Pace is a little more low key than the previous entry, but I'm trying to build up things up quite slowly.
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– Alice –
‘Hi, this is
a message for Alice Hussein. It’s Mark Sanders here, I’m calling from U&U
Properties about your latest payment. If you could call me back on the main
number as soon as, that would be great. Speak to you soon, thanks.’
‘Message
received Wednesday, 24th September at eleven thirty am. To listen to
the message again, press one. To save the message, press two. To delete the
message, press three.’
Alice stared
down at her mobile, the only thing casting light in her dark front room, and
slowly reached for the red icon to end the call. She had put the phone down to
hear the message, rather than hold it up to her ear. It felt easier to listen
to bad news from a distance. She slumped back on the sofa and flopped sideways
into the thin duvet.
It was a day or two since she had started
sleeping on the sofa. It wasn’t a very good one, but the bed frame was broken,
and she wouldn’t be able to get another one for a while. And there was the
damp.
The window
rattled. The wind was up again. Probably no more sleep tonight, then. Work was
less than three hours away. Alice rolled over and pulled the duvet up, burrowing
her head down into the pillow. She hugged a cushion close to her stomach and
curled around it. No doubt she would feel the cramp later, but the chill in the
air was pronounced.
The wheelie bin lid lifted
and dropped in the next gust, and Alice snapped one eye open. Her phone screen
was shining once more, and she rolled to face the light. Swiping down, she
scanned the header of the email, and suddenly realised that her heart had been
pounding in the seconds before she saw her mother’s address. She took a
steadying breath, rolled back into the blanket and switched to the full
version.
‘Alice,
sweetie, I’ve been meaning to email for a day or two but, what with the flight
and the heat, dad and I were just a little worn out, so I needed a little while
to get my head back into gear and onto Oz time. So frazzled! You know how it
is, barely any leg room in those cattle-class planes, and it’s not exactly a
quick hop over the Channel. They serve these horrid little plates of rice and
slop and I don’t know what else! I mean, I know food doesn’t taste right at
that altitude, but it’s like they’re not even trying! And the prices for
drinks! Good grief…’
Of course,
Alice thought; the time difference. Her mother hadn’t realised it was the crack
of dawn in Britain. Alice read on.
‘The
weather’s amazing! You’re really missing out, but I know you couldn’t get the
time off work. Aunty Ann send her love and wishes you could have been here with
us all. She popped the cake on the slow boat in August, so all being well it
should be with us in time for Chrimbo. I’ve mostly spent time down by the pool
– I’m hoping my tan will be better than Aunty Ann’s by the end of the month.
Just lounging about in the sun, it’s been glorious, though I’ve missed my
favourite daughter loads and loads.’
Alice
scoffed. She was her mother’s only daughter, though she did feel herself
smiling. She could hear the words clearly in her head.
The text continued. ‘Though, you’ve never had trouble with your tan, of course. I don’t
feel like we’ve had enough time together lately, and I’ve got all sorts of
things saved up for when we get back. Maybe a nice spa weekend? You loved that
one we had down in Bath a few years ago, didn’t you? Well, let me know when you
get some holiday time in the new year, alright?’
Alice closed
her eyes and remembered. The light of the screen bled through her lids. Yes,
that weekend in Bath in 2022. First year out of uni, Alice had been sending CVs
and applications every hour of the day, mum had insisted. ‘You’re so focused
you can’t even enjoy the summer! Come on, pack a bag and we’ll shoot off
tomorrow, okay? You need the rest!’ She’s been glad to go, but still took her
laptop with her and leached wifi wherever they went. At lunch in the Pump
Rooms, it sat on the table, like a third diner. In the evening in the cocktail
bar, she left it popped open and they got drinks brought out to them. She would
have taken it to the Thermae if there wasn’t the risk of it falling in the
pool. Spas weren’t really Alice’s thing. The soothing music actually made her
want to scream. Give me punk or electronica over this, she thought, although
she kept the sentiment to herself. Nor was she really up for much pampering. It
was do it yourself, rather than get someone to do things for you. That was how
her dad saw it. She was daddy’s girl, really. Always had been. Of course, she
loved her mum dearly, and her brother – when he wasn’t being a dick – but it
was dad that she gravitated toward. She opened her eyes and looked back at the
email. There hadn’t really been any word of dad, yet, so she scrolled on.
‘We’ve got
loads planned, of course, but your dad insisted on making sure he knew the way
to the ground from Aunty Ann’s. I mean, the place is signposted, and it can’t
possibly be that hard to follow directions, right? All he has to do is flag
down an Aussie, exclaim that he’s here to see England get trounced in the Ashes
warm up, and they’ll be only too glad to direct him, right?’
Alice smiled
again. Yes, that was dad, alright. He’d always had this mad desire to fit in
when he was young. Grew his hair out, listened to goth, and then the one
rebellion that actually raised eyebrows; he started supporting the England
cricket team, instead of Pakistan. She was fond of her grandparents, and loved
the atmosphere of good natured bickering and teasing whenever the two teams
clashed, but had always wondered if they resented her father for this choice. This trip had been a dream of dad’s for years. They were in Oz for two
months, with tickets for the opening game at the Gabba.
‘Anyway,
I’ll send pictures once we’re back from the game. If you manage to pop by the
house, could you water the plants? Love to Zack if you speak to him before we
do. See you soon, love Mum and Dad.’
She let the
screen fall dark and rolled over to face the back of the sofa again, but kept
hold of the phone, as if through it she was closer to mum and dad. She thought
about calling; she needed to hear their voices, but she had no idea where
abouts they were in their day, or if they could take the call. Besides, her
credit was low. Just like the that call she needed to make to the letting agency. They’d have to
call her back.
Tapping the
screen on again, she located the button for the radio.
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