As she drove, she thought about Elisabeth, and how smooth she'd been up onstage, talking to all those butchers, making them laugh, telling them what to do. She'd seemed so natural talking into the microphone. So herself. The same way celebrities casually chatted away in interviews to journalists, as if there weren't cameras right in front of them. But then when Elisabeth had talked to her in the break, she had the strangest feeling that Elisabeth wasn't really there, that she was just pretending to be Elisabeth. That she was more herself up onstage than right now.
Alice still hadn't even got to talk to her yet about the unsuccessful IVF cycle. She'd called the night before when she got home from the Family Talent Night, but Ben had said Elisabeth was watching a favorite TV show and could she call back once it was over? She never called back, and of course she could hardly talk to her about it when she was working. It was ridiculous that she had no idea what was going on in her own sister's mind. She couldn't even take an educated guess as to how Elisabeth was feeling right now. Angry? Devastated? Sick of the whole thing?
She would try to call her again tonight, but it was weirdly hard to find time once she'd driven the children to all their activities, helped with homework (so much homework! It gave Alice a headache. She'd actually groaned when she saw the number of worksheets Tom had pulled out from his bag the other night, which wasn't very parental of her), cooked their dinner, cleaned up, made their lunches, tried to convince them to stop fighting over the computer and the television. By the end of it, she was exhausted.
There just wasn't enough time in 2008. It had become a limited resource. Back in 1998, the days were so much more spacious. When she woke up in the morning, the day rolled out in front of her like a long hallway for her to meander down, free to linger over the best parts. Days were so stingy now. Mean slivers of time. They flew by like speeding cars. Whoosh! When she was pulling back the blankets to hop into bed each night, it felt as if only seconds ago she'd been throwing them off to get up.
Maybe it was just because she wasn't used to this life. This life as a separated mother of three children.
She was doing things differently, trying to slow down time. She had a feeling the new Alice, the one with that snippy voice, wouldn't approve of some of the changes.
When she'd picked the children up from school yesterday, Olivia had whined, "I don't want to go to violin," and Alice, who had no idea that she was meant to be "going to violin," had said, "Okay, fine," and taken the three children to Dino's, where they'd done their homework sitting at a round table, drinking hot chocolates, and Dino had been quite helpful with Tom's maths homework.
There had been a very cranky call from someone about the violin lesson who had told Alice that she would still have to pay, seeing as twenty-four hours' notice hadn't been given. "Oh, well," Alice had said, and was met by a shocked silence.
After they had got home from the Family Talent Night, she'd let Madison stay up past eleven baking an enormous Black Forest cake for a "Food from Different Cultures Day" they were having at the school.
"I don't want your help," Madison had insisted before Alice even offered to help. "I want to do it myself."
"That's fine," said Alice.
"You always say that," Madison said. "And then you end up helping."
"I bet you a thousand dollars that I will not lift a finger to help," Alice had said, and held out her hand.
Madison stared, before giving her that sudden beautiful smile and shaking her hand.
"I want to bet you something for a thousand dollars," Tom said. "Bet me something!"
"Me too!" shouted Olivia. "Bet me something, Mum!"
"No, I'm doing the next bet," said Tom. "Mum, I bet you ... ummm, I bet you, ummm, just hold on, while I think of something really good."
"I bet you I can do a handstand for five minutes!" cried Olivia. "No, two! No, let's maybe just make it one minute."
"I bet you a thousand dollars I can't count to one million!" said Tom. "I mean that I can! The way it works is that you give me a thousand dollars if I can."
"Nobody can count to one million," said Olivia solemnly. "That would take, like, a week."
"No it wouldn't," said Tom. "Okay, so let's say that it takes you sixty seconds to count to sixty. Or, wait. Okay, maybe you could count, like, to ninety in sixty seconds. So, ummm, where's the calculator? Mum? Do you know where the calculator is? Mum, are you listening?"
"Are you children always this tiring?" Alice had asked. Sometimes it felt like they sucked every thought out of her brain.
"Pretty much," said Tom.
Elisabeth's Homework for Jeremy While the butchers were in groups brainstorming ideas on butcher paper (ha ha), I sat and thought about the transfer of the last embryo two weeks ago.
It had been frozen for a year.
A tiny, ice-encrusted potential person.
When we first started IVF, I would stand at the freezer door and take a sparkly fragment of ice on the tip of my finger and think about my frozen potential children. All those possible people. We had seven frozen at one time. Such a treasure trove of possibility. This one could be a swimmer. This one could be musical. This one could be tall. This one could be short. This one could be sweet and shy. This one could be funny. This one could be like Ben. This one could be like me.
Ben and I talked about it all the time. We sent them telepathic messages of support. "Hang in there," we said. "Hope you're not too chilly."
But as the years went by, we stopped talking like that. We became detached from the process. It was just science. It was just unpleasant medical procedures. We weren't even amazed by the science anymore. Yeah, yeah, they make babies in test tubes. Incredible. But it just doesn't work out for us.
This last time, we'd run late, and we got a ticket for doing an illegal right-hand turn. It was my idea to do the illegal turn to get there faster, and Ben was so cranky with himself for listening to me, because as a result we were even later. "How could you not see that sign?" the policeman had said, and Ben's mouth twisted with everything he probably wanted to say. "It was her!" The policeman took an incredible amount of time writing out the ticket, as if he knew we were running late and this was part of our punishment.
"Let's just go home," I'd said to Ben. "It's not going to work anyway. This is a sign. Let's not waste our money on the parking."
I wanted him to say something positive and comforting, but he was in a bad mood by now. He said, "That's a great attitude. Really great." He's not normally sarcastic.
Anyway, I know now that he didn't think it was going to work either. A week later he was eating Alice's banana muffins and getting all excited about adoption, before we even knew if this one had worked or not.
The embryologist was a young girl who didn't look all that much older than Madison. She tripped on something when we were walking into the treatment room, which I didn't think was a very good sign. Oops. There goes your embryo!
When I was in the chair, with my legs elegantly spread, waiting for the gigantic needle, she muttered something and none of us heard her.
"There's your embryo," she said again, embarrassed. Maybe it was her first time. We looked, and there, projected on the lit-up screen, was our potential baby.
It looked just like its non-brothers and non-sisters. A froth of bubbles. A magnified drop of water.
I didn't bother to marvel. I didn't bother to say anything like, "Oh, isn't it amazing." I didn't bother to keep the memory in my head, in case I one day had to describe it to my child. "I saw you when you were just a pretty little blastocyst, sweetie."
I didn't know the doctor who was doing the transfer. My lovely doctor is away in Paris at the moment because her daughter is getting married to a French lawyer. This doctor was a man, with a long somber face, and he reminded me of our tax accountant. An especially ominous sign. (We never get refunds.) My doctor normally chats away about whatever comes into her head, but this man didn't say anything until it was done. Then he showed us the embryo on the ult
rasound.
"Good. It's in the right spot," he said blandly, as if my uterus was a piece of industrial equipment.
It looked like the others did on the ultrasound. A tremulously blinking star.
I knew it wouldn't blink for long.
I looked away from the ultrasound screen to Ben, and he was studying his hands.
Bad signs all around.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.
After the butchers had finished their brainstorming I went up onstage and told them that my assistant Layla would be taking the remainder of the day, as if that was always the plan.
The butchers clapped her amiably when she stood up, a confused look on her face.
I walked out. I just couldn't get that blinking star out of my damned head.
Alice was walking toward the library at the school (her body seemed to know that it was through that double red door at the corner of the schoolyard) when Dominick appeared. He looked ruffled, his face creased with worry.
"Alice," he said. "I saw you through my office window. I've been trying to phone you."
"Sorry," said Alice. "I keep forgetting to charge my phone. Memory!" He didn't smile. "I called Nick, too," he said. "He's on his way."
"You called Nick? Why?" Was he going to fight him for her hand? Challenge him to a duel? (Except Nick didn't want her hand anymore. So, you know, maybe not much of a fight. Sure, mate, have her.)
"We've got a problem," said Dominick. "A serious problem with Madison."
Elisabeth's Homework for Jeremy After I left the seminar I got a phone call from Ben. His voice sounded like sandpaper.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he said.
I hung up.
I didn't like his tone.
Chapter 28
"Is she all right?" Terror flooded Alice's bloodstream, making her legs wobble so badly she had to hold on to Dominick's arm to steady herself.
"Oh, yes, sorry." Dominick smiled distractedly and patted Alice on the arm. "Physically, she's fine. It's just that we've had another incident, and I don't think we can ignore this one."
"Another incident?"
"Another bullying incident."
"Someone is bullying Madison?" She would throttle the kid. She would demand to see the parents. She was light-headed with rage. Someone had hurt the Sultana and she was going to have the brat for breakfast.
"Alice," said Dominick. He looked a little stern. School-principal stern. "It's Madison who is the bully."
"Madison wouldn't bully anyone." She knew her daughter. She'd only known her for five days, but she knew her.
And sure, maybe she could be moody and a little, well, aggressive, toward her brother and sister when she was riled, but that was just normal sibling rivalry (she hoped). Her heart was in the right place. Look at the way she helped Olivia choreograph her butterfly dance. Look at the way she helped Tom with his geography homework the other day. Okay, Tom said she was being annoying, and it had ended up with Madison stomping off in floods of tears and Tom slapping his hand to his forehead and rolling his eyes like a miniature version of his father, but, well ... Alice's daughter would not, could not, be a bully.
"Are you still--not yourself?" asked Dominick carefully.
"Not quite," said Alice.
"Well, this isn't the first time we've had problems with Madison. A little boy had to have stitches a few weeks ago after an altercation with Madison."
Ah, thought Alice. That was the "little incident" that Kate Harper had mentioned at the gym.
"I know she's having problems, after Gina's death, and with the divorce," continued Dominick, his forehead puckered with school principal-ish concern. "Alice, I'm so sorry, but this is really--oh." His voice changed as he saw someone over Alice's shoulder. "Here's your, ah--your ..."
Alice turned around and saw Nick coming toward them. He was wearing his suit and tie and talking into his mobile phone. His aura of business and decisions and important mustn't-be-disturbed meetings looked alien in the sunlit playground, with the sounds of children chanting something from the open window of a nearby classroom.
Dominick caught her eye. "Hope this isn't too awkward."
"Yes," said Alice awkwardly.
As he got closer, they heard him say, "Well, let's say two mil. Does that sound okay? Excellent. Bye." He snapped the phone shut with one hand and Alice wanted to say, Oh, Nick, honey, stop being such a wanker.
"Dominick, isn't it?" said Nick, holding out his hand, as if Dominick were there to sell them something.
"Yes, hi. How are you?" said Dominick. He was about a head taller than Nick and looked like a gangly schoolboy next to him. Alice wanted to hug him, but she wanted to hug Nick, too. They seemed like boys dressed up in grown-up bodies.
"This must be pretty important for you to call us both down," said Nick, an edge to his voice.
"Yes," said Dominick, and there was an answering edge in his voice. "Madison threatened to stab Chloe Harper with a pair of scissors. She also cut off a huge chunk of her hair and pushed her face into a cake. I'm going to have to suspend her at least until the school holidays. I think she needs to see a counselor."
"I see," said Nick, and he seemed to deflate and sag. All the power had gone to Dominick.
"There must be more to the story," said Alice. "She must have had a reason."
"It doesn't matter about her reason," said Dominick (a bit snootily, Alice thought, for someone who was trying to be her boyfriend). "It's unacceptable. And you can imagine how Kate Harper is going to react to this. She's on her way to the school, too."
So Chloe was the horrendous Kate Harper's little girl. Well, there you go. That explained everything.
"We'll have to--I don't know--offer some sort of compensation," sighed Nick.
"I don't think money is the answer in this particular case," said Dominick. Ke-pow.
"I didn't mean--"
"Anyway, I've got both girls waiting for us in my office," interrupted Dominick.
Alice and Nick followed behind him like naughty children. Alice made an "Isn't this appalling" face at Nick, and he grimaced.
In Dominick's office, Madison and another little girl were sitting on chairs in front of his desk. The little girl was sobbing in an outraged "I so deserve to cry" way, cradling something in her arms, and Alice saw with sick horror that it was a long, blond plait. She had bits of chocolate cake and cream and cherries smeared all over her face and school uniform and the shocking, hacked-off line of her blond hair stuck up over the back collar of her uniform.
"Oh, Madison," said Alice involuntarily. "How could you?"
Madison's face was dead white, her eyes shining with fury. She was sitting very still and straight with her hands in fists on her lap, the image of a little psychopathic killer brought into the police station for questioning.
"You've got some explaining to do, young lady," said Nick, and Alice nearly laughed. He sounded like a man playing the angry dad in a bad amateur play.
Madison didn't say anything.
"Do you want to tell your parents what happened?" said Dominick, sounding much more authentic.
Madison shook her head passionately, as if she were refusing to reveal state secrets to her torturers.
"She hasn't said a word," said Dominick to Alice.
The little girl dangled the blond plait in front of her, tears continuing to roll down her face. "Look at my hair. My mum is going to kill you, Madison Love. My hair is beautiful. It will take me years and years and years to grow it back. I will be, like, forty. You just did it because you're jealous , and you haven't even said ..." Her voice quavered, as if she were overcome with the horror of it. "You haven't even said sorry."
"Okay, Chloe," said Dominick. "Let's calm down."
"Madison, apologize to Chloe," said Alice, in a grim, forbidding voice she didn't recognize. "Right now."
"Sorry," muttered Madison.
"She isn't!" wailed Chloe, looking up at Alice and Nick. "She's just saying that! J
ust wait till my mum gets here!"
"Actually," said Dominick. "I don't think we will wait. I think Mr. and Mrs. Love can take Madison with them now."
He squatted down in front of Madison so they were face-to-face.
"Madison, I'm suspending you from school as of now," he said. "You can't be a part of this school and behave like that, do you understand? This is very, very serious."
Madison nodded. Her face had now gone from white to flaming red.
"Right then." Dominick stood up. "Go and get your bag and meet your parents at the gate."
Madison shot from the room, and Chloe burst into a fresh flood of tears.
"Okay, Chloe," said Dominick wearily. "Your mum will be here soon. Just wait here."
He ushered Nick and Alice out of the room, closing the door behind him.
"There's probably not much point you having to see Kate now, while everyone is in such a state," he said. "I think you should take Madison home and try and talk to her and get an idea of what's going on in her head. I would seriously recommend counseling. I can give you some names." There was a sound of hurriedly clicking heels in the distance. "I bet that's Kate. Go." He waved them away, as if he were saving them from the secret police. "Disappear!"
Nick and Alice fled through the playground. They stopped at the school gates. Nick was panting. Alice wasn't. She was much fitter than he was.
"That was awful," said Alice. "I feel like I cut off that child's hair myself. And the cake! She spent so long making that cake. Poor little thing."
"Chloe?" said Nick.
"No, Madison," said Alice. "Who cares about Chloe?"
"Alice, our child threatened to stab her with a pair of scissors."
"Well, I know that," said Alice.
Nick pulled out his mobile phone from his pocket, flipped it open. "I don't see how suspending her helps anything," he said, while frowning at something on the screen of his phone. "It's like they're putting their hands in the air and saying, 'We don't know what to do with her.' Absolving themselves of responsibility." He looked up at Alice. "Not to criticize your boyfriend or anything."
"I guess it's school policy," said Alice, feeling both defensive of Dominick and betrayed by him. Didn't kissing the school principal give you a free pass when it came to suspending your daughter?