Joe and Dianne Through The Looking Glass

Chapter 5 - Cha Cha Cha Week

It was a beautiful morning. After the cold snap last week the London weather seemed to be indulging in one final summer blow out, the sun had returned and although the clear mornings had been decidedly chilly, by midday the parks had been full again with lunch time city workers making the most of what was sure to be the last opportunity to sit outside comfortably before the Autumn really set in. Already Alice had noted the leaves on the trees beginning to turn and children collecting conkers beneath the horse chestnut tree on the corner. It seemed only such a short time since Robert had collected bags of them on the way home from school, arranging them in ranks of polished perfection in the treasure box on his windowsill. Alice had found him sobbing over this prized collection months later. He had explained between great breath-stealing gulps that his beautiful conkers were all ruined, that now they were shrivelled up, dull and lifeless and he could no longer enjoy running his fingers over their glossy rounded surfaces. Her heart had broken for him when he sniffed "Why does everything have to die Mummy?" Burying the budgie the previous spring had been bad enough but Alice could see that the unexpected deterioration of something Robert had thought of as permanently perfect; something he had been so proud to own, had hit him much harder. She had sat with him on the bedroom floor that day, an observer as the first scales of childhood fell from his eyes and wished with all her heart that he didn't have to grow up - that she could hold onto the little boy who still believed in the tooth fairy and had an almost religious determination to avoid stepping on cracks in the pavement and know that his small hand would always seek hers out when they walked down the street.

Autumn always made Alice feel a little low as she watched the year begin to move towards its inevitable conclusion and since Matthew had gone she had begun to dread the dark evenings drawing in as they made her feel more alone and isolated in the house, curtains drawn by 5pm so that she couldn't even sit in her chair and watch the world pass by on the street outside. Working at the café had certainly helped this time, the ever changing flow of customers keeping her busy and entertained so that she felt a little more hopeful this year and less full of gloom. This morning she had already had a delightful chat with a lady who had come in with a flyer to display on the tiny "What's On" board beside the door. It was for a book group starting up soon in the area. The women had been pleasant to talk to, making Alice feel like a real person and not just someone old (and therefore insignificant.) Alice had started the conversation by letting out an almost unintentional exclamation of delight over the title of the first book on the list – it was one of her favourites and before long they had both been chatting about Cold Comfort Farm and Flora Poste's rescue mission to save the Starkadders from themselves. Louisa – Alice assumed that was her name as it was given as the contact on the flyer – had even invited her to join the first discussion evening. Alice had of course declined: lots of women packed into someone's living room talking nineteen to the dozen and competing over who had the worst husband had never really been her thing. She had dutifully pinned the note up on the board though and now it sat accusingly at eye level, occasionally flapping in the breeze every time anyone opened the door as if it were trying to attract her attention. She was ignoring it.

It was as she was checking the dates on the tiny pots of jam, which were stacked in satisfyingly neat pyramids on the shelf by the window that the girl came into view. Glamorous looking sunglasses perched on top of her head, she had her usual oversized handbag over one arm and was guiding a little suitcase on wheels beside her. Alice loved the way she always looked as if something fun and exciting was about to happen - today if it were possible she looked even happier than usual. Perhaps it was just the glorious weather and the way she was lifting her chin just a little to catch the warmth of the sun on her face, perhaps it was the smile which hovered at the edges of her mouth or the spring in her step as she crossed the road - negotiating the kerb with a little jump - but she looked as if inside her head film music was playing, the kind that swoops in and lifts your spirits as it wells up inside you.