The Liberation of Alice Love(65)
Author: Abby McDonald

“Hi,” Alice began brightly, sliding into a seat. “Sorry I’m late, the class ran over and then the Tube…Well, you know how it is.” She gave an apologetic smile, even though Julian’s invitation had said nothing about Yasmin joining them. She had, it seemed, ascended to the ranks of automatic inclusion, a rare feat indeed. Alice scooped a handful of chips from the bowl in front of them, reminding herself to be friendly. “So, how have you been?”

Yasmin wet her lips. “Oh, fine.” She shrugged vaguely, glancing back toward the bar. “Work, the usual.” There was a pause. “And, you?”

“I’ve been great.” Alice dunked a chip in ketchup and savored the crisp, greasy crunch. For some reason, she always craved salt and fat after her gym workouts, even though it must cancel out all her health points. “Things have been hectic what with—” Alice caught herself. “No, I better wait until Julian gets back, save you hearing everything twice.” She looked around. “Where’s he disappeared to?”

“He’s just getting our drinks.” Yasmin shifted in her seat. She looked uncomfortable, more so than usual.

“So…” Alice searched for noncontentious topics. “Work going well?”

Yasmin gave a tiny shrug. “Same as usual, I suppose. Busy,” she added, twisting her watch strap.

“Oh. Well, that’s good.”

In the absence of any more small talk, Alice reached for another chip, smothering her disappointment with more starch and fat. She’d been looking forward to an evening with Julian like the kind they’d used to share: relaxed and easy, stretching over hours and a bottle of wine as they caught up with news and future plans. She’d wanted some time alone for a change, to tell him about her adventures in Italy, and all—

Alice paused, a chip wavering halfway to her mouth. He hadn’t called, she remembered suddenly. Alice had left that message with him from her police cell in Rome, but Julian hadn’t been in touch at all, except the brief text setting up drinks that night. She’d assumed that he’d called Stefan and been updated on their rescue efforts, but even so, wouldn’t foreign arrest warrant some kind of follow-up inquiry?

“Hi, Aly!” Julian appeared at their table, balancing their drinks. His hair was shorter, neatly cut for a change, and he was wearing a surprisingly designer-looking navy suit. “White OK? I thought I’d get you started.”

“Thanks.” She took it from him before everything spilled.

“So, how have you been?” Julian collapsed into a chair beside Yasmin. “Did you go to that art fair you were talking about? I would have called about it, but we were caught up this weekend—some friends of Yasmin’s visiting from the States.”

Alice stared at him curiously. An art fair?

“So, of course we did the tourist things, and I managed to get a table at Nobu.” Julian paused to take a gulp of his beer. “But all those reviews of the service must be crazy, because our waiter was awful. Remember the mix-up with the crab?” He nudged Yasmin. She nodded faintly. “But Yauatcha was excellent—we’ll all have to go again sometime. You’ll love it there,” he told Alice.

“Oh. Right.” Alice paused, still thrown by his nonchalance. He must not have found her message at all, she realized. He certainly wouldn’t be chatting on about tourists and art fairs if he knew she’d passed her weekend in a police cell. “Actually, I didn’t make that fair,” she began, suddenly relishing the prospect of seeing his reaction in person. “I was away. In Italy.”

Julian spluttered on his drink. “What? Italy? How the hell…?”

Alice laughed at his stunned expression. “That’s not the best part. I got arrested!” The words still sounded foreign coming from her lips, but she couldn’t help feeling a glow of triumph at the shock on Julian’s face. Alice Love was predictable no more.

Julian blinked at her for a moment in disbelief, but then his face relaxed. “God, for a moment there, I believed you.” He shook his head, laughing. “Italy, huh? Did you bring me back some pasta?”

Alice was about to inform him that she really wasn’t joking when Yasmin got to her feet. “Could you just…” She gestured, interrupting. Alice moved aside to let her past, and she disappeared toward the toilets.

“So, come on. What did you really get up to?” Julian slouched back in his seat, idly picking at the label on his bottle. “More contract work dragging on?”

Alice looked at him, a touch annoyed. “I’m not kidding, I promise. I went to Rome for the weekend; it was a spontaneous trip.” She frowned. “You really didn’t get my message?”

“What message?”

“I called, from the police station, when they arrested me.”

Julian still looked unconvinced.

“I’m telling you the truth,” Alice protested. “I swear, on…on my first-edition Noel Streatfields,” she declared. Julian had tracked down the books for her as a birthday gift, years ago; Alice didn’t tend to prize possessions, but those were sacred.

Slowly, the truth began to dawn. Julian’s eyes widened. “No! Really?”

Alice grinned. “Really!”

She sat back and took a sip of her wine, waiting for the barrage of questions and curiosity, but instead, Julian just looked at her, frowning.

“What?” Alice finally asked. “Don’t you want to know what happened?”

“You went temporarily insane?” Julian’s voice rose. “God, Alice, what the hell were you thinking?”

Alice tensed at his disapproving tone. “I don’t know, that I’d go on a weekend city break, like thousands of other people?”

“You got arrested!”

“Well, obviously I didn’t plan that part!” She stared at him, bemused. “But you’d know all of this if you checked your messages. Jules, I can’t believe you. What if they hadn’t let me make any more calls? I could still be locked up there, waiting for you to send someone from the embassy!”

“I didn’t get any messages,” Julian insisted, whipping out his phone as evidence. He tapped the screen a few times. “See, no new voicemails. You must have dialed the international code wrong.”

“I did not.” Alice folded her arms. She remembered Julian’s outgoing message quite clearly. “Maybe you deleted it by accident, or something.”