tossed it back to Francine, once again sitting at the desk. “James doesn’t like me to wear any makeup. He says it’s cheap.”
Francine caught it against her chest. Laughing to herself, she threw it straight back. “Perhaps he does, but I wasn’t talking about James.”
Now
Alice arrived a short while before they were due to sit for dinner, while Elizabeth was still laying the table, the keys rattling in the door, the sound of heels against the tiled floor. Nobody else had a key. Only family. It worked well, Tom always said, having a daughter living just a few roads away, who could let herself in if anything happened.
“Hello,” Elizabeth said as Alice arrived in the doorway. Her eyes moved first to Elizabeth and then to the table, to the chair upon which Elizabeth had left a cardigan early that afternoon.
“Hi,” she said, a smile forming that appeared uncomfortable, as if it made her face sore. “Where’s Dad?”
Alice had been there a few times since their hospital visit. The first occasion was brief, and Elizabeth had stayed upstairs, as Tom had asked her to. She’d heard Alice crying, and then the door opening as she stepped outside. Noise had drawn Elizabeth to the window, where she saw Alice with tears on her cheeks, glistening like morning dew on the overgrown grass. When Alice looked up to see Elizabeth, she wiped her face and eyes before turning away to light a cigarette. That evening Tom had explained that one of Alice’s problems was that she was supposed to be moving to Hastings the next week. It was only a couple of hours away, but to everybody involved it felt much farther. Alice insisted she was moving in search of a better job, but Tom said she was running away from the difficulties of a dissolving marriage. Decisions made before Tom got sick, and now everybody wished, deep down at least, that she would stay.
Alice was standing in the doorway where she had as a child scratched an A into the paintwork. In the kitchen was a mural of the sea that she’d painted on one of the cupboards. Reminders of Alice’s childhood, things that Tom had always refused to repair. Things that made Elizabeth feel like she didn’t belong.
“He’s having a lie-down,” Elizabeth told her. “We were having a game of cards earlier on and he got a bit tired.”
Alice peeled away her jacket, her cheeks red from rushing to get there. It still eluded Elizabeth what it was that Alice did for a job, but she was always well dressed. Something about selling and currency. Or stocks, maybe. Definitely money. Kate was always in boots and an overcoat, working on building sites. The thought was bittersweet, and Elizabeth made a mental note to message her daughter again that night.
“How has he been today?”
Elizabeth appreciated the question. It made her presence here useful, something she always felt less of in Alice’s presence. “Well, he wasn’t sick last night.”
“Something positive. And his mood?”
Elizabeth shrugged. What could she say? “He has been quite down today. Not very talkative, to be honest.”
It came in waves, like it did for all of them. His moods swung between wanting to make the most of each day, denying that he had anything wrong with him, to utter devastation over the fact that time was going to be shorter than he had hoped. Often Elizabeth felt at a loss for what to do.
“I don’t suppose it’s much of a surprise, is it? None of us are strong all the time.”
Alice slumped into one of the dining chairs. Elizabeth’s instincts were to offer comfort, the same as she would have done for Kate, but it was clear to her that this was not the kind of person Alice was. Still, she took a seat in a chair beside her, let her motherly instincts take over, and rested one of her hands on hers. Alice’s skin was dry and cracked. Only a few days ago her manicure had been impeccable, now it was all chewed to bits. Elizabeth understood; the little things that had once seemed important had paled. Like her winter roses, which she doubted had been watered properly since she left. How she had been looking forward to their bloom. Francine was feeding the cat, but Elizabeth doubted she’d bother with the plants, even though she’d asked her to tend to them. Still, Francine was sending Elizabeth a package of things she had requested for her extended stay, and