Chapter Eleven
“S o, Joachim was screaming and then Janelle jumps right out of the airing cupboard and scares the bejeezus out of him so badly that he just stops, mouth wide open,” Izzy said.
Alli wondered just what it was that other people did with their lives. Her every waking minute was so full of work, thinking about it, doing it, preparing for it, that suddenly her life seemed very, very empty.
Which was completely ridiculous because obviously she had a lot to fill her life with. Just… just here time seemed to be standing somewhat still.
“And ever since,” Izzy went on. “Joachim won’t go near the airing cupboard.”
Alli puffed out a breath. “Right,” was all she said. Mostly because she hadn’t been listening in the slightest to what Izzy had been saying. But also because at least speaking a word gave her something to do.
“So, you want to, I don’t know, explore the grounds or something?” Izzy said.
Finally, Alli turned around to look at her. She looked better than she had the day before. Her face was less pale, the bags under her eyes less pronounced. She looked like she’d slept for the first time in years, which given that every single story she told was about her kids could well be true .
“No,” she said shortly.
“Oh,” said Izzy. Her blue eyes looked unsure. “Well, um, maybe we could see if there’s a TV or something?”
Alli breathed out through her nose. “No.” This was her keeping her temper. Proving that she didn’t need to be here.
“Well, why don’t you tell us all why you’re here, then?” Izzy pressed.
Alli sucked at her teeth and then figured what the hell. It wasn’t like Lex the interfering therapist was around to eavesdrop on everything. “No and no,” she said. “What part of no exactly is it that you don’t understand?”
Izzy’s mouth flapped open and closed. “Um, okay, I was just trying to be friendly.”
“Well don’t,” barked Alli. “We’re not friends and we’re not here to be friends.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” piped up Julia. She was perched on the edge of a couch. “I think we can be friends. It would probably be easier if we trusted each other.”
Alli rolled her eyes. “Trust. Right. Well, why don’t you trust us with the reason that you’re here?” she asked. “You look like my grandmother, and barring bodies under the bed, I don’t see a reason why you should be here at all. What did you do? Tell your milkman that you wanted blue top not red? Ask the bingo caller to raise her voice?”
Julia blushed. “I’m not sure now’s an appropriate time to discuss that.”
“Why not? If we’re all going to be friends, then at the very least we should share our darkest secrets,” Alli pushed. “Isn’t that what friends do?”
“Come on now,” said Charles, who was sitting at the other end of the couch. “Let’s all calm down.”
“Calm down? Look at you, you little peace-maker. It’s easy to see why you’re here. You couldn’t stand up against whoever it was that dumped you here,” Alli said. She felt a familiar acidity in her stomach, rising up to her throat. It hurt, but in a pleasurable kind of way, the kind of pain that reminded her that she was still herself.
“That’s not what happened,” Charles said quietly.
“Don’t pick on him,” rumbled huge Marcus from an armchair.
“Or what?” Alli asked. “You’ll pull my arms off and hit me with the soggy ends?”
Marcus scowled at her but didn’t move.
“See? That’s the problem with programs like this,” Alli said. “They assume that anger is a problem when it doesn’t have to be. There’s nothing wrong with standing up for yourself, with getting what’s yours, making your voice heard. But all these programs do is teach you how to lie down and be polite.”
“Not a problem that you’re having then,” Marcus said.
Alli eyed him and then half-smiled. “There, at last, someone who can speak a truth. No, it’s not a problem that I have. I know how to get what I want, which is more than I can say for the rest of you.”
“I don’t think you should be talking like that,” Julia said from the couch.
“And why not?” asked Alli.
“Um, because it does sound a bit like you’re giving us anti-therapy,” Izzy said doubtfully. “We’re all here to work on our issues, I’m not so sure you should be talking like that in front of us, pushing us in the other direction, if you know what I mean.” She laughed. “You sound like Joachim trying to get Janelle to steal a biscuit after I’ve already told her no.”
Alli rolled her eyes. “Honestly, not everything’s about your children.”
“Enough.” The word was short, sharp and loud and it took everyone a moment to realize that it was sad Charles that had spoken.
“The dragon awakes,” Alli said, half to herself.
“You’re being rude,” Charles said to Alli. “You do not insult a person’s children. And if you can’t be nice and try to be a part of the group, then you need to take yourself away and give the rest of us some peace.”
Alli stared at him for a second, then grinned. “Nicely done. I wouldn’t have thought that you had it in you to say something like that.”
“You don’t know any of us,” Charles pointed out. “Just like we don’t know you. You obviously don’t want to be here, but then I don’t think most of us do.” He looked around the room. “How about we go and find ourselves something productive to do? I think there were board games in the dining room. Or we could make biscuits?”
There was a murmur of appreciation at the word biscuits, and the others started to stir themselves and leave the room.
“Ignore Charles,” Izzy said, sliding down from the windowsill where she’d been sitting. “Children are a sore point with him.” She looked around to make sure they were alone. “He’s in the middle of a divorce and his wife has started throwing accusations around. He’s here by court order or else he won’t be able to see his kids again. Not that he’s done anything to them. Out of all of us, he really doesn’t deserve to be here.”
Alli didn’t say anything. She wasn’t a monster, even she could see that someone lying about you would make you angry, sad, hopeless even. Darren had lied about her, about her anger problem, had made it seem like there was something wrong with her in front of people that were important to her. She imagined Charles was feeling much the same way as she was right now.
“You coming to make biscuits, then?” Izzy asked.
“Not now,” said Alli.
EACH MINUTE SEEMED to take hours to pass. She’d explored all the ground-floor rooms of St. Hilda’s and found nothing of interest. What she really needed was to be back at her desk. She tried not to think about the emails piling up in her inbox.
Eventually, she was lured by the smell of baking to the kitchen. By the sounds of it, the others were having fun.
She leaned in the doorway and watched. Maybe if she could find pleasure in such small, stupid things, then she wouldn’t be so bored.
Not that bored was going to be a problem for much longer.
She’d spent a full day here. Soon, Bea was going to get her phone back, and then she’d call Darren, apologize profusely, and be allowed to leave. He just wanted her to learn a lesson, that was all.
Speaking of Bea, she was fully entrenched in the baking process, laughing with Marcus as he crushed an egg with one hand and had to pick out shell fragments with the other. All the others were busy. Even quiet Leslie was mixing a bowl, a look of calm contentment on her face.
Bea was leaning over now, her dark hair brushing her shoulders, her dark eyes half closed as she sampled one of the newly baked cookies that Izzy was offering her.
It was as she was leaning back up again that she noticed Alli. Bea wiped her hands on a towel and picked up a biscuit.
“Have one,” she said, walking over to Alli.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“There’s no need to be a grumpy pants about it,” said Bea, smiling. “Go on, they’re good.”
“Not interested,” Alli said. Bea was close to her and she smelled like baking. It was a weirdly comforting smell. “Did you get my phone?”
Bea lowered the cookie. “Not yet. I’m working on it.”
“Are you really? Because it looks to me like you’re making biscuits.”
Bea looked at her and Alli noticed that there was a tiny scar on her hairline, a bright white against the peachiness of her skin. For an instant, she truly thought about reaching out to touch it.
“I’m working on it, okay? I can’t go sneaking around in a striped burglar shirt and a mask all day, can I?” Bea said.
Alli smirked. “I suppose not.”
“Well then, just leave me to it.”
“Fine. Don’t leave it too long.”
“I won’t,” Bea said.
She was getting cross, Alli could see it, could see the faint flush of pink on her cheeks and something about it made her want to push harder, want to see Bea lose her cool. She was about to do it, about to say something caustic and cutting. Then Bea thrust the biscuit at her.
“Take this, don’t be a spoilsport.”
Automatically, Alli took it, it was so close to her face that she thought Bea might just push it into her mouth if she didn’t.
“You’ll get on better if you try to be a bit friendlier,” Bea said.
“I don’t want to get on better,” Alli said. “I want to get the hell out of here.”
Bea regarded her for a moment, then shrugged. “Alright then, it’s your funeral.” And she turned back to the others as Julia started to complain about no more sugar and Marcus lifted another batch of cookies from the oven.
For a second, the scent of her lingered. Alli took a bite of the cookie. It was good. Really good.