Alice felt embarrassed, as two
of the customers who were seated in the waiting area were now looking at her.
She felt her cheeks redden and tried to avoid looking at the women.
Stephanie ran towards her
daughter and hugged her. Then stepping back to look at her, she said, ‘I just
knew you’d be no good at looking after yourself. Maybe you should come back
home.’
‘Mum,’ said Alice in an
almost-whisper, ‘stop fussing, I’m fine.’
‘Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.
You look like you’ve been starving yourself. Are you eating properly?’ She was
almost pushing Alice out of the salon as she spoke.
They went to a local café, and
after purchasing their sandwiches, they sat at a table near the window.
‘I’ve missed you, love,’ said
Stephanie. ‘You really should keep in touch more.’
‘Sorry, Mum.’ Alice smiled.
‘You really do look tired,
darling. Are you staying up late partying and going to night-clubs? I know what
you students are like. But you need to make sure you get enough sleep.’
Alice wanted to tell her mother
about her nightmares, and she almost did, but she stopped herself. Her mother
already worried about her living alone, and would find any excuse to insist
that she should return to live with her.
Just as the two women were finishing
off their meals, they heard a voice calling out.
‘Steph! Steph Forester? Is that
you?’ The accent was not a London one. It had a northern tinge.
Stephanie had not used the
surname “Forester” for over fifteen years. It had been Alice’s father’s surname.
Stephanie had reverted to using her maiden name after the divorce.
A plump, middle-aged woman, with
short, dark-brown hair now stood beside the table.
Stephanie appeared quite
shocked, Alice noted.
‘Rita, hello... er... what a
nice surprise. How... How did you recognise me after all this time?’
Alice had seldom seen her mother
like this; she seemed nervous as she spoke to the woman.
‘Steph, it’s been too long,
hasn’t it? We should never have lost touch!’
Rita Smart had once been
Stephanie’s closest friend, but they had not seen each other for about twenty
years. They had met at school and had kept in touch until Alice was about a
year old. Rita had moved to Birmingham for work, and they lost contact after a
few months.
When Alice looked up at Rita, she
noticed that the woman was staring at her as if in awe. Alice blushed and Rita
seemed to then realise that she was staring. She smiled quickly and looked away
to address Stephanie: ‘So, this must be Alice.’
‘Yes,’ Stephanie replied and
then coughed, appearing nervous again and fidgeting in her chair.
‘She looks so much like Roger,’
commented Rita. ‘It’s like looking into his eyes when I look at her.’
But Rita did not look at her;
she kept her face firmly fixed in Stephanie’s direction, as if to make up for
the earlier bout of staring.
‘How is Roger these days?’
‘We’re divorced.’
‘You’re kidding?’ Rita seemed
genuinely shocked. She almost gasped the words. ‘After... After everything you
two went through, you know, after—’ She seemed to be jerking her head sideways
towards Alice.
‘Yes,’ said Stephanie, quickly.
‘It didn’t work out between us.’ Her cheeks and neck reddened.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said
Rita, smiling sympathetically. She then turned towards Alice and smiled at her.
Alice still thought that the way she was looking at her was unnatural. It was
as if she knew something about her... about her father... something that was
making Stephanie uncomfortable. Alice frowned.
Looking back at Stephanie, Rita
said, ‘We must keep in touch now. I’m living back in London—have been for the
past two years. I tried to find you at your old address when I first came back.
Where have you moved to?’
‘North London; I’ll write the
address down for you. Where are you living?’
‘Not too far from here,
actually.’ Rita fished out a pen from her handbag and picked up one of the
napkins from the table. She scribbled down an address. ‘I’ll put my phone
number on here, too.’
The two women exchanged
addresses and phone numbers, then Stephanie explained she had to get back to
work.
‘Oh, where are you working?’
‘I own a hairdressing salon on
the high street. It’s called
Stephanie’s
. You must come in and see me
sometime.’
‘That’s
your
salon?’ Rita
stood open-mouthed. ‘Can you believe I’ve walked past it so many times and
thought of you when I read the name, but I’ve never been in there. My cousin’s
a hairdresser, so she always does my hair at home. Last year, when my cousin
was in hospital for a few weeks, I almost made an appointment for a hair cut at
your salon! If only I had done.’
‘That would have been nice. But
never mind; the main thing is that we’ve found each other again,’ said
Stephanie, smiling.
Alice wondered if her mother was
just being polite. Was she really happy that she’d found this woman again, or
did Rita know some deep dark secret about her that her mother would prefer
stayed hidden?
When they’d left the café, and
were alone again, Alice asked her mother who Rita was.
‘Just an old friend, dear,’
replied Stephanie.
‘She seemed to know about me,
but I don’t remember you ever mentioning her before,’ said Alice.
‘Oh, I’m sure I must have.
Anyway, it was a long time ago. Rita and I lost touch about twenty years ago;
you were just a baby.’
They arrived at the salon door.
‘Alice, I’m going to be very
busy this afternoon. You’re welcome to hang around if you like, but you’ll
probably get bored.’ Stephanie seemed distracted and Alice felt as if she did
not really want her to hang around. Perhaps she was concerned that she would
ask more questions about the mysterious Rita?
Feeling perplexed, Alice
shrugged and said, ‘I have to go shopping this afternoon. I need some milk and
stuff. I’ll come and visit you again soon.’
‘Okay, dear,’ said her mother,
disappearing into the salon.
It surprised Alice, how her
mother’s mood had changed so dramatically since seeing her old friend at the
café. Alice recalled how Rita had seemed almost too surprised that her parents
had divorced. Having never met her father, she was naturally curious about
Rita, as she was someone who had known him a whole world away when Stephanie,
Roger and Alice had been a real family. Rita’s appearance in her life seemed to
signal an opportunity for her to learn more about her own past and her parents’
relationship. But there was something that slightly unnerved Alice about Rita;
it was the way she had looked at her when they first met. She had been
staring—almost as if she were looking at a curiosity rather than a person.
***
Alice went shopping and arrived home late in the
afternoon. She sat down to watch the
Ricki Lake Show
on TV. The subject
under discussion was teenage pregnancies and the ensuing problems. Whilst she
was watching a story about a girl who had chosen to have her first child at the
age of twelve, the telephone rang.
‘Hello,’ she said, still trying
to listen to the TV.
‘Allie!’ It was Jenny.
‘Oh, hi. How are you?’ asked
Alice, still half tuned-in to the TV show.
‘I’m fine. I can’t talk for
long—I’m getting ready to go out—but I just
had
to call you!’ said Jenny
in her usual loud jovial tone. ‘Frank’s been invited to a friend’s birthday
party next week and I’m going with him. Andrew is going to be there! I asked
Frank if it would be okay for you to come, and he said yes! You’ve got to
come.’
Alice soon lost interest in the
TV programme. ‘Oh, when is the party?’ she asked, trying to sound indifferent.
‘Next Tuesday. You will come,
won’t you?’
‘Um... okay, yes.’
‘You don’t sound very
enthusiastic,’ said Jenny, disappointed. ‘I thought you fancied Andrew.’
‘I do think he’s good looking
and everything, but I don’t know him,’ said Alice.
‘Well, here’s your chance to get
to know him!’
‘Okay.’ Alice smiled to herself.
‘I’ll look forward to it.’
‘We’ll come and pick you up
about seven-ish. I’ll call you again to confirm the time. Make sure you dress
up!’
‘Okay, Bye, Jen.’
Alice felt excited at the
prospect of seeing Andrew again. She often thought about what it would be like
if they got together. She began to plan in her mind what she would say to him
if she had the chance, what she would wear... When she came back down to earth,
she realised that the programme she had been watching had finished.
She reached towards the coffee
table to pick up the newspaper she had bought on the way home. Her mind was
still full of fantasies of Andrew, and she felt in high spirits. As she reached
out, she felt a pain in her lower right arm that seemed to spread to her elbow.
The pain was so intense that she grabbed her arm with her left hand and
screamed. After a few moments, the pain disappeared as quickly as it had
manifested itself. She pulled her sleeve up to check if her arm was bruised,
but she could see nothing. With no memory of having hit her arm anywhere, she
felt confused as to why she had felt the pain.
Maybe I strained something
when I was reaching out?
she wondered. But that seemed unlikely as the
table was so close to her.
Trying to forget about it, she
read her newspaper. There was a story about the plane crash on page five. She
decided not to read it, not wanting to be reminded of her nightmares. After
cooking her supper, she watched her favourite soap opera,
EastEnders
,
and went to bed early to catch up on the sleep she had missed over the past
couple of nights.
Chapter Three
Wednesday 13th August 1997
Alice arrived for work at
Bairns' Books
at 9 a.m.
Charlotte was already behind the counter.
‘Sophie and Rob were asking
where you were,’ said Charlotte as Alice settled herself behind the counter.
Rob and Sophie Bairns were the husband and wife team who ran the bookstore.
‘Oh... the bus was late,’
explained Alice, trying to think of a plausible excuse. Then, she saw Rob
Bairns looking at her from the corner of the bookstore; he didn’t look happy
and began walking towards her.
‘Alice,’ he said, as he got
closer to her, ‘you’re late. You know you’re meant to be here by 8.45. Don’t
let it happen again.’
‘I won’t. I’m sorry, the bus was
late. I’m sorry,’ Alice repeated as he walked away.
‘Alice!’ exclaimed Charlotte,
when Rob had disappeared into a corridor of sci-fi books.
The sharp tone in Charlotte’s
voice almost made Alice jump. Turning towards her colleague she saw that she
was holding a copy of the
Daily Mirror
. Alice squirmed.
‘Look!’ said Charlotte,
continuing in a shrill, voice. She pointed to the picture on the front page of
the newspaper. ‘Look at that girl. She’s the spitting image of you!’
The headline read: “
Plane
Crash Survivors Speak Of Air Tragedy
.”
‘Er... she does look a bit like
me,’ replied Alice, fumbling with her words. She hoped Charlotte would change
the subject.
‘A bit!’ Her colleague laughed
excitedly. ‘She must be your double. Everyone has a double somewhere,
apparently.’ Charlotte continued to stare alternately at the newspaper and then
at Alice as if she were comparing the two girls.
‘She doesn’t look that much like
me, and anyway, the picture is unclear; it’s all grainy,’ said Alice
defensively. She was glad when a customer approached the counter to purchase a
book, forcing Charlotte to put the newspaper to one side.
***
Alice had left her flat at the usual time for work that
morning. She’d been walking past the local newsagent’s on the way to the bus
stop when she’d noticed the headline on the front page of the
Daily Mirror
,
on the rack of newspapers outside the shop. Still curious about the details of
the plane crash, she moved closer and then noticed the picture on the front
page. Her first reaction was shock; looking at the girl in the photograph was
like looking in a mirror. The resemblance was overwhelming. As if in a
flashback, Alice’s mind returned to the night of the crash and she began to
feel dizzy as she stared at the newspaper.
Taking a deep breath, she took
the newspaper out of the protective plastic cover on the rack and read the
words printed below the picture. The girl’s name was “Jane Forester”. Upon
reading that, Alice gasped loudly. A man wearing jogging pants and a bright red
T-shirt was walking past her at just that moment and he noticed her anxiety.
Turning to look at her, he saw the newspaper in her hand. ‘Yes, that was a
shocking accident, wasn’t it?’ he said, looking sympathetic. ‘I’m flying to
America next week. Makes you think, doesn’t it?’
Alice nodded at him. She was
glad when he disappeared into the shop. Looking back at the paper, she again
saw the name “Forester” as if it were the only word printed on the page. Her
father’s surname was Forester. The thought flashed through her mind,
Could
this be my sister?
Almost immediately she felt foolish for thinking it. But
something was nagging her. Her father had never kept in touch; her parents had
separated when she was only two years old. He’d never tried to contact her.
Alice had often wondered whether he’d remarried and had children, so it was
unsurprising her train of thought would lead her to think this girl might be
her sister: she looked so much like her.
Alice had never tried contacting
her father for fear of upsetting her mother. But as she continued to stare at
the picture in disbelief, she couldn’t help feeling the need to find out more.
She looked up and saw the man in the red T-shirt exiting the shop. Feeling
self-conscious and not wanting him to see her still holding the paper, she
rushed to place it back in the holder.