Page 84 of The Alice Equation (The Laws of Love 1)

Chapter Sixteen

Arms and legsovertaken with weariness, Alice climbed the steps up to the porch.

Click.Damn, they still hadn’t replaced that stupid light bulb. She fumbled; badly trembling fingers unable to locate her keys in her bag.

After several minutes of frantic scrabbling, she gave up, turned her bag upside-down and dumped the contents on the ground. On all fours she felt around in the pile of pen tops, lolly wrappers and a couple of floral-wrapped tampons until her hand closed around the Rubik’s Cube. Her lip wobbled. It was less than four weeks ago that Aaron had helped her locate her keys in the dark, both of them laughing as they made their way to the kitchen, laughing as he filled up Mum’s best shot glasses. Laughter replaced with groans of approval when he’d kissed her and stolen the last little sliver of her heart she’d kept safe from him.

The tears she’d forced back this past hour now rolled in a steady stream down her cheeks. They plopped onto the porch, drenching the fingers she used to try to stem them. Finally she located a scrunched-up tissue amid the debris on the ground and blew her nose noisily. Wiped her eyes.

She started to slowly place the items back in her bag and was standing up, door key poised, when she recognised Cathy Brightwater’s strident voice.

“Yoo-hoo, Alice?”

Alice jammed her back against the front door. Cathy, their next-door neighbour, was lovely, but made everyone’s business her business. Mostly, Alice and Polly were unerringly patient. Cathy had lost her husband in a freak motorbike accident and her son had a drug problem. Cathy needed kindness. But it was 10 p.m. on the night her friend with benefits/fake boyfriend/flirting coach had just broken her heart, and Alice was not in the mood.

Cathy, to Alice’s utmost horror, was running up the path in her dressing gown. As she got closer, Alice could detect something large waving in the air above her head.

“I saw your cab draw up and thought I should bring this over. It wouldn’t fit in your letterbox so I said I’d take it in for you.”

Alice blinked. Crying and contact lenses were an awful combination. Cathy was a blur as she came up the steps and handed the package to Alice. What she could tell as she took it was that it was fortified with reams of tape and heavier than it looked.

Cathy hovered and Alice got the impression she wanted her to open it. Which was ridiculous. It was late at night. It was pitch-black. And her world was falling apart.

She had to assert some clear boundaries. “Thank you, Cathy. I’m really tired—long day. Oh, be careful how you navigate down the steps. The outside light’s blown.”

Reluctantly, Cathy turned. Alice watched her retreat, one arm out for balance as she teetered down the path. As she closed the gate, she called out, “It says it’s from Rowena Montgomery. From some place in England. Lovely mum of yours, sending you a present.”

Alice managed a watery smile that she knew Cathy wouldn’t see so she called back, “Thanks again, Cathy. Good night.”

Inside she threw her bag and keys and the package onto the kitchen table. Then she went to the bathroom, jabbed around until she’d got the little bits of film out of her eyes and groped her way to the bedroom to find her glasses.

She avoided looking at the back of her bedroom door.

She’d probably never be able to look at her bedroom door again; she’d have to feel her way to it with her eyes scrunched shut. It was probably for the best that they’d only made love—correction, had sex—a handful of times. Otherwise the memories would be unbearable.

Back in the kitchen, she stared at her mum’s bold, rounded script for long moments.

She was too tired to deal with it now…except… maybe if her mum was buying a bookshop in England, well, maybe that was her escape route. She’d go to “overcoming your flying phobia” classes, buy a round-the-world ticket and finally end up in some delightful little Harry-Potter-esque town with spires and magical happenings, and a beautiful young English man—probably an earl or a lord—would burst through the door one day, wanting to buy a first edition of Byron’s collected works and—

What was wrong with her? This was like imagining herself a dad. Only worse.

Grabbing a sharp knife, Alice sat down and ripped it through the top of the thick brown paper. Felt around inside. A raft of papers. She pulled them out and scattered them in a pile on the tabletop.

No for-sale leaflets from real estate agents. No photos of a bow-windowed shop with books on display.

Photos, yes, of the same person, and articles… Confused, she frowned as she sifted through them.

Professor Henry Beacham-Brown talks about his recent research on the life of Oscar Wilde.

Henry Beacham-Brown comes out.

Cambridge Professor comes clean about his homosexuality.

Henry in love.

Henry Beacham-Brown marries long-term partner, actor Gabriel West.

What on earth had this got to do with anything?

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