“That’s great, Flora,” she interrupted. “Pick me up in half an hour?”
***
Even though the sky threatened cold drizzle at any moment, Alice waited out on the front curb rather than linger in the flat a moment more. Nonetheless, she thought she could hear the faint echo of moans through the windows above—or maybe they were just haunted echoes in her imagination. Either way, her relief at escaping was tempered somewhat when Flora arrived not in a taxi but behind the wheel of a sporty silver convertible. Alice gulped. Flora had finally passed her driving test last year on what must have been her seventh try, but even so, she suspected it had more to do with the torrent of tears Flora unleashed after failing her three-point (or, in that case, seven-point) turn rather than any real driving ability.
“Don’t mind all this stuff,” Flora greeted her cheerfully, reaching over to clear some canvases from the passenger seat. A bouncy pop hit was playing on the radio, and a jeweled diamanté bunny rabbit dangled from the rearview mirror. Alice clambered in, looking around to find what looked like a career’s worth of work piled in the back of the tiny car: a mass of pastel landscapes, dreamy garden scenes, and delicate still-life prints, miniature copies of Flora’s vast creations.
“I have to consult with the curator before we install the real paintings,” Flora explained, yanking the gearshift into position. Alice noticed with trepidation that it was a manual transmission. She lunged for her seat belt. “Stefan says I need to make sure he’s not planning to hang them wrong. Last time I had a show, the gallery put Serene Imagination right next to Soothing Daydream. Would you believe?”
Alice chose not to answer that. “You have a show coming up? That’s wonderful. Is it for new work?” She took a firm grip on the door handle as they whipped into a flow of speeding traffic.
“No, it’s a retrospective. Five years on, and all that.” Flora turned to smile at Alice; they drifted across the road.
“Flora!” Alice yelped.
“Whoops!” She dragged the steering wheel back into place. “Umm, can you check the map for a sec? I don’t want to get distracted.”
“No, that would be bad.” Alice quickly turned down the volume on the stereo and dug the crumpled pages from the glove compartment. She paused. “Why don’t you have GPS? I would have thought Stefan would be the first to get it installed.”
“Oh, he did, but it was so confusing.” Flora furrowed her pale brow at the memory. “That woman just kept talking at me in that stern voice, and I couldn’t figure out the settings. I don’t drive much,” she added, as if to reassure Alice. It had quite the opposite effect.
“Turn left up ahead,” she told her quickly. Flora cut blindly into the next lane of traffic; there was a loud blare of horns and a muffled angry yell from the car next to them. Flora hummed softly, oblivious.
“So, tell me how it’s going.” She shot a quick look at Alice. “Have you spent much time with Nathan? Is he…helping?” She grinned, clearly expecting gossip, but Alice had none to give.
“I haven’t really heard from him,” she shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “We talked about the case during lunch, and then I sent over the papers he wanted. He said he’d be in touch if anything turned up.”
“Oh.” Flora’s face fell. “I thought, maybe—”
“You thought wrong,” Alice cut her off. “He’s being nice, helping like this, but it’s just business. Really.”
“Aw,” Flora pouted. “I was sure there was something going on there.”
Alice laughed, as if Nathan’s casual professionalism wasn’t a disappointment to her too. “Anyway, I’m getting myself back together.” She changed the subject, picking a thread from her loose linen trousers. “Work is a distraction, I suppose, and the solicitor’s doing his best with the bank. Living with Cassie is…challenging.”
“I don’t know why you don’t just move in with us,” Flora interrupted. “Stefan’s traveling so much, and we’ve got tons of room.” She gave Alice a hopeful look.
“Flora, brake!”
There was a screech, and they came to a halt inches from a crosswalk. A very full crosswalk. Alice gasped for breath.
“So, what do you think?” Flora wasn’t about to let the idea go. The minute the trail of strollers had passed, she revved the engine and squealed away.
Alice quickly shook her head. “It’s sweet of you to offer, but I’m fine where I am. Really. You guys are doing enough for me already with the solicitor.”
“Are you sure? Because—”
“I’m good! Everything will be fine, eventually.”
If she kept repeating it, perhaps it would become true.
“You’re such a star.” Flora shook her head as they sped through a distinctly amber light. “I would still be a total wreck.”
Alice exhaled softly. “What’s done is done. There’s no changing any of it.”
“Ugh, it still makes me so mad to think she did that to you.” Flora scowled briefly, her delicate features suddenly fearsome; then she brightened. “Ooh, I love this song!” and reached to turn the radio up again, beaming happily once more.
Alice eased her grip on the car a little, trying to relax as they wound their way through the busy central London streets. There was a method to Flora’s reckless driving style, she was beginning to see: Flora simply had perfect faith in the ability of every other driver on the road to see her coming and work around her to avoid all major incidents. So they sailed over intersections with barely a second glance, lurched dangerously between thirty and three miles an hour, and finally parallel parked in a tiny space without any hesitation—to the annoyance of the car carefully lining itself up to reverse in.
“There!” Flora turned the engine off and paused to apply a slick of Vaseline to her lips, while the wronged driver made obscene hand gestures through his windows at them. She looked at Alice expectantly. “All set?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Alice nodded, but she waited until he’d driven off before daring to climb out of the car and help Flora unload the prints.
They were parked just off the top of Portobello Road, with a procession of antiques shops and designer bakeries winding down the hill. It was still cloudy out, but optimistic shoppers were strolling around in flimsy summer dresses and oversized, bug-eyed shades, clearly expecting more from British summer than the weather deigned to deliver.