“Oh, boy. Here we go,” said Beth, laughing. She took the jar from Alice’s hands and passed it to Izzy. With an impish grin, Izzy took the jar in two hands and raised it to her mouth. She took a swig, coughing and spluttering, her eyes widening as she tried to hand the jar back. “You’re not meant to be glugging it!” said Beth, and took a small sip. “You drink like that and you’ll be blind by Tuesday.”
“Give it here,” said Alice. She looked down at the contents and took a breath.
You are too impulsive, Alice.
She took a sip, feeling the alcohol burn a mercury path down her throat. She clamped her eyes shut, waiting for them to stop watering. It was actually delicious.
“Good?” Beth’s mischievous eyes were on her when she opened them again.
She nodded mutely, and swallowed. “Surprisingly,” she croaked. “Yes. Let me have another.”
Something shifted in Alice that evening. She was tired of the eyes of the town on her, sick of being monitored and talked about and judged. She was sick of being married to a man whom everyone else thought was the Good Lord Almighty and who could barely bring himself to look at her.
Alice had come halfway across the world to find that, yet again, she was considered wanting. Well, she thought, if that was what everyone thought, she might as well live up to it.
She took another sip, and then another, batting away Beth’s hands when she shouted, “Steady now, girl.” She felt, she told them, when she finally handed it back, pleasantly squiffy.
“Pleasantly squiffy!” Beth mimicked, and the girls fell about laughing. Margery smiled, despite herself.
“Well, I have no idea what kind of library this is,” said Sophia, from the corner.
“They just need to let off steam, is all,” said Margery. “They’ve been working hard.”
“We have been working hard! And now we need music!” said Beth, holding up a hand. “Let’s fetch Mr. Guisler’s gramophone. He’ll lend it to us.”
Margery shook her head. “Leave Fred out of it. He doesn’t need to see this.”
“You mean he doesn’t need to see Alice all inebriated,” said Beth, slyly.
“What?” Alice looked up.
“Don’t tease her,” said Margery. “She’s married, anyway.”
“In theory,” muttered Alice, who was having trouble focusing.
“Yeah. Just be like Margery and do what you want when you want.” Beth looked sideways at her. “With who you want.”
“You want me to be ashamed of how I live my life, Beth Pinker? Because you’ll be waiting halfway to the heavens falling down.”
“Hey,” said Beth. “If I had a man as handsome as Sven Gustavsson come a-courting me, I’d have a ring on my finger so fast he wouldn’t even know how he’d found himself at church. You want to take a bite out of the apple before you put it in the basket, that’s up to you. Just make sure you keep hold of the basket.”
“What if I don’t want a basket?”
“Everyone wants a basket.”
“Not me. Never have, never will. No basket.”
“What are you all talking about?” said Alice, and started to giggle.
“They lost me at Mr. Guisler,” said Izzy, and belched quietly. “Good Lord, I feel amazing. I don’t think I’ve felt like this since I went on the Ferris wheel three times at Lexington County Fair. Except . . . No. That didn’t end well.”
Alice leaned in toward Izzy, and put a hand on her arm. “I really am sorry about your strap, Izzy. I didn’t mean to break it.”
“Oh, don’t you worry. I’ll just ask Mother to go get me another.” For some reason they both found this hysterically funny.
Sophia looked at Margery and raised an eyebrow.
Margery lit the oil lamps that dotted the end of each shelf, trying not to smile. She wasn’t really one for big groups, but she quite liked this, the jokes and the merriment, and the way that you could see actual friendships springing up around the room, like green shoots.
“Hey, girls?” said Alice, when she had got her giggles under control. “What would you do, if you could do anything you wanted?”
“Sort out this library,” muttered Sophia.
“I’m serious. If you could do anything, be anything, what would you do?”