Chapter 3
Alice ran through the orchards till she got to Valhalla, and the scent of pine, of flowers, of sunshine bleaching wood and grass, came into her nostrils. She slowed down, as Teddy was sometimes startled when she heard sudden noises.
She used to come here sometimes with her dad, her little hand tucked into his large one, walking through the orchards to the big house, and she would sit in the small cosy living room and wait while her father went through the business of the day with Mr Kynaston in the study.
She would look at the picture books – The Little House , Green Eggs and Ham , Ten Thousand Cats , The Wizard of Oz – her legs dangling, not quite reaching the floor.
She could hear the noise, louder than ever. Sometimes she successfully ignored it. Too much to hope for today.
‘ Ravenoose! Ravenoose! Ravenoose! ’
‘Hey, Miss Teddy,’ Mavis was saying. ‘There you are! We were wondering if you’d come.’
‘I met some people on the way over,’ said Alice.
‘ Ravenoose! Ravenoose! ’
‘That’s nice,’ said Mavis. She looked approvingly at Alice, and patted her arm. ‘Well done, honey.’
It was almost Halloween. Alice had been walking back from school, looking down at the leaves that had flown to the ground and stuck themselves to the wet path: gold, lime, ochre, mustard stars, shining up. She did not hear the car drive past, but then a voice called:
‘Hey! Hey, Alice Jansen!’
Alice looked up, saw a mulberry-coloured Ford Mustang and felt herself turn to water. ‘Hey, Jack,’ she said, instantly aware of her face turning red. ‘How are you?’
Jack Maynard hadn’t graduated from high school; having failed his major classes, he was being made to repeat his final year.
She’d heard there were big fights at Crossings – about this, about him not getting into West Point and about his refusal even to apply to Princeton.
His father was threatening to kick him out.
Diane had told her all this in a fleeting moment of engagement, her face close to Alice’s to watch for her reaction.
Since her father’s death, Jack himself had not spoken two words to her.
Alice was secretly glad, though, that he was repeating the year.
He said something now to his companion, whom Alice couldn’t see, then turned to Alice. ‘Wanted to check on how you’re doing,’ he said, and blew smoke out of his mouth in a leisurely fashion.
He seemed to have grown since the last time she saw him.
His leonine hair curled longer, more magnificently than ever; his plaid shirt was rolled up above his elbow, the hairs on his arms golden from the summer sun.
He had beads round his neck; and a harmonica was tucked into the breast pocket, where formerly there had been a pack of Lucky Strike.
‘Oh, thanks,’ Alice said, staring into his pale blue eyes. ‘How are you, Jack?’
‘Me?’ He looked utterly surprised anyone should ask, and a faint flush spread over his cheeks. ‘Oh. Thanks. I’m fine.’ There was another long, agonizing pause.
‘So …’ Alice pointed at his shirt. ‘You play harmonica?’
He looked confused. ‘What?’ He looked down and laughed. ‘Maybe.’
She nodded. ‘Cool.’
His lips – his lips were full, and pinker and thicker than the rest of his face, like Mick Jagger. She wanted so much to kiss him then.
There was a squeak of leather. A voice said:
‘So, Jack. We going back to your place or not?’
Jack looked from Alice to the person beside him, whom she still couldn’t see. ‘You know Dolores, don’t you?’
‘Sure,’ said Alice. She cleared her throat and leaned forward. ‘Hey, Dolores.’
‘Hey,’ said Dolores Delaney. She was in a seersucker plaid top and denim shorts.
Her shiny black hair was bouffant with two tiny pigtails, a thin red ribbon tied around each.
‘Good to see you again, Alice. Every time I see you, you look super-cute. Doesn’t she, Jack?
’ Dolores stared down at the long navy tunic Alice was wearing, which she’d made herself with her mother’s old sewing machine, and, underneath it, the coral shirt with the sailor collar, trimmed with a slender navy ribbon.
‘You’re so clever. Did you buy that or make it? ’
‘I made it. It’s easy, I’ll show you how. I like your outfit too,’ she said to Dolores.
‘I think she looks like a farmhand,’ said Jack, and he laughed, but Dolores didn’t. ‘Hey, don’t be mad,’ he said quickly, almost nervously. ‘I was just joking.’
‘I’m not mad, honey.’ Dolores opened the car door and stepped out, brushing off her shorts.
‘You are. Can I help it if you look a little –’ He scratched his nose really slowly, and Alice realized how stoned he was, how impatient it seemed to be making him, as though the pot had trapped him like honey and he had to wade through it, each movement laboured.
‘A little trashy? You’re still cool, Dolores. ’ He turned to Alice. ‘She’s mad.’
‘I’m not mad. And you’re not funny. You are cute, though.’ She pinched his face, staring at him.
‘I’m not,’ said Jack, his face flushing. ‘Hey, Dolores. Get back in the car, I’m sorry.’ He seemed genuinely anxious. ‘C’mon, Dolores.’
‘No, thanks. I’ll get out here.’ She leaned forward so that the plaid top gaped down and her black brassiere was visible.
Alice watched Jack watching her breasts.
Then Dolores leaned forward and kissed him, full on the lips, cupping his face with one hand, like he was an orange she wanted to squeeze.
She broke away, and he tipped forward, then righted himself.
‘See you around, Jack. You’re a nice guy. Don’t worry.’
‘I’ll call you,’ he said, and Alice saw the dazed, hard, yearning look on his face, like a dog following a scent.
Dolores shrugged, then shook her head, the little ribbons of her pigtails flickering, her hair flashing blue-black in the sunlight.
Jack said nothing more, simply drove off at high speed.
There was a silence, broken only by the sound of the car revving in the far distance. The two girls faced each other.
‘Hey,’ said Dolores, raising one hand and letting it fall.
‘Hey,’ said Alice. She dropped her hand too, and her schoolbag slid off her shoulder. ‘Oh biscuits,’ she said, leaning over to pick it up.
‘Oh biscuits,’ Dolores said, smiling. ‘Adorable.’
Alice folded her arms. ‘What was it you wanted?’ she said, to hide her mortification.
‘My cousin, back in Chicago, she says there’s three kinds of guys,’ Dolores said, after a pause. ‘You wanna know who they are?’
‘Who are they?’
Dolores moved her gum from one side of her mouth to the other. Her dark eyes glittered. ‘There’re men, boys and hairdressers.’
‘What about Jack?’ Alice said, fascinated. ‘Which one is he?’
‘He seems kind of lost. He’s a nice kid, though, but he’ – she jabbed a thumb backwards in the direction of Jack’s car – ‘I gotta tell you, he’s a hairdresser.’
‘What does that even mean?’
‘It means he has great hair, and new records, and nice manners, but there’s nothing to him, nothing at all. And that’s about it.’
Alice started to laugh. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I knew you went to the senior prom with him, but I didn’t think you were his …’ She stopped in confusion.
Dolores gave a shout of laughter. ‘He asked me to the prom, and we hung out. A few times.’ She took a joint out of her pocket and started rolling it in her hands. ‘But he’s looking for something, and it’s not me.’
As Alice was turning over this statement, Dolores lit the joint. ‘It’s weak, but it’s just enough. Want some?’
She handed it to her, and Alice took it. They stood by the side of the road, no sidewalk, the autumn light filtering through the trees, moving the joint back and forth between them, like they were taking part in a ceremony.
‘I can show you how to use my sewing machine, if you haven’t got one,’ said Alice after a few minutes.
‘Sure. We used to have one back in Chicago. I guess it got left behind. Most of our stuff did. That’d be great, Alice.’
‘Call me Allie,’ said Alice suddenly.
‘Sure, Allie.’ Dolores passed her the joint again. Dolores pushed her hair out of her eyes, inhaled and said in her low, amused voice, ‘Good to know you, Allie,’ and Alice nodded. To Alice it felt like a golden thread, weaving its way around them both, tying them gently together.
‘Hey, why don’t you come with me to Mackie’s on Friday? It’s my birthday. My mom wants to treat me.’
‘Mackie’s,’ said Alice.
Dolores looked at her like she was slow. ‘Yeah – it’s the diner, up on Main Street? Across from the bank? It does sundaes –’
‘Yes,’ said Alice, speaking fast. ‘I know it … sure. That’d be great.’
‘Okay,’ said Dolores, looking at her rather curiously.
‘Thanks, Dolores.’
‘Call me Dolo. That’s what all my friends call me.’
‘I never heard anyone call you Dolo,’ said Alice.
‘I never liked anyone enough to ask them to call me Dolo.’ She took out her lipstick and reapplied it. Alice felt a wave of fondness rush over her. ‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘I have to help my mom in the beauty parlour. I’ll see you Friday, Allie.’
‘Sure, Dolo,’ Alice said. She watched her go, with a smile playing about her lips.
She looked down at her brown lace-up boots and her long tunic, and remembered where she was going, what she had to do.
Feeling rather light-headed, she ran to Valhalla, her boots thudding across the wet lawns, her hair streaming out behind her.
They were waiting for her on the porch. Mavis looked tired. Teddy too. Alice sat down and took Teddy’s hand.
‘I want to visit with you after if I’ve time,’ she said. ‘But I’m going inside first. That okay?’
Darling, I’ll be here, staving off ennui, but do hurry: we’ve masses to discuss.
The time I ate a whole chilli rather than go back to school, and the time your father and a couple of friends tried to sail across the Hudson in a boat they made from corrugated iron – they got twenty yards across and capsized.