No Longer Safe (6 page)

Only early days, but everything is ticking
along nicely. Alice seems happy to cook and clean without too much fuss and if
she carries on like this, everything should be hunky dory. Hadn’t told her
about Mark and Jodie coming, because too high a probability it would have put
her off.

So weird all being together again after so long. Mark
is even more hyper than he used to be and Jodie still dotes on him. It’s Alice
who has moved on and I can’t help thinking back to the early days when she
first came on the scene at Uni.

I remember Jodie handled it pretty badly; Jodie could
see I had a soft spot for Alice. She was very disparaging and put it about that
Alice had gate-crashed our gang. ‘She’s hanging around like a little puppy,’
she told people.

During supper tonight, Alice reminded us of the time I
got tickets for U2. I’d bought them because I knew Jodie was into them, but
stupidly left the tickets out in my room. Alice spotted them and she was over
the moon, thinking there was one for her. Oops! I felt ‘obliged’ to let her
have one, although Jodie tried to talk me out of it. Jodie gave in eventually,
but she said she’d only go along with it on one condition – Alice had to earn
it.

We’d put Alice to the test a couple of times already
back then; easy stuff like ringing tutors to say we were sick and pinching ink
cartridges from the Porter’s Lodge, to save money printing out our essays.

Alice didn’t like Jodie much – you could tell. She
tolerated her, because Jodie was with me, but she never let down her guard
around her. It’s interesting to watch how she reacts to her now in such a
different context. Ironically, it feels like Alice is the one who has grown-up
and Jodie has been left behind.

Mark used to say Jodie was jealous of Alice. I
remember Jodie once said, ‘How could I be jealous of a no-hoper like that?’ But
for the first time, I actually think Mark might have been right.

Jodie was cruel during our time at Leeds, though. I
knew she’d been going into Alice’s room and taking stuff – pens, notepads, toothpaste,
tampons, shoe polish – every so often when the mood took her. Alice was so
trusting and hardly ever locked her door. Jodie never told me, because I reckon
she knew she was going too far. Jodie could be a complete cow at times, but
everyone has their uses. I had the feeling even then, that at some point Jodie
would serve me well.

As the evening wore on, I was looking for the
earliest opportunity to escape. Once Karen and I had done the dishes, I let out
an overblown yawn and went to bed. Shortly afterwards, I came back down for the
glass of water I’d left on the draining board and I heard my name being spoken
in hushed tones in the sitting room. I hovered by the connecting door and
listened. 

‘Just be nice to her, that’s all,’ said Karen.

‘But why did you invite her?’ queried Jodie. ‘You didn’t say
anything – I thought it was just going to be Melanie and the three of us.’

‘Leave it, Babe – it’s no problem – we’ll look after
her.’ 

‘Just don’t rock the boat, okay?’ said Karen.

I heard a movement from within so I scooted back upstairs
before I was caught.

I didn’t get much sleep that night. I was worried about the
snatch of conversation I’d overheard (what else had they said?), but mostly it
was because of the racket above me from the attic conversion. Jodie and Mark
weren’t exactly discrete. Jodie wailed and moaned as the bedhead smacked
repeatedly into the wall. The pitch and speed of her cries rose, until she hit
a resounding climax. I didn’t hear a sound from Mark, although, to be honest, I
was trying my best not to listen.

By now, I was losing all faith in this holiday idea. Jodie
and Mark’s arrival had brought nothing but bad memories, and the four of us
together didn’t strike me as a good combination for an entire two weeks. We
were all like radio-active chemicals that didn’t mix and would begin to give
off toxic fumes when left in the same room for too long. I couldn’t help
wondering which one of us would be the first to choke.

There had been fresh snow overnight, so the
landscape was pure and unsullied again.

As soon as I got downstairs I knew something was wrong.
Karen had her coat on and was gathering together a tiny crocheted hat, anorak
and mittens.

‘Melanie’s got a temperature – thirty-nine degrees – I’m
really worried. I’m going to the hospital,’ she said.

‘Shall I come with you?’

‘It’s okay, Alice. We might be a while. Can you get the
blanket from the sitting room?’

I waited with it in the hall as Karen went up for the bawling,
red-faced bundle.

‘I can come too, if you like?’ I said again.

‘That’s very kind.’ She brushed my cheek with her hand as
she turned to go. ‘You stay here. I don’t want it to spoil your holiday.’

‘But—’ She was already padding through the snow and I was
left holding the open door.

As far as I was concerned, the holiday was already spoilt. I
thought this was going to be our opportunity to rekindle our special bond, to
share everything and get back to how we used to be. There was so much I wanted
to talk to her about, but she’d brought the others in before we’d had the
chance to have one decent conversation. Now we were a group and everything had
turned sour.

I watched her from the window as she used a plastic scraper
to clear the windscreen and I waited to see if she could get the engine to
start. To my surprise, the rickety boneshaker of a car revved into life first
time and I watched it trundle down the track towards the lane.

The door to the sitting room was open and I spotted Jodie on
the floor, sitting cross-legged on the carpet. She saw me and called me in.

‘I’ve been thinking about my boutique,’ she said, pointing
to the sketches laid out by her feet. ‘I thought it would be good to have the
counters here...with the locked items in a glass cabinet, here…what do you
think?’

The sketches looked professional. ‘Sounds like you’ve got
lots of ideas.’

‘I dreamt about it last night. Can’t stop thinking about
it.’

Mark appeared at the kitchen door, clutching his mobile, and
sniggered. ‘Mark doesn’t think it’ll get off the ground, do you?’ she said.

‘Let’s face it, Babe – you don’t have the entrepreneurial
know-how.’

‘But I can talk to people who do – not everyone who’s
self-employed has a degree in business studies.’

‘She wanders around Notting Hill when I go off to football
at the weekends,’ he said. ‘It’s like she’s in training for Portobello Road.’
He bent down and ruffled her hair. ‘She’s been watching that film with Hugh
Grant – haven’t you, Doll?’

‘Don’t call me Doll – I hate it.’ Mark grunted and in spite
of his slight build, picked her up in one sweep and she squealed with laughter.

I left them to it, made toast and coffee and took it
upstairs. I huddled under the bedcovers, thinking about Melanie. Was it a
serious relapse or something simple like an ear infection? True to form, Karen
hadn’t panicked and had everything under control. Typical, too, for Karen to
refuse help and go it alone. She had a resilience I rarely saw in other people
and certainly didn’t have myself.

I heard Jodie calling me and went onto the landing. ‘Want to
have a go, Alice? I’m making earrings.’

As I went down, I nearly tripped over a hairbrush on the
last stair. Jodie had left her mark around the place in other ways too. False
eyelashes were lying next to the soap on the basin in the bathroom, her
eye-shadow was left open on the toilet seat.

When I joined her, I had to mention that she’d forgotten to
put her used wax strips in the bin.

‘Oh, yeah, sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ll clear them up in a minute.
I’m just waiting for this glue to dry.’ She was sticking lace around the edge
of small box. The kitchen table had become a workbench, covered in tiny hooks,
beads, clasps, wires, pincers and pliers. ‘Want to make your own earrings? We
can do some with a clasp,’ she suggested.

‘I’d love to. Thanks.’

Mark came in through the backdoor bringing a blast of icy
air with him – he must have been out for another cigarette.

Jodie got up. ‘We were going to put up decorations today,’
she said, linking arms with him. She turned to me. ‘Like a homecoming
celebration for the baby.’

‘Perhaps we should wait,’ said Mark, ‘given that—’

‘I’ve got balloons to blow up and a Welcome Home banner I
could attach over here,’ she said, ignoring him. ‘Or maybe over there…’

‘I think Mark’s right,’ I said. ‘Just in case. It would be
awful if…’ I bit my lip. Jodie looked disappointed and sat down again.

Mark started cutting slices of bread the thickness of a
shelf. He slid them under the grill and folded his arms, looking at the floor.

Jodie showed me how to drop beads onto a wire and bend the
wires. It was harder than it looked.

‘Why don’t we bake potatoes in the fire for supper tonight?’
said Mark, leaning over her, smelling her hair. ‘In foil, like they do in the
Scouts.’

‘They’ll take ages,’ scoffed Jodie.

‘Or they’ll burn to a crisp,’ I added.

‘Alright then – how about I go and get chestnuts. We can
toast them, instead.’

Jodie faked a gag. ‘Yagh – I hate chestnuts.’

I was faintly amused at the way Mark was treating the break
like a camping holiday.

‘Okay – well, let’s stop being so bloody dreary and put some
music on. There’s a machine in our room.’ He went upstairs and brought down a
dusty portable CD player. ‘It doesn’t have a dock for an iPhone, but luckily –
ta da – I’ve brought some CDs.’ He tossed them on an empty chair.

Seconds later the walls were thudding to the beat of some
raucous funk band I’d never heard of, using appalling language.

‘This is bloody awful, Mark,’ I said. He looked taken aback.

‘You never used to swear, Alice,’ said Jodie.

‘I’m finally shaking off my puritanical background,’ I
replied cheerily, holding up the pair of misshapen earrings I’d just finished.

‘Never mind,’ she said, ‘we can have another go.’ The ones
she’d made in the same amount of time looked exquisite.

As I twisted more wires, I wondered what Jodie was making of
the person I’d become since Leeds. I’d turned up in Freshers’ Week with no
self-assurance whatsoever. I’d had no idea what to wear, what to say – all I’d
known then was how to appear desperate. It seemed to me I was the only person
in the world who felt that way and I spent most of those three years at Leeds
faking my confidence; being chatty all the time to get people to like me,
anything not to stand out like a sore thumb.

‘She’s right. It’s too rowdy,’ cried Jodie, her hands over
her ears. ‘Put on the Justin Timberlake, then we can dance.’

He huffed and tutted, but changed the CD.

‘How about a dance, Alice?’ he goaded as the music started.
‘Going to show us what you’re made of?’

‘Yeah – okay, if you ask nicely.’

Jodie and Mark looked at each other as if I’d just beamed
down from Mars. I led them into the sitting room, pushed the ‘comfy’ chairs
aside and began by letting my body move with the rhythm. Fortunately, I knew
some of the tracks. Mark joined me, finding it all very entertaining and Jodie
twirled beside us, not quite sure what to make of the situation. I knew they’d
expected me to bottle out, to make an excuse and run for cover. It was
gratifying to be a different person from the one they remembered.

The CD ended and we all piled onto the sofa. It was made for
two, so I ended up on Mark’s lap. He dug his fingers into my ribs and I giggled
helplessly and rolled onto the floor. The tickling match turned into a cushion fight
until suddenly there was a flurry of white feathers everywhere.

‘Oh, bugger!’ shouted Mark.

‘There’s a snowstorm
inside
!’
shrieked Jodie, batting the feathers with the palm of her hand as they fell.

I grabbed the cushion that had exploded and held it to my
chest. ‘Okay, guys – party’s over. We’ve got to get this cleared up before
Karen comes back.’

No one kicked up a fuss. Mark brought up the vacuum cleaner
from the cellar, Jodie picked up what she could by hand from ledges and alcoves
and I began stuffing handfuls back inside the cushion. Jodie had brought a
sewing kit, so I threaded a needle and started mending the tear.

‘No one will ever know,’ I declared, pressing the sealed
cushion back into the corner of the sofa.

‘Why don’t I go out and get fairy lights?’ Mark suggested.
‘We passed a shop that sells everything in the village.’

‘What – in this weather?’ said Jodie.

‘I don’t mind the walk – it’s only three miles and I can
probably thumb a lift.’

‘Okay – I’ll come with you,’ said Jodie, getting up.

‘No – there’s no need for both of us to get frozen. You stay
cosy by the fire.’

‘He’s been like this lately,’ she said, addressing me as if
he wasn’t there. ‘He can’t settle. He’s got so much energy, he can’t sit
still.’

She spoke about him like he was a toddler. Energy perhaps, I
thought, but it looked to me more like nervous agitation. I’d seen it the
previous night at supper. As if something was pursuing him and he was trying to
escape.

He left and Jodie joined me in the kitchen while I washed up
the breakfast dishes. She didn’t offer, so I put a tea towel in her hand and
told her where the crockery was stacked.

One of her false nails had split and I noticed her own
underneath were bitten down to the quick. I didn’t remember her biting her
nails. Maybe she didn’t think it mattered now she wore false ones all the time.

‘You’ve changed, you know?’ she said.

‘I had a lot of growing up to do after University,’ I
replied. ‘Still have.’

She took hold of my soapy hand and turned it over. ‘No more
eczema?’

‘Good isn’t it?’ I said. ‘I finally got rid of it after I
started meditation, two years ago.’ I’d had a severe case of it on my face and
hands since the age of about three. I was one of those over-sensitive children;
upset by loud noises and arguments, allergic to soaps and creams, nervous and
delicate, made of matchsticks. Mum put it down to being a premature baby and
Dad said I’d been born with a ‘fragile disposition’. For me, it meant I was the
one people stared at. As if I wasn’t hampered enough at Uni, the crimson
blotches made me feel like a leper.

I saw her glance at the clock and, with her back to me, she
delved into her handbag on the table, snatching at a blister-pack of capsules.
In the process, a pencil fell to the floor and rolled towards my slipper. As I
handed it to her, I spotted the name on the foil. They were the same
anti-depressants my GP had given me, together with the sleeping tablets, after
I was mugged. I’d hated taking them – they made me feel spaced out and numb all
the time. I’d stopped a few weeks ago and had refused to bring them with me.

I turned away like I hadn’t seen.

Karen still hadn’t returned when Mark came back, at
lunchtime.

‘Where are the lights?’ Jodie called out from our cosy spot
by the fire. He stood in the doorway, looking confused for a moment. ‘Out of
stock,’ he said. He disappeared and returned waving a packet of fruit bannock
at her. ‘I got this instead.’ He dropped it in her lap. ‘We can toast it over
the fire.’

Jodie didn’t know what to do with it, so I took it into the
kitchen and cut it into sections with the carving knife. We put pieces on forks
and held them over the blaze. After about five seconds, Jodie dropped hers and
the bannock went up in flames.

‘I’ve burnt my bloody fingers!’ she cried, blowing on them.

‘We need longer prongs,’ I said, but I knew there weren’t
any.

‘You’re both namby-pambies,’ said Mark, easing his evenly
toasted slice away from the heat. He looked pleased with himself, but something
about his body language told me it was nothing to do with his fireside success.
When I happened to go to the larder to check how many eggs were left, I knew
for certain. The packet of bannock that had been there the day before had gone.
Wherever Mark had been, it wasn’t to the village shop.

Before long, Jodie and Mark were bickering about something.
They went upstairs and, following a prolonged shouting match, it went quiet.
Shortly after, the sounds carrying all the way down from the top of the house
indicated they were getting along nicely, again, thank you very much.

I couldn’t work the pair of them out. At Uni I hadn’t
questioned their relationship – they were just ‘a couple’ – but now, I wondered
what was going on. It was clear Jodie wasn’t happy and Mark was on edge all the
time. Best to stay out of it.

Karen still wasn’t back, so I saw my chance and left the
cottage with my camera.

I was glad I did. It was incredibly fresh outside; a much needed
escape from the cramped cottage with its low beams and musty atmosphere. I was
wearing the wellington boots that belonged to the cottage, as they were easy to
slip on at the door and I wasn’t intending to go far.

The front garden was buried under the snow – a sheer coating
like someone had tipped out skip-loads of sugar granules. The sun gave it a
sheen of glitter. I watched the flakes as they speckled the grey sky, weaving
in and out of each other, gliding and floating, before getting trapped in the
elbows of trees. I tipped up my face and felt the sting as they fell on my
skin. It was like a scene stolen from an old silent movie. It was invigorating
and made me feel alive.

I gazed along the tyre marks that led from Karen’s parking
space, into the distance. She must have been out early as clusters of brown
grit were scattered as far as the main gate. I tried not to think about
Melanie; I didn’t want to imagine how devastating it would be if Karen came
back alone.

Instead, I thought about Karen and how life-changing meeting
her had been for me. I’d had a handful of superficial friends growing up, but
mostly they were underdogs and misfits, like me.