So, I’ve agreed to accompany Alice to her sister’s wedding. We’ve shopped for new outfits (there was no way Alice was paying for mine, no matter how much she insisted) and agreed that Alice will drive us to the castle in Little Heaton. The journey is just over an hour and I plan to sit back and relax while taking full control of the music choices. My suitcase is zipped up and sitting on the end of my bed, but I can’t bring myself to pick it up and carry it downstairs to the car.
What am I doing? I know I’m tagging along for Alice’s benefit, but I feel sick at the thought of leaving my comfort zone. The past year has been a tumult of change with the break-up and everything, and now it finally feels as though my life is settling down again. If I pick up my case, if I take it downstairs and drag it to the boot of Alice’s car, I’ll be stepping into the unknown. I know Alice is determined to find my ‘Prince Charming’ at this castle, but I’m perfectly happy with my life the way it is right now, and I don’t want anything to send it off kilter again.
‘Do you need a hand with that?’ Alice has stopped outside my bedroom and is nodding towards the suitcase. She has her own suitcase, plus the teddy bear that still sleeps in her bed tucked under her arm.
‘Are you seriously taking Hubert?’ I sit down on the bed, as far away from my case as possible.
‘Of course.’ Alice drops a kiss on the sparse fur on Hubert-the-bear’s head. ‘Hubert comes everywhere with me. But don’t worry, he knows you’ve bagsied the front passenger seat.’ Alice smiles at me, but I don’t return the gesture. ‘Everything okay, honey?’
I nod, even though it isn’t.
‘I know you’re not all that keen on coming to the wedding, but I do think you’ll have a great time once you’re there.’ Alice steps into my bedroom and sits down next to me on the bed. ‘Carolyn and I spent every summer and Christmas at the castle when we were growing up and we had so much fun. Carolyn wants to recreate that time and has loads of activities planned for the week. Plus, you’re a history nut and Durban Castle was built in Tudor times or something.’
I am intrigued by the castle and its history, but still.
‘And weddings are the perfect place to meet men.’ Alice says this as though it’s a good thing. ‘We can find you your happily ever after, I just know it.’
‘But that’s the thing, Alice. I don’t believe in happily ever afters. Haven’t for a long time.’
‘But you did, once upon a time.’ Alice is looking at me funny, sort of frowning and with her lips pursed. She hands Hubert to me and pushes herself up onto her feet before striding away. When she returns, she’s holding a pink, hardback book. Its familiar title and design glint at me as she moves across the room.
I wrap my arms around Hubert and push my cheek into his fur. ‘Why do you have that?’
‘You believed in happily ever afters when you received this book,’ Alice says, not really answering the question.
‘I was six.’
I can’t look at that book. I can’t face the memories it catapults at me, one after the other. The joy, the wonder, and then the pain of knowing life would never be as simple or as jubilant as those tales. It was a birthday present from my parents and I’d loved it. Like Alice and her Hubert, I’d dragged that book everywhere with me. I’d devoured the pages, drinking in the images before I could read the words myself. I knew the words off by heart, knew the order of the tales, knew how each story made me feel as that six-year-old full of wonder.
‘Why do you have that?’ I ask again, my voice firm this time. There’s a hint of the anger I feel bubbling up inside, but I’ll try to control it. My anger isn’t aimed at Alice, not really.
‘I found it.’ Alice rubs a hand over a pale, yellowish-brown stain on one corner of the book. A new addition since I last saw it. The slightly charred edges are still there, reminding me how much I despise the book and everything it represents. ‘It was in the bin. I’d already scraped the leftover curry we’d had in there before I spotted it. Sorry.’
I don’t know what she’s apologising for. Surely not for dropping curry on a book I’d tried to dispose of – twice. Why would I care if the book is stained? I wanted it gone. Destroyed. Perhaps that’s it. She’s apologising because it’s still here. Still in this house.
‘I couldn’t let you throw it away.’ Alice has opened the book now. ‘Not when I read the inscription.’ She holds the book out towards me, but I turn away. I don’t recall an inscription being in the book, but I don’t want to read whatever it says. It’ll only dredge up memories I’d rather keep locked away.
Alice closes the book and sits down next to me on the bed. ‘I know how much you’re hurting. I’ve lost my mum too, remember?’
The other thing that propelled Alice into finding me my perfect match a year ago, combined with my failed relationship with Edward and finding herself loved up with Kevin, was the death of my mother.
‘And I know that when we’re hurting we sometimes do things we regret.’
‘But I don’t regret it.’ I point at the book, but I can’t quite bring myself to focus on it. ‘I don’t want that thing.’ I didn’t want it a year ago, when I discovered it in the box of items from Mum’s house that Great Aunt Dorothy had sent over. Didn’t want it hanging around, reminding me of that brief time in my life when everything was perfect. Before everything changed. ‘How dare you retrieve it?’ The anger gurgles to the surface. I leap up from the bed, throwing poor Hubert down onto the duvet. ‘How dare you meddle in my life? First, pushing me to go on these stupid dates, and now this! It’s too much, Alice. Why can’t you just let me be?’
‘I know what it’s like to lose a parent. I know it’s different for me – my mum died when I was really little and I barely remember her – but I’d give anything to have a reminder of her. Dad got rid of everything when he married Francelia – all the photos, her perfume and jewellery, the cards she wrote for me and Carolyn. Said he wanted a fresh start.’ She stands up from the bed and places a hand on my shoulder. ‘I know you’re angry with me right now, but one day you’ll thank me for keeping hold of the book.’
I roll my eyes, still not looking at it. ‘It’s a book of fairy tales, Alice.’
‘It’s more than that.’ Alice gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. ‘The little girl who received this book believed in happily ever afters. You told me once that she used to dream of being rescued by the handsome prince. What happened to her?’
I throw my shoulders back, dislodging Alice’s hand, and lift my chin slightly. ‘She grew up and realised life isn’t a fairy tale.’
Alice crosses the room, stopping in front of my small bookcase. She squeezes the book of fairy tales into a gap at the end of the middle shelf. ‘I’ll do you a deal.’ Alice turns to face me again. ‘If you come to the wedding with an open mind and at least give the guys there a teeny chance, I’ll stop pestering you about finding a boyfriend once we get home.’
We stare at each other across the room. I’m still angry, but it’s dying down now the book is no longer in my vision.
‘There’ll be no more pushing me to date when we get back?’
Alice shakes her head. ‘I won’t mention it again.’
We stare some more.
Can I do this? Can I endure one week of intense Alice matchmaking (because that’s what this will turn into)? Can I get through it for the chance of being left to my own devices when we return?
‘Fine.’ I cross the room and stick out my hand. ‘You have yourself a deal.’
Alice’s grin is wide as we shake on it. ‘You’re not going to regret this.’
‘We’ll see about that in a week’s time.’ I reach past Alice and slide the fairy tales book off the shelf.
Alice looks stricken. ‘You’re not going to throw that away again, are you?’
‘What would be the point? You’ll only dig it out again with teabags and food stuck to it.’ Instead, I shove the book to the very back of my wardrobe, where I won’t have to face it on a daily basis.
‘Come on, Cinderella.’ Alice tucks Hubert back under her arm and hefts my suitcase off the bed. ‘You shall go to the ball!’
I take the handle of my suitcase so Alice can trundle her own down the stairs. ‘I thought Kevin was Cinders?’
‘No way am I being an ugly sister. You, honey, are Cinderella, and I am your fairy godmother.’