Letters To Alice

Now, having in no uncertain terms told Lizzie to buzz off, Alice remained on the edge of the bed for a while, thinking. Then she lay right down, resting her head on one of the soft pillows. The wide mattress felt firm and comfortable under her back, and it didn’t have any creaky springs. Alice had thought that all beds creaked and groaned when you moved.

Their accommodation was on the second floor of the house, and it comprised this large room, a small sitting room next door, and at the very end of the long landing was their bathroom. Imagine – a lavatory that wasn’t outside in the back yard! And with a long bath you could lie back in instead of a hip bath that forced you to hug your knees!

Alice smiled to herself, and wriggled down further on the bed, wishing that it was night time so that she could get right under the pristine sheets and thick, white cotton counterpane, and dream some wonderful dreams. Except she didn’t need to dream now, because reality was wonderful enough.

Dear Samuel

Isn’t it funny that I always put “Dear Samuel” when I start my letters, instead of “Dear Sam” – which is what I’ve always called you.

Well, we have been here for four weeks and my mother and I have settled in very well. I must say it is lovely not to be living in Hotwells, though of course I still go to school there. But I don’t mind. I wish I was at your school. Do you think I could disguise myself as a boy?

We have gone back to see our neighbours twice since we left because my mother is worried that the children don’t have enough to eat, and the youngest baby is poorly again. So on our way down the town we bought bread and buns and oranges for them. They were all very pleased to see us.

Rose and Margaret had a fight the other afternoon you will be sorry to learn. It took my mother ages to get the plasticine out of their hair. It hurt them and made them cry and she said it was their own fault and they shouldn’t be so silly next time. My mother can be a hard woman!

I think I told you the other day that Lizzie hates me. Do you know why that could be? She’s always looking at me in a funny way and stares me out. Rather uncomfortable!

I’m sorry you only have bread and butter and marmalade for tea. Shall I ask Cook to send you a food parcel for a midnight feast? Ha Ha.

Have you seen the twins yet? Do they like it at your school?

I must tell you something. Your parents were going out somewhere special last week and I hid upstairs on the landing and spied them just as they were leaving. Your mother was wearing a long red gown and she had a diamond clip – or perhaps it was a tiara – in her hair. It sparkled like anything and she looked like a queen, or a princess. And Professor Carmichael was in full evening dress. They looked like two film stars. And then – help, help!!! They suddenly looked up and saw me watching them and they smiled and gave me a little wave. I was so embarrassed1!!!

The summer holidays will soon be here again, thank goodness, and I can’t wait for you all to come home again.

I hope you are well. My mother and I are both well.

Best wishes, Alice.

Dear Alice

Thank you for your letter. I am sorry I haven’t replied sooner but we’ve been having end of term exams and I’ve been doing a lot of revising. I think I have done OK – here’s hoping!

I was not surprised to hear about the girls scrapping. They’ve always done it. But the thought of them sticking themselves up with plasticine made me laugh.

I have spotted John and David in the far distance but we don’t mix at all. Anyway, I shall see enough of them in the holidays, thank you very much!

Our main production this year was Midsummer Night’s Dream. I elected to help with scenery and lighting. It was very good. Have you ever seen it?

It will soon be Speech Day and the end of term service for the whole school. There’s always a bishop or some other big fish present, but I haven’t heard who the lucky person is this time.

Then there is the LAST SUPPER. Note the capital letters! It’s always on the last Saturday before we come home. The kitchen staff make an unusual effort on this occasion, and the menu will be put up on the notice board soon. It’s usually something like roast lamb or chicken and there are always lovely puddings. Nearly as good as Cook’s – but not quite!

By the way I’m sorry about Lizzie staring you out. Very uncomfortable, I agree. But did you know she’s an orphan, living in Muller’s Orphanage? Have you heard of George Muller? I will tell you about him when I come home. I believe the orphanage is a very nice place, but it can’t be as good as being at home with a family, can it?

I must close now because it will soon be lights-out.

Give my best wishes to your mother.

Kind regards, Sam.

PS. I nearly forgot to mention…our House won the cricket tournament outright! I was lifted up on some shoulders, and the team did a victory parade around the ground. (I didn’t forget – just wanted to keep that bit of news until last. S)

Alice read and re-read every line of the letter. Then she folded it carefully so that it would fit inside the prettily painted box – a gift from her father – kept specially for all her treasures.

But before tucking it away, she lifted the letter to her lips and kissed it softly.

December

As she remained quietly kneeling on the floor by her side of the bed. Alice wondered what on earth her mother found to say to God each night. Alice’s own prayers took hardly any time at all – in fact she often repeated them all again in case her mother thought she wasn’t taking the matter seriously enough.

The procedure followed an identical pattern. First, Alice recited the Lord’s Prayer, followed by an urgent request that all her sins would be forgiven. After that, she asked for a blessing on her mother, and that her father was happy in heaven – well he must surely be settled up there by now – though probably not enjoying the devil’s medicine. Next, with a rush of compassion, the names of all the children in Hotwells would be mouthed silently, and, through gritted teeth, a quick prayer for Lizzie’s health, and a much warmer thought for Betty, the best cook ever, thank you God. And then Alice would ask that Professor Carmichael and his wife and children would all have long life and happiness.

But at the very end would be Samuel, whose name she would repeat several times in case God wasn’t listening properly. That He would look after Sam, and that Sam would always be her friend. Her very best friend.

Presently, at last, Ada rose from her knees and Alice immediately followed suit. Together, they turned back the counterpane and got into bed, Ada sighing briefly. The girls had been difficult today, and she was tired.

It was the beginning of December, and Ada and Alice had been truly part of the Carmichael’s house for more than six months. To Alice, it seemed that she’d never lived anywhere else, that this really was home.

‘I hope you won’t catch the girls’ colds,’ Ada said. ‘They’ve been so crotchety today – quarrelling non-stop.’

Alice stared up at the white ceiling for a few moments, her eyes tracing the ornate mouldings and cornices. ‘This is a huge room, isn’t it,’ she said. ‘Are all the other bedrooms in the house as big as ours?’

‘They’re even bigger on the first floor where the family sleeps,’ Ada replied. ‘I’m glad I don’t have to clean them.’

There was silence for a while as Alice thought about that. Then – ‘Mama – can I ask you something very private?’

‘Of course,’ Ada said.

‘What do you find to say to God? I mean, your prayers take you such a long time,’ Alice said slowly.

Her mother smiled in the darkness. ‘Oh well, I have so much to thank Him for, don’t I? I give thanks for kind employers, and a very nice home to live in. And I ask that everyone in the country will soon be able to find work, and that the government will take good care of all the injured men from the War. And that my daughter will be a good girl!’ She reached across to the bedside table. ‘Now then, it’s your turn to read tonight, isn’t it,’ she said, handing Alice their copy of Persuasion.

Alice opened it eagerly, removing the bookmark. From the very beginning of the novel she’d thought of herself as Anne Elliot, and because she already knew the story Alice longed for the end when all difficulties would be resolved and she and the handsome Captain Wentworth would finally be together.

Before beginning to read, she said -‘I wonder why, in books, it always takes such a long time to reach the happy ending? There are always so many problems to sort out before everyone gets what they want,’ she went on. ‘It seems such hard work for them all to be truly happy.’

‘I suppose because that’s what real life is all about,’ Ada said.

Alice looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Did you and Papa have a lot of problems,’ she enquired, ‘before you eventually got married? And then…did you really know that he was the one you wanted?’

Ada didn’t answer straightaway as she thought of her own life. Of her parents, both dead before reaching middle age, of her two brothers killed at the Front, then of meeting Stanley Watts. Older than herself, and so good-looking in his naval uniform, so roguish and full of fun. She was a part-time cleaner at a public house near the Docks where the regulars frequently gathered when in port, and he’d picked her out straightaway. Stanley was a charmer, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and he’d lost no time in making himself known to Ada. And she’d been flattered and thrilled. Had so readily fallen in love. Within three months they were married quietly, and although he was so often absent Ada had thought herself lucky. Her husband was generous and kind and treated her well, never once raising a hand to her. Her worst nightmare had been the War, the dread of hearing that his ship had gone down. But defying all the odds, Stanley had come back safely each time.

And then, and then…he had thrown away all his good fortune. The devil had had the last laugh. What a waste. What a dreadful waste.

‘The difference,’ she said now to Alice, ‘is that in books you usually do get a happy ending – even if it takes a long time to happen – because that is what readers want. What they expect. But…it’s different in real life. You can never count on anything. You have to take what comes your way. And survive it.’

Alice pursed her lips. ‘One day, I am going to write a book, Mama, a proper book,’ she said. ‘Not just my short stories, but a long book, with all sorts of things happening to everyone…and I will give it a really happy ending! I’ll give them all exactly what they want and it’ll end with a great big party!’ She turned her head to look at her mother. ‘Do you think I could do it, Mama…would it take a very long time to write?’