Authors: Anne-Marie Hart
I answered questions as best as I could, and then I sat down for thirty minutes to sign books for everyone that had showed up. I did a short interview with a Guardian journalist, talked to as many people as I was expected to, chaperoned and moved along swiftly by Rebecca from Prometheus Publishing, and finally I was able to stop for a moment, have a rest and a glass of champagne and let it all slowly begin to sink in. I guzzled the champagne while people buzzed excitedly around me, got a refill and guzzled it again.
'So where shall we go?' Sophia said.
'I'm going to go home', I said.
'Home?' Tad said. 'Home, home?'
'Home', I said. 'I'm fucked off, and all I want to do is go to bed.'
'Ok, we'll come with you', Sophia said.
'No, you guys stay here. I just want to be on my own for a while. I'm sorry. I hope I didn't ruin it for you.'
'No, of course not', Sophia said. 'You were ace. You know you're my hero.'
'I'll tell Jackson to take you home', I said. 'I'm going to take the bus, I feel like riding around for a while.'
'Nice speech', dad said, when I went to say goodbye to him. 'Very amusing.'
'You're leaving your own party?' James said. 'Has the champagne run out already?'
'I'm tired', I said. 'It's been a pretty exhausting day already. Thanks for coming though.'
'Thanks for the shout out', James said. I couldn't work out whether he was being sarcastic or not, such was his confidence.
I said goodbye to the publishing team, bit my tongue and thanked them for their help, despite wanting to tear them apart for smashing up something I'd spent years crafting, and then left as quickly as I could, before anyone could stop me. That first step outside, into the evening drizzle and away from the cloying crowd, was like an ice cold blast of freedom. I almost laughed, it felt so good.
I'd taken no more than ten paces, not really concentrating on which direction I was going, before I heard a voice behind me that I thought must have come from my imagination.
'Alice.'
I froze. A shiver running up my spine.
'Alice?' The voice said again, and this time I knew it was definitely real.
I turned around slowly.
'Fuck', I said as I saw him standing there. Older, of course, but still the same person. Still the same orange hair, freckles and sticky out ears. Still the same Toby.
'Fuck', I said again. 'Please tell me this isn't happening right now.'
I felt a hollow in my stomach like I'd been kicked by a mule. The rain began to come down more heavily around us, and for a moment we both just stood there staring at each other, neither one really knowing what to say.
'You look the same', Toby said eventually. 'Look, you're even wearing the same dress you were when I saw you last.'
I looked down at myself, my dress spotting with raindrops. 'I thought it would be appropriate.', I mumbled.
'You cleaned the sick off then?'
'Toby, what are you doing here?' I said, trying desperately to understand why he'd suddenly come back to me like this.
'You forgot to sign my book', he said, holding it out.
'That's not what I meant', I said. 'Eighteen years and I hear nothing, and now this, you just show up?'
'I like the ending', Toby said, ignoring the question.
'That's not how it went and you know it', I said, a little more angrily than I had wanted to.
'It's how I always wanted it to go', he said.
'Yeah well, I didn't write it like that, the publishers changed it', I said. 'They changed a lot of it.'
'Oh', Toby said.
'Yeah', I said.
'Did they change the names too?'
'No, that was me.'
'Ok', Toby said.
There was still about three metres between us and neither one of us had closed the gap. Toby looked up into the rain, squinting his eyes against the droplets.
'It's really coming down', Toby said, even though neither of us looked like we intended to move for cover. My hair was beginning to stick to the side of my face, and I could feel chills again across my shoulders.
'I can't believe you're here', I said. 'Look at you.'
'Not much has changed', Toby said, trying to catch the rain in his mouth.
'You're ruining the book', I said.
'I think I know the story already', Toby said.
'Not all of it', I said.
'Do you want to get a drink Alice?' Toby said. 'Get out of the rain?'
'No. Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know. Yes, but not now. Toby you can't just walk back into my life like this and expect us to pick up where we left off. It just doesn't work that way.'
'No?' Toby asked.
'No', I said, firmly.
'Ok', Toby said.
'Christ Toby, you've shocked me. I feel like I've been in a traffic accident.'
'Pretty much like always then', Toby said.
'I guess so', I said.
'Will you sign my book at least?' Toby said.
'Fuck', I said, my arms folded across my chest now, protectively. I look around him, up at the darkened sky and then directly at him. Still the same Toby, the man I used to love. The man I thought I was going to marry.
'Fuck', I said again, and then closed the gap between us.
For the first time in eighteen years, I stood right next to him and looked directly into his eyes, and suddenly, I was fifteen again and back in the tree house in the woods. The feelings I had for Toby rushed back to me like the sweep of a bushfire as the wind catches the advancing flames. It was so strong, I knew I had to get out of there before it crippled me. I took the book from Toby, quickly signed my name on the first page and wrote the digits of my telephone number underneath. When I left, hurrying away into the darkness of the night, and the bright neon lights of Soho, I couldn't tell whether it was rain running down my cheeks or tears.
I walked for about two hours, through Soho, across the Hungerford bridge, down Southbank and through Borough. I would have walked home too, if I knew the way. When I jumped on the bus, I was soaked. I looked like a complete mess, and when I sat down, the lady I sat down next to, got up, shook her head at me in disgust and moved to another seat. I felt miserable, on what should have been the proudest evening of my life, and despite everything, I couldn't stop thinking about Toby. Half of me was pissed off at him for coming back to me like this, and the other half was exited beyond description that he'd done so. I also thought about Devizes, even though I didn't want to, and what I should do about him lying to me. The soggy mess I'd carried in my hand like an offering all across London, represented me perfectly. It was sodden, coming apart at the seams and didn't look anything like it had done originally. I left it on the seat when I got off the bus, not wanting to be in charge of it any longer. Someone else could take that responsibility.
When I got home, it didn't take me long to find it. Placed as a kind of marker on the inside of the diary I had kept from 1996, was the drawing that Toby had done of the two of us in the tree house, which I'd rescued several years ago from the end of the school field and again that afternoon from the bins outside of the geography block. It had been repaired with sellotape, from where I'd torn it up in a fit of anger on the night of the prom, but still looked as good as it had done all those years ago.
Several days passed without a call from either Devizes or Toby. I tried to write, but I couldn't, not because I didn't have time, but because my mind was filled was so much confusion, I couldn't think clearly enough to channel any of it on to the page.
I found solace in running, where every time something didn't go my way, like a dog crossed my path or a pedestrian happened to be walking exactly where I wanted to tread, I got angry, and used it as an excuse to vent my frustration. I swore at a fat, elderly woman when she cut me up with her moto-scooter, and the look she gave me could have melted lead. I don't think she'd ever had anyone talk to her like that before, and it felt good. Even Sophia noticed how angry I was that week, usually a permanent fixture in the house, she decided to make herself scarce, as often as she could. I kept telling myself
I'm a millionaire
,
I've had a book published, I've got three more coming out over the next three years, I've finally made it, my parents are forced to respect me, and can no longer say to me that writing is just a hobby and a waste of time
, but I felt like a fraud. I didn't feel like a real writer at all.
Nothing seemed to matter to me, not even Devizes, who I thought I was beginning to really develop feelings for, except for Toby. I kind of hated him for coming back to me, and then the other part of me, the spiritual, idealistic part, couldn't help but think it was destiny. I was so confused.
One morning, when I was sat in front of my computer, and had written a paragraph that I had stared at in several different revisions for over an hour, I heard a loud beeping sound from the street below, that was fucking with my concentration. I left it for about thirty seconds, until I couldn't take it any more. I went out to the living room, all ready to scream at them, when I saw Devizes on the street below me, standing rather proudly next to what looked like a very expensive sports car.
'Alice', he said, waving up to me.
'What's wrong with a telephone call?' I said, shouting down to him.
'This is more my style', Devizes said. 'I've come to apologise, and to bring you a present.'
He displayed the car with his arms, and at first I had no idea what he was talking about.
'The car?', I said, getting it. 'You bought me a sports car?'
'I bought you a Ferrari', Devizes said, that winning smile all over his face. 'I'm sorry about the book Alice', he said. 'I should have told you, that was my fault. I hold my hands up now and take full responsibility. Do you want to know the good news?'
'Go on', I said, already beginning to soften. Devizes had a charming way about him that I'd actually missed, no matter how upset I was with him. I missed being locked in his arms, and I missed having someone there with me.
'The book is a bestseller', Devizes said. 'The critics love it, the readers love it. You've got a hit on your hands.'
'Really?' I said. I'd been kind of caught up in my own world to notice what was going on around me. I knew there were reviews posted in newspapers, because Sophia showed them all to me. I hadn't bothered reading any of them though, because it felt too much like reading a review of someone else's book, and then taking all the credit for it.
'Really, really', Devizes said. 'You're a star, Alice Cartright. The phone has been ringing constantly with people trying to get interviews.'
A traffic warden started sniffing around the car that Devizes had parked up on the kerb. There was a brief conversation, before the warden started shaking his head and writing out a ticket.
'What are you doing now?' Devizes said.
'Writing', I said, even though it was a sort of half lie. I planned to continue for a bit, but the one hundred and thirty eight words I'd managed in over a month were already depressing me. I'd written shopping lists longer than that.
'Want to take me for a ride?' Devizes said, suggestively.
I thought for a moment. Continue trying to write, or drive Devizes to his house and make him fuck me all afternoon, for not telling me they were going to change my book. 'I'll be right down', I said.
'Don't get yourself hurt', Sophia said, just before I left. 'By Devizes or by Toby.'
'I won't', I said. 'He's bought me a fucking Ferrari, Sophia, I can't believe it.'
'All that glistens isn't gold', Sophia said, and then, with a mischievous glint in her eye. 'Will you let me drive it?'
'You don't know how to drive', I protested.
'I can learn', Sophia said. 'You can teach me.'
'I'll think about it', I said, and hurried downstairs.
'Please don't lie to me again', I said to Devizes when I got to him. 'Please don't feel like you're protecting me or any of that crap. I don't need to be protected, I need to be respected. If we are going to be together and work together, I need you to understand that, ok?'
'Agreed', Devizes said. 'And Alice, I really am sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing by you that's all. I thought I was helping you.'
We hugged and kissed, and suddenly I felt a lot better. I'd needed this physical contact, I'd missed it.
'I've missed you', I said.
'Me too', Devizes said. 'I've really missed you. It's not fun sleeping alone.'
I stared at the car.
'So, do you like it?' Devizes said proudly.
'It's red', I said. 'Bright red.'
'It's a Ferrari darling, it has to be red.'