Coincidences, Page 2

  Her thoughts turned to Alice now, as she closed the newspaper and placed it on her lap. Stephanie was forever worrying about her daughter ever since she moved out of the family home six months ago. Stephanie had been against the move, but Alice had said she wanted her independence. The more she tried to dissuade her, the more determined she had been to move out.

  It had proved very difficult for Stephanie to adjust to living without her daughter. She almost felt abandoned. Living on her own was something she had never done. She had gone from living with her parents, to moving in with Roger, Alice’s father, when they married. Roger had left home when Alice was only eighteen months old. Alice was her only child. Even though she had not moved very far away and visited often, Stephanie still felt a great sense of loss. She had built her world around her daughter. One of the causes of friction in her marriage had been the fact that she was unable to have children; when Alice came along it had been nothing short of a miracle as far as Stephanie was concerned. She’d been so grateful and felt so happy and privileged to have a daughter, she wanted to keep her by her side for ever. She just didn’t feel ready to let go of her only child yet—not after she had gone to such lengths for her to be born.

  ***

  Stephanie arrived home at 7.45 p.m. Slumping onto her favourite armchair, she put her feet up onto the coffee table and kicked off her shoes. Reaching over to the side table, she grabbed the telephone and dialled her daughter’s number.

  ‘Hello,’ said the familiar voice on the other end of the phone line.

  ‘Hello, darling, it’s Mummy,’ said Stephanie. ‘How are you? I haven’t seen you for a few days.’

  ‘Oh, I’m fine, you don’t have to worry about me.’

  ‘But I do worry. I’m your mother, that’s my job.’ Stephanie caught sight of the newspaper lying on the coffee table where she’d left it when she’d walked into the room. ‘Did you hear about that terrible plane crash?’

  There was silence on the phone line.

  ‘Alice? Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well anyway, there was a picture in the paper of a girl who looked about the same age as you, being rescued from the crash. She looked so young and helpless, she reminded me of you. That’s when I started to think about you and realised we haven’t spoken for a few days.’

  Alice had almost forgotten about the nightmare and the fear she’d felt, but the phone call had brought it all back, and she found she was unable to reply.

  ‘Alice?’

  ‘Yes... Listen, Mum, I’ll come and see you tomorrow at the salon. I’m not working tomorrow.’

  ‘Okay, sweetie.’

  When Alice hung up the phone, she regretted not telling her mother about her nightmare, but at the same time, she knew her mother would only worry even more about her if she told her. It was probably best to keep quiet.

  ***

  Alice did not sleep well that night. Each time she drifted off to sleep, she would see herself screaming or unable to breathe under water. Alternately, she would see a plane crashing to land with great flames and smoke consuming the atmosphere. Eventually, she decided to try to stay awake. Turning on her bedside lamp, she stared at the ceiling and tried to think of other things. She thought about her meeting with Jenny and for a while she felt better remembering what she’d said about Andrew. Her mood lifted as she began to imagine what it would be like meeting Andrew again after the summer break from university. Feeling less frightened, she turned off the table lamp and tried to get some sleep.

  Chapter Two

  Tuesday 12th August 1997

  Alice woke up at 9 a.m. Upon waking, she remembered her nightmares. It seemed impossible for her to forget about the plane crash, no matter how hard she tried. It was like an obsession, haunting her mind, ever since she heard the newsflash on the radio.

  She went into the kitchen to make her breakfast, and switched on the radio, as usual. She listened intently for some more news about the plane crash; perhaps if she had some more details she would be able to work out why it had affected her so. But there was no mention of it in the news. It was “yesterday’s news” to everyone else, but felt so ingrained in her mind. Sighing with frustration, she opened the fridge door and saw that she had run out of milk. She had meant to buy some yesterday. It bothered her that this incident was now getting in the way of her concentration, making her forget to do things. It was as if, no matter what else she was doing, some part of her brain was constantly thinking about her nightmare and the plane crash—like a track on a CD on repeat playback.

  She sat down at the kitchen table after making some toast for breakfast. As she looked through the local newspaper, she remembered her mother telling her that yesterday’s paper contained a news story about the plane crash. Alice felt a compulsion to find that newspaper and read all about it. Picking up the last slice of toast from her plate and grabbing her bag, as if in a mad rush for an appointment, she hurried out of the front door.

  Once on the Tube train, she noticed that a few people were reading newspapers. She tried to see if any of the papers contained stories about the crash, but it was difficult to tell. A middle-aged woman, wearing a floral-patterned summer dress, got on at the next stop and sat next to her. The woman opened a copy of the Daily Mail. Alice saw that there was something about the crash on the front page. She leaned forward, trying to read the story, but this movement seemed to annoy the woman, who took a sharp sideways glance towards Alice. The woman then sighed and moved further along the Tube train, quite a few seats away from her, so it was impossible for her to read anything. Feeling embarrassed, Alice spent the rest of the journey staring at the floor.

  Arriving at her mother’s flat, Alice opened the door using the key her mother had insisted she retain when she left home. Upon entering the flat, she walked into the living room and spotted the newspaper lying on the coffee table. When she picked it up, her eyes immediately fixed on the picture of a young girl being rescued from the crash. She remembered her mother mentioning it. Alice stared at the picture. It was grainy and slightly out of focus, but she couldn’t help noticing that the girl bore a resemblance to her. She began to read the news story with heightened interest.

  “Flight 764, took off from Boston USA at 11.45 p.m. GMT, and was a direct flight to London Heathrow. The pilot reported some trouble with the engine just ten minutes before the recorded time of the crash. This is still under investigation. The plane was to make an emergency landing, but lost control and crashed into the Atlantic Ocean in the early hours of Monday morning.”

  There was no mention of the exact time of the crash. Alice felt she would be able to relax a bit now. As there was nothing in writing to say it had occurred at 12.15 a.m., she told herself that it was quite possible she had misheard the newsflash on the radio. She placed the newspaper back onto the table and made her way out of the flat.

  ***

  Alice arrived at Stephanie’s, her mother’s hairdressing salon, just as her mother was getting ready to leave for lunch.

  ‘Oh, Alice, darling, you look so tired. You haven’t been looking after yourself, have you?’ The words bombarded her as soon as she stepped through the salon door.

  Alice felt embarrassed, as two of the customers who were seated in the waiting area were now looking at her. She felt her cheeks redden and tried to avoid looking at the women.

  Stephanie ran towards her daughter and hugged her. Then stepping back to look at her, she said, ‘I just knew you’d be no good at looking after yourself. Maybe you should come back home.’

  ‘Mum,’ said Alice in an almost-whisper, ‘stop fussing, I’m fine.’

  ‘Come on, I’ll buy you lunch. You look like you’ve been starving yourself. Are you eating properly?’ She was almost pushing Alice out of the salon as she spoke.

  They went to a local café, and after purchasing their sandwiches, they sat at a table near the window.

  ‘I’ve missed you, love,’ said Stephanie. ‘You really shoul
d keep in touch more.’

  ‘Sorry, Mum.’ Alice smiled.

  ‘You really do look tired, darling. Are you staying up late partying and going to night-clubs? I know what you students are like. But you need to make sure you get enough sleep.’

  Alice wanted to tell her mother about her nightmares, and she almost did, but she stopped herself. Her mother already worried about her living alone, and would find any excuse to insist that she should return to live with her.

  Just as the two women were finishing off their meals, they heard a voice calling out.

  ‘Steph! Steph Forester? Is that you?’ The accent was not a London one. It had a northern tinge.

  Stephanie had not used the surname “Forester” for over fifteen years. It had been Alice’s father’s surname. Stephanie had reverted to using her maiden name after the divorce.

  A plump, middle-aged woman, with short, dark-brown hair now stood beside the table.

  Stephanie appeared quite shocked, Alice noted.

  ‘Rita, hello... er... what a nice surprise. How... How did you recognise me after all this time?’

  Alice had seldom seen her mother like this; she seemed nervous as she spoke to the woman.

  ‘Steph, it’s been too long, hasn’t it? We should never have lost touch!’

  Rita Smart had once been Stephanie’s closest friend, but they had not seen each other for about twenty years. They had met at school and had kept in touch until Alice was about a year old. Rita had moved to Birmingham for work, and they lost contact after a few months.

  When Alice looked up at Rita, she noticed that the woman was staring at her as if in awe. Alice blushed and Rita seemed to then realise that she was staring. She smiled quickly and looked away to address Stephanie: ‘So, this must be Alice.’

  ‘Yes,’ Stephanie replied and then coughed, appearing nervous again and fidgeting in her chair.

  ‘She looks so much like Roger,’ commented Rita. ‘It’s like looking into his eyes when I look at her.’

  But Rita did not look at her; she kept her face firmly fixed in Stephanie’s direction, as if to make up for the earlier bout of staring.

  ‘How is Roger these days?’

  ‘We’re divorced.’

  ‘You’re kidding?’ Rita seemed genuinely shocked. She almost gasped the words. ‘After... After everything you two went through, you know, after—’ She seemed to be jerking her head sideways towards Alice.

  ‘Yes,’ said Stephanie, quickly. ‘It didn’t work out between us.’ Her cheeks and neck reddened.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Rita, smiling sympathetically. She then turned towards Alice and smiled at her. Alice still thought that the way she was looking at her was unnatural. It was as if she knew something about her... about her father... something that was making Stephanie uncomfortable. Alice frowned.

  Looking back at Stephanie, Rita said, ‘We must keep in touch now. I’m living back in London—have been for the past two years. I tried to find you at your old address when I first came back. Where have you moved to?’

  ‘North London; I’ll write the address down for you. Where are you living?’

  ‘Not too far from here, actually.’ Rita fished out a pen from her handbag and picked up one of the napkins from the table. She scribbled down an address. ‘I’ll put my phone number on here, too.’

  The two women exchanged addresses and phone numbers, then Stephanie explained she had to get back to work.

  ‘Oh, where are you working?’

  ‘I own a hairdressing salon on the high street. It’s called Stephanie’s. You must come in and see me sometime.’

  ‘That’s your salon?’ Rita stood open-mouthed. ‘Can you believe I’ve walked past it so many times and thought of you when I read the name, but I’ve never been in there. My cousin’s a hairdresser, so she always does my hair at home. Last year, when my cousin was in hospital for a few weeks, I almost made an appointment for a hair cut at your salon! If only I had done.’

  ‘That would have been nice. But never mind; the main thing is that we’ve found each other again,’ said Stephanie, smiling.

  Alice wondered if her mother was just being polite. Was she really happy that she’d found this woman again, or did Rita know some deep dark secret about her that her mother would prefer stayed hidden?

  When they’d left the café, and were alone again, Alice asked her mother who Rita was.

  ‘Just an old friend, dear,’ replied Stephanie.

  ‘She seemed to know about me, but I don’t remember you ever mentioning her before,’ said Alice.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure I must have. Anyway, it was a long time ago. Rita and I lost touch about twenty years ago; you were just a baby.’

  They arrived at the salon door.

  ‘Alice, I’m going to be very busy this afternoon. You’re welcome to hang around if you like, but you’ll probably get bored.’ Stephanie seemed distracted and Alice felt as if she did not really want her to hang around. Perhaps she was concerned that she would ask more questions about the mysterious Rita?

  Feeling perplexed, Alice shrugged and said, ‘I have to go shopping this afternoon. I need some milk and stuff. I’ll come and visit you again soon.’

  ‘Okay, dear,’ said her mother, disappearing into the salon.

  It surprised Alice, how her mother’s mood had changed so dramatically since seeing her old friend at the café. Alice recalled how Rita had seemed almost too surprised that her parents had divorced. Having never met her father, she was naturally curious about Rita, as she was someone who had known him a whole world away when Stephanie, Roger and Alice had been a real family. Rita’s appearance in her life seemed to signal an opportunity for her to learn more about her own past and her parents’ relationship. But there was something that slightly unnerved Alice about Rita; it was the way she had looked at her when they first met. She had been staring—almost as if she were looking at a curiosity rather than a person.

  ***

  Alice went shopping and arrived home late in the afternoon. She sat down to watch the Ricki Lake Show on TV. The subject under discussion was teenage pregnancies and the ensuing problems. Whilst she was watching a story about a girl who had chosen to have her first child at the age of twelve, the telephone rang.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, still trying to listen to the TV.

  ‘Allie!’ It was Jenny.

  ‘Oh, hi. How are you?’ asked Alice, still half tuned-in to the TV show.

  ‘I’m fine. I can’t talk for long—I’m getting ready to go out—but I just had to call you!’ said Jenny in her usual loud jovial tone. ‘Frank’s been invited to a friend’s birthday party next week and I’m going with him. Andrew is going to be there! I asked Frank if it would be okay for you to come, and he said yes! You’ve got to come.’

  Alice soon lost interest in the TV programme. ‘Oh, when is the party?’ she asked, trying to sound indifferent.

  ‘Next Tuesday. You will come, won’t you?’

  ‘Um... okay, yes.’

  ‘You don’t sound very enthusiastic,’ said Jenny, disappointed. ‘I thought you fancied Andrew.’

  ‘I do think he’s good looking and everything, but I don’t know him,’ said Alice.

  ‘Well, here’s your chance to get to know him!’

  ‘Okay.’ Alice smiled to herself. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

  ‘We’ll come and pick you up about seven-ish. I’ll call you again to confirm the time. Make sure you dress up!’

  ‘Okay, Bye, Jen.’

  Alice felt excited at the prospect of seeing Andrew again. She often thought about what it would be like if they got together. She began to plan in her mind what she would say to him if she had the chance, what she would wear... When she came back down to earth, she realised that the programme she had been watching had finished.

  She reached towards the coffee table to pick up the newspaper she had bought on the way home. Her mind was still full of fantasies of Andrew, and she felt in hig
h spirits. As she reached out, she felt a pain in her lower right arm that seemed to spread to her elbow. The pain was so intense that she grabbed her arm with her left hand and screamed. After a few moments, the pain disappeared as quickly as it had manifested itself. She pulled her sleeve up to check if her arm was bruised, but she could see nothing. With no memory of having hit her arm anywhere, she felt confused as to why she had felt the pain. Maybe I strained something when I was reaching out? she wondered. But that seemed unlikely as the table was so close to her.

  Trying to forget about it, she read her newspaper. There was a story about the plane crash on page five. She decided not to read it, not wanting to be reminded of her nightmares. After cooking her supper, she watched her favourite soap opera, EastEnders, and went to bed early to catch up on the sleep she had missed over the past couple of nights.

  Chapter Three

  Wednesday 13th August 1997

  Alice arrived for work at Bairns' Books at 9 a.m. Charlotte was already behind the counter.

  ‘Sophie and Rob were asking where you were,’ said Charlotte as Alice settled herself behind the counter. Rob and Sophie Bairns were the husband and wife team who ran the bookstore.

  ‘Oh... the bus was late,’ explained Alice, trying to think of a plausible excuse. Then, she saw Rob Bairns looking at her from the corner of the bookstore; he didn’t look happy and began walking towards her.

  ‘Alice,’ he said, as he got closer to her, ‘you’re late. You know you’re meant to be here by 8.45. Don’t let it happen again.’