“I heard that!” called Mr. Daldry from inside his flat. “Good night, Miss Pendelbury.”
Alice returned to her flat, washed her face, and went to bed. Mr. Daldry was right about the cold. Winter clutched the old house in its grasp, and the feeble heating did little to raise the temperature. She took a book from the stool that served as her bedside table and read a few lines before putting it down again. She turned out the light and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark as she watched the rain stream across the skylight.
Alice shivered and began dreaming of the forest, the wet earth, and the decomposing autumn leaves in the beech groves. She inhaled, and the smell of the forest floor filled her nostrils.
Alice had a rare gift: she was a “nose.” Her sense of smell was so acute that she could distinguish and memorize the slightest odor. She spent her days alone, bent over the long wooden table in her flat, blending different essences to obtain combinations that might one day become a perfume. Every month she made the rounds of the London perfume shops, offering them her new creations. The previous spring, she had convinced a shop in Kensington to produce a scent she called “Eau d’églantine.” The perfume had become relatively popular among the shop’s upper-class clientele, and it brought in a little money every month. For the time being, it allowed her to live better than she had in previous years.
Alice couldn’t sleep. She turned on the light, went to her table, and set to work, dipping strips of blotting paper into the little bottles and vials, spreading them in a fan under her nose, and taking notes until late into the night.
When the alarm clock woke Alice the following morning, the sun was shining in her eyes, veiled only slightly by the morning mist. She groaned and turned over before remembering she was supposed to meet her friends at the station. In a single bound, she was out of bed and rifling through her wardrobe before taking a quick sponge bath.
On the way out of the door, Alice glanced at her watch and realized she’d never make it in time if she took the bus. She hailed a cab and told the driver to be quick.
A long queue was snaking in front of the ticket windows when she arrived at the station. She only had five minutes before the train left for Brighton. Alice ran to the platform instead.
Anton was waiting outside the first carriage.
“For heaven’s sake, where have you been? Climb in,” he said, helping her up into the carriage.
She joined her waiting friends in the compartment they had chosen for themselves.
“What are the chances our tickets will be checked?” she asked them, falling into a seat, completely out of breath.
“I’d give you my ticket if I had one,” said Eddy.
“One in two?” guessed Carol.
Sam was more optimistic. “On a Saturday morning? I’d say more like one in three. Anyway, we’ll see when we get there.”
Alice rested her head against the window and closed her eyes. Brighton was an hour away, and she slept the entire trip.
At Brighton station, a railway official was checking the passengers’ tickets as they left the platform. When it was Alice’s turn, she pretended to search her pockets. Eddy imitated her. Anton smiled and handed each of them a ticket.
He took Alice by the waist and led her into the station’s main hall.
“Don’t ask me how I knew you’d be late. You’re always late. And you know as well as I do that Eddy never buys a ticket. I didn’t want the day to be ruined before it even began.”
Alice took two shillings from her pocket and offered them to Anton, but he closed her hand around them.
“Your money’s no good here,” he joked. “The day’s going to fly by, and I don’t want to miss a moment of it.”
Alice watched him amble off ahead of her and smiled as she had a brief vision of the teenage Anton she had once known. He turned back and asked if she was coming along.
They walked down Queen’s Road to West Street and toward the promenade that ran along the seafront. The crowds were thick. Two long piers extended out over the waves, and the wooden buildings perched along their lengths made them look like two hulking ships. The carnival was on Palace Pier. Alice and her friends soon found themselves standing beneath the tall clock that marked its entrance. Anton paid for Eddy’s and Alice’s tickets again.
“You can’t pay for me the entire day,” she whispered to him.
“And why not, if it makes me happy?”
“Because there’s no reason to.”
“Do I need a reason, if it makes me happy?”
“What time is it?” asked Eddy. “I’m hungry.”
A few steps away, in front of the large building that housed the Winter Garden, was a fish-and-chips stand. The smell of fried food and vinegar wafted in their direction. Eddy rubbed his stomach and took Sam over to the stand with him. Alice made a face but joined them in the end.
Everybody placed their orders, and Alice paid. She smiled at Eddy as she passed him a piece of fried fish wrapped in newspaper.
They ate their lunch by the balustrade. Anton silently watched the waves lapping at the pilings below, while Eddy and Sam went over their plans for reorganizing the world. Eddy’s favorite pastime was disapproving of the government. He accused the prime minister of doing nothing to help the poor, and criticized him for not rolling up his sleeves and getting to work on the construction projects that were needed to rebuild London. The way he saw it, they just needed to hire everybody who was out of work and the problem would be solved. Sam tried to reason with him about the economy and argued that it was too difficult to find properly trained workers. When Eddy yawned with uninterest, Sam lost patience and called him a “lazy anarchist,” much to Eddy’s pleasure. During the war, they had served side by side in the same regiment. Their bond of friendship was unbreakable, in spite of their differing political opinions.
Alice stood to the side of the group, trying to stay upwind of the fried fish. Carol joined her, and they stood in silence, watching the shore.
Carol spoke first. “You should be more careful with Anton.”
“Why? Is something wrong?” Alice asked.
“He’s lovesick for you! You must be blind to have not noticed.”
“But we’ve known each other since we were kids—”
“I’m just asking to you be careful,” Carol interrupted. “If you have feelings for him, there’s no need to beat around the bush. We’d all be happy to see the two of you together. You deserve each other. But if it isn’t the case, you shouldn’t be such a tease. You’re making him suffer for nothing.”
Alice turned her back to the men and faced Carol. “How am I a tease?”
“Well, for one, by pretending not to notice that I fancy him.”
Carol threw the remains of her chips into the water, where two seagulls greedily wolfed them down.
Sam called over to them. “Are you just going to stand there and watch the tide come in, or are you coming with us? We’re going to take a look at the games. I saw a booth where you can win a cigar if you’re strong enough.” He rolled up his sleeves in anticipation.
The game cost a farthing a turn. The idea was to use a sledgehammer to hit a mark on the floor that sent a little lead weight flying up a tube. If the weight struck the bell hanging seven feet above the ground, you won a cigar. A cheap cigar, it was true, but Sam thought smoking cigars the height of dignified virility. He tried eight times, two pennies’ worth, and twice what he would have spent for a cigar of the same quality at the tobacconist’s down the pier.
“I’ll show you how it’s done if you’ll pay,” said Eddy.
Sam handed him a coin and stood back. Eddy swung the sledgehammer with ease, the weight hit the bell, and the man running the game gave him his prize.
“This one’s for me,” said Eddy. “Give me another farthing and I’ll win one for you.”