The Liberation of Alice Love(30)
Author: Abby McDonald

Given that her savings were still being held hostage by the bank, her credit rating would cause even a daytime-TV-ad loan company to pause, and Julian was otherwise engaged picking out new linens with Yasmin, Alice had no alternative but to accept Flora’s offer of a place to stay. She moved her things out that same day, as soon as Cassie’s S&M lite session came to its natural—and loud—conclusion.

***

“It’s not that bad,” Alice said into her phone, the day after her move. By her calculations, this made three in under a month, although her stock of possessions seemed to be dwindling while every accommodation improved. At this rate, she’d be living out of a single suitcase in a castle somewhere by the end of summer.

Julian laughed, familiar and comforting even through the mobile speaker. “I thought you said you would throttle her if you spent more than two days in her company?”

“I did?” Alice reached into the huge stainless steel fridge and paused over the selection of three different types of bottled water. “When?”

“Years ago.”

“Well, I was wrong. Stefan’s away on business again, but I’ve hardly seen her so far, she’s spent most of the day out in her studio, working.”

Evian it was. Alice unscrewed the top and took a cool gulp, wandering to where the French doors were thrown open, filling the kitchen with a gentle breeze and the faint scent of roses. She stopped, gazing at the expanse of neat lawn and mature trees: an idyllic summer scene enclosed behind the tall, crumbling walls. “What am I even saying? I’m ridiculously lucky to be staying here. With everything Ella put me through, I could be out on the streets by now.”

“Have they made any progress?” Julian asked. “I mean, do we even know her real name yet?”

“No,” Alice answered slowly. “She’s still a Jane Doe as far as the police are concerned.” She paused, wondering whether to divulge her own work but said instead, “I have another meeting with the investigator later, so perhaps he’s found something new.”

“Probably best to leave it to them, now that you’re moving on.” Julian sounded relieved. “I was getting worried, all that time you spent wallowing over it.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Alice murmured. This was why she hadn’t told anyone about her private investigations—not even revealing to Flora the true extent of her project. She was supposed to be forgetting about everything and just letting the professionals get on with their work, but instead, Alice was becoming even more determined to discover everything she could about Ella’s duplicitous double life. The things she knew now may be simple, minor details—nothing more than Ella’s love of American TV drama box sets, her strange adventures in Italian cooking, her real bra size—but they were true. And the truth, to Alice, could not be overestimated.

She pressed the cold water bottle against her throat, savoring the icy sting against the sweltering heat. To her disappointment, her stack of statements had finally been exhausted. She must have been using other secret cards and accounts, because Ella’s trail was thin, and far from complete.

“So are we still on for the film later?” she asked. “My meeting won’t run long, so I can be at Southbank by six.”

“Uh, that’s actually why I called.” Julian paused. “I can’t make it, I’m afraid.”

“What? Julian Hargreaves missing out on a Hitchcock showing?” Alice joked. “What happened—a death in the family?”

Julian laughed. “No, sorry. Yasmin has a company dinner she needs me for.”

“Oh, well have fun.” Alice bit her lip. She hadn’t seen him for at least two weeks; now that she thought about it, their long-standing lunches and film nights falling aside with Alice’s upheaval. “Maybe we could do a pub lunch this weekend? What was the place we found in London Fields?”

“The Drooping Whistle?” Julian chuckled.

“That was it.” Alice laughed. “Dirtiest pub name ever. How about Saturday?”

“Sure, I’ll check with Yasmin. I think she’s free.”

“Great. I’ll see you both then.”

Snapping her phone shut, Alice took her drink and wandered back through the house to freshen up before her meeting with Nathan. When she had arrived, Alice had braced herself for a cacophony of printed wallpaper or waterfalls of embroidered lace, but instead she’d been pleasantly surprised by the large, airy space. There may have been rosebud upholstery on the window seat and floating muslin draped from the canopied double bed, but the look was simple and fresh rather than Flora’s typical cluttered chintz. She’d even hung Alice’s favorite of her paintings over the mantle: a washed sunset scene that captured the light beautifully.

Crossing to the antique wardrobe, Alice quickly dressed. This time, she wouldn’t be caught off guard in a wrinkled blouse and unwashed ponytail; she’d already blow-dried her hair into sleek submission and hung out her navy shirtdress in preparation. There. She knew that making such an effort was foolish, given that Nathan seemed to have forgotten he’d ever flirted with her, but for some reason, it felt like a matter of pride to Alice to seem efficient and put together at the very least.

Tripping lightly back down the sweeping staircase past a procession of Flora’s artwork and beaming family pictures, Alice paused by the front hall. Should she let Flora know she was leaving? Cassie had taken it for granted that Alice would come and go as she pleased, but somehow, being installed in the pristine guest suite felt different, as if Flora were a proper hostess rather than a friend. Which was almost more complicated, Alice realized, given that they were family and should be even more casual around each other. Deciding to err on the side of politeness, she quickly made her way down the winding, polished hallway and tapped lightly on Flora’s studio door.

“Come in!”

Alice cautiously entered. Stefan had spent a vast amount of money knocking through several walls to create the perfect artistic environment for Flora; now a long, L-shaped sunroom stretched almost along the length of the house, with huge sash windows flooding the room in light. Stacks of fresh canvas leaned against one wall, a paint-stained table was covered with pots of color and pastels, and a set of comfy couches were arranged in the far corner, surrounded with vases of lilacs. It was there that Flora was curled up, sketching.

“I was just heading out…” Alice gestured awkwardly.