The Liberation of Alice Love (23 page)

“See, I told you it gets better,” Nadia managed to enthuse, once they’d stretched to warm down and were gulping from bottles of water en route to the changing rooms.

“I don’t know about better…” Alice felt the ache still pull in her muscles. “But marginally less terrifying, sure.” She found her locker and sank down on the bench for a moment, too exhausted even to peel off her trainers. But it was a satisfied sort of exhaustion, the kind that kept her coming back here, long after it became apparent nobody had any information about Ella.

“Ella? Ella?”

Alice finally glanced up to find Nadia looking at her expectantly. “Oh, sorry—I was spaced out there,” she hurriedly covered, beginning to hunt through her gym bag for her towel.

“No problem, I get like that too after class.” Nadia reached to scoop her hair up into a messy bun and began to undress. “Sometimes I just kind of drift home, without even paying attention to the bus route or anything.”

“And then you wake up and wonder why you’re not in Walthamstow,” Alice agreed. “It’s muscle memory, I suppose. Like with the steps.”

“Speak for yourself.” Nadia took off her thin glasses and propped them on her locker shelf. “My muscles aren’t remembering anything at the moment.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “Oh well, if I wanted life to be easy, I’d be doing beginner’s yoga.”

Alice smiled, remembering her own ill-advised brush with the yogic arts. “Good luck with that. Anyway, see you next week!”

“Yup!” Nadia paused by the shower area, arms full of shampoo and gel bottles. “Hey, I’m getting together with some friends for a drink when I’m done here. Do you want to come along?”

Alice looked over in surprise. “Um, I have plans, actually. But maybe another time?”

“Sure.” Nadia grinned. “Have fun.”

***

Alice thought that she would, but when she arrived at the busy Soho pub to find Yasmin tight-lipped at a corner table, she couldn’t help but wish she’d taken Nadia up on her offer instead.

“Hi,” Alice began brightly, sliding into a seat. “Sorry I’m late, the class ran over and then the Tube…Well, you know how it is.” She gave an apologetic smile, even though Julian’s invitation had said nothing about Yasmin joining them. She had, it seemed, ascended to the ranks of automatic inclusion, a rare feat indeed. Alice scooped a handful of chips from the bowl in front of them, reminding herself to be friendly. “So, how have you been?”

Yasmin wet her lips. “Oh, fine.” She shrugged vaguely, glancing back toward the bar. “Work, the usual.” There was a pause. “And, you?”

“I’ve been great.” Alice dunked a chip in ketchup and savored the crisp, greasy crunch. For some reason, she always craved salt and fat after her gym workouts, even though it must cancel out all her health points. “Things have been hectic what with—” Alice caught herself. “No, I better wait until Julian gets back, save you hearing everything twice.” She looked around. “Where’s he disappeared to?”

“He’s just getting our drinks.” Yasmin shifted in her seat. She looked uncomfortable, more so than usual.

“So…” Alice searched for noncontentious topics. “Work going well?”

Yasmin gave a tiny shrug. “Same as usual, I suppose. Busy,” she added, twisting her watch strap.

“Oh. Well, that’s good.”

In the absence of any more small talk, Alice reached for another chip, smothering her disappointment with more starch and fat. She’d been looking forward to an evening with Julian like the kind they’d used to share: relaxed and easy, stretching over hours and a bottle of wine as they caught up with news and future plans. She’d wanted some time alone for a change, to tell him about her adventures in Italy, and all—

Alice paused, a chip wavering halfway to her mouth. He hadn’t called, she remembered suddenly. Alice had left that message with him from her police cell in Rome, but Julian hadn’t been in touch at all, except the brief text setting up drinks that night. She’d assumed that he’d called Stefan and been updated on their rescue efforts, but even so, wouldn’t foreign arrest warrant some kind of follow-up inquiry?

“Hi, Aly!” Julian appeared at their table, balancing their drinks. His hair was shorter, neatly cut for a change, and he was wearing a surprisingly designer-looking navy suit. “White OK? I thought I’d get you started.”

“Thanks.” She took it from him before everything spilled.

“So, how have you been?” Julian collapsed into a chair beside Yasmin. “Did you go to that art fair you were talking about? I would have called about it, but we were caught up this weekend—some friends of Yasmin’s visiting from the States.”

Alice stared at him curiously. An art fair?

“So, of course we did the tourist things, and I managed to get a table at Nobu.” Julian paused to take a gulp of his beer. “But all those reviews of the service must be crazy, because our waiter was awful. Remember the mix-up with the crab?” He nudged Yasmin. She nodded faintly. “But Yauatcha was excellent—we’ll all have to go again sometime. You’ll love it there,” he told Alice.

“Oh. Right.” Alice paused, still thrown by his nonchalance. He must not have found her message at all, she realized. He certainly wouldn’t be chatting on about tourists and art fairs if he knew she’d passed her weekend in a police cell. “Actually, I didn’t make that fair,” she began, suddenly relishing the prospect of seeing his reaction in person. “I was away. In Italy.”

Julian spluttered on his drink. “What? Italy? How the hell…?”

Alice laughed at his stunned expression. “That’s not the best part. I got arrested!” The words still sounded foreign coming from her lips, but she couldn’t help feeling a glow of triumph at the shock on Julian’s face. Alice Love was predictable no more.

Julian blinked at her for a moment in disbelief, but then his face relaxed. “God, for a moment there, I believed you.” He shook his head, laughing. “Italy, huh? Did you bring me back some pasta?”

Alice was about to inform him that she really wasn’t joking when Yasmin got to her feet. “Could you just…” She gestured, interrupting. Alice moved aside to let her past, and she disappeared toward the toilets.

“So, come on. What did you really get up to?” Julian slouched back in his seat, idly picking at the label on his bottle. “More contract work dragging on?”

Alice looked at him, a touch annoyed. “I’m not kidding, I promise. I went to Rome for the weekend; it was a spontaneous trip.” She frowned. “You really didn’t get my message?”

“What message?”

“I called, from the police station, when they arrested me.”

Julian still looked unconvinced.

“I’m telling you the truth,” Alice protested. “I swear, on…on my first-edition Noel Streatfields,” she declared. Julian had tracked down the books for her as a birthday gift, years ago; Alice didn’t tend to prize possessions, but those were sacred.

Slowly, the truth began to dawn. Julian’s eyes widened. “No! Really?”

Alice grinned. “Really!”

She sat back and took a sip of her wine, waiting for the barrage of questions and curiosity, but instead, Julian just looked at her, frowning.

“What?” Alice finally asked. “Don’t you want to know what happened?”

“You went temporarily insane?” Julian’s voice rose. “God, Alice, what the hell were you thinking?”

Alice tensed at his disapproving tone. “I don’t know, that I’d go on a weekend city break, like thousands of other people?”

“You got arrested!”

“Well, obviously I didn’t plan that part!” She stared at him, bemused. “But you’d know all of this if you checked your messages. Jules, I can’t believe you. What if they hadn’t let me make any more calls? I could still be locked up there, waiting for you to send someone from the embassy!”

“I didn’t get any messages,” Julian insisted, whipping out his phone as evidence. He tapped the screen a few times. “See, no new voicemails. You must have dialed the international code wrong.”

“I did not.” Alice folded her arms. She remembered Julian’s outgoing message quite clearly. “Maybe you deleted it by accident, or something.”

“I doubt it.” Tucking his phone away, he mustered a forgiving smile. “The message isn’t important, Aly, what matters is that you’re all right. I take it they didn’t press charges?”

“No…” Her gaze drifted past him, to the depths of the bar where Yasmin had disappeared so swiftly. If Julian was certain he hadn’t deleted it—she paused. But that was ridiculous. “You said you spent the weekend with Yasmin?” Alice found herself asking, nonetheless. “So you were with her Saturday night?”

Julian blinked, following her gaze. “Yes, we had her friends staying with us, I told you.” There was a beat. “Alice!”

“What?”

“Are you accusing—?”

“No, no,” Alice quickly backtracked, noticing the storm on his face. “I didn’t say a thing, did I?”

“But you implied…”

“Of course not!”

They paused, the space between them filled with a sudden tension.

“Yauatcha.” She changed the subject brightly. “I’ve heard so much about that place. Did you have the venison puffs?”

Julian shot her a look, but he didn’t press the issue either. “Uh, no. Yasmin did though.”

“Oh?” Alice carefully sipped her drink.

“I did what, sweetie?” Yasmin reappeared from the crowd, her lipstick immaculate once more.

“I was just telling Alice about our meal.” Julian smiled at her as she slid into her seat, but Alice noticed the harsh set of his jaw.

“Right.” Yasmin seemed equally unsettled. “It was lovely.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Alice stifled a sigh as another long pause dragged out. Next time, she would definitely take Nadia up on that offer.

***

Alice eventually made her escape with talk of early nights and buckling down to work again, but the strange tension from their evening lingered with her over the next few days. The foundation of their friendship was shifting, but Alice didn’t know quite how she felt about it—or should feel, even. For so many years, Julian’s presence had been part of the basic fabric of her life, unchanged by their slowly revolving set of relationships, but the opening of this slow rift was something new.

Part of Alice wondered if it was for the best. It occurred to her sometimes that perhaps the reason she found it so much an effort striking out to meet anybody new—and why Julian’s affairs never seemed to last more than the early halcyon days—was the comforting intimacy they had with each other. She had a male presence she could rely on, and while that didn’t provide the romance Alice quietly longed for, it had been love in one form, at least. But the more she thought about it, however, the less of a consolation Julian’s easy companionship now seemed. Perhaps her liaison with Rafael had reminded her what passion she was capable of, or maybe even the growing chemistry with Nathan heralded new, more immediate possibilities, but either way, Alice wondered if it was time to take a step back, for both their sakes.

When he called the next morning, she didn’t pick up.

Chapter Twenty-three

As Alice set about surreptitiously wooing her new clients with careful phone calls and clandestine meetings, she realized that she had, perhaps, more spirit than she’d given herself credit for. On the surface, she may be going about much the same life as before her reckless jaunt to Rome, but she was starting to see her routine wasn’t set in stone; there was, it seemed, scope for a little of her foreign flair on more familiar soil. From the spritz of perfume and those brightly colored silk blouses she now selected for work in the morning, to snatched coffee breaks with her new friend Nadia and the riskier matter of her secret maneuverings at work, Alice began the strange—yet exhilarating—task of bringing spontaneity, daring, and general hints of irresponsibility to her old, no-longer-so-predictable life.

“I just love these early watercolors. You can really see the sense of youthful naïveté in her brushstrokes.”

Alice melted back against the gallery wall as another cluster of guests strolled closer, gazing with tilted heads at Flora’s collection of paintings. It was the opening for her grand retrospective, and the sleek, airy space in Notting Hill had been transformed into a haven of floral studies, garden views, and—at last—assorted kittenish delights. It was still early, but already the gallery was buzzing with throngs of enthusiasts. The event, Alice was proud to see, was an unqualified success.

“The washed color palette is very important in her early work, isn’t it?” One of the women, middle-aged in flowing silk trousers and a fine-knit vest peered knowledgeably at the prints. Helena, the gallery manager, materialized beside them.

“Absolutely,” she agreed, polished blond hair swept back from her face in a high, tight ponytail. “You know, not many people notice, but you can see how Flora was inspired by the pale tones, giving the paintings an almost ethereal effect.”

The group nodded, but Alice hid a smile. Those pale tones that had proven so inspirational were actually the result of her father knocking a pitcher of water over on a stack of finished paintings, the night before Flora’s first-year portfolio was due. They’d dried them on radiators, and ironed the pages flat while Flora wept inconsolably, but the damage had been done; the washed effect was unavoidable.

“There you are.” Julian made his way through the sleek hair and loosely draped suits, ducking to kiss her on the cheek. “I almost didn’t see you hidden away back here.”

“I’m eavesdropping,” Alice told him. Despite her decision to detach a little, she was glad to see his face in the crowd. Still, after their last meeting, she wasn’t so quick to relax. She cast a careful eye around the room, before asking casually, “Is Yasmin with you?”

“She’s not coming, actually.” Julian didn’t seem disappointed. In fact, he appeared affable and at ease, back in a pair of his slouchy corduroy trousers and a crisp shirt.

“Oh, shame,” Alice murmured, relieved. “Everything all right?”

Julian shrugged. “Honestly, I didn’t think it would be her thing. And I guess I haven’t seen you for a while—I mean, just the two of us.” He looked at her, giving a slight double take.

“Wow. You look great tonight.”

“Thanks.” Alice glanced down. After much deliberation, she’d decided to wear that infamous red dress again. “Flora insisted we go dressy,” she explained, feeling the need to justify it. “She’s around here somewhere in a full-length ball gown.”

Julian laughed. “I’ll have to say hi, congratulate her on all of this. Or, should that be Stefan?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, this is all his doing, isn’t it?” He nodded at the spotless white walls, neat rows of paintings and flow of admiring fans.

Alice frowned. “Not at all, Flora’s worked really hard getting things set up. She’s been planning the curating all month.”

“My mistake.” Julian held up his hands. “I guess I didn’t take her for the planning type.”

“And there’s a whole set of new work,” Alice continued, feeling strangely defensive.

“The kittens?” Julian began to smirk. “I saw those.”

Alice was just about to inform him that those kittens had taken weeks of precision and skilled study when she felt the presence of someone just behind her and a hand light against her back. She knew from the faint drift of familiar aftershave who it was.

Alice felt a thrill.

“Hey, you.” Nathan leaned closer to graze her cheek with a kiss.

Alice murmured a response. She’d wondered if he would come, and whether she’d be seized with awkwardness after her outrageous behavior in Italy. But looking at him, Alice just felt happy. “Are you all caught up on sleep yet?” she asked, trying to seem casual.

Nathan grinned. “Almost. I was out for fifteen hours straight on Monday, after that meeting.” He sighed at the memory. “Good times.”

“Lucky you.” Alice smiled back. He was wearing the same pale suit from Flora’s garden party, casual and cool. “Some of us didn’t have the luxury—I’ve had to work right through.”

“Poor baby.” He patted her head, an echo of her gesture in Positano. Then his eyes skimmed over her outfit, and a knowing grin began to tug the edge of his mouth. “
There may be trouble ahead…”

Alice gave him a warning look. “Hush, you. It’s almost…nine o’clock.” She made a show of checking his watch. “And I haven’t been arrested yet.”

“A fine achievement,” Nathan responded drily. “Did you remember to bring your get-out-of-jail-free card?”

“Sure I did,” Alice teased, growing bolder. “You’re standing right here.”

There was the sound of a cough. Alice looked over to find Julian watching them. “Oh, sorry,” she recovered. “Nathan, this is Julian. Jules, this is Nathan. The investigator who’s been helping me out, remember?”

Julian nodded slowly. “You mentioned him. Once, I think.”

“Great to meet you.” Nathan held out his hand, and after a beat, Julian reached to shake it. “I hope you’ve been keeping an eye on trouble here.”

Julian raised an eyebrow.

“Apparently, it’s my middle name.” Alice laughed. And in a way, she supposed it was. After all, it had been Angelique that had let Alice be free of herself, back in Rome. Which reminded her: “You better not tell everyone about my misadventures.” She nudged Nathan gently. “Investigator-client confidentiality.”

“Is that what we are now?” Nathan rested a hand against the small of her back. “Shame.”

Alice caught her breath. The flirtation that had been so careless and bold back in Italy suddenly took on new meaning, here under the bright Notting Hill lights.

Julian chuckled, breaking the moment. “I think the sooner we forget about that trip, the better. Temporary insanity, right Aly?” He turned to Nathan with a knowing grin. “In all the years we’ve been friends, she’s never been the spontaneous type, and that’s, what, going on a decade now?” Julian looked at her for confirmation.

Alice nodded, her thrill fading slightly.

“She’s the one who keeps the rest of us in line,” Julian continued, giving Alice an affectionate pat on the shoulder. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“Is that so?” Nathan gave her a slow look. “You know, I’d never have guessed.”

“I’m a woman of many layers,” Alice quipped back. Julian still had his hand resting on her shoulder—a touch possessive, she thought—so she edged a step away. “Layers and infinite mystery. Which is my cue to excuse myself for a minute.” Smiling quickly at both of them, she turned and disappeared into the crowd, her hips swaying with just a touch more sass than usual.

Alice made her way to the tiny bathroom and rinsed her wrists under the cold tap, reminding herself to stay calm. The dress, the banter, Nathan—if she’d had any fear at all that her brave streak might disappear now that she was back in England, this week had proved them wrong. Angelique lived on, after all.

Touching up her lip stain, Alice reached for the small vial of perfume she’d decanted into a travel atomizer, holding it beneath her nose the way they would smelling salts, a hundred years ago. Jasmine and spices, golden lights, heels tapping on polished floors. The memories were immediate and vivid, and Alice gave a happy sigh.

Of course she could do this.

***

The gallery was soon packed with Flora’s moneyed acquaintances, and the many art world professionals wise enough to know a sound investment when they saw it. As Alice circulated, she overheard more than one prospective buyer muttering about the conventional, insipid paintings—and then in the same breath, declaring their intention to buy. Part of Alice smarted that they were still sneering at Flora’s beloved art, but with tiny red stickers adorning almost every piece before the evening was halfway through, the joke was clearly on them.

“It’ll definitely appreciate.” Helena was just ahead, murmuring to a dapper, bulky man in tight red trousers and an oversized navy jacket. He had a slightly uneven nose, from which he was looking down at one of the kitten prints. “Of course, Freddie, it’s not your usual style, but in these difficult times…”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed, in a blunt Cockney accent. “This Hallmark crap is the only thing that’ll shift for sure these days.” He leaned closer to Helena. “I don’t know how you do it, love.”

Her eyes flickered skyward in agreement. “Think of them as an asset, not art,” she continued, evidently eager to make the sale. “You can keep them in storage, or something.”

“What the fuck.” He shrugged, careless. “I’ll take it. All of them, if I can.”

“Actually, those aren’t for sale,” Alice spoke up, their sneering tones too much for her. She stalked closer, giving Helena and the man an icy smile. “We’re holding those back, for now, until she completes the series.”

Helena blinked. “But I thought—”

“No.” Alice folded her arms let her gaze drift over to Freddie. She curled her lip slightly. “Of course, Flora may change her mind, with a different buyer.”

His eyes widened. “And who the fuck are you?”

“Her sister,” she replied, with a smile. “Enjoy the rest of the show.”

Alice left them staring in disbelief. She’d just cost Flora a lucrative sale, but it was worth it, she was sure. Those kittens belonged with somebody who would actually appreciate them, not leave them wrapped in storage as if they were nothing more than stock certificates.

“You realize there are people out for your blood right now?” Nathan appeared, handing her a glass of wine. He nodded back across the room, to where Helena and Freddie were glaring at her.

Alice shrugged, unconcerned. “Some people just have no taste, that’s all.” She took a sip of the wine and studied him from under her lashes, torn between trying to continue their flirtation and asking about Kate Jackson. As always, her curiosity about Ella won. “Any news on that name yet?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

He grinned, moving back into a slight alcove. “I was wondering how long it would take you to ask.”

“How did I do?” Alice followed. He was tantalizingly close now, his jacket pressed against her bare arm.

“You know, pretty good.” Nathan pretended to muse. “You didn’t jump me the minute I walked through the door.”

“Tempting as it was,” Alice quipped, only partly joking.

“I’m sure.” He paused, looking out at the groups of casual guests, sipping Pimm’s and nibbling the tiny cucumber sandwiches the caterer had set out on lace-adorned tables to play up the English country theme. Alice was surprised they hadn’t hung bunting and served Earl Grey as well. “It’s a great showing tonight,” Nathan remarked. “Flora must be happy.”

“Yes, wonderful.” Alice waited impatiently.

“And it was nice to meet that friend of yours—Julian, wasn’t it?” he teased.

“Nathan!” Alice broke. “I have a blunt object, and I’m not afraid to use it.” She wielded her wineglass in what she hoped was a vaguely threatening manner.

He laughed, already pulling out a folded sheet of paper. Alice forced herself to take it calmly and not snatch it from his hand. “She paid at the hotel in cash, so there wasn’t much to go on, just the name,” he began, as she glanced through the long list. “I scanned for credit, property, driver’s licenses. After I cut them down for age, I got our short-list here. Those two are dead, that one has been missing five years, and
she
became a
he
last summer.”

Alice could still see at least two dozen names. “So what next?”

Nathan had his smug look on again, a fact that Alice found remarkably reassuring. “Next, I ruled out most of our remaining candidates with a few calls. The only one I couldn’t track down was bachelorette number twelve there.”

Alice followed his pointed finger to a single notation, just an address in Bath with none of the other details the rest of the possibilities had amassed. “It’s her?”

He nodded. “Seems so. Just one record of her there, a credit card registered to that address. Which is suspicious enough, but what do you know? There was a nasty outbreak of fraud and identity theft nearby.” Alice brightened, and Nathan laughed at her obvious enthusiasm. “Three people in apartments across the street fell victim, back at the start of January, just before Ella appeared in London.”

“That can’t be a coincidence,” Alice breathed.