Other Alice (15 page)

‘What were you doing here today?’ I asked her. ‘You looked like you were staring at our house.’

Gypsy slowed a little as she wrote her response. I slowed with her.

It seemed familiar. The house and the street. It looks a lot like the one I grew up in
.

‘Thought your ma said she was going away?’ Piper interrupted.

‘She is.’ I gazed at the house and stopped walking. It should have been in darkness, but it wasn’t. A light was on in the attic.

‘Alice’s room,’ I whispered. ‘Someone’s there . . . maybe she’s back!’

My legs felt stringy and clumsy as I raced to the front door, my feet slapping loudly on the path and then the hallway tiles. Was Alice really home? What would happen if she came face to face
with two of her characters?

A draught whistled through my hair as I flew up the stairs and thumped up the ladder to the attic. Behind me, I heard two sets of footsteps on the stairs: the real sounds of imaginary
people.

‘Alice?’ I called. ‘Alice, are you up here?’

I crawled into the attic. When I saw Alice’s room, a small cry escaped my throat.

It was empty, but someone had been in there all right.

Alice’s desk was swept clear. Her inspiration wall was plucked bare, notes and photos drifting about the room like loose feathers. Notebooks were strewn all over the floor, some open like
fallen birds. Her beautiful old typewriter lay on its side next to her little tea tray. A used tea bag was split open on the floor. I stared at the smeared tea leaves, wishing I could read whatever
answers they may have held, but finding only more questions.

I stared at the wreckage, aware of low voices on the landing below, and a dull, repetitive thumping noise, but they all seemed so far away.

I shrieked as something moved in the corner of my vision, a dark shape slinking out from under Alice’s bed. A black cat stared up at me, quivering and wide-eyed.

I scooped it up in my arms, burying my face in its fur.

‘Twitch!’ My voice was muffled. ‘Thank goodness you’re all right!’

‘No, not Twitch, I’m afraid,’ said Tabitha from the depths of my hug. ‘She’s gone.’

‘No wonder,’ I said hoarsely, still clinging to Tabitha. ‘She must have been terrified. She ran away once before when there was a bad storm.’

‘Who are you talking to?’ Piper called, but I was too upset to answer him.

‘No,’ said Tabitha, wriggling out of my grasp. She landed delicately on all fours, then sat and curled her tail round her feet. ‘She didn’t run away . . .
she was taken.’

‘But . . . why?’

Tabitha’s golden eyes were solemn. ‘I thought that was obvious. I believe she was mistaken for me.’

‘S
O WHOEVER TOOK TWITCH . . . THEY
really wanted you?’ I asked. ‘Why?’

‘I have no idea,’ Tabitha answered. She licked her paw and smoothed it over her ear, like a lady fussing with her hair.

‘Did you see who it was?’

‘Not from where I was hiding, no,’ the cat replied. ‘I was asleep, but all the crashing and thumping woke me.’ She glanced about at the mess. ‘Whatever it was they
were looking for, I don’t think they found it.’

I stared at the wreckage of Alice’s room and had a pretty good idea of what they’d been searching for. ‘If they were looking for something in this room, why would they want
you?’

‘How should I know?’ Tabitha said haughtily. ‘Why
wouldn’t
they want me? That’s a better question. Talking cats are quite out of the ordinary here
apparently.’ She sighed. ‘I really should stop speaking to strangers; it’s a bad habit.’

I gave her a cold look. ‘Yes. A habit that’s probably got Twitch catnapped. Didn’t it cross your mind to tell them they were taking the wrong cat?’

‘And get
myself
catnapped? I think not. They’ll realise their mistake soon enough and let her go, I would imagine. No harm done.’

‘That’s the problem,’ I said. ‘You
think
, but you don’t know. How can we be sure Twitch is safe? What were you doing up here anyway?’

The cat blinked insolently. ‘Napping, like I said.’

‘You can’t just come and go as you please,’ I said. ‘It’s bad manners.’

‘Speaking of manners,’ said Tabitha, ‘I could murder a cup of tea.’

Once again, I felt the cat was being deliberately awkward and I decided I didn’t trust her. Not one bit.

‘Fine. Don’t touch anything. We should check the rest of the house.’

We climbed down the ladder. Piper and Gypsy were already downstairs, for we could hear their footsteps wandering from room to room. A quick glance in the bedrooms told us they hadn’t been
interfered with, and before we even began down the stairs I had the feeling it was only Alice’s room that had been ransacked. The rest of the house was untouched.

In the living room, a light was flashing on the phone. Someone had left a message.
Alice?
I grabbed it and pressed the button, holding my breath, but it wasn’t Alice’s voice
I heard. It was Dad’s. As always, he kept things short, telling a couple of silly jokes, and said he was coming home in two weeks. I clung to the receiver, wishing he were here now. I played
the message twice, just to hear his voice. Then I hung up, feeling even more alone.

Piper and Gypsy were in the kitchen. There we found the cause of the thumping noise I’d noticed up in the attic, as well as the draught I’d felt when we’d first entered the
house. The back door was open, flapping like a useless wing. The lock had been broken.

‘We heard it banging from upstairs,’ Piper said. ‘That’s why we came down. We didn’t touch it in case you want to call the police.’

I shook my head dully. ‘No point. I don’t think anything’s been taken.’ Apart from the cat, but I couldn’t exactly report that, not with Tabitha as the only
witness. People stole pedigrees, not smelly old moggies with bad teeth.

‘Can you fix the door?’ I asked Piper.

‘Me?’ He looked doubtful. ‘Dunno. I’m more of a breaker than a maker.’

Gypsy came over and inspected the lock.
I think I can fix it. Do you have any tools?

I fetched the toolbox from the cupboard under the stairs. Piper looked relieved as she set to work. He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.

‘Who were you talking to upstairs?’ he asked. ‘Is your sister back?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Alice definitely isn’t back.’

‘So who . . . oh, hello.’

Tabitha had jumped on to the table and sat in front of him, looking at the teapot expectantly. Piper lifted his hand and ran it along the cat’s tail.

‘And what’s your name, puss?’ he murmured.

‘Tabitha,’ she replied, flicking her tail. ‘Who are you?’

‘Whoa!’ Piper jumped up from his chair, scraping it along the kitchen floor. ‘How did that . . . I mean, what—?’

‘Whoops,’ said the cat. ‘See what I mean?’

‘For goodness’ sake,’ I snapped. ‘You can’t keep quiet for five minutes, can you?’

‘I can’t help it, I’m thirsty,’ Tabitha complained. ‘And I’ve had a shock. It’s hard to concentrate when I’m parched.’

‘I’m making your tea now.’ I filled up the kettle and threw a handful of tea bags into the pot.

‘Lovely,’ said the cat. ‘Milk and two sugars. Sweet tea is good for shock.’

‘It d-drinks tea?’ said Piper. ‘What kind of a cat drinks
tea
?’

‘The kind that talks,’ I said sarcastically. ‘You’ve never met a cat that talks before?’

‘Not since I was a kid,’ said Piper. ‘I thought they’d all been rounded up and killed.’

It was my turn to stare.

‘You’ve seen cats that talk before?’ I asked, unsure if he was fooling me.

‘You haven’t?’

‘No.’

He shrugged, taking his seat again. ‘Like I said, I haven’t seen any for years.’

Gypsy drew closer to the table, nibbling her lip. Seeing her now, in our house, it was hard to believe she wasn’t Alice.

Piper nodded to Tabitha. ‘When was the last time you saw a mischief?’

‘A mischief?’ I asked.

‘That’s what they’re called,’ said Piper. ‘Cos they usually lead to trouble.’

Gypsy shrugged.
Not since I was a little girl
.

‘I’m not mischievous,’ said the cat. ‘I just want a quiet life with lots of naps and the odd cup of tea.’

You shouldn’t keep these cats
, Gypsy wrote.
You can get into a lot of trouble where I’m from if you’re found harbouring them
.

‘It’s not my cat,’ I said, setting a cup of tea in front of Tabitha. ‘It just arrived out of . . .’ I caught myself in time. ‘Out of
nowhere.’

‘Must still be a few out there then,’ Piper said. ‘Even if people don’t realise it. Making out they’re ordinary cats.’ His mouth twisted as he observed
Tabitha lapping daintily from her teacup. ‘Ones that are better at it, too.’

‘You said you can get into trouble for having them where you come from,’ I said. I slid into a chair next to where Gypsy stood. ‘Where is that?’

Gypsy set her notebook on the table and sat down.
Everywhere and nowhere
, she wrote.
I go where the waters take me
.
But I grew up in a town called Twisted Wood, and the
house I lived in was like this
. She looked round the kitchen.
A lot like this
.

‘What brought you to Fiddler’s Hollow?’ I asked.

I don’t know. I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere
. T
his town isn’t on any of my maps; that’s why I moored and got out to ask directions
. She frowned.
It’s like this place doesn’t exist
.

I stared at the woodgrain in the table surface, imagining that the lines were roads leading to faraway places: places that were only real in Alice’s imagination. How soon before Gypsy
figured out that it was her map that didn’t exist, not Fiddler’s Hollow?

‘How about you, Piper?’ I asked.

‘I didn’t mean to come here, either.’ His dark eyebrows knotted together. ‘I was hitch-hiking. Didn’t really care where I was going as long as it was south. This is
where I ended up.’ He glanced at Gypsy. ‘On exactly the same day as you.’

Gypsy looked at each of us in turn, seeming to shrink in her chair. She thought for a moment, then started to write.

Something weird is going on here
.
The last time I saw Piper was six years ago, and now he turns up on the same day as I do in a town that doesn’t exist, as well as a
mischief
.
The story I’ve been searching for turns out to be unfinished, and written by your sister, who happens to look exactly like me. Not only that, but someone else wants this
story, too
.
Badly
. She looked at me, hard.
Are you sure there’s nothing else you should have told me?

I forced myself to look at her, certain she knew I was squirming. ‘Odd things have been happening ever since Alice went missing. I don’t know what’s happening, either, or
why.’

A gust of wind shook the back door, rattling us all.

Gypsy stood up and went over to it, examining the broken lock. She took a screwdriver from the toolbox and began to work on it. Splinters of wood around the lock came away like loose teeth.

‘I don’t want to stay here tonight,’ I said, before I could stop myself. ‘It doesn’t feel safe any more.’

The cat looked up from her tea and hiccuped. ‘I doubt she’ll be back any time soon.’

I whipped round to face her. ‘
She?
’

‘Didn’t I mention that it was a girl who took your cat?’

‘You said you didn’t see who it was.’

‘I didn’t,’ Tabitha confirmed. ‘Not the face anyway. I only saw her shoes – right fancy, they were. Pointed with little red bows.’

Piper’s hands flattened against the tabletop. ‘That’s her. The one who’s got the notebook.’

I nodded, shivering at the thought of those cold, blue eyes searching through our home, Alice’s things. ‘Dolly.’

Another horrible thought struck me. ‘Tabitha,’ I said urgently. ‘My mum . . . she came back to get her bags earlier. She wasn’t here, was she? She
didn’t get in the way . . . or get hurt?’

‘No,’ said Tabitha. ‘I heard her leaving. She’s quite safe.’

‘So it can’t have been long before we got back.’ My knees felt shaky. I was glad I was sitting down.

‘It wasn’t,’ Tabitha confirmed. She began to wash her whiskers, more relaxed now she’d had her tea.

‘I don’t want to stay here,’ I repeated. ‘But there’s nowhere else we can go.’ I stared round the kitchen. Everything was there just like it normally was: the
toaster, the drippy tap, the clock ticking closer to midnight. Ordinary, homely things. Only tonight they felt different. Unfamiliar. It felt as if everything in the house had eyes and was watching
us like unseen, lurking spiders.

We sat wordlessly, only the ticking clock breaking the silence. Gypsy pushed her notebook towards me.

You can stay with me tonight
.

I didn’t need telling twice. ‘I’ll go and pack some things,’ I said.

‘Excuse me,’ the cat interrupted. She was staring into her teacup.