Aunt had fallen badly, going down
like a sack of coal, knocking her head
on the tarmac. I froze. Some onlookers
came across to help resuscitate her.
Beatrice, tearful, called an ambulance.
They came promptly and Aunt was
placed on a stretcher and wheeled
inside. She hadn’t come around.
The paramedics looked anxious.
Beatrice and I clambered up into
the vehicle. At once we set off for
the hospital. The sirens blared.
We raced through the choked streets,
ignoring traffic lights. This was bad.
When I’d taken the ring
from my finger, and it sat
in the palm of my hand,
Beatrice handed me a
small manila envelope.
Pop it inside, she said
tenderly, and we sealed
it up. It was as if a crazy
episode in my life had
concluded. There was
no turning back. Next
time, Augustus, choose
a girl who isn’t completely
cuckoo in the head. I smiled
meekly, promising to that.
Aunt made copious amounts of strong
tea. Tom, seeing that I was genuinely
hurt, restricted himself to sanctimonious
banter about the grief of loving women.
Uncle told him to shut up. At mealtimes
I jabbed at the food with my fork, hardly
listening to the flow of inane conversation.
I kept mostly to my room. The urge to
write sad, heartbroken poetry had come
over me. I would memorialize Alice, then
burn all my words.
Beatrice scowled murderously.
I think you had better leave, she
barked, her voice wrathful. But
Alice stood her ground. I couldn’t
help thinking she was impressive.
I will have my word with Augustus,
and then I shall depart, Alice said
calmly, but firmly. She guided me
like a blind man. Everyone was struck
dumb by this. I moved mechanically
to the banister. I didn’t look at Alice.
Like a lamb to the slaughterhouse,
l ascended the creaking stairs.
No more texts came, and the edge
dulled on my anxiety. Beatrice was
suddenly bubbly and charming.
I was pleasantly distracted by the
fascinating tall stories that tumbled
from her mouth. I became the butt-end
of all Tom’s tasteless jokes. We only
met at mealtimes, but his impression
of me as a swooning lover was greeted
with delight. Leave the poor boy alone,
cautioned Aunt, who nevertheless
giggled breathlessly. This rankled me.
It was at this time my cousin Tom
made a reappearance in our lives.
Mid-semester break at university
brought him home. He was reading
engineering, thoroughly enthralled
by his studies. Tom, so much my
senior, liked to rib me. So, Augustus,
I’ve been hearing you’ve got woman
troubles, he chided, when we were
all having supper. Well my advice,
Augustus, said Tom, would be to
steer well clear of difficult females.
Beatrice nodded her head approvingly.
Fortunately Tom dropped the subject
after this, and we all ate eagerly. While
Tom was recounting a raucous, alcohol-
fuelled party, my phone pinged in my
pocket. My heart pounded wildly. It
was Alice.
Alice’s clothes were gone,
the hangars still swayed,
as if she’d only recently left.
I searched for a note, but there
was nothing. She must have
sneaked away in the night,
like a common thief. I felt
appalled. Uncle cracked
his fingers nervously. I had
this overwhelming urge to
shout and rage at my absent
girlfriend. Beatrice patted
my shoulders supportively.
I looked sternly into her eyes.
But she hid her feelings well.
There was only the faintest
trace of I told you so.
This time it was me who overheard
Alice on the phone. She was squeezed
up near the broom cupboard, having
an in-depth yak with her Father. Alice
was talking about it all going her own
way, to which I could clearly hear her
Father snort with pleasure. Alice had
the phone pressed up hard to her lips,
adding to the sense that something illicit
was going on. I choked. Alice was alert
to my presence. She hung up quickly
and bounded at me from her corner.
You’re spying on me, aren’t you, she
chided gently, with mock alarm. I said
no. But my face reddened, and I knew
I must report this to Uncle.
From that time, Alice turned cold
towards me. She wore a permanent
frozen expression, like she’d been
deeply wronged. She no longer kissed
me in her eager, affectionate way.
We barely spoke a word. I felt a glacial
wind blowing in my life. As if all the joy
in the world had turned to permafrost.
I blamed Beatrice. Who kept to her room,
clearly simmering with rage, regularly
slamming doors, to express the profound
contempt she felt for us all. Uncle was
miserable. Our whole family was in
tatters. We were a sorry little tribe.
Uncle spoke starkly, not trying to soften
the hard edge from his voice. Alice
looked aghast, as if she’d been caught
red-handed in some shameful act.
Quickly, however, she regained her
composure. There was no sinister plan
to fleece us all. It was just a sick fantasy
concocted in Beatrice’s jealous mind.
Alice ran her fingertips through her long
auburn hair. It was as if she were preening
her ruffled feathers. I tried hard, but I just
couldn’t shake off the nasty suspicion
that it was all play-acting.
