‘I’ll be back,’ Luke promises. ‘Hang on in there, Alice. I’ll come back tomorrow, like I said. I know that you’re lost right now, but I hope you’ll come back, too.’
‘We’ve been here before,’ the Hatter says, pouring tea. ‘Do you remember?’
My head aches with the effort, but I can’t seem to dredge up the memory. I would like to remember, though. I really would. I’m sure the Hatter in the book I once read wasn’t this young, this smiley. I’m sure he isn’t supposed to make my heart race.
‘I don’t remember,’ I admit. ‘I don’t remember anything!’
‘You will,’ the Hatter promises. ‘You’re just a little lost right now, but I’m going to find you, I promise …’
I reach out to take the offered teacup, but suddenly someone yanks the tablecloth and everything flies up in the air in a mess of china and cutlery and fabric, as if a hurricane has hit. I’m pulled into the whirlwind too, into the vortex, as if I’m being dragged back up the rabbit hole this time instead of falling down it. And then the hurricane dumps me down again, alone in the woods in the darkness. I can hear the Hatter’s promise swirling around my head, but he has gone, and the ache of loneliness in my throat is so sharp I think it might choke me.
A single tear slides out from beneath the lashes of the girl lying motionless in the ICU. The tear slips down her cheek, but the nurses are brisk and busy, checking machines and drips and temperature and blood pressure. Checking for tears is not on their list, and in the half-light of a hectic ICU, nobody sees.
So … yeah. Seven minute heaven.
I was beyond embarrassed. I followed Luke into the shadowy hallway, a few half-hearted wolf-whistles and catcalls following us, my face aflame.
‘I hate this,’ I said. ‘I might as well just tell you now, Luke. It just feels so fake, so cringey. I didn’t think people actually acted this way outside American teen movies.’
Luke laughed. ‘I don’t think they do. Savvy’s great, but she’s trying a bit too hard …’
‘All-girls school,’ I said. ‘We tend to either over-compensate and go wild – that’s Savvy – or else just freeze up totally when there are boys around. I fall into the second category, obviously.’
‘You don’t look frozen to me,’ Luke said. ‘Spin the bottle is really not my style, but I wanted to talk to you, so don’t go freezing up on me, Alice Beech. So. How do we get out of here?’
‘Out of here?’ I echoed. ‘I don’t think we do …’
Luke had other ideas. He spotted the back door, turned the handle and we stepped out on to the darkened patio. I remembered the bit in Alice in Wonderland when Alice wants to shrink and step through the tiny door into a magic garden, and wondered if it would have felt this way.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked.
‘Exploring,’ Luke said. ‘Or maybe escaping. Who cares?’
He took my hand again in the dark and I felt a jolt of pure joy fizz through me. I wanted to throw my head back and laugh at the velvet night sky, the stars that seemed to be shining just for us.
Then I remembered that Luke had just spent seven minutes alone with Lainey, and my heart stopped soaring and sank like a stone. I was an idiot, so easily fooled it was a joke. I pulled my hand away.
‘What’s up?’ he asked.
‘Did you have fun with Lainey?’ I asked. ‘I bet she didn’t mind holding hands.’
Luke laughs. ‘She didn’t mind at all,’ he said. ‘She practically had me in a headlock. She kissed me, which was flattering, I suppose, but look, Alice, I don’t like Lainey; I like you.’
I battled with jealousy, pride and distrust. ‘You really don’t like Lainey?’ I checked. ‘Are you sure? Because she seems very keen on you …’
He held his hands up in the darkness, grinning. His blue eyes seemed as dark as the sky; brighter than the stars.
‘She’s a nice girl,’ Luke said. ‘Friendly …’
‘Very,’ I said.
Luke just laughed. ‘You want the truth? It wasn’t a good kiss. It was a bit like being pinned down by an overenthusiastic Labrador. Don’t tell her I said that …’
‘I won’t,’ I said. ‘A Labrador? Really?’
‘Come on, Alice,’ Luke said. ‘You know I’m not interested in Lainey, I’m interested in you. We used to be friends, once, and then you dropped right off the radar and vanished. I mean, people do lose touch, right? I wanted to talk, that’s all. I’ve missed you.’
I smiled in the darkness.
I felt stronger, braver, more alive than I had in ages. I wasn’t acting, I wasn’t playing a part – I felt like the last couple of years had never happened. Shy Alice, quiet Alice, loner Alice – it was like she’d never existed.
Whatever I’d felt about Luke in the summer after Year Six, this was different. Attraction fizzed through me like Savvy’s fruit punch, sweet and tangy and unexpected. And Luke had missed me; that knowledge made my cheeks burn with pleasure.
We were at the bottom of the garden, standing under a huge oak tree that had an old tyre swing hanging from one sturdy branch. I tried to imagine Savvy or her glamorous big sister as kids, shrieking and swinging through the air on the tyre swing, and failed. I ducked away from Luke and walked up to the swing, pushing it a little so that it swayed gently. The rope creaked as though it was waking up after years of being asleep. I felt kind of the same.
‘You’d have been up on that swing, a couple of years ago,’ Luke teased. ‘You had a bit of a tomboy streak then. Remember when you climbed that tree by the junior school playground because Peter Kelly threw Yaz’s skipping rope into the branches? You rescued it, too. I was impressed.’
‘That was in Year Four,’ I remembered. ‘I only did it because Yaz was crying. I never did like Peter Kelly.’
‘Do you remember the rice pudding day?’ he asked, reminding me of his truth or dare revelation from earlier. ‘D’you forgive me?’
‘I might …’
On impulse, I gripped the weatherworn rope and placed a foot on the tyre swing, pulling myself up. The tyre swayed lazily and I closed my eyes and imagined I was nine years old again; the kind of girl who loved life and climbed trees and had the whole world at her feet. The kind of girl I used to be, and wanted to be again.
Luke just laughed and within minutes he’d grabbed the rope and hauled himself up to face me, the tyre swing lurching haphazardly from side to side.
‘Is it strong enough to hold us both?’ I asked, my voice no more than a whisper. Luke’s feet were pressing against mine from either side; his hands were clasped just above mine on the weathered rope, and his face was so close I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek and inhale the sharp spearmint smell of his chewing gum. My hair fell like a curtain between us and Luke raised a hand to push it away, his fingers grazing my skin.
He didn’t answer my question; I think we both forgot I’d even asked it. The tyre swing steadied, slowed, and the two of us held on, a breath apart, until he moved or I moved and somehow we weren’t even a breath apart any more.