Dot (Araminta Hall)

shattered actually. It was a long day.’
    Her mother laid her book on her lap and looked at her over her glasses. ‘Was it fun?’
    ‘Yes. Dot loved it.’
    ‘Good.’
    Alice thought her mother knew there was more to say, but was glad that she simply picked up her book and started reading again.
    The idea of sleep was so much more appealing than the actuality. However tired Alice felt, and most nights she climbed into bed with a bone-aching exhaustion, as soon as she was lying on her back with the light off her mind jumped to attention and sleep ran from her side. By the next morning she had resolved not to say anything to Sandra. Surely she had been mistaken, surely Gerry felt foolish and stupid himself, surely he’d just been swept up in some strange emotion. And what good would come of saying anything? Sandra was due to give birth in four months and Alice didn’t want her friend going through the same pain as she had.
    She got Dot dressed and took her downstairs where she made her a boiled egg and looked out of the kitchen window at the greyness of Sunday, wondering how they would fill all the hours between now and bedtime. Clarice came in carrying her portable radio blaring out the news which Alice couldn’t listen to if she tried. It all just went in a pattern anyway: stories she found interesting stopped being talked about and depression ruled the airwaves. Dot pushed another mouthful away, spraying tiny flecks of yellow and white egg on to the floor which would have to be swept up in a minute.
    The phone rang and Alice looked at her mother, who herself had stopped to look at her. The same thought spun in both their minds: how could it be anyone else at ten past nine on a Sunday morning?
    ‘Shall I get it?’ her mother asked.
    But Alice stood up. The symmetry of Tony ringing this morning after all that had happened last night was so perfect she felt she could perhaps forgive him.
    ‘Hello.’
    ‘Alice.’ It wasn’t his voice.
    ‘Sandra? Are you OK?’
    ‘No, I’m bloody not. How could you?’ And even though her friend’s voice trembled down the phone, still Alice didn’t make the connection.
    ‘How could I what?’
    ‘Gerry told me everything when he got in last night. Don’t play innocent.’
    ‘What did Gerry tell you?’
    ‘That you made a pass at him on the way home. He had to pull the car over or you might have crashed. I thought you were my friend.’
    Alice put her hand to her head, she almost wanted to laugh. ‘Come on, Sandra. You believe him?’
    ‘Of course I do.’ But Alice could hear the doubt.
    ‘I would never do anything like that to you. I don’t even like Gerry. He made the pass at me and I pushed him away.’ Silence vibrated down the line. ‘I thought about ringing you last night, but I didn’t want to upset you. I mean, I’m sure he didn’t mean it, and there’s the baby and everything.’
    ‘Don’t, Alice, for God’s sake don’t mention the baby.’ Sandra’s voice was catching on her tears.
    ‘But, Sandra, you’re my best friend. You’ve been so good to me. You know I wouldn’t do that. He’s got a cut on the back of his head if you don’t believe me.’
    ‘What does that prove?’
    ‘That I pushed him away. If he’d pushed me I’d be the one with the cut.’
    ‘Please.’ Sandra sounded young and far away.
    ‘Can’t we forget this ever happened? It doesn’t matter.’
    ‘It might not matter to you, Alice, but this is my life we’re talking about.’
    ‘I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant—’
    ‘I can’t, Alice. Every time I look at you …’
    Alice realised she was crying as well. ‘What are you saying, San?’
    ‘Look, just don’t call me again, OK?’
    Then the phone went dead and Alice slid down the wall, as if she was too heavy for herself, as if life itself weighed more than she could bear. She raised her head and saw her mother and daughter staring at her, their eyes wide, their mouths open.
    Every fibre in Alice’s being wanted to go back to bed, but Clarice made her sit at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and tell her what had happened and somehow it made her feel slightly better. There would be more friends like Sandra, her mother told her, and really Alice should count herself lucky not to be in her shoes, not to be stuck with such an awful man. Although being stuck with an awful man, especially if he was Tony, sounded quite appealing to Alice. Her lack of judgement shocked her. Her total inability to