Constance’s House, Oxford, a few months earlier
T he Chauffeur had dropped off Professor Carter Pillar — or whatever his real name is — a few blocks away from Constance’s house. At the time, the police were looking for the professor. He’d just been sentenced to a lifetime in an asylum a day before, after the court denied allegations as a serial killer and declared him insane.
The Pillar’s plans were going well. He’d planned his access into the asylum some time ago. It was the only way he could meet Alice and make her trust him. But before he gave himself in, he needed to make sure of something. He needed a little info only one girl could provide. Constance Westmacott.
Constance’s foster mother opened the door and welcomed Professor Pillar, who’d disguised himself as psychological analyst sent by her child’s school.
“Is she inside?” the Pillar asked.
“She is,” the foster mother said. “Like always, locking herself inside her room.”
“Will she let me in?”
“Only if you told her you believed in Alice.”
“As in Alice from Wonderland?” The Pillar acted as if he didn’t know.
“Yes, that Alice.” The mother sighed. “Can you believe she thinks Alice is real? The Hatter, too?”
“She said something about the Hatter?”
“Many things. He is her second favorite in the story. She thinks he is the one who really understands Alice.”
“I liked Alice in Wonderland as a child, too,” the Pillar said. “Though I preferred the Caterpillar over the Hatter.”
The woman gave the Pillar an inquisitive look. “Are you going to help Constance?”
“I’ll do my best.”
And then the woman let him inside…
Entering Constance’s room wasn’t much trouble. He’d knocked and told her he was the Caterpillar, the real Caterpillar, and that he’d been friends with Alice and the Hatter. Constance opened the door immediately, and though she didn’t buy into his story, she let him in, rewarding his effort.
“You think I’m insane, too?” Constance said while she continued drawing pictures of Alice on the wall.
The drawings were all of Alice Pleasant Wonder. In a logical world it wouldn’t have made any sense that a seven-year-old introvert would guess how the Real Alice looked.
But Constance wasn’t a normal girl. She was the Inklings’ number six. And she knew it. But she rarely told anyone, because who’d believe her?
“I do think you’re insane.” The Pillar sat on the only sofa in the room, legs resting over one another.
Constance grimaced, and thought of telling him to leave.
“But I love insane people,” the Pillar said. She smiled shyly. “Insane people are the smartest.” He leaned forward as if they were old friends with a life-long secret. “They know things that others don’t know.”
Constance nodded eagerly, but then her faced dimmed. “But the others think they are the ones who are sane.”
“How would the insane know they’re insane?” The Pillar waved a hand. “Don’t bother. Just believe in yourself.”
“You know something?” She leaned forward, too. “I think you really are the Caterpillar.”
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “But you told me you didn’t believe me when I was at the door.”
“I was afraid I’d scare you away. I mean, I knew you were trying to be funny and play along. But you are the Caterpillar. Just like many other Wonderlanders I meet. They don’t know they are Wonderlanders.”
“Hmm…” The Pillar rubbed his chin, thinking deeply. “So Wonderland is real, right?”
“Always has been. I’ve seen you there, but you weren’t a good man.”
“Really?” The Pillar squealed in a funny manner, so she wouldn’t fear him. “Aren’t you afraid of me then?”
“I’m not, because you don’t remember that you were evil. You don’t even remember that you’re the Real Caterpillar.” She snickered playfully, cupping a hand on her mouth.
“So not all Wonderlanders remember, huh?”
“I do. But can’t find anyone else who does.” She looked sad. “I’m an Inkling.”
“Ink-what?”
“Inkling. We’re Lewis Carroll’s army. We used to fight the bad people.”
“And what happened then?”
“It’s a long story, but we were transported to this world. So were the bad guys.”
“Then how come you remember who you are?”
“Because I’m strong.” She flexed her right arm’s muscle in a playful way.
“Come on,” the Pillar teased her. “You’re tiny and short. You’re only seven. You can’t be strong.”
“You don’t understand. Lewis made me strong.”
“How so?”
“Okay, listen.” Constance gave it a thought, as if trying to find the right angle from which she could make him understand. It’s as if she was worried the Pillar wasn’t smart enough to get the picture. “Do you remember the photographs Lewis Carroll took of the children?”
“Of course.”
“Those girls were his power. Some kind of spell.”
“Spell?”
“Lewis knew he’d die after he’d hidden the Six Keys, and…”
“Wait a second,” the Pillar said. “You know about the Six Keys, Constance?”
She nodded silently, her eyes concealing the rest of what she knew.
“Do you know where they are?”
She shook her head.
“Come on, Constance. You’re a terrible liar.”
“Trust me, I don’t know. I just know that Lewis hid them, then chewed a flower that forced him to forget where he did.”
The Pillar wasn’t convinced, but he decided he could postpone looking into the Six Keys for now. He was here for a most important question.
“Never mind,” he said. “Tell me about the girls he photographed and the spell.”
“Lewis knew he was dying soon, but he wanted his spirit to live on,” she began. “Through the photographs, he created a bond with life through the children’s love for him. As long as the photos survived, it was unlikely that his spirit would die in the future.”
“That’s why he needed so many, right?”
“Right. But later, when the Alice in Wonderland books became a bestseller, he didn’t need the pictures anymore.”
“Why not?” the Pillar wondered.
“Because the many children who read his books and loved them granted his spirit the ability to live on. It’s the power of love through books. A reader’s mind, when stimulated and provoked, rewards the author with such love so strong that their spirit may live forever.”
“Understood.” The Pillar nodded. “But where do you fit in all of this?”
“I have the spirit of every girl he photographed in me,” Constance announced proudly. “That’s why I am strong, and that’s why I look different now from when I was in Wonderland. Every few years I change my look to be like one of the girls in the photographs.”
“Oh.” The Pillar had never heard about the spell before, but Lewis had been a man of many secrets, so he wasn’t surprised. What mattered was knowing that Constance still remembered who she was herself out of being so many girls inside one body. This made her an unusual little girl, and a strong one.
Now, the Pillar needed to ask her the question he’d come for. He’d already guessed the answer through Constance’s behavior, but it didn’t hurt to ask.
“Who is that girl in the pictures you’re drawing, Constance?” the Pillar asked.
“That’s Alice.”
“How did you remember her features so well?”
“Because she’d been my friend back in Wonderland.”
“But I know a girl in this life who looks just the same. You think it’s her, too?”
“The one in the asylum?”
Constance’s words shook him. He wondered what kind of powers Lewis had granted the little child. “Yes, that one.” The Pillar smiled.
“She just doesn’t remember much after the accident.”
“The bus?”
Constance nodded eagerly.
“Do you know what exactly happened on the bus? Do you know why she had to kill everyone on it?”
Constance continued her nods and told the Pillar why. The Pillar listened carefully and then asked her another question. “So here is my final question, Constance, but you have to really pay attention because lives will be counting on your answer.”
“I know what you want to ask me,” she said. “And the answer is yes, the girl in the asylum is the Real Alice.”
The Pillar leaned back and let out a long sigh. He was finally ready to start this journey. He kissed Constance on the head and left to go to the asylum.