The Alice Stories

by Davina Bell

  ‘Hello,’ said Alice uncertainly, pinching herself to prove it wasn’t a dream.

  ‘Aren’t you very pleased to see me?’

  ‘Oh, Little, of course I am.’ Alice rushed forward and squeezed Little’s shoulders. ‘It’s just that – I was in the greenhouse – and then only a minute later . . . ​never mind. I’ve missed you so much.’

  ‘It feels like I’ve been asleep forever,’ said Little when Alice finally released her. ‘Have I missed Teddy’s birthday?’

  They all looked at each other in surprise. With everything that had happened, they’d all forgotten that Teddy would be seventeen – when? Tomorrow?

  ‘You haven’t, Little. We’re having a high tea,’ Alice decided on the spot. ‘And you’ll be the guest of honour. Besides you, Teddy, of course – but you don’t mind sharing, do you?’

  ‘This second, I don’t mind anything at all,’ he said, gazing at Little.

  ‘It is very nice to have you all here, but would you mind if I had a rest?’ Little asked.

  ‘But you’ve been asleep for three days – four almost. How incredibly boring. Don’t you want to get up and skip around a bit?’

  ‘Mabel!’ they all said together.

  ‘Dors bien – sleep well, Little,’ said Mama, shepherding everyone out of the room. ‘Alice will tuck you in.’

  As Alice smoothed the sheets, Little looked up at her with wonder. ‘When I was asleep, I dreamed that you were dancing,’ she said, ‘on the stage in London, like Anna Pavlova. And when I woke up, Alice, I knew that one day it will come true.’

  ‘Hush, Baby,’ whispered Alice, turning out the light and kissing Little on both pale cheeks. ‘It was just a dream.’

  And that, thought Alice sadly, is all it ever will be.

  She had Little back and, just as she’d promised, she would never dance again.

  abel, George and Alice looked at   Teddy’s birthday cake with dismay.

  ‘I don’t know how this happened,’ said George glumly. ‘According to the rules of physics, the combination of temperature and ingredients should create a rising effect, not this . . . ​crater.’

  ‘The middle’s sunk – we don’t need science to figure that out, George. And my jam tarts are all leaning to the left and burned on one side,’ said Mabel, sighing. ‘How does Little make everything so perfect?’

  Alice felt weary. ‘We’ll fill the hole in with icing,’ she said. ‘Teddy won’t mind.’

  The preparations for Teddy’s birthday high tea had not gone well. The kitchen looked like Pan and Pudding had been let loose in there together. There was a gritty layer of flour underfoot, and every pan and tin was filled with batter or crumbs. Not once but twice Mabel had burned her hand, and she and George had fought over the silliest things.

  Alice had found it hard to concentrate – she’d kept running up to Little’s bedroom in a panic. But Little was there each time, awake and reading, puzzled by all the fuss.

  ‘I’m still here, Alice, and I don’t need anything,’ she said on the sixth visit. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to come and help?’

  ‘No, no, no – you heard Dr Peters. You’re to stay in bed and rest until you’re strong.’

  ‘But I was never strong in the first place,’ said Little, ‘and it’s lonely here by myself. Do you think they’ll let me up for the tea?’

  ‘If they don’t, we’ll have it right here, around your bed. Though I’m warning you, our food isn’t a scratch on yours. Turns out the rest of us are oafs in the kitchen.’

  But it wasn’t all bad. Alice’s scones turned out nicely, and there was Little’s jam, and some buns that weren’t too hard. They laid the best china tea set out on the big dining table, and by the light of the fire, crackling merrily in the corner, it all looked delicious. Around the room, Alice had put seventeen candles in jars and teacups so everything twinkled.

  As she lit the final one, they all arrived at once: Uncle Bear with Pudding on his shoulders, Mama back from the bank, Mabel and George jostling with the presents, and Teddy, cradling Little in his arms. Her pixie face seemed thinner, her eyes bigger, but as Teddy sat her next to him at the head of the table, her face shone.

  ‘Before we start the tea, we have a special delivery for Teddy,’ said George, pulling a large envelope from behind his back. Alice wondered what it could be – they hadn’t discussed this bit at all.

  Mabel beamed. ‘It doesn’t say who sent it, but it must be Papa Sir, mustn’t it! And we kept it as a surprise, even though George said I would give it away, but ha! I didn’t, and that just goes to show . . .’

  As Mabel chattered on, Alice thought her heart would burst. Papa Sir! Was he coming home at last?

  Teddy ripped open the envelope, grinning. Inside was a piece of thick card. The first side was blank. But as Teddy turned it over, two white feathers fluttered to the floor, and everyone fell silent.

  ‘Why would Papa Sir send you those?’ Mabel demanded after a long pause. ‘Don’t white feathers mean that – mean that . . .’ She looked uncomfortable. Alice was sure Mabel knew what white feathers meant. Since the war had begun, there had been endless stories about them turning up in boys’ post boxes. Boys who didn’t want to go to war. Alice looked over at Teddy, who had gone very red. How dare they, she thought. Oh, Teddy.

  ‘They mean that I’m a chicken – a coward. For not joining up.’ Teddy’s voice had started to shake. ‘They mean that I’m weak.’ He looked down at his plate.

  ‘No!’ said Alice. ‘Don’t let them make you think that, Teddy!’

  ‘They’re right,’ he said. ‘I have been a coward. But they needn’t have bothered with the feathers, because I’ve already decided.’ Teddy took a deep breath and looked up, straight into Mama’s eyes. ‘I’m not twenty-one yet, so you’ll need to come with me to sign the forms, Maman. Because I’ve made up my mind – I’m going to fight.’

  Alice felt as if she’d been hit in the stomach while she was looking the other way. ‘But you promised,’ cried Alice. ‘You promised you would stay here and protect us! When we were down at the river – remember?’

  Teddy looked at Alice and then down at Little. ‘Even when I’m here, I can’t stop bad things from happening. At least if I’m over there fighting, I’ll be doing something to keep you safe.’ He swallowed. ‘And besides, I can’t take it anymore – the shame of not going. I’m no use to you here if I’m hiding away because I can’t look anyone in the face. It brings disgrace on the family.’

  ‘No one cares about that,’ Alice said with tears in her voice. ‘If you leave, I’ll never forgive you, Teddy.’

  ‘Well, I am leaving – shipping out to the camp at Blackboy Hill first thing on Monday. That’s what I’ve been doing these last weeks – learning to shoot and getting my boots and having the medical check-up. I’m sorry, Tink, that I’m going back on my word. But things change. It’s the right thing to do.’

  Mama thumped her fist on the table. ‘To go and fight for England – a country you have never seen? And for what? To prove you are not afraid of death? Mon fils – my son – everyone is afraid of death! That is ’ow we know we are still alive. And you will be most alive ’ere, with your family, not rotting in some trench.’

  For once, Mabel had nothing to add, and George didn’t have a fact to fill the silence.

  ‘Gone,’ said Pudding into the candlelight.

  ‘Oui,’ said Mama, and sighed. ‘But not forever. Teddy, I am not ’appy with your choice, but it is yours to make – I have raised you to have your own mind, all of you. And so, oui, I will sign the forms.’ She reached across the table for Teddy’s hand. ‘Bonne chance, mon fils – good luck, my son.’

  he next day was Sunday, but it didn’t feel like Sunday at all. Everyone was quiet and mooching around – even Pan. Alice’s face felt raw from crying and she hadn’t spoken a word to Teddy since supper. It made Mama exasperated to see them so glum.

  ‘Alors! Such moping. Out, out, out! Take a picnic som
ewhere, far away from me.’

  As Alice packed up the basket, her jaw was clenched tight with anger. Of course Mama wants us out, she thought darkly, so she can pretend nothing’s happening.

  It felt like springtime already as they walked out into the high, bright sunshine. A little breeze tugged at their hats and bonnets. Soon the freesias would cover the banks like thick icing, and the lawns would be dry and prickly. The dusk would be long and perfect for outside games that only ended when you couldn’t see through the darkness. But what would be the point if Teddy wasn’t there?

  They spread out their things under the elm at the bottom fence. No one said much, but by the time they got to the lopsided jam tarts, things didn’t seem quite as bad.

  After lunch, Mabel and George hitched Tatty to their billycart, and took the little girls for rides. Alice felt restless, wanting to stretch and jump and glide. But she couldn’t now.

  ‘Fancy a dip, Tink?’ said Teddy, putting down his book.

  Alice turned her head away and sniffed, but he pretended not to notice.

  ‘It’ll be chilly, but we won’t mind, will we? I brought our costumes, and we needn’t tell the others exactly where we’re going. I’ll race you to the sandbar. What do you say?’

  Alice shrugged. It wasn’t ballet, but it was something.

  ‘Be back in a bit!’ Teddy called to the others as they sprinted down the hill.

  They changed quickly among the bushes into their neck-to-knees, and walked to the end of the boatshed jetty, away from the baths where ladies and gentlemen had to swim separately. Alice stood back as Teddy launched himself in. She loved the way he dived with his arms out, waiting until the very last second to bring them back together. There were so very many things about Teddy that she loved, and as he sliced the water elegantly, she realised that she was ruining their last day together – maybe the last day they’d ever share.

  The chill of the river bit at Alice, so that by the time she got over to the sandbar, she was panting. Teddy was already lying at the edge of the water, almost dry. She flopped down beside him and watched gold streaks dance over her eyelids as she tried to get her breath back to tell him she was sorry.

  But when she sat up, Teddy had wandered towards the shore and was only a speckle. And then Alice couldn’t see him at all – only his foot­prints, like a trail of little memories in the sand.

  Alice hunched into a ball and closed her eyes to the thought of it, feeling herself grow colder and colder as the breeze picked up.

  And then Teddy was lifting her up and sitting her on his knee. It made Alice ache to feel the comfort of him. She almost wished she’d never known it, so that it didn’t hurt so much to lose. Eventually she looked up, and saw that his thoughts were far away. Perhaps they were already in another country, far from her, far from home.

  ‘You won’t know this, Tink,’ he said after a while, ‘because Mama will never talk about these things. But she had another baby before you – a little girl. She was called Juliette and she was very, very small.’ He swallowed. ‘I was three when she was born, and if I sat really still on the settee, I was allowed to hold her.’

  ‘Another baby? As small as Little when she was born?’ Alice turned to look at Teddy with wonder. She remembered Little’s tiny arms, smaller than Papa Sir’s thumbs.

  ‘Maybe even smaller, though I don’t s’pose by much. But she died when she wasn’t very old. She got a fever, and everyone was so sad. Papa Sir cried and cried. And Mama wouldn’t talk about it – not a word. From then on, she would never speak about things that were sad.’

  Alice felt as if she suddenly understood a great many things; as if Mama was a map she had been reading upside down. She felt her anger slide away.

  ‘So when you were born,’ said Teddy, ‘you were all the more precious – the most precious thing in the world. Papa Sir would hardly let you out of his sight – it was all Mama could do to get him to leave the house without you. And I would talk to you for hours and hours, Tink, and sit you on my knee, just like this.’ He squeezed Alice close and Alice felt that something inside her remembered those hours, even if she couldn’t quite picture them. ‘You’d think I’d have minded that everyone seemed to love you best, but I didn’t. You made us all so happy.’ He sighed. ‘You make us so happy. Like a marvellous glue that holds us together. That’s what you are. I’m saying all this . . . ​well, I’m saying all this because –’

  ‘Because you might not come back,’ Alice whispered into his chest, and closed her eyes again. ‘Teddy?’ she said.

  ‘Mmmm?’ he replied.

  ‘I’m proud that you’re my brother. And even though I hate the war, I think you’re brave to sign up. Sorry I was so cross about it.’

  Teddy held her extra tightly. ‘Thank you, Tink. That’s a decent thing to say.’

  ‘But Teddy?’ she said. ‘I still don’t want you to leave. I want always to know where you are.’

  Teddy brushed back his tumbly hair so that Alice could see right into his handsome face. ‘You will know where I am. Because we’ll be looking up at the very same moon. If you miss me, go to the window and look at the sky. I would have looked up at it not long before, and been thinking of you.’

  ‘But what if you die?’ asked Alice. ‘How will you think of me then?’

  ‘Not going to happen. I’ve too much to come home for.’ Teddy was trying to sound brave, but Alice knew him too well to be fooled.

  He didn’t say anything else for a long time, just sat stroking her hair and looking out at the water, which was sparkling like a paddock of diamonds. Finally, he cleared his throat. ‘Take care of them all for me.’

  ‘I will. I’ll do my super very best.’

  ‘And Tink? I’d love to see you dance when you get home.’ He raised his hand as she began to protest. ‘I know you don’t feel like it now. But just don’t shut the door on it altogether. It’s too important.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘We should be going before the current gets too strong.’

  They waded in and swam back together, the light dangling through the water like a net, Teddy’s feet, like quick white fish, at the ends of her fingers, just out of reach.

  When they were halfway there, Alice spotted a figure signalling frantically to them from the end of the jetty. As they got closer, she could see that it was Mabel. Alice stopped and waved, treading water and smiling.

  But Mabel didn’t smile back. ‘Hurry up!’ she shouted, her voice cracked through with panic. ‘Please. We’ve had a cablegram about Papa Sir.’ She turned and ran, and as Alice churned through the shallows after Teddy, suddenly she felt that her legs couldn’t kick, that her arms were damp string. Cablegrams didn’t often bring good news. Please, Papa Sir, she thought with each stroke, please be all right.

  By the time she got to shore, Teddy was waiting at the water’s edge, his hand held out towards her.

  ‘Teddy,’ she said as she took it and ran with him up the sand. ‘I’m frightened.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Teddy. ‘But I’m here, Tink. I’m still with you.’

  alking down to the Village on a Saturday was one of Alice’s favourite things to do, and this morning, as she trotted to keep up with Uncle Bear’s big strides and Pan’s loping dog legs, she was sparkling with happiness. Alice had a long list of errands, and there was nothing she loved more than a list. Uncle Bear had their washing in a bag to drop at the Chinese laundry, and then he was going to carry back a sack of sugar for Alice’s sister, Little, to cook with.

  ‘I’ve got all our boots for Mr Schenberg to repair,’ said Alice, ‘though perhaps we should call by Miss Roberts’s Drapery first. But you don’t have to go in there if you don’t want to, Uncle Bear – it’s a bit girly, isn’t it. We haven’t done this in ages! Thank you so much for coming with me.’

  He smiled and squeezed Alice’s shoulder. Uncle Bear didn’t talk – at least, not in the way normal people did. He spoke with his hands and his wide kind face, and Alice and her family understood perf
ectly. Other people thought it made him strange, and Alice knew that when they got to the Village, everyone would stare. But dear, gentle Uncle Bear would just keep his head bowed, not even showing that he noticed. It hurt Alice’s heart every time.

  As they waited on the corner of the Perth-to-Fremantle Road, Alice thought how much she loved the sounds of the Village, so different from home, though it was only a short walk away. Home was the squabbling of Pudding’s chickens, Honey’s moo, the rustle of the river and the sound of Mabel singing. The Village was hooves clopping and people calling, the hoot of trains and the tinkle of the bell on Jimmy Poor Eye’s blue-and-white cart with the special gadget that sharpened knives. It was the thrum of little motor cars and the trundling of the ice man’s wagon. All together, it seemed everything exciting in the world was there in Napoleon Street, playing like a thrilling piece of music.

  Alice felt for Uncle Bear’s hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m glad I’m not going to leave you all and be a ballerina. I never want to live anywhere but here.’

  Uncle Bear raised his eyebrows, as if he didn’t believe her. And as she looked up at him, Alice wondered if she really believed herself.

  ‘Well, maybe it would have been nice . . . When I was bigger, perhaps.’

  Up until a few weeks ago, Alice had danced every day and dreamed about ballet most nights. She’d had an audition with a famous dance instructor from London, and he’d written a letter to her ballet teacher, Miss Lillibet, saying that Alice was so good, one day she’d be a famous ballerina. He’d even invited her to go to London when the war was over.

  But while she’d been off dancing, Little had almost drowned. And Miss Lillibet had been put in a prison camp, just because her grandfather was German and the Germans were the enemy in the war that was being fought in Europe. Miss Lillibet had never had a chance to read the letter, which was still hidden under Alice’s mattress. And then Teddy, Alice’s big brother, had signed up to fight and left for France. Next to those things, ballet didn’t seem important. Though she thought of Miss Lillibet every day, Alice hadn’t danced since.