Flora rolled onto her side, close enough that Alice could see the teary blue of her eyes. “You don’t understand,” she whispered, her face inches from Alice. “We made plans, I made a deal. And if I change that, everything will just…fall apart.”
“No, Flora—”
Flora shook her head, just once, and it seemed to Alice that there were years of disappointment in her next words.
“When you don’t need them anymore, they leave.”
“Is that what you think?” Alice felt her heart break, just a little, as Flora’s lifetime of vague wafting suddenly shifted into focus. All this time, Alice had thought her drifting and incapable, but really, she realized, her sister had never let herself so much as try; scared of what she’d seen with her mother, and all those men who must have slipped in and out of her childhood with such ease when they found that Jasmine’s charming delicacy, in fact, hid a single-minded focus that was for her art and not them.
“Stefan’s different,” she promised softly, trying to reassure her. “He wants you to be happy, to have a life. He’d support whatever you wanted.”
Flora gave a weak smile. “But would he, really?” she asked, already defeated. “If I were the one away all the time, and he were the one left waiting for me?”
The question lay between them, full of Flora’s private fears. No wonder she let Stefan guide her through the world, Alice realized. If he was holding her hand the entire time, then, of course, he couldn’t walk away.
“Look, can we…can we not talk about it anymore? Not tonight?” Flora asked, still almost whispering.
“In the morning then,” Alice nodded. She got up, pulling her blanket around her shoulders as she gathered their plates and took them through to the kitchen. Flora trailed after her, barefoot on the flagstone floor.
“It’s your turn now.” Flora watched as Alice began to rinse the dishes. “What happened with Nathan? I saw him at the office, and he looked a mess.”
Alice couldn’t help but feel a perverse note of hope at the news. “Did he ask about me?”
“No.” Flora gave her a sympathetic smile. “Sorry.”
“That’s OK.” Alice sighed, but her voice betrayed the truth.
Flora watched her. “So, it’s serious?”
Alice nodded, squeezing out the dishcloth and wiping down the surfaces. “It’s…bad,” she admitted. “I think it’s over.”
“No!” Flora protested. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. This is just some little tiff, you’ll see.”
“No.” Alice gave her a pale smile, surprised to feel her eyes well up. “It’s more than that.”
And she told her everything.
***
There wasn’t much Flora could offer her, beside sincere reassurance that Nathan would forgive her—eventually—but Alice was glad to have a confidant all the same. She hadn’t told anyone the full, unedited version of affairs, and in unburdening herself to Flora, Alice felt a curious release.
“Is it bad, that I don’t regret everything?” she whispered, when they’d tucked themselves in for the night, clustered beneath the blankets in front of the now-fading fire.
Flora shook her head, loyal to the end. “You meant well.”
Alice wondered if that were entirely true. The consequences may have thrown her life into disarray, but when she forced herself to look back over the past months of tracking clues and digging deeper into Ella’s psyche, she had to admit, there were uncomfortable truths lurking there. It would be easier to write the entire summer off as a grave lapse in sanity, but Alice knew it would be hypocritical of her to reject the lies that had hurt Nadia and exploited Carl, when those same untruths had yielded such insight, adventure, and, yes, fun. Without the lies, there would have been no Italy, no seizing her independence at the agency, no new confidence and self-possession. The end may be tainting all that came before, but what had unfolded that summer had been, for a brief while, glorious.
The room fell silent again, still and black, but it wasn’t long before Flora’s sleepy voice drifted up again. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.” Alice yawned.
“Why haven’t you looked for her? Your mum, I mean.”
Alice paused, staring up at the darkness. It hadn’t even occurred to her; it had been so many years. “Some people…” She exhaled. “If you have to go looking for them, they’re not worth finding.”
Flora thought about this for a moment. “But you were looking for Ella.”
“That’s different. She’s…I don’t know.” Alice trailed off, unable to describe the vivid compulsion she’d felt to discover her former friend, an urge that still lingered beneath all the guilt and recrimination. “She has answers.” She told Flora instead, “I want to know why she did it.”
“And not your mum?”
“No.” Alice paused, listening to their soft breath in the dark. “It’s been too long. There’s nothing she can say that would make me…make me understand.”
“Oh,” Flora replied. “OK.” This time, she was the one to reach over, softly squeezing Alice’s hand. “Thanks. For, you know, coming.”
“Always.”
***
Flora must have been exhausted by her troubles, because she was still fast asleep when Alice woke the next morning. Slipping out of the covers, Alice trod quietly upstairs, managing what cleanliness she could with a flannel, cold water, and a spare toothbrush as she planned her day. There was nothing calling her back to London for the weekend, she decided; the change of surroundings, perhaps, would offer some clarity about her future.
Half an hour later, she returned from the village, bearing fresh groceries, milk, and a slim paper bag of pregnancy tests.
“I have to?” Flora blinked at the haul, wrapped in a hideous quilting project of Jasmine’s.
“Yes.” Alice was firm. She plucked the first rectangular box from her bag and held it out. “You can’t avoid this for long, not if you want options.”
Flora nodded slowly, but still, she didn’t move.
“I got more than one,” Alice added. “So, either way, we’ll know. I’ll be right outside the door.” She started to nudge Flora toward the yellow-tiled bathroom. “I’ll even hold your hand while you wait.”