What Alice Forgot (43 page)

The stage went dark. A single spotlight revealed Alice's mother and Nick's father in full Latin costumes, standing completely still. Roger had one knee thrust between Barb's legs, his arm around her waist. Barb was leaning back, exposing her neck. Roger's head was bowed toward hers, his face dramatic, frowning tremendously.

Nick made a sound like something was stuck in his throat. Ella made a sympathetic choking sound back.

“Grandma and Grandpa look like people on TV,” said Tom happily. “They look
famous
.”

“They do not,” said Madison.

“They do so.”

“Shhhh,” said Alice and Nick together.

The music started and their parents began to move. They were good in a horrendous sort of way. Swiveling their hips proficiently. Moving in and out of each other's arms. It was just so mortifyingly
sexual
—and in front of all these
old
people!

After five agonizing minutes of dancing, Roger stopped at the microphone while Barb danced around him, flicking up the sides of her skirt and stamping her feet provocatively. Alice could feel an attack of giggles about to sweep over her. What on earth are you
doing
, Mum?

“Folks!” said Roger in his best plummy radio-announcer voice. The spotlight lit up the beads of sweat on his yellow-tanned forehead. “You may have heard that my lovely wife and I will be offering salsa-dance lessons every second Tuesday. It's great exercise, and a lot of fun to boot! Now, anybody can do the salsa, and to prove it, I want to invite two people out of the audience who have never salsa-danced before up onto the stage. Let's see now . . .”

The spotlight began bouncing around the audience. Alice watched the light, hoping Roger had the sense to choose a couple who could actually walk.

The spotlight stopped on Alice and Nick and they both held up their hands to shield their eyes.

“Yes, those two blinking like rabbits in the headlights look like the perfect victims, don't you think, Barb?” said Roger.

Olivia, Tom, and Madison jumped from their seats like lottery winners. They began pulling at their parents' arms, shrieking, “Yes, yes! Mum and Dad dance! Come on!”

“No, no! Pick somebody else!” Alice swatted away their hands in a panic. She never, ever volunteered for this sort of thing.

“I think they'd be perfect, Roger,” said Barb from the stage, with a big game-show-hostess smile.

“I'm going to kill them,” said Nick quietly. Then he yelled, “Sorry! Bad back!”

The old people weren't buying that. They were the ones with arthritis.

“Bad back, my foot!” cried out an old lady.

“Have a go, you mug!”

“Don't be party poopers!”

“Don't worry, the sick feeling will go away, Daddy,” said Olivia sweetly.

“Dance, dance, dance!” shouted the old people, stamping their feet with surprising energy.

Nick sighed and stood up. He looked down at Alice. “Let's just get it over with.”

They walked up onto the stage, Alice pulling self-consciously at her skirt, worried it was riding up at the back. Frannie shrugged from her place in the front row and held up her hands in a “nothing to do with me” gesture.

“Facing each other, please,” said Roger.

Roger stood behind Nick and Barb stood behind Alice. Their parents maneuvered them so that Alice's hand was on Nick's shoulder, his around her waist.

“Closer now,” boomed Roger. “Don't be shy. Now look into each other's eyes.”

Alice looked miserably up at Nick. His face was blankly polite, as if they were two strangers who had been pulled out of the audience. This was excruciating.

“Come on now, are you a man or a mouse?” Roger clapped his son on the shoulder. “The man has got to take charge! You're the leader. She's the follower!”

Nick's nostril twitched, which meant he was highly irritated.

In a sudden movement, he put his hand on Alice's lower back and pulled her close to him, frowning masterfully in an over-the-top imitation of his father.

The audience erupted.

“I think we've got a natural here, folks!” said Roger. His eyes met Alice's and seemed to be sending her some sort of kindly message. He was a pompous old twit, but he meant well.

“Okay, light on your toes!” said Barb, demonstrating to Nick. “And forward on your
right
foot, back with your
left
foot, rock back onto your
right
foot, step back with your
left
foot. Shift your weight to your
left
foot, step back with your
right
foot. That's it! That's it!”

“And let's get those hips moving!” cried Roger.

Alice and Nick didn't dance much in public. Alice was always too self-conscious, and Nick wasn't fussed either way, but sometimes at home, if they'd had wine with dinner and they had the right sort of CD on while they were packing the dishwasher, they danced in the kitchen. A silly, hamming-it-up dance. It was always Alice who initiated it, because actually, she quite liked to dance, and actually, she wasn't bad.

She began to move her hips in imitation of her mother, while trying to keep the top half of her body still. The crowd roared its approval and she heard a child, probably Olivia, shout, “Go,
Mummy
!” Nick laughed. He was stepping on her toes. Barb and Roger were grinning like Cheshire cats. She could hear their children shouting out from the audience.

There was still chemistry. She could feel it in their hands. She could see it in his eyes. Even if it was just a memory of chemistry. There was still something. Alice's head was dizzy with hope.

The music stopped. “See! Anyone can learn to salsa!” cried Roger as Nick dropped his hands from her waist and turned away.

 

 

The show was over and the adults were standing around, drinking tea and coffee from paper cups and balancing pikelets on serviettes in the palms of their hands.

A huge gang of grandchildren and great-grandchildren were whooping with joy, racing on wheelchairs down the front of the hall.

“Should they be playing on those?” Alice asked Frannie, trying to be a responsible grown-up, as she saw Madison pushing a chair with Olivia and Tom squished in side by side, their legs stuck straight out in front of them.

“Of course not,” sighed Frannie. “But I think it might be one of our residents running the race.” She pointed to the white-haired man she'd been arguing with earlier who was wearing the shiny polka-dot waistcoat. He was racing along in a wheelchair, spinning the wheels with his hands, yelling, “You can't catch me!”

Frannie's lips twitched. “He's eighty-five going on five.” She paused. “Actually, I might just take some photos for the newsletter.” She hurried off. Nick, Alice, and Ella were left together.

“Well, that was quite a performance.” Ella was carrying Billy, who had his thumb in his mouth, his head draped over her shoulder. She squinted over his head at Nick and Alice as if they were scientific specimens. “That was the last thing I expected to see.”

“Just wanted to show Dad up,” said Nick. He picked up a scone and put the whole thing in his mouth.

“Are you hungry?” asked Alice. She scanned the tables. “Do you want a sandwich? They've got curried egg.” Nick liked curried egg sandwiches.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably and glanced at Ella. “No, that's okay, thanks.”

Ella was now openly staring.

“So how come you're the only one of the sisters here tonight, Ella?” asked Alice. Normally the Flakes traveled in a pack.

“Well, to be frank, Alice,” said Ella, “they sort of refuse to be in the same room as you.”

Alice flinched. “Goodness.” She wasn't used to provoking such violent reactions in people, although, then again, she didn't mind the idea of having such power over the Flakes. It was sort of delicious.

“Ella,” remonstrated Nick.

“I'm just saying it like it is,” said Ella. “I'm trying to stay neutral. Of course, it would help if you gave back Granny Love's ring, Alice.”

“Oh! That reminds me.” Alice unzipped her handbag, pulled out a jewelry box. “I brought it to give to you tonight. Here it is.”

Nick took the ring slowly. “Thank you.” He held the jewelry case in his palm as if he didn't know what to do with it and finally stuffed it into the pocket of his suit jacket.

“Well, if it's that easy,” said Ella, “maybe I should bring up another few issues, like, I don't know, the financial situation.”

“Ella, this is really none of your business,” said Nick.

“And why are you being such a
cow
over the custody?”

“Ella, this is not acceptable,” said Nick.

“Moo,” said Alice.

Ella and Nick stared.

Alice recited, “Who says ‘moo'? A
cow
says ‘moo'!” She smiled. “Sorry. It just came into my head when you said ‘cow.' ”

Billy lifted his head from Ella's shoulder, removed his thumb from his mouth, and said, “Moo!” He grinned appreciatively at Alice before replacing his thumb and putting his head back down on Ella's shoulder again. Ella and Nick seemed lost for words.

“I guess it must come from a book we used to read the children,” said Alice.

It had been happening a lot. Strange words and phrases and lines from songs kept appearing in her head. It seemed that those ten years' worth of memories had been stuffed in a too-small cupboard at the back of her mind, and every now and then a fragment of nonsense would escape.

Any second now that cupboard door was going to burst open and her head was going to overflow with memories of grief and joy and who knew what else. She didn't know if she was looking forward to that moment or not.

“I dropped something the other day,” said Alice, “and I said, ‘Oh my dosh.' And it just sounded so familiar. Oh my dosh.”

“Olivia used to say it when she was little,” said Nick. He smiled. “We all said it for a while. Oh my dosh. I'd forgotten that. Oh my dosh.”

“Am I missing something here?” said Ella.

“Maybe it's time you got Billy home to bed,” said Nick.

“Right,” said Ella. “Fine. I'll see you on Sunday.” She kissed Nick on the cheek.

“Sunday?”

“Mother's Day? Lunch with Mum? She said you were coming.”

“Oh, right. Yes, of course.”

How did Nick handle his social life without Alice? That was
her
job, telling Nick what he was meant to be doing on the weekend. He must be missing things all over the place.

“Bye, Alice,” said Ella, without making a move to kiss her. The only person in 2008 who didn't seem intent on plastering her with kisses. She paused. “Thanks for giving back the ring. It means a lot to our family.”

In other words,
You are not our family any longer
.

“No problem,” said Alice.
You're perfectly welcome to that horrendous ring.

When Ella had gone, Nick looked at Alice and said, “Still haven't got your memory back, then?”

“Not quite. Any minute now.”

“How are you coping with the children?”

“Fine,” said Alice. No need to mention her daily failures with lost permission notes, unwashed school uniforms, and forgotten homework, or how she didn't know what to do when they fought with each other over the computer or the PlayStation. “They're lovely. We made lovely children.”

“I know we did,” said Nick, and his face seemed to collapse. “I know we did.” He paused, as if not sure whether he should speak, and then said, “That's why the thought of only seeing them on weekends kills me.”

“Oh, that,” said Alice. “Well, if we don't get back together, then of course we should do the fifty-fifty thing. One week for you. One week for me. Why not?”