“What bothers me,” Alice corrected him, “is that she seems so certain I was born over there.”
“But your birth certificate affirms the contrary.”
“I distinctly remember walking past the Holborn Hospital when I was ten, and I can still hear my mother telling me it was the place she gave birth to me.”
“So then just forget about all this nonsense. I shouldn’t have taken you to Brighton. I thought I was doing you a favor, but I see I’ve blown the whole thing completely out of proportion.”
“I just need to get back to work. I’ve never been very good at being idle.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“Well, I’m afraid I caught a slight cold yesterday. It’s nothing serious, but in my line of work, a stuffy nose is debilitating.”
“You’ll have to bide your time. But if you’ve got a cold, you’d do well to stay warm. My car is parked on Prince’s Gate. I’ll take you home.”
The Austin refused to start. Daldry asked Alice to take the wheel while he pushed. She was to release the clutch once the car had a bit of momentum.
“It’s simple,” he reassured her. “First the left foot, then a little with the right foot when the engine starts, and then both feet on the pedals to the left. And don’t forget to steer.”
“I thought you said this was simple!” said Alice, dismayed.
Daldry pushed and the car rolled forward more easily than he had expected, making him fall flat on his face. Alice couldn’t help but laugh as she watched him disappear from sight in the rearview mirror. In the merriment of the moment, she got the idea to turn the key in the ignition. The engine coughed to life. This made her laugh even harder.
“Are you sure your father wasn’t a mechanic?” asked Daldry, brushing himself off as he got in the car on the passenger side.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny. I can’t help it,” she said, stifling a giggle.
“Well then, go on,” grumbled Daldry. “Since this bloody car seems to have taken a liking to you, let’s see what happens when you accelerate.”
“You do realize I’ve never driven before,” said Alice cheerfully.
“A first time for everything,” said Daldry, straight-faced. “Push the pedal on the left, put her in gear, and gently release the accelerator a bit.”
The tires slid across the icy road, but Alice put them back on course with astonishing dexterity. It was nearly noon on Christmas Day and the streets were deserted. She heeded Daldry’s instructions with care and, apart from braking too hard and stalling twice, she managed to drive them home without major incident.
“What a marvelous sensation,” she said once they had arrived. “I love driving.”
“You can have a second lesson later in the week, if you like.”
“That would be wonderful, thank you.”
Alice and Daldry said good afternoon in the corridor. Inside her flat, Alice spread her coat across the foot of the bed and climbed under the covers for a nap.
Fine dust floated in the air, stirred up by a warm wind. At the end of a narrow dirt road, a long flight of steps led down to the city below.
Alice walked barefoot and looked around. The brightly colored shopfronts on either side of the street were closed.
A voice called from the distance. At the top of the stairs, a woman signaled for her to hurry. Something dangerous was behind them. Alice ran toward the woman, but as she did so, the woman fled and disappeared.
She could hear the sounds of a mob behind her. There were cries and screams. Alice hurried to the steps. The woman was waiting for her at the bottom, but she forbade Alice to follow. She told Alice she loved her and said goodbye.
As the woman’s figure disappeared into the distance, Alice could sense her image taking root in the depths of her heart.
Alice tried to follow, but the stairs cracked and fell apart beneath her feet. The sound of the crowd behind her became deafening. She lifted her head. A fiery red sun burned her skin. She felt damp; there was salt on her lips, earth in her hair. Clouds of dust filled the air, making it difficult to breathe.
Just a few feet away she could hear insistent wails, moaning, murmured words she couldn’t understand. Her throat felt tight—she was suffocating.
Somebody’s hand suddenly gripped her by the arm and pulled her up just before the earth gave way beneath her feet.
Alice screamed, fought as best she could, but the hand that held her was too strong. She felt as though she might lose consciousness. She knew it was useless to resist. The sky above had grown vast and red.
Alice opened her eyes and was blinded by the bright winter sunlight. She shivered. Her forehead burned with fever. She patted around for the glass of water on the stool beside her bed, but she was overcome by a racking cough on the first sip. She was too weak to move, but she knew she had to get up and find another blanket to keep the cold from chilling her to her core. In vain, she tried to prop herself up before falling back into her fevered dreams.
She heard somebody whispering her name—a familiar and soothing voice.
She hid in a cupboard, curled up on herself, and buried her head between her knees. A hand covered her mouth, forbidding her to speak. She wanted to cry, but the person holding her begged her to remain silent.
Somebody was pounding at the door. The sound grew louder. Now they were kicking the door. Somebody entered the room. There was a sound of footsteps. In the shelter of the tiny cupboard, Alice stopped breathing.
“Alice! Wake up!”
Daldry leaned over the bed and put his hand on her forehead. She had a fever. He helped her sit up, propping a pillow behind her back, and left to call a doctor. He returned a few moments later.
“I’m afraid you must have something worse than a cold. The doctor will be here soon. Keep resting. I’ll be here if you need anything.”
Daldry sat at the foot of the bed and waited. The doctor arrived in less than an hour. He examined Alice, taking her pulse and carefully listening to her breathing and her heart.
“She’s in a pretty bad state. It’s probably the flu. She should stay warm and try to sweat it out. Make sure she drinks plenty of fluids,” he told Daldry. “A bit of honey in warm water or herbal tea, small sips, but as often as possible.” He gave Daldry a packet of aspirin. “This ought to bring down the fever. If her condition hasn’t improved by tomorrow, bring her to the hospital.”
Daldry thanked the doctor for coming at Christmas. He went to his flat and brought back two heavy blankets, which he spread over Alice. He pushed the armchair next to her worktable into the middle of the room and settled down for the night.
“I wonder now if I didn’t prefer it when you and your noisy friends kept me up at night—at least I was in my own bed,” he grumbled to the slumbering Alice.
The noises coming from the room outside subsided. Alice pushed open the cupboard door. There was a stifling atmosphere of silence and absence. The furniture was knocked over, the bed unmade. A broken picture frame lay on the ground. Alice carefully removed the shards of broken glass and put the picture back in its place on the bedside table. It was an Indian-ink drawing of two faces smiling up at her. The window was open, and a breeze blew in from outside, rustling the curtains. Alice went to look out of the window, but the sill was too high. She had to climb onto a stool to see down into the street. She hoisted herself up and parted the curtains—the light was so bright she had to squint.
A man on the pavement looked up and smiled at her. His face was kind and gentle. Her love for the man was boundless. She had always loved him, had always known him. She wanted to jump down to him, for him to take her in his arms. She wanted to call his name and keep him from going, but she couldn’t speak. She waved. The man waved his cap in return, and smiled again before disappearing.
Alice opened her eyes. Daldry had propped her up and was holding a glass of water to her lips, telling her to drink slowly.
“I saw him,” she murmured. “He was there.”