The Liberation of Alice Love

by Abby McDonald

  Nobody need know who she really was.

  ***

  “Ginger beer?”

  “Yes, thanks.” Alice held out her glass tumbler for Flora to pour. “And here, you take the salad.”

  It was the end of the week, and they were sitting out on the back patio, eating dinner in the late slants of evening sun. After all her recent upheaval, Alice was surprised how quickly she’d settled into a domestic kind of routine with her stepfamily: getting a lift into the city with Stefan every morning, then making it home in time for supper with Flora. Stefan worked late almost every night, so after she was finished with work (and her new dance classes, and whichever detour Ella’s bank statement prompted that day), she and her stepsister would take their meal out into the tranquility of the lush garden and sit in the shade of the wide, white awning together to read, sketch, and even—occasionally—to talk.

  “How are the kittens coming along?” Alice took a forkful of pasta, settling back in her wrought-iron garden chair.

  “I don’t know…” Flora sipped her drink, the ice cubes clinking gently in the tall glass. “I’m getting the anatomy just fine; it’s the movement that’s being evil. No matter what pose I try to draw, they always end up looking static, like they’re frozen in place.”

  “You could do a still series,” Alice suggested. “Kittens at rest.” She kicked off her heels, wriggling her bare toes in the sun. July had barely started, but already it was warm until dusk.

  Flora gave a smile, but she seemed downcast. “At this rate, I’ll have to. I just wanted to have something wonderful for the exhibition next month. To show everyone how far I’ve come.”

  Alice gave her a sympathetic look. “You’ll get it, eventually. Remember how long it took you to master the view from the kitchen window?” Dishes had piled high that Father’s Day weekend, as Flora monopolized the room for her project.

  “I suppose…” Flora toyed with her bread for a moment, then fixed an upbeat grin on her face. “What about you—how was work? Any scandal and intrigue?”

  “Today?” Alice had to think for a second. She’d sat in that office for eight hours, but her memory was completely blank. “Nothing new. Contracts, more contracts…” She shrugged.

  To tell the truth, her work had drifted even further into the background since Nathan had revealed news of Ella’s secret bank account. The fresh documents had been exactly what she’d hoped. While the data from her own statements had been sporadic at best—just occasional online or phone purchases Ella had kept under the radar—she obviously hadn’t been so worried about the second account. Using it as a base to receive the fraudulent loans and make minimal payments on her bogus credit cards, Ella had spent freely and frequently, much to Alice’s delight. The journal of Ella’s real movements soon swelled, until Alice could pinpoint her location and real activities on almost every day over the past few months.

  “Rupert got a callback,” Alice finally offered, wanting to add something to the conversation that didn’t involve fraud and deception.

  “Oh?”

  “A new costume-drama film,” Alice related, through a mouthful of marinated artichoke. She swallowed. “An adaptation of some biography, an inventor in Victorian England. They’re down to just a few now, so I think he’s got a real chance.”

  “That’s great.” Flora beamed. “We should invite him to dinner sometime. I met his wife once, what’s her name…?”

  “Keisha.”

  “That’s it. She was lovely. We could all have drinks, or a barbecue.”

  “I don’t know…” Alice paused, reluctant. “I always think about inviting them to things, but it can get rather messy, socializing with clients.” Especially the way Vivienne operated. Alice never knew when a calm, dependable client relationship would explode into tantrums—on either side.

  “Oh.” Flora shrugged, unconcerned. “Whatever you think. We should still do the barbecue idea though; Stefan loves firing up that thing.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  They drifted into companionable silence for the rest of the evening; Flora tackling the intricacies of kittens at play while Alice slowly worked her way through a new book, until Flora screwed up another page and tossed it to the ground.

  “No luck?”

  Flora shook her head.

  “Maybe you just need a break,” Alice suggested. “Try again tomorrow, when you’ve had some time to refresh.” Ten solid hours of kitten sketching would certainly wear on anyone’s nerves.

  “I suppose…” Flora sighed. She looked around, restless. “What are you reading?”

  Alice held up the cover.

  “Ooh, I know him. Stefan just finished one—he has the sequel, I think.” Flora tilted her head slightly. “I didn’t know you liked crime novels.”

  “I don’t, usually. But I thought I’d give it a try. It’s quite good,” Alice admitted. She’d noticed the purchase on Ella’s statement and ordered it online, along with a handful of other albums and DVDs from the list. Research.

  “Can I borrow it, when you’re done?”

  “Of course. But I’m warning you now; it’s rather grisly.”

  Flora screwed up her face. “How grisly?”

  “Blood, guts, the usual. Oh, and there’s a scene where they find a dismembered body—”

  Flora shuddered. “That’s enough!”

  Alice laughed. Flora had long ago declared she would only read books with happy endings, and as far as Alice knew, she had kept to the resolution. “I think you’re best sticking with romance novels,” she advised, just as the phone began to ring inside.

  “I’ll go—” Flora bounced up. “Leave you to your dismemberment.”

  Alice marked her place with a paper napkin and stretched. The sun had set behind the garden walls now, and a cluster of mosquitoes was dancing out of range of the anti-insect lamps stationed around them. It felt odd to be relaxing out of doors on a weeknight, when she was usually working late or watching the TV at home, but she supposed there was no “usual” in her life anymore. Her old routine had been pulled apart, and although it had only been a couple of months since those first, fraudulent transactions had shaken her world, Alice felt as though her life was divided into two unrelated parts: before the discovery and after.

  “Oh.”

  Alice looked up at the sound of Flora’s sigh. “What’s wrong?”

  “Stefan’s caught up with a business dinner.” Flora’s voice was plaintive. She hovered in the doorway, suddenly looking forlorn. “He won’t be back for ages.”

  “That’s a shame,” Alice answered absently, glancing back at her page. She was in the middle of a particularly suspenseful section. She stopped. “Wait, what time is it?”

  “Half nine?”

  “Oh crap!” Alice struggled to her feet, reaching for her shoes and cardigan. “I’m supposed to meet Cassie at ten.”

  “Something fun?”

  “A birthday thing, across town. This actress we both know.” Alice wasn’t entirely enthused, but she hadn’t seen Cassie since fleeing her sexcapades, and Cassie was certainly one to take offense.

  “Oh.” This time, Flora’s voice quavered a little. “Well, have fun.”

  Alice paused. Flora had wrapped her arms around herself and was drifting absently around the patio. Alone.

  “Say hi to Cassie for me,” Flora added.

  Alice sighed. “Do you want to come with me?”

  Flora brightened. “Really?”

  “Sure,” Alice reassured her. “Why not?”

  Flora darted over, giving Alice a fierce little hug. “Ooh, this is going to be so much fun! What are you wearing? I could maybe wear my pink dress, the floaty one, but not if you were going to be in something red. We don’t want to clash!”

  ***

  By the time they arrived, Alice was running almost an unheard-of hour late. Flora had fluttered around for a good thirty minutes, selecting and rejecting an array of seemingly identical print skirts before insisting
on “jazzing up” Alice’s navy shift dress with armfuls of intricate gold bangles. She seemed to think they were in one of those chick-lit movies she loved so much, drinking white wine and dancing around to songs on the radio, so it was as much as Alice could manage to bundle her into a taxi and direct them across town before she began singing into a hairbrush to the Pretty Woman soundtrack.

  “Alice, where have you been?” Cassie accosted them in the front lobby, waving her membership card at the sleek, black-clad staff behind the desk and signing them in with a careless scrawl. “Oh, hi, Flora,” she greeted her briefly, before turning back to scold Alice. “I’ve been waiting for you forever!”

  Alice doubted that. Cassie was constantly behind, if she ever made an appearance at all; it was Alice who felt flustered if she wasn’t five minutes ahead of schedule and made a point of calling if she would be even a little late. But not tonight. “I’m sure you survived somehow.” Alice kissed her on the cheeks and followed her to the lift. “Isn’t Flavia dancing on the tables yet?”

  “Almost.” Cassie squeezed in the tiny space with them and selected the top floor. “Lexi and Noel are here too, in from Berlin, and Petros is in town as well—you remember him, right?” she didn’t wait for a reply. “He said he ran into Dakota the other night at a show. He was with some hipster bitch: perfect hair but no boobs, Petros said.” Cassie glanced down, as if to check her own chest was suitably perky, encased in a sheer black blouse tucked into loose, wide trousers. Alice sent Flora an amused look. Two minutes before a mention of the ex? The sad thing was, that wasn’t even a record.

  “Anyway.” Cassie eyed her reflection in the shiny lift interior, smoothing down her already-glossy hair as they came to a halt. “Come say hi to everyone and start drinking. You’re way behind.”

  Everyone turned out to be lounging on the far side of the slim, rooftop pool, balancing cocktails precariously on padded recliners as they laughed and chatted and otherwise eyed the rest of the fashionable crowd. Cassie led them over, carefully picking her way across the damp tiles and throwing a wave and a careless smile to people as she went.

  “Look,” Flora hissed, jerking her head at the man who was, for some inexplicable reason, swimming laps after dark in tight-fitting white trunks.

  “Modest,” Alice laughed, before they were swept up in enthusiastic greetings.

  “Darling!” Flavia pressed a glass of wine into her hand. Teetering on thick wedge sandals, her curves were barely constrained by a skin-tight red dress stretched over a lacy black bra. “Mwah, mwah. You look fabulous!”

  “Happy birthday.” Alice hugged her affectionately. A six-foot, Brazilian ex-model with wild, curly hair, Flavia could get away with acting like an Ab Fab character, a cigarette dangling from her left hand and lips smeared with red. “You don’t look any older, I promise.”

  “Oh, hush.” Flavia giggled. “I’m booked in for Botox tomorrow morning.”

  Alice gasped, “No!”

  “Yes!” Tossing back her hair, Flavia struck a pose; one hip jutted out and her breasts thrust forward. “You think I’m letting anything sag? Darling, this ass is all I have in the world!”

  “A toast!” Vitolio cried out. Alice had hardly recognized him fully clothed. “To Flavia’s fantastic arse!”

  “Hear, hear!”

  ***

  With a group as extroverted as Flavia and her friends, Alice wasn’t required to do anything more than sip her champagne and appreciate their ever-more-outrageous stories. She and Flora settled back on the loungers and for the next hour bore witness to the increasingly drunken antics of European cool hunters, South American fashion designers, and, of course, the London creative elite. But by the time the fifth bottle of champagne arrived at their table, and Cassie once again began to describe the perilous working conditions in Poland, Alice was beginning to feel restless.

  Unfolding herself, she slipped her shoes back on and turned to nudge Flora. “Do you want anything from the bar?”

  “Maybe some water?” Flora suggested. A chivalrous member of their group had draped his jacket over her as protection from the faint chill, and she was curled up, happily watching the crowd with a dreamy expression on her face.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Carefully navigating her way around the pool, Alice slipped inside. The bar was loud with laughter and noise, packed with ultra-stylish young things in bright-print playsuits, leggings, and skinny jeans. Some kind of product launch was going on, with dark bottles of whiskey stacked in precarious pyramids along the back wall and flat screens set up at strategic angles playing advertisements on mute. Thanks to the issues of Heat Saskia left piling up around the office, Alice could count at least three minor reality “stars” and a clutch of former boy-band pinups as she made her way to the bar and ordered two mineral waters.

  “That’s not getting into the spirit of things.”

  Alice looked back from the clique of D-listers. A man was standing next to her, in a designer-looking suit. “The spirit, get it?” He flashed her a grin. “Because of the whiskey?”

  Alice groaned. “That’s a terrible pun.”

  “I know,” he admitted, reaching up with one hand to tousle his already-artful mess of choppy blond hair. “What’s worse is I’ve been waiting all night to use it.”

  She laughed, despite herself, just as the barman delivered Alice’s drinks. She rummaged in her purse for change.

  “I’ve got this,” he stopped her, sliding a note to the barman.

  “Thank you,” Alice said politely. Ordinarily, she would have left it at that and returned to her group, but she’d been restless for a while. Watching him, Alice gave a small grin. “What would you have done if I’d ordered champagne?”

  “Gone and hit on the girl drinking cranberry juice,” he replied, nodding farther down the bar. Alice laughed.

  “You’re honest, at least.”

  “An underrated virtue.” He flashed that smile again. “I’m Johan.”

  Alice took his outstretched hand. “I’m…” She paused, the words dissolving in her mouth. She could tell him anything, she realized suddenly: any name, any story. Why would he doubt her? She could create whatever fiction she desired. Alice felt a spark of power rush through her. For one night, she could be the successful agent or jet-setting actress or nationally best-selling artist. Anything.

  But just as quickly, Alice swallowed back the temptation. What was she thinking? “I have to get back,” she said, nodding in the direction of the pool. “But thank you for the drinks.”

  Johan shrugged. “No problem.” His eyes drifted past her, already seeking out his next target. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

  Alice hurried back outside. Flora was boxed into a corner, Cassie’s sleazy designer friend leaning ever closer, so Alice deftly inserted herself between them. “Here you go.” She brightly passed Flora the water, turning away from the man and pushing back a few steps so he was forced to retreat.

  “Thanks,” Flora whispered gratefully. “He started insisting I come by his studio for some private fittings!”

  “Lovely.” Alice took a sip and looked around. The lone swimmer had long since abandoned the pool, but the water looked even more appealing now in the dark: glowing an ethereal turquoise as it rippled and shifted in the breeze.

  “Are you doing OK?” Alice checked with Flora. “They can be a little overwhelming, I know.” Her own years with Vivienne and Cassie had inured her somewhat to the adventures of her more high-maintenance acquaintances. Flora, however, looked pale and faintly exhausted.

  “No, I’m great!” she insisted, smiling back at Alice. “Everyone’s so interesting and well travelled. It’s wonderful.”

  “But you’ll let me know if…” She trailed off, catching a glimpse of a new arrival emerging from the lift. “Oh crap.”

  “What?” Flora followed her gaze.

  “The ex.”

  He was strolling out onto the roof, a messy cravat knotted at his neck and an
arm draped around a rake-thin girl. Petros had been crude but correct in his description, Alice noted: her hair was a long, sweeping mess of blond curls, but her torso was completely flat. Alice looked quickly over at Cassie. Perched in Vitolio’s lap, laughing loudly, it seemed as if she hadn’t noticed him yet, but Alice detected a wild, determined look in her eyes. She knew exactly what was happening.

  Alice sighed. The last time they’d had a run-in with Dakota in person, Cassie had spent the rest of the night downing tequila shots and weeping in the women’s bathroom. Alice practically had to carry her back to the Tube, passing tissues as she bawled all the way home, hiccuping over how they were meant to be together, and how it didn’t matter what a bastard he seemed, because they had so much history. Alice had heard it all too many times.

  “Do you want to get going?” she asked Flora, suddenly determined. Just because Cassie ran like clockwork, it didn’t mean Alice had to play her part this time too. They were surrounded by people who could hold Cassie’s hair back as she wretched, miserable, and murmur sympathetic encouragement that she would only ignore.

  “Sure, if you want to.” Flora seemed reluctant, but she reached for her purse.

  “Good,” Alice exhaled. Cassie was already gulping from the nearest bottle of wine, but this time, at least, Alice wouldn’t have to suffer through the carnage. Quickly, they said their good-byes and headed back toward the lift, but Cassie chased after her.

  “Wait, Alice.” Cassie grabbed her arm. “You’re not going, are you? You can’t!”

  “I know, hon.” Alice carefully detached herself. “But Flora has a terrible headache, I need to get her home.” She was surprised at just how easily the lie fell from her lips.

  Cassie stared at her, uncomprehending. “But…he’s here!”

  “And you’ll be fine.” Alice patted her reassuringly. “You’ve got Vitolio now, remember? You’ve moved on.”

  “I know, but—”

  “It was lovely to see you.” Alice followed Flora into the lift. Although she usually would have stayed, comforting Cassie until dawn, tonight she was unmoved. Pressing the lift button, she sent Cassie a supportive smile through the closing doors: “Take care!”