by Katy Cannon
I’d been awake for over twenty-four hours, travelling for about half of that, and I’d changed my whole identity somewhere in the middle. The last thing I wanted to do was plan out my whole holiday – especially since I was more of a make-it-up-as-I-go-along girl.
But Alice wasn’t. And I was Alice now.
So I plastered on a smile and opened the folder. “Great.”
Mabel beamed back at me.
My cheeks were starting to hurt. I tugged out a leaflet about Buckingham Palace to hide my face so I could stop smiling and start figuring out how I was going to put Mabel off step-mumming for good.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Re: Dossier
Hi Willa
So, I guess you’re in London now… Hope it’s going OK with Mabel.
Here’s all the information I could think of about me. Send me yours when you can? Your aunt is already asking stuff I don’t know.
Alice x
ALICE JOSEPHINE WRIGHT
Age: 14, same as you. My birthday is June 9th.
Height: 158cm
Eye colour: Green
Of course, since you can’t change your height or eye colour, there’s probably not much point in telling you this stuff. So on to the more interesting stuff.
Family: I’m an only child. My dad’s a Professor of Marine Biology at Anglia Ruskin University in Cambridge. My mum … well, like I told you on the plane, she died a few years ago from breast cancer.
My Granny and Granddad Wright (Sheila and Dave) live up in Scotland, and my Grandpa John (Mum’s dad) is in Spain. He moved there after Grandma Wendy died. I’ve got an Auntie Louise in Newcastle, but we don’t see her much. And that’s about it for family.
Friends: My best friend is called Claire, and we’ve known each other since Year Five. Actually, we haven’t been that ‘best’ for the last term or two, since she started hanging out with the Year Tens and Elevens in her dance classes. But Dad doesn’t know that (because he’d only worry) so it doesn’t matter much. My other friends are mostly people I know from my swimming club, choir or Guides.
Interests & Hobbies: I like reading, TV, music, the usual stuff. I swim most weeks, go to Guides on a Thursday, and sing in the school choir and play flute in our school orchestra (I’m not very good though).
History: I was born in Southampton, and we lived in Bristol and North Wales before we moved to Cambridge when I was ten.
Medical Information: I’m allergic to strawberries, and I bet Dad has told Mabel that, so don’t eat any when she can see you. Other than that, I’m pretty healthy.
Other Information: That’s kind of it. Oh, except… I don’t know how much Dad has told Mabel about me, or what she’ll mention. So just in case… I saw a counsellor after Mum died, because I was having some issues with anxiety. She was great, and taught me some techniques for not stressing out about stuff. I think I might be using them all this summer! So, yeah. If Mabel mentions it, that’s a thing. And if you need to know any of the techniques, just in case, I’ll send them over.
Good luck!
Sofia chattered all the way through brunch, telling me about Antonio’s university visit, about our travel plans from here, about how she missed everything back home – especially her husband Mattias, and Antonio’s siblings, Luca and Rosa.
“We’ve only been gone two days, Sofia,” Antonio said, in gorgeously accented English. He hadn’t said much over brunch, but I figured that was because it was hard to get a word in edgeways when you were around Sofia. Or maybe he was just the strong and silent type… (Normally, Claire was the one who was obsessed with boys, and I was the sensible one. But then, Antonio wasn’t like the normal boys in our school. He was almost a man – which was just one of many, many reasons I knew he’d never be interested in me. Even if I really was Willa. Who would totally be kicking herself for the swap when I told her about Antonio.)
“Really? It feels like longer.” Sofia handed me the basket of croissants. “Have another one. It’s a long journey home.” I took one, thinking that, at this rate, I was going to name this ‘the summer of pastries’.
Sofia was friendly and kind and lively – and she never stopped talking. Which would have been fine, if she didn’t also ask so many questions. Questions I had no answers to, because they were about people I’d never met, places I’d never been, or a life I’d never lived.
“I was reading about your mum’s new show, Willa. It sounds so exciting! When do they finish filming, do you know?”
“Um … the end of the summer, I think.” It was a total guess, but Sofia seemed satisfied.
“And your dad’s show in Edinburgh sounds hilarious. I wish I’d had the chance to go over and see it, now we’re back in touch after all these years, but, ah, well.” She shrugged, and reached for another pastry. “Maybe next year. Will he go back again, do you think?”
“Perhaps?” I said uncertainly.
I really needed Willa to send me her dossier. The basic information we’d exchanged on the plane wasn’t going to be nearly enough to get me through the rest of the summer if Sofia kept asking questions like this.
Fortunately, after brunch, Sofia was happy to read, and Antonio was watching some film on his tablet, as we sat at the gate waiting for our plane to Naples, so I managed to avoid having to answer too many questions by listening to music on my phone. Then, once the plane took off, I told them the long flight had caught up with me and closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. Apparently, at some point I stopped pretending, because the next thing I knew, Sofia was shaking me awake as we came in to land.
Antonio drove us from the airport to Sofia’s house. “He needs the practice,” Sofia had said, handing him the keys with a teasing smile. Given the way the car swerved around, he did.
The roads twisted out of the city and into the countryside. I drank in the view from the windows, forgetting for a while that I was Willa now, and just remembering all the wonderful times I’d had in Italy as Alice instead.
The air smelled different here. In Australia it had been sea salty and fresh. Back home in Cambridge, it just smelled like coffee and bikes and buses, and there was always the sound of buskers and a buzz of conversation.
Here in Italy, there was the same warm, slow feel to the air and the scent of leaves and sunshine that I remembered from before. I couldn’t find all the words I needed to describe the emotions it brought up in me, but I knew it felt like coming back to where I belonged. Where I’d last been truly happy, that summer before Mum died.
“Here we are,” Sofia said softly, as we took one last bend, and her home came into view.
The farmhouse looked like a jigsaw that had been put together wrong, with chimneys and windows in all sorts of odd places. Extra bits had obviously been added on to the main building over the years, extending it out in all directions. It was a patchwork house, and I loved it on sight.
Antonio stopped the car in front of the house, just as three people came barrelling out through the front door.
The first was a girl, a few years younger than me, with huge blue eyes and sandy brown hair that came down almost to her waist. The second was a boy around my age, with darker, warier eyes, who looked a little bit like a younger, less gorgeous Antonio. The third was a big, Italian man, whose eyes and mouth crinkled up in a smile at the sight of Sofia. Rosa, Luca and Mattias, I guessed.
“You’re home, cara.” The man moved forwards with big strides and, as Sofia climbed out of the passenger seat, wrapped her up in his arms. “We missed you.”
“Mattias doesn’t cook half as well as you,” the boy told Sofia, but he was watching me. I realized they must be speaking English for my benefit, even if I hadn’t been introduced yet.
Sofia turned in Mattias’s arms to address me. “Willa, this is my husband, your Uncle Mattias. And these scamps are Antonio’s brother and sister, Luca and Rosa.”
“Pleased to meet you all,” I said politely.
Rosa dashed forwards and threw her arms round my waist. “We can be friends?” she asked. “I’m eight. How old are you?”
“Fourteen,” I told her. Rosa shot a glare back at the younger brother.
“That’s the same as Luca. I think you’re nicer, though.”
I’d never had a brother or sister (neither had Willa) so I didn’t have any experience of sibling rivalry. Still, I could imagine that being the youngest of three, with two older brothers, might not always be the most fun.
“I’ll try to be,” I promised.
Rosa beamed while, behind her, Luca rolled his eyes.
“Is it true that your mum and dad are movie stars?” Rosa asked, in a hushed, awed voice.
“Um, I guess… Well, TV stars… Um, they’re both actors, anyway.” Why hadn’t I asked Willa more questions about her parents’ shows?
Luckily Rosa didn’t seem to need details. “Wow!” She grinned. “That makes you a star too!”
I laughed. “It really doesn’t.” That much at least I was sure of.
“Now, did you put that lasagne in the oven?” Sofia gazed up at her husband – who was a good head and shoulders taller than her.
“Of course,” Mattias replied. “And I was just making the salad to go with it.”
“There was lasagne?” Luca asked. “Why couldn’t we have had that for dinner yesterday?”
“Sofia’s lasagne is the best,” Rosa whispered to me.
“Because then there wouldn’t have been a special dinner waiting for Willa when she arrived,” Sofia said calmly. Then, disentangling herself from Mattias’s hug, she clapped her hands together. “Now, inside, everyone. Antonio, Luca, can you bring the bags, please?”
“I can carry my own suitcase,” I said, moving towards the car, but Antonio stopped me with a smile that made my stomach feel funny. Or maybe that was just the jet lag.
“You’re the visitor. I’ll do it.”
Sofia linked her arm with mine, and led me into the house. “Tonight, you’re our guest,” she explained. “Tomorrow, you’re family.”
“And then you get chores,” Luca added, as he wheeled Willa’s glaringly bright suitcase past me, into the tiled hallway. Apparently his brother had passed on the job, despite his words.
“You can help me feed the chickens!” Rosa said, clapping her hands as she galloped past.
Sofia laughed. “They make it sound like a work camp! I promise, this will be a real holiday for you, Willa. But it’s true, on a farm, there are always plenty of chores to go around.”
“That’s fine by me.” It would be nice to feel part of something, to feel useful – rather than just sitting around waiting for Dad to come back and tell me about his day.
And besides, helping out around the place might make me feel a little less guilty about lying to everyone.
“Perfect! You know, Willa, I think we’re all going to have a wonderful summer together.” Sofia squeezed my arm, and the guilt rose up again. “Now let’s show you to your room.”
My room was at the far end of one of the add-on parts of the farmhouse, up a narrow, bare wood staircase. Luca rushed past us again on his way down as we started to climb – I presumed my case was up in my room already – and dashed off round a corner to who knew where. I had no idea how many rooms the house had, but I supposed Sofia needed them for the three kids – and any others she fostered.
“Have Antonio, Luca and Rosa been with you long?” I asked, as we climbed the stairs.
“Eighteen months only,” Sofia replied. “And Antonio will be off again next year to university.”
“Will Luca and Rosa stay?”
Sofia shrugged. “That depends. We will see.” I wondered what had brought the three of them to Sofia’s farm in the first place.
Maybe I’d find out, over the summer.
Reaching the top of the staircase, Sofia threw open a heavy wooden door, and suddenly we were bathed in warm light.
“Oh!” I swallowed hard as I looked around the huge room. The floorboards were bare but painted white to match the sheets on the old, iron-framed bed pushed against the wall. On the end of the bed was a patchwork quilt in faded shades of blue and green, and there was a white dressing table and stool against the other wall, with a large, oval mirror above it. Behind the door was a heavy, dark wood wardrobe twice the size of my tiny IKEA one at home. Willa’s suitcase leaned against the wall beside it.
But the best thing of all was the large picture window with a bench running under it, covered with cushions. Thin, gauzy curtains fluttered in the breeze from the open window and I crossed the floor to look out over fields of olive trees, and all the way to the sea in the distance.
“Is it OK?” Sofia asked.
I turned to her and beamed. “It’s absolutely perfect. Thank you.”
Sofia answered my smile with one of her own. “Good. I want you to feel at home here this summer, Willa.”
And despite the fact that the name she used wasn’t mine, and that she wasn’t really my aunt, I nodded. “I think I will.”
Then Mattias called up the stairs to tell us dinner was ready, and my stomach rumbled in response.
Sofia laughed. “Come. Lasagne first, unpacking later.”
I kind of missed most of Mabel’s apartment when we arrived. I mean, I know we climbed some metal steps at the back of the building, and crossed the roof of the florist shop below to get to the front door. But then she showed me up the stairs inside (is it still a flat if it has two floors? How does that even work?) to my room and I basically passed out on the bed.
When I woke up, it was already late afternoon. Rubbing my eyes, I sat up and took in my new home for the summer. The room was small, and the bed I’d crashed out on was a day bed, rather than a real one. A hanging rail had been shoved in the corner with some hangers on it, and Alice’s suitcase sat beside it. There was a small chest of drawers, and a huge desk with row upon row of shelves full of books above it.
I guessed this was probably Mabel’s study, when she didn’t have a teenage houseguest. But for the next few weeks, it was all mine.
Unpacking could wait, I decided, so I headed down the stairs to find Mabel in the small, square kitchen, chopping salad vegetables.
“You’re awake,” she said with a smile. “I hope you don’t mind, but I just picked up some stuff from the deli for dinner. I wasn’t sure how hungry you’d be, what with the jet lag. It’s a long way to travel, all the way from Australia, especially on your own.”
I opened my mouth to tell her I’d only come from LA, then shut it again quickly. Alice had travelled from Australia.
“I don’t think my body knows what day it is,” I admitted. Or who it is. I took a seat at the bistro table. “But I could eat.”
Dinner was delicious but awkward. Over lasagne and salad (seriously, I might as well have been in Italy) Mabel asked me endless questions that I had no idea of the answers to. By the time she brought out dessert (ice cream – great choice) I’d already fudged my way through conversations on:
Australia (never been, but my mum used to watch a lot of Home and Away, so I used that and hoped she’d never seen it, and that my claim to have spent all my time at the beach was believable);
My dad (squirmed awkwardly and hoped she’d assume it was because I was freaked out by the idea of her dating him);
School (basically just talked about my own school nightmares, only made them more boring, so they’d sound more believably ‘Alice’);
Books (smiled and nodded as if I knew what she was talking about).
Finally, dinner was over. I offered to help with the dishes (seemed Alice-y) but Mabel waved me away to the lounge while she loaded the dishwasher.
Covering my mouth with my hand to hide my yawn, I made my way through to the lounge, which was set up with two armchairs rather than a big sofa like we had a home. (In fairness, there wouldn’t have been space for our sofa. Mabel’s lounge was … cosy, let’s say.) I picked a chair and curled up
in it.
This was weird. Being in someone else’s house, someone I’d never met, someone who didn’t even know my real name. I’d expected it to feel like an adventure. Instead it felt like… I don’t know. A screw-up. A lie.
Then Mabel came in, still smiling nervously, and sat down in the other chair. “Would you like to watch some telly? Or just read? Or we could play a board game?”
I was just considering my options when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw a message from ‘Willa’ (Alice had insisted that we use each other’s names in our phones, just in case).
Have emailed dossier. Get me yours soon?
Which would have been useful say, two hours ago, before dinner.
Of course, I hadn’t even started mine, so maybe I should be getting on with that.
Plus, I had plans to make. I’d made it to London against the odds, and it hadn’t even involved me running away from my mystery aunt at Heathrow and setting off some sort of girl-hunt across London (which would have made a great story, but ‘wanted’ posters with my face on them would have made it hard to be anonymous at the theatre). Now I was here, I had more work to do.
I needed to figure out a way to escape from Mabel three days a week to attend the theatre course. It didn’t start until next Monday, so I had a few days. I was pretty sure something would show up – I mean, fate had worked its magic to get me to London in the first place. That should have been the hardest part.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt to double check my registration online, and check in with the message group that had been set up so we could all get to know each other before the course started. I’d given my name as Willa Martyn, which was my mum’s maiden name. I didn’t want anyone claiming I’d only got in because I was Scott and Sarra Andrews’ daughter. (Not that they would, once they saw me in action, I was sure. My audition video had been awesome. One of the crew from Mum’s show had helped me film it on set.)