Tangerine(49)

The words hung among the three of us, John looking back and forth between us, as if anxious to see who would respond first, who would rise to his bait.

“Don’t be absurd,” Alice said, reaching for her drink and taking a deep gulp. “I’m not a recluse.” Her voice was low, so that I had to lean across the table in order to make out the words. She seemed dulled, harder, so different from the lively creature she had been only the night before. I struggled to understand what had changed.

“Yes, well, I must admit I was surprised. I wondered at first whether you hadn’t just headed back to England,” John observed, his smile wide, his eyes bright. He let out a laugh. “Oh, my little Alice in Wonderland, what on earth am I going to do with you?”

“Don’t call me that,” she whispered, though her voice was largely lost in the din of the noise.

John turned to look at me then, his eyes moving up and down, taking in my appearance. A blouse and trousers once again, my unfashionable long, dark hair pulled back into an equally unfashionable plait. I could read the disappointment on his face. “What on earth should I do with her?” he asked, his gaze locked onto my own.

A million responses flitted through my mind, the very first among them: let her go. I didn’t say it, though I could feel the words forming on my lips. Instead I turned, breaking his gaze, and reached for my drink, anxious to feel the warming calm of the gin.

There was silence for a moment, and then John said, looking at me, “Say, isn’t your little holiday about over by now?” He leaned back in his chair, swirling the ice cubes in his drink. “Surely it’s nearly time to return to the real world.” He laughed, though I could see the glint in his eye.

He meant it as a slight. I could feel it in his words, his resentment for my relationship with Alice, boiling over the dips and curves of every syllable. I saw her too—the slight flinch, the quick intake of breath. She had heard it as well, had felt it—after all, that was the point. For his words to insult—to cut, to tear, to wound. I would never really fit in, never really be one of them, that was what he was trying to say. Those girls from good families, those effortless girls. The ones who woke up with long, blond shiny hair, pale, nondescript features, an aquiline nose that spoke of wealth and good breeding. Girls who did not have to work for their supper, who only had to look first to Daddy and then to their husband. I was different, marked out. My engagement with work an enduring testament to the differences that separated and, ultimately, divided us. My friendship with Alice was something that John could not understand, but more than that, it was something he did not like. I could see that now clearly. I had tainted her, altered her—or his perception of her, at any rate. Our friendship was a detriment to her character, something that he wished to expunge.

I had not bothered him at first—the strange woman who had turned up at his doorway, independent, alone. Those meant two different things, I knew. One could be alone but entirely dependent, like Alice. She was alone at Bennington, she was alone here. She had always been dependent on someone—her aunt, John, even Tom for a brief period of time. I was another species altogether, one that had not roamed the same circles as John McAllister. He had been intrigued at first, delighted even, by the woman sitting on his couch, drinking gin. Now he was angry, unamused by my continued presence, and perhaps most important, he was threatened.

I smiled, my lips stretching tight against my teeth. For a moment I thought that I tasted blood. “Actually,” I said, feeling the full effects of the night, my mind loosening, my words slipping easily from my tongue, “I’ve no real world to return to, as it happens. I’ve resigned from my position at the publishing company.” I noticed how Alice frowned at this piece of information. I hadn’t meant to tell her, not until we had left Tangier, but perhaps it was best that such a secret came out beforehand. Yes, I felt like I could see this admission working to my advantage. After all, there was no longer anything tying me to the States, to New York. Together, we would be able to go anywhere.

John nodded, sipped his drink. “So, what, you were hoping to find work here, in Tangier?” He raised his eyebrows as he spoke, as if the notion were ridiculous, as if he had never heard of such an outlandish idea. “I don’t think you’ll find many publishing companies. Besides, won’t your family miss you? So far from home?”

I felt Alice stir. “Lucy hasn’t any family, John. I’ve told you that,” she said, a distinct edge evident in her voice.

He nodded. “Sure, I remember now, only”—he stopped, turning to me—“only that’s not entirely true, is it?” He gave a quick laugh. “You see, I did a little digging. I know, I know,” he said, looking at Alice, who had started to protest, “I shouldn’t have, an abuse of power and all that. But I like to know who’s living under my roof.”

I was still, waiting, wondering what it was that he had managed to unearth, what skeletons he would drag out of the closet and into the light. He paused—waiting, as well—his grin, his laugh, dragged out for full effect, as to emphasize his greatness, his perceived triumph over the woman who had threatened to best him.

And Alice.

Alice was watching me, I could feel it, feel her gaze, burning—hot and accusatory.

She was the one to speak first, her voice small, trembling. “What did you find?”