UPSTAIRS, ALICE WONDER’S HOUSE, 7 FOLLY BRIDGE, OXFORD, 10:56 A.M.
L ike a mad thief, I am climbing up the water pipe leading to my room in the house I supposedly lived in in the past. The Pillar waits by the corner of the streets to make sure no one sees me. Two-thirds of my climb up, I ask myself who I really am, and what in the world is happening all around me. When I almost slip and fall, I forget all about it and realize that sometimes in life all we can do is keep climbing, even when it doesn’t make any sense anymore.
I guess it’s some sort of survival mechanism for those who have no clue what the snicker snack is going on with their lives.
At the top of the pipe, I look down at the Pillar, making sure this is my room I am about to enter. He nods and pulls out binoculars. He begins to track my sisters’ movements downstairs while I find the window to my room half open. I have very little time to get this done. About ten minutes.
There is a pot of tiger lilies by the windowsill of my room. It reminds me of Jack. But I can’t afford to remember what happened to him at the Fat Duck restaurant right now. I avoid the lilies and try not to make a sound while I get inside.
The reason why I am here is the clue left by the Hatter. If I am supposed to be Mary Ann, according to the White Rabbit chapter in Alice in Wonderland , then I should also be here fetching gloves and a fan.
In the book, Mary Ann is supposed to be the housemaid, and the White Rabbit says the following to Alice after mistaking her for Mary Ann: “Run home this moment, and fetch me a pair of gloves and a fan! Quick, now! ”
It might seem far-fetched—insane, to say the least. But I have no other choice but to hang on to the thin thread of a clue in hopes of stopping the bomb.
I am back home— if it was ever mine.
I am pulling out the drawers and looking under the beds for a pair of gloves and a fan while the Pillar makes sure I won’t get caught by my obnoxious sisters downstairs.
Now I only have nine minutes to get this done.
The room means nothing to me. Nothing. I don’t remember being here before. I don’t remember sleeping in this bed or playing inside these four walls. I don’t remember a mother tucking me into bed at night, nor do I remember playing with my sisters.
The room is strangely covered in yellow wallpaper, which also means nothing to me—what child has yellow wallpaper in her room? It reminds me of the asylum. The Pillar told me once that Alice’s dress was yellow in the original copy of the book, a gesture of madness.
As I rummage for the gloves and the fan, I wonder if I could sink deeper into my memories. How deep should I dig to get there? Will I ever remember what happened to me when I was seven years old, claiming I fell in a rabbit hole? Why don’t I have even one single memory of my younger self?
Eight minutes to go.
I shake the useless thoughts away and think about saving lives by stopping the bomb.
It takes me a few seconds to find what I am looking for. It’s too simple to be true.
There is an exquisite fan tucked in the bottom of my lower drawer near the bed. It’s a bit old, although intact and unused. When I open it, I see pictures of tiger lilies, pink umbrellas, and golden keys, like the one Lewis gave me. This is definitely the fan I am looking for. It definitely belongs to me. But how is it supposed to help me stop the bomb?
I rummage further through the huge drawer. Far in the back, I find a pair of white gloves. They are small, maybe belonging to a ten- or eleven-year-old. One of the gloves is a bit heavy. There is something inside. I delve into it, and I find a small cell phone.
I push the ON button and look through the contact list. It’s the first thing that comes to mind. But there are no contacts. So what’s the point of it being in there?
Did I miss something? Finding the gloves in the drawer, and the phone inside is enough evidence that I am following the clues the way the Hatter planned.
Then I hear a beep. It’s a message. No, it’s a picture. I tap my feet impatiently, waiting for it to load while I try to keep an alert ear in case one of my sisters decides to enter the room all of a sudden.
While the picture loads, the phone shows a rabbit late for an important date, running around a green garden.
I have only six minutes to go.
The picture finally loads.
When I see it, I clap my hand over my mouth, suppressing a shriek. My stomach churns. I can’t believe what I am looking at.