Finding Alice Page 11

  However they were now sitting in Bill and Alice’s kitchen and Bill was wanting to talk.

  Alice was nowhere to be seen,

  “Where’s Alice?” John could not help himself from blurting out, as Bill handed him a beer at the breakfast table.

  “Well that's just it mate.” We’ve always got on pretty well you and I haven’t we mate?”

  There was that word “mate” again. He paused but didn’t really need a response,

  “You see, you know after the dinner party at your place,” he was struggling for words.

  “ Yes,” said John gingerly.

  “Well you know I said I was going to Brisbane the following week?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well it wasn’t quite what it seemed, mate. You see I took my secretary with me. We were having a bit of an affair at the time. Its over now,” he quickly added,

  “She was only very young.”

  John just sat there. Bill was confessing to him. It wasn’t all what he had been expecting

  “Alice knew about it. But you see when I came back she acted strangely. I just don’t know what happened, but she said she was going to her parents place because her father was sick. I just don’t know mate. Maybe it was about my secretary?”

  So this is why he hadn’t seen Alice power walking.

  It seemed to be confession time and John could hear himself suddenly saying,

  “You know about Alice and me don’t you?”

  “Oh yeah that mate. I’ve got to tell you before we came to your place that night Alice told me she thought you were a bit of an upstart and was going to tease you by dressing sexy. I believe you had a pash in the kitchen. So that's OK mate, that’s not what is worrying me.”

  He paused and looked up to double check, “that is all there was to it wasn’t there mate?”

  “Of course mate, “ John lied through his teeth, “that's all there was.”

  “Yeah, I thought so. It could have been that guy at the gym. Alice was having an affair with him. But I didn’t think it was that serious.” He was searching for answers.

  “She is still at her parent’s place and won’t take my calls.”

  John was only half listening to him now. It seemed Alice hadn’t told Bill about their affair only about the kiss. This is not the impression he had got from her with her parting comment “that's your problem.”

  Why hadn’t she told Bill?

  “I don’t know what to do mate. This has never happened before. Yeah it must be that guy from the gym,” Bill concluded, “or the secretary,” he added.

  John tried to act casually

  “Where do her parents live?”

  “Oh, at a little place called Tyrone. It’s about 50k out of town. They have a few acres there.”

  John couldn’t push any further and knew if he asked what Alice’s maiden name was, Bill would want to know why.

  “Well look mate, it will probably work out OK, may-be she just needs a break.” He tried to comfort Bill.

  “I hope so,” said Bill

  As John walked back across the road there was just one question. Why hadn’t Alice told Bill? He had to know, it was killing him.

  Chapter 14 A Trip To Tyrone

  John couldn’t stop thinking about his conversation with Bill. It was Sunday morning and his head was sore again from too many scotches the night before. He was still on the lounge where he had fallen into a drunken sleep. He had got into a raging row with Audry about his drinking and she had threatened all sorts of things.

  “I’m going to have you put away,” he seemed to remember her saying at one point. He didn’t know what she meant by this but she was very angry, more angry than he had ever seen her.

  Even through his hangover haze, he seemed to remember her lying on the floor, at one time last night. What was she doing on the floor? Oh shit, that’s right, she had tried to take his bottle of scotch away from him and he remembered them having a tug of war with the bottle and him swearing at her and calling her a rotten bitch. Oh, but there was more. She wouldn’t let go of the bottle and he had given her a back hander. That's why she had ended up on the floor. Oh shit, he had never hit her before.

  He seemed to vaguely remember her going to the kitchen after that and phoning her father.

  What was he going to do? His head was throbbing. He staggered out into the garage and started up the BMW. God, he thought, if the cops stop me I would still be way over the limit. He was still half drunk but without thinking about it consciously, he was heading out of town, towards Tyrone. It occurred to him this was pretty stupid, but somehow it was taking him closer to Alice, even if he didn’t know her parent’s name, or where she was staying.

  As he drove, the outer city limits gradually surrendered to rolling countryside. Thank god to be leaving the visual pollution of the city behind with all those advertising signs competing with each other. John had recently been watching the Tour de France on TV and was impressed that all the villages the Tour passed through were clean and tidy with no messy advertising signs. Why can’t we do that in our country, thought John? However the motorway he had been driving on had now tapered to a two-lane highway. He was now entering heavily wooded country with tall trees on either side of the road forming a canopy. Some from either side were actually touching in the middle. It was a warm sunny day and the sunlight was bouncing on and off his windscreen.

  John was finding it hard to concentrate as this was playing tricks with his eyes as it shone through the trees one moment and flashed light on his windscreen. Next in rapid succession shade was darkening the windscreen. It made his head throb even more. About an hour later there was a sign by the side of the road that read, “Tyrone 5.” John took the turn off onto a narrower asphalt road the sides of which were lined with tall gum trees. Every now and then he would pass a letterbox on a post with a dirt track leading off into the bush beside it. Shortly the trees opened out and he found himself driving into Tyrone. Quite cute he thought, there was only an old pub and a general store. The store doubled as the local post office, newsagent and with a single petrol bowser out the front and pretty much everything else as well. John pulled off onto the dirt verge outside the store and went in.

  The store was very old with a bull nosed verandah across the front. The posts and timber railings were faded and the corrugated roof was rusting. Two stone steps led to the entrance. They were well worn and had been smoothed over the years, dipping in the middle from abrasion caused by constant use. The front door had thin white plastic strips hanging from the top frame to keep the flies out. John had to part these to enter then give his eyes time to adjust to the dark interior. The raw timber floor creaked as he walked on it. There was clutter everywhere and it seemed to sell just about everything you could imagine. One area was selling groceries with a number of shelves and refrigerated cabinets against the walls. Another area sold newspapers and various magazines, which were piled roughly on top of each other. A small table with a pen was reserved for lotteries. Along from this was a rack displaying various birthday and greeting cards most of which looked like they had been there for years. There were a number of gaps where cards had been removed but not replaced.

  John scanned the refrigerators and selected a bottle of iced tea from one of them. He walked to the counter, said hello to the shop owner and paid for it. There was a bench and some tattered stools near the front window, so he sat on one and started talking to the shop owner. He was a stocky man who looked to be in his late 50’s, with a ruddy face and a pleasant manner.

  “How long have you been here?” John asked innocently.

  There was more to this than the casual question it seemed. He was about to probe if the storeowner knew Alice. Surely everyone knew everyone, in a small place like this?

  “About five years,” said the store owner, “but my wife’s been here longer. She was born here.”

  He was about to probe whether he knew a girl called Alice, when he saw a battered old Land Rover pull
up next to his car, spreading a fine puff of dust onto it. Bloody hell, thought John.

  A well-kept woman jumped down from the Land Rover and entered the shop. She looked to be somewhere in her 50’s, but very smart. She had her hair tied back and walked with an air of confidence. She was wearing faded jeans and a loose blouse. Somehow she didn’t seem to fit. She was definitely not a country bumpkin.

  “Hi Joe,” she said to the shopkeeper, “I just need to pick up a few things.”

  “Hi Jane,” he replied, “how's your husband?”

  “Well he’s had to go back into hospital again,” she said with a sigh.

  “That's no good,” said Joe, trying to comfort her, “ I’m sure he’ll get better soon.”

  “You know they’re going to have to ban you from the art shows soon,” he continued, “that would make three years in a row you’ve won it now, haven’t you?”

  It couldn’t be, thought John, a sick husband and winner of the local art shows. He was on full alert now and stared at the woman, taking her in fully. Yes she had been a beautiful woman, still was for that matter. If you added 20 years to Alice’s face, that would be her. She caught him staring and turned towards him.

  “Sorry to bother you but you wouldn’t have a daughter called Alice would you?” John gasped.

  “Well I might have. Who are you?”

  “Oh look, my names John, I’m looking for a girl called Alice Johnson.”

  “Well that's my daughter,” she paused, “So your are John are you?”

  He was shocked, not only was this Alice’s mother but she had also heard of him. He could only wonder what Alice had told her about him.

  “I suppose you would like to come and see her.”

  “Well yes, if I could,” spluttered John

  “OK just let me pick up a few groceries and you can follow me. I suppose that's your BMW out there.”

  ”Yes.”

  “Sorry, I think it got a bit of dust on it when I parked.”

  But she had a bit of a wicked twinkle in her eye. She did it on purpose, thought John.

  She gathered her groceries and he carried them out for her.

  “OK, just follow me, it’s only a few kilometres down the road.”

  As she said, they drove for a few kilometres when she put on her blinker and turned off, onto a rough dirt track next to a letterbox like he had seen driving into Tyrone. I never would have found this, thought John. It was heavily wooded and the track was very rough.

  About a kilometre further into the bush the track opened out into to a clearing. There in front of them was a charming cottage, with lots of hanging pot plants and comfy chairs on the front porch. Like the general store there was a bull nosed roof over the porch but this one was in much better condition. In fact the whole cottage seemed to be well cared for and freshly painted. The lawn around the cottage was mowed and the garden along the front was ablaze with a flourish of brightly coloured flowers. The whole thing looked like a picture out of a storybook.

  Jane pulled her Land Rover into an open tin shed beside the cottage as John parked behind her.

  "Charming cottage you have here," said John as they both got out.

  Across from the shed a narrow winding dirt and gravel track led down from the house to a small river below. Jane pointed to the track,

  “Alice was down by the water when I left.“ She picked up the groceries; “You can go down the track over there but be careful it’s very steep.”

  The track was rough and winding as he navigated his way down the steep embankment. Through the trees John could just make out a small river at the bottom. The track was lined with ghost gums, which came in handy for John to steady himself on, from time to time. Sprays of wattle were shedding their blossoms in final bursts before the spring. It was a warm day and the bush had an inviting aroma about it. In the distance some galahs were calling to each other. As he got near the bottom John could see a figure sitting at the end of a small wooden wharf that protruded into the river. Yes, it was Alice. His heartbeat quickened. He was actually going to see her. He was actually going to talk to her.

  As he stepped onto the wharf the boards creaked. Alice heard his footsteps and turned around. For a moment she said nothing. She just stared at him. Next she stood up and walked towards him.

  “What the fuck are you doing here? You’re the last person in the world I want to see right now,” she kept going,

  “Fuck off. Go back to your fancy wife with your fancy house and your fancy car.”

  She was yelling at him, still walking towards him. Almost hysterical.

  “I never want to see you again. Get out of my fucking life. Do you hear me?”

  This was not like anything he had expected. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “But Alice” John tried to counter.

  “Go. I want nothing to do with you. Leave me alone. Do you hear? How dare you come here.”

  John was stunned. This was not like anything he was expecting. For a moment he just stood there frozen staring at Alice. He had come all this way to see her but she was totally rejecting him.

  “Fuck off,” she repeated.

  "Alice…" he started to plead, but it was no use. There was to be no reasoning with her. He could see the look of determination on her face as she stood with hands on her hips then abruptly turned her back on him and walked off down the wharf.

  There was no point is arguing with her. John felt helpless. Not sure what to do he wanted to chase after her but he knew it was no use. He stood there still stunned as she resumed her position at the end of the wharf with her back to him. She did not look back at all. He hesitated, turned to go back towards the track then turned again towards Alice, but it was still no use she was totally ignoring him. All he could do was take a few steps backwards still looking at her then turn and retreat back up the track, trembling in total shock.

  This was not the provocative Alice he had seen at the dinner party, in her tight black dress, or the sophisticated Alice he had seen glide across the reception at his work, like a vogue model. No, this was the wild untamed, out of control Alice, with her hair flying all over the place, dressed down in jeans and a loose blouse like her mother. Even though she was swearing and abusing the hell out of him, at the top of her voice, for just a moment, just for a single second, it occurred to him she was still just as sexy. Wild and sexy.

  A little way up the track in a state of shock, he could not help himself and turned to glance back towards Alice. She was still sitting with her back to him at the end of the wharf. As he did this he lost his footing on some loose grave and fell heavily back down the track. Instinctively he put his arms out to lessen the impact of the fall but it was to no avail. The track was steep and rocky and he fell heavily onto his elbow. It was bleeding and his shirt was ripped and dirty. He stood and tried to brush himself off. His elbow was hurting like the blazes buy nothing seemed to be broken, only his pride.

  Somehow he managed to haul himself up the rest of the track holding onto his bleeding arm with the other one, not really knowing what had just happened to him. Jane saw him coming and opened the back door.

  “You had better come in and let me have a look at that,” she said in a tender voice.

  John sat down at the kitchen table while she got out a first aid kit.

  “Quite a nasty graze you have there John.” She was now gently cleaning the wound.

  “You’ve got quite a lot of blood on your shirt. What happened to you?”

  “I had a nasty fall on the track,” John managed to blurt out, “ I shouldn’t have turned to look back.”

  She finished bathing the wound and put a bandage around it.

  “That will stop it bleeding for a while, I was just pouring myself a cup of herb tea, would you like some?”

  “Thanks,” said John. His throat was dry from the scotch the night before and he was still shaking from the fall and Alice’s tirade.

  He looked around the room. It was very arty,
but there was a neatness and warmth to it all. The cottage looked like it had been built in the 1920's but had been carefully restored back to its original character with pressed metal ceilings and polished floorboards. The furnishings were simple but tasteful, giving the whole place a cosy country feeling. There were a number of herbs and spices growing in small pots on the window sill above the kitchen sink. From where he was sitting at the wooden kitchen table John could see into the adjoining room where a lot of pictures were stacked casually up against the walls. Some of them were really lovely. In particular he liked a painting of two lorikeets