Don't Ask Alice (9 page)

A
lice and I went back into the family room and sat together on an armchair. Peter and Linda were talking about the cost of parking in Limerick, compared to Dublin and Cork. If they kept on like this I was sure I'd get so bored I'd fall fast asleep. (And with a bit of luck, I might sleep so long that when I woke up this totally awful night would be over.)

Soon Peter started to seem restless. He was jiggling his feet, and re-arranging himself on the couch. He opened and re-tied his shoelaces three
times, and twice he took off his watch and put it back on again.

Linda didn't seem very happy either. She was fiddling with her glass, running her finger around the rim making it hum softly.

Besides the orange juice, the toilet paper, the shower-curtain-mould-cleaner, and the cost of parking in every city in the western world, they'd talked about the weather, tennis, gardening, and then the weather again.

Finally Peter sniffed the air like a puppy-dog trying to find something it had lost. Luckily there was still a strong smell of rashers and sausages.

‘Something smells nice,' he said.

‘That'll be dinner,' said Linda. ‘Alice and Megan are cooking tonight.'

‘Yum,' Peter said. ‘I can't wait. I'm so hungry you wouldn't believe it.'

Linda gave him a funny look.

He smiled at her.

‘I haven't eaten since lunchtime – I've been
saving myself. Don't tell me what we're having – I want it to be a surprise.'

Now Linda looked really puzzled. She gave me another
what's going on?
look. Suddenly Linda reminded me a bit of my mum – a thought so scary that I had to jump up and race back into the kitchen, where she couldn't see me. Alice raced after me, and as we went I could hear Linda's voice behind us.

‘Peter … would you … er … I mean maybe … what I'm trying to say is … would you like to stay for something to eat?'

Peter's ‘yes' sounded very strange and quiet. The poor man must have been totally confused. As far as he knew, he'd been invited for dinner since earlier in the day, so why on earth would Linda be asking him again? Still, he'd been Alice's dad for over twelve years by now, so if he had any sense he'd have figured out that she must have had something to do with whatever was going on.

Anyway, I didn't have time to worry too much
about it, as Alice grabbed me and gave me a high-five that made the palm of my hand sting like crazy.

‘Told you,' she hissed. ‘Told you they'd crack. Now let's get dinner served before they cop on. You go in and call them.'

I went back into the family room. Linda looked very cross.

‘I think I need to have a word with you, Megan,' she said.

‘Sure,' I said, trying not to sound scared. ‘Maybe later though, I'm kind of busy right now.'

Linda took a long, deep breath. She looked crosser than I had ever seen her before.

‘Now is good for me,' she said.

I couldn't think what to say, so I pretended I hadn't heard her.

‘May I show you to your table?' I said.

By now both Linda and Peter were looking like there was something very fishy going on, but neither of them said anything – they just got
up and followed me into the dining room.

I know we weren't planning to kill anyone or anything, but all of a sudden I felt like what Alice and I were doing was very wrong. I tried to look brave as I waved Linda and Peter to the table, but my hand was shaking so much it spoiled the effect a bit.

Both adults looked at the table, so beautifully set for two, and they spoke at once. ‘Why aren't you girls eating?' they said – almost like they'd been practising.

I had actually been rehearsing the answer to this, but my words didn't come out as smoothly and as easily as theirs had.

‘Er, I mean… Em… actually… well… you see… Alice and I were really hungry, and with all the food around we couldn't resist… so we ate earlier, and Rosie was tired so we fed her too and put her to bed … … so it's just you two now.'

Peter and Linda looked at me like I was totally crazy, but at least they sat down without asking
any more awkward questions.

Just then Alice came in carrying the plates of salad. She put one in front of each adult.

‘My speciality,' she said. ‘Salad
á la
rashers and sausages. Eat up before it gets cold…er.'

Linda and Peter didn't look very impressed, and I didn't blame them. The lettuce had gone all limp and floppy, and the rashers and sausages were covered in thick, white grease. Still, they obediently picked up their knives and forks.

Alice and I went back into the kitchen, but we lurked near the doorway and listened as our guests ate. For a few minutes all I could hear was the scraping of cutlery, and the squeaky sound of soggy lettuce being chewed – not very pleasant sounds, but at least it meant things were going sort of OK.

Just then there was a sudden, horrible shriek.

‘Euuuurgh! What is it? It's
so
disgusting. Get it away from me!'

Alice and I ran back into the room. Linda had jumped up and away from the table, and was
cowering in the corner like there was a monster in the room. Peter was poking at the remains of her salad. Finally he found what he was looking for.

‘It's just a slug,' he said.

‘
Just
a slug,' repeated Linda in a high-pitched voice. ‘There's no such thing as “just a slug”. It's revolting.'

Peter spoke softly.

‘Well, it's not particularly pleasant, I'll admit that. But it won't hurt you. Slugs are perfectly harmless creatures. Anyway, there's only one thing worse than finding a slug in your dinner.'

‘What's that?' asked Linda.

Peter laughed.

‘Finding half a slug.'

Linda wiped her mouth frantically with the back of her hand, but she did give a small giggle, which vanished quickly as Peter poked a bit more and said,

‘Oh dear, speaking of half-slugs….'

Linda looked like she was going to faint.

‘I'm joking!' said Peter, but she didn't seem to hear him.

She grabbed a serviette and used it to wipe her tongue, saying stuff like ‘
grossest thing ever
' and ‘
I'll have nightmares about this for weeks.
'

Alice raced over and grabbed both salad plates.

‘Well, that's starters finished. Please take your places again, and main course will be here before you know it.'

Linda sat back at the table without saying another word. She was a bit pale. I wondered if she was in shock. (If I was really a Guide, I'd probably have known about that kind of stuff, but since I wasn't, I decided to ignore it.)

Back in the kitchen, Alice dumped the salad and slug remains in the bin, then turned to me.

‘OK. So you were right again,' she said. ‘Maybe we should have washed the lettuce. We'll know better the next time.'

I made a face.

‘There won't
be
a next time, Alice. I can promise you that.'

Alice shrugged.

‘Whatever. We haven't time to go into that now. Let's forget all about those stupid salads and move on. Now it's time to put the lasagne in the micro––.'

She stopped and slapped the palm of her hand to her head.

‘But of course you don't have a microwave, do you?'

I shook my head.

‘Not the last time I checked.'

Alice grabbed the lasagne packets and headed for the back door.

‘I'll have to run home to heat these up. I'll be as quick as I can. You just go in there and keep them entertained, and whatever happens, don't let them find out that this is a set up.'

Alice was gone for
ages
. I tried every topic of conversation I could think of (including shower-curtain cleaners), but everything seemed
to end after one or two sentences. Peter kept looking at his watch and saying how late it was getting, and Linda had a strange look on her face that I couldn't make any sense of.

In the end, out of desperation, I went to my schoolbag, got my tin whistle and my book of songs and started to play. At first Peter and Linda seemed interested. They tapped their feet, and they even clapped at the end of the first two tunes.

By the third tune, their smiles weren't quite as bright and the foot tapping had come to a sudden end.

By the time I heard Alice coming in the back door, I was on the tenth and last tune in my songbook. (That's ‘Edelweiss', and it's really hard.) I kept missing notes, and making mistakes. When I got to the end of the song, there were plenty of scuffling noises from the kitchen, but still Alice hadn't appeared. Linda was trying to hide a yawn, and Peter looked as if he had fallen asleep. I decided I'd better play the
chorus again.

I was playing the chorus to ‘Edelweiss' for the fifth time when Alice finally appeared, holding two plates.

‘It's an awful cheat,' she whispered as she went past. ‘These lasagnes are a lot smaller than they look on the packet.'

She was right. Each one looked about the right size to fill up a not-very-hungry baby hamster, (who hadn't had a slug and salad starter).

Alice dropped a plate in front of each of our guests. Linda and Peter both brightened up at the sight of the food, so I escaped into the kitchen for a while to catch my breath.

It was turning into a very, very long night.

A
lice and I stayed in the kitchen for ages. We could hear Peter and Linda chatting in the living room, so we decided it was best to leave them alone. (Even if they were only talking about mouldy-shower-curtain-cleaners.) Once or twice we could even hear them laughing, and Alice rewarded me with a poke in the ribs that really hurt.

Much later, when my side was black and blue, there was silence in the dining room. Alice put her ear to the door.

‘What do you think's going on?' she said.

I really didn't care anymore.

‘Dunno. Maybe they're snogging.'

Alice shuddered.

‘No need for that. It's their first date, remember? Maybe they've just run out of things to say.'

I giggled.

‘Maybe they've decided which is the best shower curtain cleaner in the world.'

Alice giggled too, but only for a second. Then she went all serious again.

‘Maybe we should bring in the dessert,' she said.

As she spoke she opened the freezer and rooted around a bit. Then she turned back to me.

‘All I can find is packets of spinach. Where did you put the ice-cream?'

I shook my head.

‘Nowhere. I thought you put it away.'

‘But I thought
you
put it away.'

Five minutes later we found the ice cream in a bag under the kitchen table. I carefully opened the tub, and dipped my finger in. It was like dipping my finger into cream-coloured slime. I sucked my finger.

‘Tastes nice,' I said. ‘But it isn't exactly ice-cream any more.'

Alice stamped her foot. I decided I really needed to talk to her about that stupid foot-stamping habit. At twelve, she was really a bit old for that kind of thing. (But if she was cross enough to be stamping her foot, that probably meant it wasn't a very good time.)

‘Now what?' said Alice. ‘I don't suppose your mother has anything else suitable for dessert stashed in her cupboards?'

I laughed.

‘Fat chance. Porridge maybe. Or some of that spinach, but dessert – I don't think so. We've
already eaten all the nice stuff that Linda brought.'

‘Maybe I could run next door? Or down to the shop?' Alice suggested.

Now it was my turn to stamp my foot. (It felt kind of good, actually.)

‘No way,' I said. ‘You're not leaving me on my own with those two again. I don't know any more tin whistle tunes.'

‘Oh, well,' sighed Alice. ‘We'll just have to improvise. Pass me two nice glasses, will you?'

I watched as she slowly and carefully poured the liquid ice cream into the two best glasses I had been able to find.

‘What's that meant to be?' I asked.

‘Vanilla soup. It's the latest thing in Paris.'

‘Really?'

Alice laughed. ‘No, but it would be if anyone thought of it.'

I had to laugh too. Messing around in the kitchen with Alice was fun.

I wished we could forget all about Linda and
Peter in the next room.

I wished we could have fun that didn't involve crazy plans.

I wished things could be like they used to be.

Alice stood back and admired her work.

‘It needs a finishing touch. Got any coffee to sprinkle on the top?' she asked.

I opened the coffee jar.

‘Just coffee beans,' I said, ‘and I don't think they're very sprinkly.'

She reached in to the jar and took a few beans.

‘They'll do fine.'

Alice dropped the beans on top of the vanilla soup. They stayed there for about a second, and then sank slowly beneath the surface.

Alice made a face.

‘I've had a long night. I'm not spending ten minutes fishing for coffee beans,' she said. ‘They can still be decorations – invisible decorations.'

I smiled.

‘The latest thing in Vienna, I bet.'

Alice smiled back at me. Then she handed me one of the glasses and led the way into the dining room. Luckily, Linda and Peter weren't snogging – that would have been too gross. They were just sitting looking at each other, and saying nothing.

‘Dessert is served,' I said.

‘Vanilla soup,' said Alice.

‘The latest thing in Paris,' I added.

‘Indeed?' said Linda, as she pushed the dinner plates to one side.

Peter didn't say anything. He just dived in to his dessert at once, digging into the glass with his spoon. He was probably starving after the half-eaten salad, and the baby-hamster-sized portion of lasagne he'd just had.

He looked really happy for about ten seconds, and then he dropped his spoon, and grabbed his jaw.

‘Ooooh! Ouch! What's in this? I nearly broke my tooth.'

‘Secret ingredient,' said Alice. ‘If I told you I'd
have to kill you.'

Then she grabbed my arm, and dragged me back to the kitchen.

‘What if his tooth really is broken?' I asked.

Alice shrugged.

‘Don't worry. His tooth isn't broken. He's just being a baby.'

Maybe she was right. All was quiet again in the dining room.

‘See?' said Alice. ‘He's better already. Now help me with this.'

We put the champagne and two glasses onto Mum's best silver tray. When we went back into the dining room, Linda looked at us in surprise.

‘Champagne?' she said. ‘What are we celebrating?'

I had to think about that one. I had lots of ideas, but none that seemed suitable to share with Linda.

The fact that you didn't actually eat the slug?

The fact that it looks like Peter didn't break his
tooth on that coffee bean after all?

The fact that, despite our best efforts, Alice and I haven't poisoned you?

Alice interrupted my thoughts.

‘We're celebrating the fact that it's Saturday night, and we're all here together having a lovely time.'

Ha! – maybe Alice was having a lovely time, but if so she was on her own. I was having a
rotten
time, worrying that everything was going wrong, and it didn't look like Linda and Peter were having much fun either.

Peter reached for the champagne.

‘Will I open this?' he said.

Alice grabbed it from his reach.

‘No you're the guest. Anyway, it's easy-peasy – I've seen this done on TV hundreds of times.'

She carefully peeled back the foil, and then she took off the cute little wire cage that surrounded the cork. Then she used her thumbs to ease the cork from the bottle. It came out
slowly, like toothpaste from a nearly empty tube. When the cork was almost out, Alice suddenly shoved the bottle into my hands.

‘Here. You do it,' she said. ‘I'm too afraid. And I hate loud noises.'

I was afraid too, but it was too late to do anything about it. I felt like I was holding a hand-grenade, or a bomb that was just about to go off. I held the bottle as far away from my body as I could, wishing that my arms were a bit longer.

Alice ducked behind a chair, Linda covered her eyes, and Peter called,

‘Careful with that.'

Too late – there was a huge loud pop, and the cork shot from the bottle like a bullet. It whizzed across the room, and managed to find Mum's favourite crystal vase, which was supposedly safe on the top shelf of the cabinet. The vase toppled for a second, then rocked, and then danced into the air. I didn't know whether to cover my eyes or my ears. There was a huge crash, and then a
chorus of
oh no's
from Linda, Peter and Alice. I raced over. The vase was broken into about a hundred pieces – about ninety-eight too many for superglue to be of any use.

I put my head down. I felt like crying.

Why had I let Alice bully me into this?

Now I was going to be in huge trouble, and all for nothing. Linda was glaring at Alice, and Peter was looking more embarrassed than ever.

Just then Rosie appeared in the doorway.

‘Big bang?' she said.

She went and stood next to Linda.

‘Oh, you poor little poppet,' Linda said. ‘Did the loud noise wake you up? And look at you, you're all wet. Is it too warm in your bedroom? Are you sweating from the heat?'

Even Rosie was embarrassed now.

Why couldn't Linda get the smell?

Had the vanilla soup gone to her head?

Was she wearing too much perfume?

The damp patch on Rosie's nightie wasn't because her room was too hot. I should have
warned Linda that one of Mum's ten thousand rules actually made sense. It really wasn't clever to give Rosie anything to drink after seven o'clock.

Still, I had enough problems without worrying about that.

I winced as Linda pulled Rosie onto her knee and cuddled her. That, I supposed, was definitely that. If there was any hope of a romance between Linda and Peter, surely a wee-wee soaked child would put an end to it for good?

I looked wearily at Alice.

‘Come on,' I said. ‘I'll take Rosie upstairs and get her changed into something dry. I suppose you might as well get started on the washing up.'