The Alice Stories

by Davina Bell

  As they crossed the road, Alice spotted the long red ponytail of Jilly, her best friend who lived next door. ‘There’s Jilly! I wonder if she got my note. And is that . . . Douglas?’

  Douglas was Jilly’s biggest brother, and the one Alice liked the least. He was sitting on a bench in his uniform smoking a cigarette. Jilly stood next to him, balancing paper bags from the grocer and smiling.

  Even though Douglas had been away at the war since it started, Alice hadn’t forgotten that he was quick and sly and mean. But just as Alice adored Teddy, Jilly thought Douglas was marvellous.

  ‘Hi, Jilly. Hello, Douglas. Welcome home,’ said Alice, trying to be polite.

  Douglas squinted one eye and looked her up and down in a way that made Alice feel as if she were standing in only her petticoat. His hair seemed an angrier red than she remembered. ‘Heard Teddy finally got the nerve to sign up,’ he said. ‘About time.’

  Alice bristled. If I were a cat right now, she thought, my claws would be out.

  ‘Douglas might be getting a medal,’ Jilly said happily, not even noticing. ‘For bravery. A bullet went straight through his leg. But the doctor came today and said it’s healing nicely.’

  Douglas sucked on his cigarette again, and looked at Alice. ‘Damn fine doctor he was, too. Best we’ve had in these parts.’

  He blew his mouthful of fumes straight into Alice’s face, and she fanned them away angrily. When Alice’s father, Papa Sir, had been the local doctor, everyone had loved him. But when the war started, he had joined the navy, and now Papa Sir was most probably gone: lost at sea, the cablegram had said.

  ‘Well!’ said Alice. ‘I don’t think that’s –’

  ‘What he means is that . . . that Dr Peters is very experienced with war injuries,’ said Jilly, blushing.

  ‘Do I?’ said Douglas. ‘Well, I hope he’s around to put Teddy back together when the Krauts have finished with him. If he ever makes it home, that is.’ As he turned away, he spotted Uncle Bear. Alice’s heart sank.

  ‘Mr Alexander, how are you?’ Douglas asked with a horribly cold politeness.

  Uncle Bear dropped his head and nodded, reaching out to stroke Pan’s knobbly back.

  Douglas leaned forward. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. I said, how are you?’

  Pan stiffened, and growled a little, breaking the awful silence. Jilly looked like she might start to cry, and in spite of Alice’s anger, she felt sorry for Jilly being caught in the middle. Jilly hated any kind of fighting.

  ‘Rude, isn’t it, to ignore someone who’s been off defending your country? Cat got your tongue?’ Douglas threw his cigarette butt onto the path and ground it with his good foot. ‘Or are you just a sicko?’

  For a second, Alice thought she was going to kick Douglas, right in the middle of his wound. But at the last second, she remembered how Jilly had slept over in the truckle bed the night that Teddy had left for the war and dried Alice’s teary face with the hem of her nightgown.

  ‘Let’s go,’ said Alice, picking up her basket and hooking her arm through Uncle Bear’s. ‘We’ve got so much to do.’

  ‘Alice – come back!’ Jilly called. ‘I got your note. Didn’t it say you had something to tell me?’

  But Alice couldn’t bring herself to turn around, not even to tell Jilly about her big decision. It would just have to wait.

  hat sounds awful,’ said Mabel in the parlour that night when Alice recounted her trip to the Village. ‘What did Jilly do?’

  ‘Oh, you know what Jilly’s like about Douglas – she thinks he’s the ant’s pyjamas. But she did seem quite upset. She adores Uncle Bear.’ Alice sighed. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have stormed off.’

  ‘Serves him right for being mean about Papa Sir. If I’d been there, I’d have done something extremely drastic,’ said Mabel.

  ‘You don’t say,’ said Alice.

  George lifted his head from where he was poring over the newspaper. ‘I would have shown him Papa Sir’s examination results from Oxford, and asked to see this other doctor’s so I could compare them.’

  ‘Lionel,’ said Pudding from under the piano stool, and they all turned to stare.

  Though she was three and understood everything, Pudding didn’t speak – not really. And because they loved her just as she was, nobody had ever really tried to find out why. But in the last couple of weeks, she’d had them stumped with some odd new words. They didn’t always make sense, but Alice had suggested they encourage her.

  ‘That’s it, Pudding – well played,’ said George after a pause.

  ‘Lovely,’ Little agreed.

  ‘Why the deuce is she saying that? Who’s Lionel?’ whispered Mabel.

  ‘Shhh,’ hushed Alice. She cleared her throat. ‘Now, thank you all for gathering to discuss my big decision. It’s about the war.’

  ‘Funny you should mention it,’ said George, holding up the front page. ‘The war’s finally going better. We’ve breached the Hindenburg Line!’

  Alice wasn’t sure what that meant, but she tried to be excited. ‘Well, that ties in nicely with my announcement. I’ve –’

  ‘Did Teddy help do that? The breach, I mean?’ Little asked.

  ‘He shouldn’t be too far from the action,’ said George. ‘And that means Germany’s troops will have been pushed back to this line here.’

  Alice felt impatient, but she went over and looked dutifully at the pins George had stuck on the map to show how their troops were doing against Germany’s and Russia’s.

  ‘Why don’t soldiers use swords anymore, like princes?’ Mabel asked, tracing her finger over the pin that marked the last place from which Papa Sir had written them a letter. ‘Guns are so boring.’

  ‘If you were there, you’d be jolly pleased to have a gun,’ said George.

  ‘Teddy won’t have one, though, will he?’ asked Little. ‘Teddy won’t kill anyone.’

  There was an uncomfortable silence as Little stared at them with big worried eyes. Good grief, thought Alice. How did you explain something like that to someone who was only six?

  ‘He will have a gun,’ she said gently. ‘All the soldiers do – he won’t have a choice. And he’ll have to use it. But Teddy is brave and wise and kind. Whatever he does, it’s because he’s decided it’s right.’

  ‘But what if he decides wrong?’

  Alice had to think hard to answer. ‘Well . . . maybe he will. And he’ll be cross with himself, and we’ll just have to love him extra hard when he comes back.’

  ‘If he comes back,’ said George.

  ‘George!’

  ‘Just saying.’

  ‘Well, as I was saying, I’ve got an important announcement. I’ve decided we should do everything we can to help with the war effort.’

  George and Mabel and Little looked at Alice with confusion. The past four years, Peppermint Grove had been abuzz with fetes and knitting drives and high teas to raise money for the soldiers. But Alice had been so in love with ballet, she hadn’t had much time to think about the war. And though Papa Sir had chosen to go to war, Mama still said that it was cruel and senseless; she hardly let them speak of it.

  Alice had learned about the fighting at school, of course, and pledged her loyalty to the British Empire, the big group of British countries that Australia was part of. She’d felt sad for the children who came to school with black armbands that meant they’d lost somebody close.

  But then Little had almost drowned, and Alice had stood in the starlit greenhouse and vowed to knit a million socks if only Little would live. And just that second – like magic – Little had woken up and come back to them. So now that Alice wasn’t dancing, she wanted to keep her promise and do something to help. ‘I’ve decided to join the knitting circle. We could sew, too – they need nightshirts and things for the soldiers, and veils for their horses, to keep the flies off. I thought we could each do something to raise money. George, you could –’

  ‘Take people out in my new boat,’ he said proud
ly. ‘They’d would pay nicely for that.’

  ‘That thing on the lawn? That’s not even a boat,’ said Alice, ‘it’s just a piece of bent metal, and I doubt very much –’

  ‘Just because it’s not your idea, you won’t admit it’s a good one,’ George said hotly. ‘If I’m raising money for the soldiers, what difference does it make if I’m doing boat rides or, or whatever else you’ve got planned for me? Which is what, exactly?’

  ‘Crochet, if you must know. I’ve had a look at the patterns, and you’re the only one clever enough to decipher them.’

  ‘Crochet? You’ve got to be –’

  Mabel stood up on the piano stool and clapped to make them quiet. ‘Listen here! Why don’t we put on a pageant? You could dance, Alice, and I could sing, and Little could make refreshments, and Pudding could take around a hat to collect the money. And Mama could play the harp! That’d be a lot more fun than crochet.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Little. ‘I miss seeing you dance, Alice.’

  ‘Please,’ said Pudding. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You see?’ said Mabel. ‘Even Pudding wants it. And I heard there was a recital in Cottesloe to raise money for the returned soldiers’ home last week, so other people are still happy to dance. Why are you against it?’

  Alice’s stomach fluttered nervously, the way it always did when she thought about ballet now.

  ‘It isn’t that I’m against it,’ she said, frowning at her hands and wondering how to explain. ‘I think of it every day. But then I remember Miss Lillibet in that camp, and Teddy not being able to paint, and it doesn’t seem right. So I’ve decided to do something for the war instead, and hope that’ll make things better.’ Alice looked up. ‘Is that silly?’

  ‘No, it’s good of you,’ said George, ‘and grown-up. Papa Sir would be proud.’

  ‘Teddy, too,’ said Little, nodding.

  ‘As long as I don’t have to catch frogs to sell, like Podger, I’m in,’ said Mabel.

  ‘Thank you – that’s very kind. And George, I’m sorry for what I said about your boat. I’m sure it’s a cracker.’

  ‘It’s not,’ George said sadly. ‘It’s nothing compared to what Papa Sir’s would have been if he’d have had the chance to finish it.’

  Alice thought of the shed on the edge of the river bank, and the half-finished sailboat sitting inside it untouched. Papa Sir had begun building it in the summer before he’d left, hammering away in the purple dusk each evening, while they sunk their hands into the cool water of the nearby rock pools.

  ‘There’ll be a little cabin up top, and a mast for a flag,’ he’d said. ‘And as soon as it’s finished, I’ll take us out to Rottnest Island.’

  Alice still couldn’t make herself believe that he’d never be back to finish it. She shook her head to flick the sad thought away. ‘I’ve drawn up a knitting schedule and we can unpick Mama’s winter dresses for wool – that will be much nicer than the scratchy grey stuff everyone’s using. So is everyone in? Pinkie swear?’

  ‘That’s just for girls,’ said George as the others rushed over to Alice, their little fingers up and ready. ‘But I’ll give you my word, and you know I never break that.’

  It was true – George was as honest as a nun. And for all her silliness, Mabel was very kindhearted. And Little was so good and pure, and dear Pudding was getting chattier every day. With them all snug around her, Alice felt some of the holes in her heart close up.

  On her way up to bed, she paused outside Papa Sir’s study. The sounds of Mama’s harp rippled so beautifully from behind the door that Alice listened for ages before knocking.

  ‘Mama?’ she asked, poking her head in when the piece ended. ‘Can I ask you something? Is it all right if I join the knitting group with Jilly?’

  ‘Ma petite,’ Mama said with a frown, ‘you know those ’orrible Red Cross ladies give me mal au coeur.’

  ‘Make you feel sick,’ Alice said, grinning.

  ‘Oui. But if you want to do something to help, d’accord – okay. Better you than me.’

  he late-afternoon sun was streaming through the clouds like pearly fingers as Alice skipped across the lawn to see Jilly the next afternoon. She’d waited all morning while Jilly was at church, and now Alice was brimming with things to tell her.

  She slipped through the loose board on the side fence and sprinted up the path, but slowed to a walk when she saw Mrs McNair picking lemons, a sunhat pinned to her tight curls. Mrs McNair didn’t believe in girls running. Actually, Mrs McNair was rather frightening, but today Alice was too happy to be afraid.

  ‘Hello, Mrs McNair! How do you do? I’ve come to tell Jilly some exciting news – I’ve decided to join your knitting group!’

  Mrs McNair didn’t say anything, so Alice continued. ‘I’m not that fast yet, but I’ll practise until I’m quicker.’

  ‘So.’ Mrs McNair put down her basket and looked at Alice with eyes of ice. ‘As soon as it’s one of your own family who’s gone, you’re keen as mustard, but before that we weren’t worth your time? What makes you think we’d want you, anyway?’

  Alice blushed. ‘Well, I’m, I’m very . . . neat, and . . . punctual. Oh, and I could bring some lovely pale-blue wool we’ve wound from Mama’s winter dresses.’

  ‘Our wool not good enough? ’Course not – nothin’ but the best for you lot. Bunch of snobs – though there’s not a single one of you with any manners,’ she added, plucking a lemon that was still slightly green.

  Alice felt anger pop and crackle in her chest. ‘You think we have no manners! Well, I’ll have you know, the other day Douglas was very rude to Uncle Bear. He said –’

  Mrs McNair snapped her head around. ‘Don’t you dare insult my Douglas. Nearly died, he did, defendin’ the Empire – and here’s you, yet to knit a stitch, and that brother o’ yours, only signin’ up when he was sure that the fighting was almost over, the cowardly weasel.’

  Then words were jumping out of Alice’s mouth – words as big and ugly as toads. ‘You take that back! You’re the rude one – you’re the one with no manners who says hateful things behind people’s backs, you awful, spiteful cow. Teddy’s worth a million of you! A billion.’

  ‘Well!’ said Mrs McNair. She narrowed her eyes and licked her lips, just as Alice imagined a fox might do before it ate a bird. Alice felt a cold horror wash over her.

  ‘You’ve shown your true colours now, Alice Alexander. And to think I let my Jilly near you and your poisonous tongue.’ Mrs McNair put her hands on her hips and glared. ‘Listen here, you wee brat. From this moment, you’re not to go near my Jilly – I forbid it,’ she said as Alice flinched.

  ‘No no no! Mrs McNair, please – I’ll do anything.’

  ‘What you can do is leave and never trouble my Jilly again.’

  Alice turned away, feeling that she might be sick. To not see Jilly – not run next door when she was bursting to tell her something special or eat lunch with her each day in the sugar gum’s shade – it was too terrible to think about. For Jilly was half of Alice.

  Jilly understood that, for no particular reason, Alice liked to be at school before anyone else arrived, and she would do the milking extra early so they could walk up View Street to Miss Annie’s school together. When they partnered up in tennis, nobody could beat them – it was as if they were talking in each other’s heads about where to run and where to hit. Jilly was calm and steady, like the river on a still day, which was just what Alice needed when her mind whirled like a storm. We’re our best when we’re together, Alice thought glumly as she slipped back through the fence.

  Before she knew where she was going, she was running into the greenhouse and trailing her fingers over Teddy’s long painting table, looking for some part of him to soothe her. She thought of what Teddy had said when he left – how she could find him in the night sky because they both looked up at the same moon, no matter the distance between them. Yet now, when she needed him most, she couldn’t feel Teddy at all – all she could feel was
an ache.

  The moon was out by the time Pan came looking for her, pawing at the greenhouse door and pushing it open. He trotted over and put his head on Alice’s knee, gazing up as if he knew her worries and was sorry for them.

  ‘Dear Pan,’ Alice whispered, twisting his velvety ears through her fingers. ‘You won’t ever leave me, will you.’

  ‘Woof,’ he said gravely.

  On their way up through the garden, Alice caught sight of Uncle Bear, carrying some wood and an axe out the side gate. ‘Uncle Bear!’ she called.

  But he just hunched his shoulders and walked faster, and she felt more alone than ever.

  As Alice walked to school with Mabel and Little the next morning, something terrifying struck her. Apart from Jilly, she didn’t have any close friends at all. Lots of children at school were from the families who lived nearby and Alice had known them forever. But they were all friends with each other in tight little bunches. They wouldn’t want someone else tagging along.

  As they all lined up for roll call, she kept glancing over at Jilly, willing her to give a sign that everything was okay. But Jilly just looked straight ahead, her eyes on the blackboard. Alice’s stomach squeezed with disappointment.

  ‘We’re shifting seats,’ Miss Annie announced after they’d sung ‘God Save the King’. ‘A change is as good as a . . . ?’

  ‘Seaside holiday,’ the class chanted. It was one of Miss Annie’s favourite sayings. Miss Annie could be fierce and didn’t put up with nonsense, but she was kind and fair, and had a wicked, merry wink, and the whole class loved her.

  ‘Alice, you will be seated next to Nollie. Ada next to Florence, and Jilly, you’ll be beside May Vivienne. Bessie next to Podger, Georgiana next to Octavius . . .’

  Alice stopped listening. Jilly would be next to May Vivienne, and everyone loved May Vivienne. She was always as cheerful as if she’d just seen a rainbow. Whenever there was a play, she would be given the lead part and no one could take their eyes off her, including Alice.