“Thanks, dude!”
He sped away, his board splashing through the puddles, holding a huge pink umbrella aloft. The rain slowed to a drizzle and the people in the park slowed to a stroll. Marvin didn’t see her at first. A little girl in a red raincoat. She was missing one of her front teeth and had freckles across her nose.
“Hello,” she said. “I’m Alice, like the statue.” She pointed to her namesake. Marvin hunkered down so he could see her better and offered her his hand.
“I’m Marvin. Pleased to meet you.”
She was British. Marvin recognized the accent from TV. He always thought that Britain would be a good place for him, with his crooked teeth and fondness for rain.
“There you are, Alice! What have I told you about talking to strangers?”
The woman who had joined them was looking at him as though he might bite.
“He’s not a stranger. He’s Marvin.”
Marvin smiled his best smile and offered the woman the best from his bag.
“Free umbrellas.”
The woman ignored him. She snatched Alice’s hand and tried to drag her away. Trash. That’s how she was treating him; like he was trash. Marvin’s face grew hot. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and his ears began to ring. He was not trash.
“Take it!” he roared, thrusting the umbrella at her.
“Don’t touch me, you moron,” she hissed as she turned on her heel, towing a tearful Alice with her. As soon as her mother’s grip slackened, Alice pulled free and ran back toward the sculpture.
“Marvin!” she yelled, desperately wanting to make things right. Their eyes met, and before her mother could retrieve her, Alice blew him a kiss. And he caught it. Before he went home he left a white umbrella with red hearts leaning against the White Rabbit. Just in case she came back.
Laura yawned and stretched back into her chair. She checked her watch. Three hours in front of the screen was more than enough for today. She needed some air.
“Come on, Carrot,” she said. “Time for a walk.”
Outside, the sky was marbled gray.
“Looks like rain,” she said to the reluctant Carrot. “I think we might need an umbrella.”
CHAPTER 29
The dining room looked like something out of a fairy tale. The table was laid with a snow-white linen tablecloth and napkins. Silver cutlery framed each place setting and cut-crystal glasses winked and sparkled under the light from the chandelier. It was her first Christmas as mistress of Padua and Laura wanted to do the house justice. If she did, perhaps it would banish the unwelcome thoughts that crept into her head like black ants through a crack in the wall of a pantry. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that the previous mistress still hadn’t quite gone. She pulled the silver and white crackers from their cardboard box and set one on top of each precisely folded napkin.
That morning, even in the dark, she knew that something in the bedroom had changed. It was the same feeling which, as a child on Christmas morning, had told her that the stocking at the foot of her bed, empty when she had fallen asleep, was now full. She could sense, somehow, the alteration. As she padded over to the window in bare feet, she trod on things which were not the carpet; soft, hard, sharp, smooth. Daylight confirmed that the drawers of the dressing table had been pulled out and their contents strewn across the floor.
Laura picked up one of the wineglasses and polished away an imaginary smudge. Sunshine and her mum and dad were coming for Christmas dinner. Her brother had been invited, but he “wasn’t bovvered.” Freddy was coming too. She hadn’t known whether to ask him or not, but a stern pep talk from Sarah had convinced her. He said yes, and since then Laura had wasted an inordinate amount of time trying to work out why. Her hypotheses were numerous and varied; she’d caught him by surprise; he was lonely; he wanted a roast turkey dinner but couldn’t cook; he had nowhere else to go; he felt sorry for her. The one explanation she was most reluctant but excited to entertain was the simplest and most nerve-racking. He was coming because he wanted to.
Perhaps she had done it in her sleep, like sleepwalking. Sleep trashing. It wasn’t a burglary because nothing was missing. Yesterday she had found Sunshine in the garden room dancing to the Al Bowlly song that had begun to haunt her, night and day.
“Did you put the music on?”
Sunshine shook her head.
“It was already on, and when I heard it, I came in for the dance.”
Laura had never known Sunshine to tell a lie.
“They’re done!” Sunshine burst into the dining room looking at her watch. She had been making mince pies and now the kitchen was dusty with flour and icing sugar. Laura followed her as she trotted purposefully back to the kitchen and hopped from foot to foot excitedly while Laura took the pies from the oven.