Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
ALICE
Why, oh why can't I sleep? The one night I actually need it, and my stupid brain decides not to cooperate. I’m lying here, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing in circles.
I should be focused on Gran, on the grief I should be feeling, and I am, honestly.
It’s there, lodged deep in my heart, that ache of missing her.
But, in truth, I grieved for her a long time ago.
The Gran in the care home wasn’t the same woman who lit up every room with her mischief, the one who’d sit on the rooftop with me watching the sunset, always telling me to keep looking for magic.
She used to tell me that if you looked in just the right place, at sunrise or sunset, I'd see a spark—a flash of something magical, waking up or going to sleep. She’d say, “You’ve got to grab for it, Alice.
” And I’d always believe her, even if I never actually saw it.
She said that magic came when the worlds were open, and we could cross over.
Of course, I told her about Wonderland. She was the only one, well and Dad, who’d ever really listened to me. Mum got so sick of hearing it she threatened to send me to a therapist. By the time I was leaving home, I was convinced I needed one, too.
But that’s where my head is—lying here in this bed, this same room.
Even though all my stuff’s been stripped away, and nothing here is the same, my thoughts haven’t changed much.
Maybe I am childish. Maybe I do still live with the fairies.
But I feel it inside me, light and fluttery, and almost like I could touch it if I just put my hand over my heart and wished hard enough.
Maybe, in another world filled with magic, Gran’s still there.
She’s young, free, not in pain, not confused.
Not being spoon-fed slop by some overworked, underpaid carer.
I sigh, rolling onto my side and grabbing my phone off the bedside table. I scroll through my contacts, hovering over Christopher's name. It’s only just past eleven. He’ll be awake; he always is.
I press call, hoping maybe hearing his voice will sooth me. I feel restless, uneasy and a whole bunch of other things.
It takes a few rings before he picks up. “Hi,” I say, my voice soft.
“I thought you’d be busy,” he replies, no hello, no how are you.
“No. I’m just in bed. Couldn’t sleep. What are you up to?”
He yawns down the line at me. “Not much.”
“Okay.”
There’s silence. The kind that stretches on and on, painfully long.
I’m not sure what to say, so I wait for him to fill it.
The seconds tick by, and the quiet between us grows, heavy and awkward.
I clear my throat, hoping he’ll pick up on it, but he doesn’t.
I hear rustling on his end—maybe a sigh, maybe just him adjusting.
Still nothing. I almost say his name, just to prompt him, but it sticks in my throat.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he speaks. “I’ll let you get to sleep.”
I don't want to go. “No. I can’t sleep. That's why I called.”
“Is that Alice? Hey, Alice,” a voice booms down the line, filled with laughter and cheers.
“Yo, Alice ...” Another voice.
“Are you with Scotty and Beth?” I ask. They’re our friends—well, more my friends than his.
“We just went out for something to eat.”
“Alliceeeee…” Another voice shouts, followed by giggles and someone yelling at Christopher to hurry up. Beth shouts, “Love you,” down the phone.
“Dougie’s there?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Yeah, we ... Dougie wasn’t feeling great. Lost his job. We thought we’d go and cheer him up a bit, you know? Be good mates.”
That makes me sit up. “Right, be good mates …” But that’s not really what my mind’s caught on. It’s not Dougie, not really. My heart hurts in a different way, but I bite back what I want to say. Instead, I ask, “What happened with his job?”
“Not much. End of the season, you know. He’s just a bit down about it.”
“He’s down about losing a job he knew was ending?”
“Yeah. You know Dougie.” Dougie is Christopher’s friend.
“I thought you were busy. You said you had a deadline when Gran died …”
“I got an extension. Listen, I’ve got to go, alright? You sleep well.”
“Wait, Chris …” But the phone goes dead, leaving me in the dark, staring at my screen. And now, instead of all the sadness that was already tangled up inside me ... He got an extension ... I’m sure there’s a reason, but it doesn’t stop the hurt. He could’ve come with me.
“I’m sorry, babe. I’d be there if I could,” he’d told me.
Gah. I’m not going to think about it. Nope.
I take a deep breath and toss my phone onto the other side of the bed.
For a moment, I just sit there, knees drawn up to my chest, chin resting on top, staring out of the window.
I haven’t closed the curtains. I never do, not since Gran told me about the magic.
Maybe, just maybe, leaving them open would let it in.
I know I’m an adult now, but closing them feels wrong.
“I’m not going to sleep. That’s for sure,” I mutter.
With a sigh, I get out of bed, pulling my hoodie over my pyjama top and slipping on my trainers—since I don’t own slippers, and Mum would lose her mind if I walked barefoot through her house. It’d be a cardinal sin or something.
The house is dark, silent, and every creak of the stairs feels like I’m announcing my presence to the world. The kitchen’s dimly lit by a single light over the stove, and I move towards it, the thought of a warm drink maybe bringing me some comfort.
I reach for the kettle, my fingers brushing its cool surface, but something makes me pause. Leaning against the coffee jar is a small white card. I don’t even have to pick it up and turn it over to know what it is. The same as the one in my room, the one outside—the Queen of Hearts.
But, of course, I do pick it up, staring at it. “What the hell…?”
I glance around me, half-expecting Ted to pop out from somewhere, smirking, saying this was all some elaborate prank. Is someone messing with me?
I go back to staring at the card, like it might give me some answers. How did it get here? I turn it over. There’s nothing. Just the card—smooth, glossy, and weirdly out of place.
I’m still standing there, lost in thought, when the back door creaks open, making me jump half out of my skin. I whirl around, heart pounding, only to see Ted sneaking back inside, closing the door as quietly as he can.
“Bloody hell, Ted,” I hiss, clutching my chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
He gives me a sheepish shrug. “Sorry. I went out to get some air.”
“Fresh air, or a cigarette?” I raise an eyebrow, pointing to the lighter clutched in his hand. Even from here, I can smell it. “I don’t know how my sister still thinks you’ve quit. She’ll kill you if she finds out, you know that?”
“That’s why I sneak out when she’s asleep. You can’t sleep?”
“No. I was just making coffee. You want one?”
“Nah, that's an instant insomnia trip.”
“Suit yourself.” I turn back to the kettle, setting it to boil.
He steps closer, nodding towards the card still in my hand. “What’s that?”
I look down at it, then back up at him. “A playing card. The Queen of Hearts. I found it by the kettle. Did you put it here?”
"Not me. Are you having some kind of breakdown again?"
"Again?"
Before Ted can say anything else, the sound of footsteps comes from the hallway. Grace appears, her arms crossed and her face set in that 'I’m-too-good-for-this' expression she wears so well. She stops at the doorway, her eyes flicking between Ted and me, her gaze sharp and probing.
"Ted," she says. "Have you been smoking again?"
There’s a beat of silence. Ted shifts his weight, looking at the floor, and I can feel the tension building in the room.
The last thing I need is being in the middle of their squabbling, so I take a breath and force a smile. "It was me." The words tumble out before I can think twice. "I was the one smoking."
Grace narrows her eyes, her brows arching in surprise. "You? I didn’t know you smoked."
I shrug, trying to look casual, even though my heart's pounding. "There’s a lot you don’t know about me."
Grace lets out an exasperated sigh, and her expression shifts from surprise to disdain. "If you’re going to start a fight, I’m going back to bed." She shoots Ted a look, her lips pursed. "Come on, Ted."
Ted hesitates, glancing at me. I give him a quick smile, one that I hope says, ‘It’s fine, just go.’ He nods, following Grace out of the kitchen without another word.
I stand there for a moment, the silence of the kitchen nice for a change. My eyes drift to the patio doors, and that’s when I catch it—a flash of white, just by the hedge.
My heart skips a beat. There, for just a second, I swear I see it again—a white rabbit, and then it’s gone.
No. No freaking way.