Chapter 8 #4
‘I have to find her,’ he said. ‘Teddy, I mean.’
She crouched down, twisting the phone cord around her fingers, watching as Wilder and her mother kissed, he holding her face in his hands, his mouth pressed hard over hers, just as it had been over Alice’s ten minutes earlier.
She saw him stroke her mother’s face, saw the way she adjusted his collar, took his hand again, gazing up at him, as if she couldn’t believe he was real.
‘There’s no point,’ Alice said. She swallowed again, trying to control herself. ‘Don’t come here looking for her. I wish you could, but Teddy doesn’t like visitors. I’m sorry. You understand?’
‘I understand,’ he said. ‘Alice? Good luck. I hope everything turns out okay for you. And the treasures.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘And you, Tom Raven.’
They had started walking again toward the front door. Alice spoke as softly as she could. ‘They’re back. I have to go, Tom Raven. I’m sorry. Goodbye –’
She pushed her finger down on the switch hook. The line went dead.
As the front door opened, she heard Kynaston say:
‘I promise you, when she sees how happy you make me, she’ll be fine with it. She’s a teenager! They need treating rough sometimes.’
‘Oh. Wilder.’ Her mother said the name as she’d been saying it lately, like it was a rush of wind, a delicious new language on her tongue. ‘Do I, really? Make you happy?’ Betsy’s voice was breathless, like a long-drawn-out sigh of happiness.
‘You do. And you will. And Alice is a silly girl if she can’t see that.’
‘It’s awfully unlike her, though. To run off like that. She’s a little cut up still about everything, but –’ Her mother stopped.
‘Listen, Betsy. I think she had a little crush on me. That’s what it was about. Why she was so upset. And that’s why we should go slow. Break her in gently.’
‘Oh,’ her mother said. ‘I’m sure you’re – yes, that must be it.’
‘Honey, she’s a teenage girl …’
Alice held her breath. She could hear her own fingers drumming on the wooden shelf in the den, and her heart in jangling syncopation, thumping so hard she was sure it could be heard too.
Eventually her mother breathed out. ‘Oh, lordy. Why didn’t I see it?
It all makes sense now. Wilder, you’re just about the smartest –’
‘And you, my dear, are a sweet little housewife come to blow the cobwebs away, you and your lovely daughter, and I know everyone will be pleased as anything when they have the chance to get used to the news.’
‘I hope so, honey –’
‘Betsy?’
‘Yes, darling?’
‘Mmm? Don’t call me darling, is that all right?
It’s so sappy. Always thought so. Call me Kynaston.
It’s just a little thing. Would you run and get me a plate of food from the supper?
Some of that corn, and the ham? Only get the good corn; some of it was spoiled.
Tell the others I had to make some calls.
Matheson will understand. I can’t face them again.
No, don’t look sad like that. Don’t. Come here … ’
He kissed her mother and Alice watched, until she realized she was watching and shook herself. She stood up and crept up the stairs and opened the door into the room at the front overlooking the river and the mist that she had never been into, not in all those years.
‘Goodbye, Teddy,’ she said as loudly as she could, so the figure on the bed would hear her. ‘Thank you for being my friend. I’m going now.’
But Teddy did not answer.
Creeping back down the stairs, she heard Wilder in the study, pouring a drink. The front door was open, and she froze – too late.
‘Alice,’ said her mother, standing with one hand on the study door, staring at her daughter.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Alice said as quietly as she could.
The two of them looked at each other: the daughter crouched on the stairs, ready to spring, the mother brushing down her skirt, a curious expression on her face.
‘I’m doing this for the best,’ said Betsy, speaking almost silently, mouthing the words. ‘I know you can’t see it, but it is. I promise.’
‘Mom –’ said Alice. She was terrified. She did not want to see Wilder Kynaston again.
She didn’t want to be trapped in the house, not able to escape.
She knew then she did not feel safe with her mother, and seeing that so clearly was like a hollowing-out, as though she was empty.
Will she make me go back in there, to see him? To do what he wants?
She stood up and began to walk down the stairs as quietly as she could. Her mother watched her.
‘Don’t worry, dearest,’ she said loudly, and Alice froze. ‘It’s just Teddy, fussing a little.’
‘Tell her to pipe down. That I’ll come see her in a bit,’ came Wilder’s voice.
‘Sure. Hey! Teddy!’ Alice’s mother said, speaking directly to Alice.
As she was talking, she reached into her pocket and took out her wallet.
Silently, she opened it and flipped out four fifty-dollar bills.
Alice knew it was the money she’d have been given by Wilder for the supper.
She handed the bills to Alice. ‘Listen to me, Alice. It’s time for a change around here, and that means I live here now.
I get that you have a crush on him. Perhaps you’d better understand that. And if you have to go, then go.’
Her blue eyes held her daughter’s gaze steadily, without emotion. Not a tremor.
‘Don’t be foolish, Betsy. Teddy can’t go,’ called Wilder. ‘Where would she go?’
‘She’s got the world,’ said Betsy, and she whispered this under her breath, her voice cracking. ‘The whole world to see. She doesn’t need us now.’
‘You’re drunk, or tired. Come back in here, you silly thing.’
‘Hey, Alice? You don’t need to worry about me,’ her mom said, so softly under her breath it was like a whisper.
She reached out, touched her daughter’s arm.
It was like electricity, warm and charged, and Alice felt a jolt.
Betsy Jansen backed away into the study again, never taking her eyes from Alice’s face; and then, as the noise from Teddy’s room grew in volume, Betsy leaned forward and before closing the door hissed, ‘ Go. Just go, Allie .’
Alice ran back to the gatehouse and let herself in, scooping up her bag.
The treasures clinked together very slightly, so she unzipped the bag and packed them tightly into the middle of her possessions, so they were safe, secure.
She took one last look round the kitchen.
How far we’ve fallen without you, Dad, she thought.
She wondered, again, where his last present was, where he was, if ghosts exist, if the people we love stay with us wherever we go.
She left the house and hurried through the woods into Orchard, down Main Street, till she reached the railroad bridge where, with a couple of minutes to spare, she paused to catch her breath. A train, going in the other direction, screamed past.
Then it happened. The sound of his body, cracked and crunched into nothing, the sight of the parts of him that had been whole flung across the street.
She had found a piece of him, fleshy and wet like a strawberry gone bad, on her sleeve.
There were bloodstains on the asphalt that had not faded, even after all this time.
One was shaped like a junebug, one like half a heart.
His dear body that had been so whole, so full of love for her – Alice saw it all again and could not stop it.
As the train whistled further up the track, she closed her eyes.
For the first time in over two years, she relived it again. Every horrific moment.
Now her train was drawing into the station. She willed herself across the footbridge, toward the platform. She was getting on that train.
The doors of the railroad car were flung open; someone gently touched her elbow as she paused, blinking hard before she took the next step.
She thought of Tom Raven’s voice, curious, encouraging, on the phone.
Good luck , he’d said, as if he meant it, like he wasn’t trying to tell her what to do, how she’d be so much better if she was just a little more like this , or like that .
How he’d just listened. I hope everything turns out okay for you. And the treasures.
It was a short ride. In under an hour later, she was in Manhattan.
There was still warmth in the streets, leaves scudding down Fifth Avenue from Central Park.
Alice ordered an egg cream at a candy store, then wandered aimlessly, drinking it and eating a bag of pretzels.
Her bag was heavy, laden with all the things she had needed from the gatehouse. But it was okay.
Just past the New York Public Library someone was playing ‘The Look of Love’ out a window. It was a perfect fall day. She walked, and walked, shedding her old skin.
Sometimes it’s only possible to see whether a decision was right many years after the event. Not in this case. Alice had left her old life behind. And not once, no matter what happened afterwards, and in the subsequent years to come, did she ever, ever regret running away.