“See? I’m meant to be late. All women are meant to be late. We need time in front of the mirror.”
“I agree.” Now that I can finally stare into a mirror.
“Of course, he doesn’t need a mirror. First of all, he is too tall for all mirrors. Secondly, he has no hair to comb.”
“Three hairies, I believe.”
“I’m surprised you can see them.” She snickers. “He keeps lubricating them, combing, and even dying them. All for that girl he’s liked recently.”
“I’ll bet she is young.”
“Nineteen. Can you believe it? He’s easily her great-great ancestor. Her name is Lorina.”
“Lorina?”
“Lorina Wonder.”
I rest my case. I have nothing to say.
“Now he wants a divorce, which we’re not allowed to have.”
“Of course. What would the world be without a tick and a tock?”
“I’m glad you understand,” she says. “He’s looking for a cure for baldness these days.”
“I bet he’s been looking for it for a few thousand years now.”
“And it’s all a hoax. Can’t grow back hair unless you go back in time.” Mrs. Tock laughs. “So do I know you?”
I haven’t told her my name. “I was sent to you from the future.”
She bursts out laughing. “Nice one.”
“No, really,” I say. “Two years in the future you sent me back here. You gave me this address and told me you can help me when something goes wrong.”
Mrs. Tock’s face dims. She doesn’t like what I’m saying at all.
“Listen.” I am trying my best to embrace my Bad Alice personality, but it’s not working. “You were supposed to send me a day back, but you messed up, and I need you to help me go back to yesterday.”
“You’re insane.”
“Not anymore.” I grin. “If you don’t help me, I will die in the next few hours.”
Chapter 62
THE PRESENT: A HOTEL ROOM IN OXFORD
The Cheshire booked a room in the hotel after they’d told him they had a DVD player inside. In spite of being penniless, he used Jack’s charm on the receptionist, a blond girl, whom he showed a card trick. One of the benefits of having access to Jack’s mind — and a possible generous source of income in the future.
The Cheshire entered the room and turned on the DVD, then pushed a stolen version of Titanic in. People had told him Titanic was the cheesiest when it came to illogical portrayals of romance on film.
The Cheshire liked that. He was experiencing the same thing in Jack’s head; his continuing love for Alice both annoyed and amazed the Cheshire.
An hour and a half into the movie, the Cheshire was weeping into tissues—he was glad no one was watching him.
But he couldn’t help it. Love and sacrifice were new concepts to him, let alone coming from the freakin’ humans.
He began regretting the way he’d earlier celebrated the Bad Alice’s return with the Queen of Hearts on the phone. Of course, Alice being the Real Alice satisfied his insatiable desire to hurt humans in this world. But only if he hadn’t entered Jack’s body and brain.
Why did I ever possess his soul?
Now, sitting here, his tears wetting his cheeks, he didn’t know whether to help Alice become a hero or resort to the evil one she had always been. It was a shame she didn’t know someone like Jack loved her so much. Even the Cheshire had begun having feelings for Alice.
How he wished someone loved him this way. The last cat he’d loved back in Belgium was a fraud. She was after the delicious rat he’d just caught.
But maybe the Cheshire was destined to become Jack. Alice’s lover. As weird and creepy as it was, even to him, it seemed his only way out of his pain of being a nobody.
Possessing any soul he wished didn’t prove him as invincible as he’d always thought. It was time for the Cheshire to be somebody. Jack seemed like a good choice.
Besides, he had begun to fall in love with the card player.
But still, sometimes the older Cheshire rose inside and wanted to vomit all of this love out. Yuck. It was as bitter as expired milk.
The Cheshire, confused like never before, sat on the bed with one last idea in his head. The most interesting, actually. He vowed not to make a decision about Jack’s love for Alice, not before he knew why Jack came back for her.
If he could only locate that part of the memory in Jack’s brain.
Chapter 63
THE PAST: BIG BEN, LONDON
“Go away!” Mrs. Tock shrills. “Who are you? Time travel isn’t possible.”
“Please, Mrs. Tock,” I say. “You promised to help me. How else do you think I figured out your hiding place?”
“Go away, you creepy girl in the wheelchair.”
I use her fear and wheel myself after her, creeping her out. “Think of it. I know a lot of things about you. Things no one else knows.”
“Like what?” She steps away from me.
“Like Mr. Tick loves tea.”
“So?”
“And brownies.”
“So what?”
“He never lets you near his brownies.”