine and a large Christmas pudding. He and Jane kissed each other on the cheek at the door, and then he followed her into the kitchen.

  “Rose,” he said, and he leaned in and kissed her cheek.

  “Tom,” she said.

  “I have something for you.” He handed her a very expensive bottle of wine.

  She instantly recognized it for its taste and worth.

  “Tom, you should
n’t have,” she said, holding on to the bottle with a viselike grip.

  “It was the least I could do. Elle, this is for you.” He handed her a book on meditation. “Apparently it’s the new cool thing to be doing.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Jane, this is for you.” He handed her a box with a ribbon.

  “But you’ve already given me wine and a pudding!”

  “Open it,” he said.

  She opened it, and it was a round-the-world itinerary.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “I was thinking it was time I saw the world, and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.”

  Elle and Rose stayed silent while Jane gawped at the itinerary.

  “I can’t,” she said. “I’d love to, but I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Elle said.

  “I have responsibilities,” she said.

  “I think you should go,” Elle said.

  Rose stayed quiet.

  “It’s not today or tomorrow,” he said. “I don’t even know when I want to go myself, but I just want you to know that if I do go I’d really like you to come with me.”

  Jane smiled, and Elle nudged Rose, whose face remained frozen.

  “Well, that’s a lovely gesture,” Jane said, and just as she was kissing his cheek for a second time, the doorbell rang.

  Jane wondered who was coming to her house during Christmas lunch. It was Dominic.

  “What do you want?”

  “Just wanted to see Kurt,” he said.

  “Kurt’s at Irene’s,” Jane said, closing the door.

  “Janey,” he said, holding the door, “please forgive me, it’s Christmas Day.”

  “You are something else!”

  “I know,” he said. “But I miss you, I miss Kurt, I miss Elle but not sleeping with her, I miss this house, I miss our odd little family—Jesus, I must be losing my mind because I even miss Rose.”

  “I heard that!” Rose shouted from the kitchen.

  “Come in,” Jane said.

  Dominic followed Jane into the kitchen, and she set a place for him at the table. Tom stood up and shook his hand.

  “Nice to see you again, Tom.”

  “It’s nice to see you,” Tom said.

  “Elle, it’s good to see you,” Dominic said.

  “You too, Dominic.”

  “Rose,” Dominic said.

  “Dominic,” Rose said. “I better be careful what I drink today or you might try to throw the leg over me too.”

  “Well, you watching what you drink would certainly make a nice change.”

  Jane served dinner, and they all ate happily. Afterward, the men insisted on doing the dishes.

  “So,” Dominic said to Tom while washing a pot, “you and Jane.”

  “We’re friends.”

  “Are you gay?”

  “You know I’m not.”

  “Well, you’re not just friends.”

  “We’re undefined.”

  Dominic thought about it for a few minutes. “Good for you.”

  Later, when everyone was in the sitting room battling over a game of Pictionary, Kurt returned from Irene’s complaining that he’d just endured the worst duck dinner ever and that he was starving.

  “I mean, who does duck at Christmas? And it was dry as an old deer’s—”

  “Excuse me?” Rose said.

  “Sorry, Gran.”

  “I should bloody think so!” She pointed at Dominic. “Do you hear that? That’s you!”

  Dominic went into the kitchen with Kurt and plated up some food and heated it in the microwave, and they sat and ate together again. Rose and Elle decided it was time to leave, Rose so that she could entertain her bridge friends, who were due at nine, and Elle because she was tired.

  “It was a perfect day,” Elle said to Jane, and Jane hugged her. Elle had been so different since their chat, and she really felt that maybe her mother and the doctor were wrong and Elle was fine after all.

  When they’d gone, Tom and Jane sat together on the sofa.

  “That was a big gesture,” she said, referring to the itinerary.

  “It feels kind of silly now.”

  “Don’t be like that.”

  “‘Here’s a piece of paper with lots of countries written on it,’” he said, and he laughed.

  “You should do it alone,” she said.

  “I don’t want to.”

  “You should get away from here and find yourself again.”

  “I didn’t know I was lost.”

  “Well, you are, and I’d love you to find yourself with me, but I know it’s too soon.”

  “For you or me?”

  “Probably for both of us,” she said.

  He nodded and patted her leg. “I think you’re my best friend.”

  “I’m glad,” she said.

  Leslie woke up and walked into her sitting room in a drugged haze. Jim was passed out on the sofa with her cat passed out on top of him. She looked at the clock and it was ten oh five p.m. She poured water into a glass and threw some tablets into her mouth and gulped down the water until the glass was empty. As she was passing the counter on her way out of the room, she saw the telephone’s message light blinking. She pressed the button, and it was Elle. She sounded sleepy and happy. She sounded at peace.

  Hi, Leslie. I know you are in Florida now, and I hope you and Jim are having a good time. He’s a good one. I had a silk dress delivered to your house on Christmas Eve. I hope Deborah took it in for you. It’s beautiful and really feminine, so when you wear it I hope you think of me …

  Leslie looked at the box covered in bows that Jim had signed for the previous day but that Leslie hadn’t had the will or strength to open. She smiled at her friend’s kindness.

  I just wanted you to know that I’ve loved being your friend and joining you on your journey. You inspired me because you grabbed on to life, and that was right for you. I hope that you don’t hate me for letting go because that’s what is right for me …

  Leslie’s smile faded. What is she saying?

  Tell Jane that I love her and I always have, and Kurt too, and my mother. Tell them to be happy for me, and please be happy for me too. If I could cut out the part of me that’s rotten, I would, but I know that I can’t now, and I can’t bear to be here anymore. I’ve left notes for Jane, Mum, and Kurt buried in the back garden. Jane will know where. Forgive me.

  “Jim!” Leslie screamed.

  Jim shot up.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, sitting up straight and rubbing his eyes like a child.

  “Get up, get up, get up!”

  He jumped up and followed Leslie into the bedroom.

  “What’s going on?” he asked again, and he grabbed Leslie, who seemed to be running around in circles with her nightdress half off and her trousers half on. He held her in place. “Calm down,” he said.

  “Elle’s killing herself,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Elle left a message on the answering machine, saying goodbye and to forgive her.”

  Jim ran into the kitchen and checked the time the message was received. Nine twenty. He looked at the clock on the wall. It read ten twenty.

  Leslie was dressed and running around looking for shoes.

  “Leslie, stop. Call Jane.” He handed her the phone.

  “I don’t know her number. It’s in my mobile.” She ran around looking for her mobile, and when she found it in her jacket she pulled it out of the pocket and the battery was dead. “Christ!” she roared. “Fucking hell!” She ran around the apartment looking for her charger and found it in the bedroom. She plugged it in and turned on her phone. “Come on, come on, come on,” she said as the phone was taking its sweet time. Jim stood calmly beside her. The phone came on. She dialed Jane’s number. It rang out.

  “No, no, no!”

  She dialed it again. Jane answered.

  “Hi, Leslie, sorry—the phone was in the bottom of my bag,�
� Jane said. “Oh my God, how is Florida?”

  “Go down to the cottage now!”

  “Have you been drinking?” Jane asked.

  Tom had his coat on and was ready to leave, and she winked at him.

  “Jane, Elle left a message on my machine saying good-bye and that she couldn’t be here anymore. She’s left notes for you in the garden. She asked us to forgive her. Go down to the—”

  Leslie didn’t get to finish her sentence. Jane was off and running from the sitting room to the hall into the kitchen. Dominic and Kurt were eating chocolates and drinking coffee. Jane ran past them, wrenched the door open, and ran down the steps and across the garden, passing her mother’s witch hazels, her roses, the graves of Jimmy, Jessica, Judy, and Jeffrey, and reached Elle’s cottage door. It was locked, so she banged at it, screaming, “Elle, Elle, Elle, it’s Jane! Elle, Elle, please answer the door!”

  She was pulling at the latch like a madwoman, slapping the door and kicking at it.

  Then Tom, Dominic, and Kurt were beside her.

  “What’s going on?” Dominic said.

  “It’s Elle, she’s killing herself!”

  Tom moved her aside and started to kick at the lock. He kicked once, twice, and on the third kick the lock broke and the door swung open. Jane was first in, followed by Tom, Kurt, then Dominic. She ran into the sitting room and then into the bedroom screaming Elle’s name. Elle wasn’t in either room. She ran to the bathroom door and it was locked.

  “Elle, please, please open the door!”

  Tom and Dominic both started to kick the door down. Kurt stood with his hands on his head. The door broke and opened, and Elle was lying in the bath and one hand was dangling over the rim of the bath and her wrist was bleeding. She was conscious and crying but clearly drugged. Jane grabbed her other hand and it wasn’t cut. The dangling wrist was bleeding a lot but didn’t appear to be bleeding enough to kill her. Then again, nobody in the room actually knew how much blood loss and drug-taking it took to die. Kurt got a clean towel and tied it around her wrist while Tom called an ambulance, Dominic emptied the bath, and he and Jane wrapped Elle in towels.

  Elle was sobbing. “I was too scared, Janey,” she said. “I was so happy to go, but then I thought, what if it’s worse on the other side?”

  “It’s okay, I’ve got you now,” Jane said, struggling to keep it together. “What did you take, Elle?”