Bomber smiled. For him, now, his own life story was like an unbound manuscript, badly edited. Some of the pages were in the wrong order, some torn, some rewritten or missing altogether. The original version was lost to him forever. But he still found pleasure in the familiar stories told in the old films that they had watched so many times together. There were more days now when he didn’t know his own name or what he’d just eaten for breakfast. But he could still quote, word for word, from The Great Escape, Brief Encounter, Top Gun, and scores of others.
“What about this one?” said Eunice, holding up a copy of The Birdcage.
He looked up and smiled and for a precious, fleeting moment, the mists cleared.
“My birthday present,” he said, and Eunice knew that her Bomber was still in there.
CHAPTER 43
“He’s still in there,” said Sunshine in a worried voice.
Carrot had taken up a sentinel post in the shed, having caught a whiff of a resident rodent, and Sunshine was growing increasingly anxious that the dog’s lunch might have mouse on the menu. Laura was in the study retrieving an item someone had contacted the website about and was coming to collect that afternoon.
“Don’t worry, Sunshine. I’m sure the mouse will have the good sense not to show a single whisker while Carrot’s in there.”
Sunshine was unconvinced.
“But he might. And then Carrot would kill him and be a murderinger.”
Laura smiled. She knew Sunshine well enough by now to know that she wouldn’t give up until something was done. Two minutes later, Laura was back, towing a recalcitrant Carrot on his lead. In the kitchen she gave him a sausage from the fridge and unclipped his lead. Before Sunshine could raise an objection, Laura pacified her.
“Mickey or Minnie will be quite safe now. I’ve shut the shed door, and now he’s had a sausage, Carrot won’t be hungry anyway.”
“He’s always hungry,” muttered Sunshine as she watched Carrot slope out of the room with mischief still clearly on his mind.
“When’s the lady coming?” she asked Laura.
Laura checked her watch.
“Anytime now. She’s called Alice and I thought you might like to make the lovely cup of tea when she gets here.”
As if on cue, the bell rang and Sunshine was at the front door before Laura was out of the starting block.
“Good afternoon, Lady Alice,” Sunshine greeted the rather taken-aback teenager at the door. “I’m Sunshine. Please do come in.”
“What a great name.”
The girl who followed Sunshine into the hall was tall and slim, with long, fair hair and a splatter of freckles across her nose. Laura held out her hand.
“Hi, I’m Laura. Lovely to meet you.”
Sunshine deftly commandeered Alice and took her through to the garden while Laura was left to make the tea. When she came out with the tray of tea things, she found Alice and Sunshine swapping musical heroes.
“We both love David Bowie,” Sunshine announced proudly to Laura as she began to pour the tea.
“I’m sure he’ll be delighted,” said Laura, smiling. “How do you take it?” she asked Alice.
“Builder’s for me, please.”
Sunshine looked worried.
“I don’t know if we’ve got any of that, have we?” she asked Laura.
“Don’t worry, Sunshine,” said Alice, quick to spot her discomfort. “It’s just me being silly. I meant nice and strong with milk and two sugars.”
Alice had come to collect an umbrella; a child’s umbrella, white with red hearts.
“I didn’t actually lose it,” she explained, “and I can’t be absolutely certain that it was meant for me . . .”
Sunshine picked up the umbrella that was already on the table and handed it to her.
“It was,” she said simply. Although, judging by the look of undisguised adoration on Sunshine’s face, Laura reckoned she would have given Alice the family silver without a second thought and thrown in the deeds to Padua for good measure.
Alice took the umbrella from her and stroked its folded ruffles.
“It was my first time in America,” she told them. “Mum took me to New York. It was more of a working holiday for her. She was an editor of a fashion magazine and she’d bagged an interview with a hotshot new designer who was tipped to be the next big thing on the New York fashion scene. He was, as it turned out. But all I remember about him then was that he looked at me like I’d escaped from a leper colony or something. Apparently he didn’t ‘do’ children.”
“What’s a leopard colony?” Sunshine asked.
Alice looked over to Laura, but then decided to wing it.
“It’s a place where, in olden times, they used to put people who had a terrible illness that made their fingers and toes drop off.”
Laura would have bet money that Sunshine spent the next five minutes surreptitiously counting Alice’s digits. Thank goodness she was wearing sandals.
“There wasn’t much time for sightseeing,” Alice continued, “but she promised to take me to see the sculpture of Alice in Wonderland in Central Park. I remember being utterly thrilled. I thought that the statue was named after me.”