What Alice Forgot (53 page)

“Hi!”

The woman who opened the door was smiling delightedly, wiping her hands on a floury apron, as if Alice were a very dear friend.

Alice hadn’ t wanted to come. She hadn’ t been at all thrilled when this “Gina” had moved into the house across the road and turned up the very next day, knocking on their door to invite Alice for “high tea.” For one thing, shouldn’t Alice have been the one doing the asking—seeing as she was the one already living there? That made her feel guilty, as if this woman already had some sort of etiquette point over her. And she could tell just by looking at Gina that she wasn’t her sort of person. Too loud. Too many teeth. Too much makeup for the middle of the day. Too much perfume. Too much everything. She was one of those women who drained Alice of her personality. And “high tea”? What was wrong with just ordinary old afternoon tea?

This was going to be awful.

“HELLO there, sweetie!” Gina bent down to say hello to Madison.

Madison clung to Alice’s leg in an agony of shyness, burying her face in Alice’s crotch. Alice hated it when she did that. She always worried people might think the kid had inherited her poor social skills from her mother.

“I’m terrible with children,” said Gina. “Terrible. That’s probably why I’m having so much trouble getting pregnant.”

Alice followed Gina through the house, trying to dislodge Madison, who was still clinging to her leg. There were boxes everywhere waiting to be unpacked.

“I should have invited you to my place,” said Alice.

“It’s okay, I’m the one desperate to make friends,” said Gina. “I’m going to try and seduce you with my lemon meringue pie.” She turned around quickly and then walked into a box. “Not literally seduce you.”

“Oh, that’s a pity,” said Alice. And then she said quickly, idiotically, “That was a joke.”

Gina laughed and led her into the kitchen. It was warm and filled with the sweet smell of lemon meringue pie. Elvis was playing on the stereo.

“I thought I’d say ‘high tea’ instead of ‘afternoon tea,’” said Gina, “so we could have champagne. Would you like champagne?”

“Oh, sure,” said Alice, although she normally wouldn’t drink in the day.

Gina danced a jig on the spot. “Thank God! If you’d said no, I wouldn’t have been able to drink on my own, and you know, it just makes it a bit easier when you’re talking to new people.” She popped the cork and produced two glasses she had waiting. “Mike and I are from Melbourne. I don’t know a soul here in Sydney. That’s why I’m on the prowl for friends. And Mike is working such long hours at the moment, I get lonely during the week.”

Alice held out her glass to be filled.

“Nick has started working pretty long hours, too.”

“Alice?”

“Alice.”

Nick was supporting one side of her and Dominick was supporting the other. Her legs had turned to jelly.

“Back,” said Alice.

“You’ve hurt your back?” said Dominick.

No, I meant it’s all coming back. My memory is coming back.

It was as if a dam wall had burst in her brain, releasing a raging torrent of memories.

“Get her some water,” said someone.

Alice had needed a new friend. When Madison was about one, Sophie had broken up with Jack (such a shock) and she found a new circle of single, glossy, stiletto-heeled friends who shrieked a lot and started their nights at nine p.m., catching taxis into elegant bars in the city. She and Alice grew apart.

And Elisabeth was distracted, sad, never really listening.

So Alice’s friendship with Gina grew fast. It was like falling in love. And Nick and Mike got on, too! Camping trips. Impromptu dinners that went on late into the night, while the kids slept on sofas. It was wonderful.

Gina’s twin girls, Eloise and Rose, were born a few months before Olivia. Big brown eyes and snub freckled noses and Gina’s bouncing hair. They all played so well together.

One year, the two families hired houseboats together on the Hawkesbury River. They moored their boats next to each other. Rowed the dinghies across in the moonlight for BBQs on the top deck. Olivia and the twins painted Alice’s and Gina’s toenails different colors. Gina and Alice went for a swim after breakfast, floating on their backs, admiring their toenails, while Nick and Mike and the kids played Marco Polo. They all agreed, it was the best holiday they’d ever had.

Of course she’d told Gina she was pregnant with Olivia before she told Nick.

Nick was in the UK for two weeks. He only called twice.

Twice in two weeks.

He was too busy, he said. He was distracted.

But they won the account! He got the bonus! We can afford a swimming pool!

“There,” she said to Nick.

“What did you say?”

She was trying to say,
You were never there.

The year of the Goodman project Nick was never there. Never there. When he came home, he smelled of the office. Corporate sweat. Even when he was talking to her, he was still thinking about the office.

Olivia had three ear infections in three months.

Tom was throwing terrifying tantrums.

Overnight, Madison became so nervous about school she was vomiting every morning. That’s not normal, Nick. We’ve got to do something about it. I can’t sleep I’m so worried about it.

Nick said, It’s just a stage. I can’t talk about it now. I’ve got an early flight tomorrow morning.

Gina said, I’ve found a child psychologist who might be able to help. Should you talk to the school principal about it? What does her teacher say? Could I look after the kids for you while you have some special time with her? What a worry for you.

Gina was the sort who got involved with things at the school. Volunteered for everything. Alice became that sort of person, too. She liked it. She was good at it.

Mike and Gina were having problems. Gina told Alice every cruel remark, every thoughtless gesture. Mike told Nick he wasn’t happy with his life. Alice and Nick had a Christmas party one hot December night. Mike got drunk and kissed that horrendous Jackie Holloway in the laundry. Gina went in to get champagne and found them.

Nick and Alice were in bed one night talking in the darkness.

Mike is my friend.

Are you saying you approve of him kissing another woman in our laundry?

Of course not, but there are two sides to every story. Let’s just stay out of it.

There are not two sides! It’s not excusable. He shouldn’t have kissed her.

Well, maybe if Gina stopped trying to turn him into something he’s not.

She is not! What do you mean? Because she’s encouraging him to get a different job? But that’s because he’s not happy there!

Look. Is there any point in us playing out another version of their fights? You playing Gina and me playing Mike?

They turned away from each other, carefully not touching.

It was not “cherries.” It was half a fruit platter. A beautifully presented fruit platter she’d spent the morning making to take to his mother’s place. She was rushing around trying to get the children dressed and instead of helping, he was reading the paper and happily eating his way through the fruit platter, as if Alice were the hired help.

After Mike moved out, Gina wanted to lose weight. So Alice and Gina decided to get a personal trainer. They joined a gym. They started doing spin classes. The weight fell off them. They got fitter and fitter. Alice loved it. She dropped two dress sizes. She had no idea exercise could be so exhilarating.

Gina went on a date with a guy she’d met on the Internet. Alice minded the kids. Nick was working late.

When Gina came home, she was all glittery and flushed. Alice, lying on the couch in her tracksuit pants, felt envious. First dates. How wonderful to experience a first date again.

When Nick came home that night he said, You’re getting too thin.

When Nick heard that his dad was dating Alice’s mother, he laughed out loud.

She’s not his type. He goes for eastern suburbs women with fake boobs and big divorce settlements. Women who read all the right books and see all the right plays.

Are you saying my mother isn’t cultured enough for your father?

I hate the sort of woman my father normally dates!

So your dad’s slumming it, then? With my poor simple Hills District mother?

It is impossible to talk to you. It’s like you want me to say the wrong thing. Fine. Dad is slumming it. Is that what you want me to say? Satisfied?

Elisabeth had disappeared. Her sister turned into this bitter, angry person, with a hard, sarcastic laugh. Nothing as bad had ever happened to anyone else as was happening to Elisabeth. Alice couldn’t say the right thing to her. Once she asked if she’d had another embryo implanted and Elisabeth’s lip curled contemptuously. The embryo is “transferred,” she sneered, it’s not implanted. If only it were that easy. How the hell was Alice meant to know all the right terminology? If she invited her to one of the kids’ birthday parties, Elisabeth sighed, in a way that meant it would be excruciating for her, but she would still come, and she’d look like a martyr the whole time. Didn’t offer to help, just stood there with her lips folded together. Don’t do me any favors, Alice wanted to say. After the fourth miscarriage, she tried to talk to Elisabeth. She offered to donate her eggs. Your eggs are too old, Elisabeth had said. You really don’t know what you’re talking about.

When Roger proposed to Alice’s mother, Nick was angry.

Well that’s just fabulous. Wonderful. How is that going to make my mother feel?

As if it were somehow Alice’s fault. As if her mother had somehow trapped Roger into marrying her.

They stopped having sex. It just stopped. They didn’t even talk about it.

“Let’s get her outside into the fresh air.”

She was dimly aware that she was being half carried, half dragged out of the marquee. People were staring, but she couldn’t focus on anything but the memories rushing through her brain.

When she felt her first labor pain with Madison, she thought to herself, They must be joking. They can’t expect me to put up with this. But it seemed they did. Seven hours later, when the baby was born, neither she nor Nick could believe it was a girl. They’d both been so ridiculously convinced it was a boy. It’s a girl, they kept saying to each other. The surprise made them euphoric. She was extraordinary. As if a baby girl had never been born before.

Tom was in the posterior position. She kept screaming at that midwife with the soft, worn face—it’s my back, the pain is in my back. And the whole time she was promising herself, I will never, ever go through this again.

Olivia was the worst. Your baby is in distress. We need to do an emergency cesarean, they told her, and suddenly the room filled with people, and she was being wheeled down a long corridor, watching the ceiling lights flash rhythmically by, and wondering what she’d done to distress her poor baby before it was even born. When she woke up from the anesthetic, a nurse said, You have the most beautiful baby girl.

Madison got her first tooth when she was eight months old. She kept touching it with her finger and frowning.

Tom refused point blank to ever sit in the high chair. Never ever sat in it.

Olivia didn’t walk until she was eighteen months old.

Madison’s little red hooded jacket with the white flowers.

Tom’s filthy blue elephant that had to come everywhere with him. Where’s Elephant? Have you seen his damned elephant?