Advent
15 December 2017
The night goes on for ages. Hours and hours of the sky outside slowly getting brighter. I lie in bed with the covers over my head. I'm scared to get up and pee, but I need to, and it's stupid to be scared because I know there's nothing out there except trees and cows, but all the same I keep waiting and waiting until it's just a little bit brighter.
I'm not sure what time it is when I do get up and pee. But after that I sleep, or almost sleep. Daytime comes. Mum isn't back. I am pacing around the cottage just like she was. It isn't raining anymore. There's food in the bags on the table, but I don't want to eat.
Most of the day goes by. I want to make a fire but there's nothing left to burn and the axe feels all wrong when I lift it. I wait as long as I can and then I put on my coat and scarf and hat and gloves and I take the keys and I lock the door of the cottage behind me and I walk towards the shop until I get to the next cottage along where Alice said she lived and I knock on the door.
After a long time a bald man wearing a knitted pullover and round spectacles answers. I ask him if Alice is in and he says he'll get her and tells me to come in to wait. I do, but I don't take off my hat or anything. The man doesn't look dangerous. Doesn't look like someone who would be in hiding. He doesn't even look alive like Mum. He looks boring and flat and nice in the same way Maisie is nice. Desperately nice.
Would you... uhm... like a drink or something? he says. I tell him no, and then Alice comes out of the kitchen and freezes there in the door. She's wearing a dress with hearts and scorpions on. Her eyes are big. Angry. She flies across the room and grabs my arm.
We're going out, she says. She's in a flurry, grabbing her shoes and coat and pulling them on. She's hustling me out of the door.
Oh, he's... uhm... quite welcome to stay, I suppose? says the man. But we're outside already and the door slams shut. Alice starts walking fast down the road. I follow. It's too fast to speak or ask her what's going on. After a minute we get to a little gate and she climbs over. By the time I've made it over too I have to run a little to catch up. Panting, I ask her where we're going.
I'm going up my hill, she says.
I tell her that I'm going with her, and she stops and turns on me so sharply I almost fall over.
How old are you? she asks. And I tell her and she snorts as though it's funny. You really don't know anything, do you? I told you not to come over.
She didn't. Not really. But I don't bother saying that. I don't say sorry either, because I'm not. I can go where I want and nobody can tell me not to. There's nobody at all I have to listen to.
She sets off again. I follow about three steps behind, but by the time we get to the top of the hill we're walking together. The top is big and flat and empty and it's too windy to talk, but we stay up there for ages anyway. Alice keeps trying to lean into the wind like it's so strong it'll hold her up, but she ends up almost falling every time.