Unravelling alice, p.1
Unravelling Alice, page 1
UNRAVELLING ALICE
N.A. COOPER
Copyright © 2022 N.A. Cooper
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The right of N.A. Cooper to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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First published in 2022 by Bloodhound Books.
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Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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www.bloodhoundbooks.com
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Print ISBN: 978-1-5040-8010-1
CONTENTS
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1. Now
2. One Year Ago
3. One Year Ago
4. Now
5. One Year Ago
6. One Year Ago
7. One Year Ago
8. Now
9. One Year Ago
10. One Year Ago
11. Now
12. One Year Ago
13. One Year Ago
14. One Year Ago
15. Now
16. One Year Ago
17. One Year Ago
18. Now
19. One Year Ago
20. One Year Ago
21. One Year Ago
22. Now
23. One Year Ago
24. One Year Ago
25. One Year Ago
26. Now
27. One Year Ago
28. One Year Ago
29. One Year Ago
30. Now
31. One Year Ago
32. One Year Ago
33. Now
34. One Year Ago
35. One Year Ago
36. Now
37. One Year Ago
38. Now
39. One Year Ago
40. Now
41. Now
42. Now
43. Now
44. Now
45. Now
46. Now
47. Now
48. Now
49. One Year later
50. One Year Ago
Acknowledgements
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ALSO BY N.A. COOPER
Ripple Effect
For my mum and dad
For everything
Unravel verb
[intransitive] (of a system, plan, relationship, etc.) to start to fail or no longer stay together as a whole
— Oxford University Press
1
NOW
The promise of spring is on the horizon, the dark mornings being left behind like a bad memory. I open the window and breathe it in; the birds singing, the sun bright and low in the sky. The brain fog is lifting, the one that has accompanied me all winter, the heaviness of the shorter days disappearing into the warm morning breeze. I love this time of year – so full of promise.
The traffic is backed up on the M1; an accident has closed two of the lanes and the others are almost at a standstill, morbid curiosity rising to the surface of everyone that drives by, craning their necks for a chance to see the horror. I sit listening to the radio, watching as the minutes tick by on the dashboard.
I’m going to be late for work, there’s no doubt about it, but there’s no point in sitting in the bottleneck waiting for it to pass – I decide to stop for a coffee and to make a call to the office. I ease into the slow lane, holding my hand up to thank the lorry behind, and take the turn off for the services.
A couple of other cars see what I’m doing and follow my lead, flicking on their indicators and leaving the motorway behind me. The car park is fairly quiet; I pull into a bay near the front, the board outside listing the usual mix of service-station amenities. Among them, I see there’s a Costa – I’ll head there, grab a coffee and sit and reply to a few emails.
I order a vanilla latte and choose a table by the window with a plug socket nearby. I take my laptop out of my bag and plug it in, watching as it springs to life and asks for my password. While I wait for my emails to load, I make a call to the office.
“Denton Pharmaceuticals, Emily speaking.”
“Hi, Emily, it’s Alice. I’m going to be late in today, there’s been an accident on the motorway and the tailbacks look pretty bad.”
“Oh no, do you want me to push your meeting back to this afternoon?”
“Yes, please. I have my laptop with me so I’m going to log on here if anyone needs me.”
“Sure, no problem, I’ll let everyone know.”
“Any messages for me this morning?”
There’s a momentary pause while I hear her tapping away on her keyboard, checking. “No, nothing this morning.”
“Great, I’ll keep you updated but hopefully I won’t be too long.”
“Okay, see you later.”
I hang up the phone, connect to the free Wi-Fi then open my emails to find seven from this morning alone. Moving to a larger company and assuming the role of manager again has been a huge change of pace – longer hours, more responsibility and a larger workload – but I’m loving it. I feel like I have a career again.
I click on the web browser and check the travel news for the M1. Two cars have collided in the slow lane; there are no fatalities being reported but the debris is going to take a while to clear. I check the time – 8:30. I’ll wait an hour then check again, hopefully by then the traffic will be moving freely and it will have given me a chance to get stuck into some work here.
It’s quiet inside the service station, just a couple of tables being used in Costa, a steady flow of people using the little M&S and a family passing through to use the toilet. The young woman behind the counter looks bored; she’s wiping down the coffee machine with a vacant expression in her eyes, as though she would rather be anywhere but here.
I return my attention to my laptop, reading through an email from one of the employees questioning some of the information about maternity pay. I pull up the relevant information and attach it to the email before typing out a response. Part way through, I feel a presence growing closer. I look up to see a man standing next to my table, dressed in a white shirt with a navy-blue tie, a satchel bag slung over his shoulder.
“I’m really sorry to bother you but I don’t suppose you have a spare laptop charger, do you?” He pulls his computer out of his bag and holds it up to me. “It’s a MacBook.”
“Sorry,” I say, “I’ve only got this one and it’s for an HP.”
He pulls a face that tells me I was his last resort. “Okay, no worries, thank you.”
“Can I help? You could borrow mine, if you need to send an email or something.”
“Actually, that would be great. I’m having one of those mornings. My phone battery has died, I’m late for work because of the accident on the motorway and I haven’t even got my laptop charger with me.”
“That’s…” I search for the right word but he jumps in and finishes my sentence for me.
“Unorganised?” He laughs. “I know, I know.”
“I was going to say unfortunate! Just let me finish this email then it’s all yours.”
“That’s really kind of you. I’m going to go and order a coffee, can I get you one?”
“It’s okay, I’ve just had one, thank you.”
“Refill?” he asks. “Please, it’s the least I can do.”
“I’ll have another latte then, please.”
I watch him walk away towards the counter where the young woman stops cleaning and resumes her position at the till. I watch her blush as he talks. He’s handsome, there’s no denying it – tall and dark-haired with deep-set brown eyes. He looks in good shape too. I shake the thoughts away; I’m focusing on my career, on myself and getting my life back on track. It’s taken a long time to get to a point where I feel capable and confident again, I’m not about to risk it all. I think about the last time I let a man into my life and how badly that all ended.
“Here you go.” He places the mug down on the table next to my laptop and takes the seat opposite.
More people have accumulated since I arrived; a couple are ordering drinks at the counter while another man waits in line behind; an employee sweeps the floor by the entrance as an elderly couple arrive, smiling as they pass; a woman enters the toilets with twin boys crying from a pushchair. I wonder if they’re all seeking refuge from the deadlock of traffic outside.
“I’m Charlie, by the way.” He holds his hand out for me to shake and I take it. It feels oddly formal. The morning sun filters in through the windows, bathing him in a warm golden light. It reflects in his eyes, so dark they almost blend into the black of the iris.
“Hi, Charlie. I’m Alice.”
“Nice to meet you, Alice.” He takes a drink of his coffee and I continue typing, struggling t
“Here you go, it’s all yours.”
“Thank you, I won’t be long – just need to send a quick email or my colleagues will wonder where I am.”
“What do you do?” I immediately regret asking. I shouldn’t be starting a conversation with him. I should be polite but formal; help without encouraging anything that could be misconstrued as interest.
“I work at a property company in Leicester.” He types away on the computer as he talks, his eyes fixed on the screen in front of him.
“Sounds interesting.”
“It is. Stressful at times, but interesting. What do you do?”
“I work in human resources.”
“What kind of company?” he asks, his eyes flicking up from the laptop.
“Pharmaceuticals. It’s based just outside of Nottingham but they’re a global company.”
A middle-aged couple take a seat at the table next to us, the man opening up his newspaper as the woman takes off her coat. She smiles politely at me as I catch her eye, then she takes her purse out of her bag and carries it up to the counter. I wonder what people must think of Charlie and I, sat together enjoying our morning coffee – will people assume we’re colleagues or something more? I smile at the thrill of it.
“Do you enjoy it?” Charlie asks.
“I do, actually. I’d spent eighteen months at a small company before taking this role but the pace was just a bit too slow for me.”
“You like to keep busy?” He’s still typing away on the keyboard, his coffee sat next to him.
“I do, yes.”
“I’m the same, I’ve never been very good at relaxing.”
“No, me neither. Although I am making a conscious effort to address that at the moment. I’ve even taken up running.” Why are you still talking, Alice?
“Running?” he says, grinning. “Isn’t that the opposite of relaxing?”
I laugh. “Well, yes. But it helps me to clear my head and unwind afterwards – it’s as though I burn up all of my energy. A friend of mine got me into it and… what can I say, I’m a convert!”
“Hmm.” He makes a show of pretending to consider it. “I think I’ll have to pass, but you put up a good argument. Very passionate. Ten out of ten!”
“Wow, and I didn’t even have to get out my PowerPoint presentation!”
He turns the laptop back to me, smiling. “Thank you for this.”
“It’s no problem, really.”
“Do you think the traffic’s moving yet?”
I refresh the travel news on my web browser and read the latest update. “Unfortunately not.”
“Looks like we’re stuck here for a while then. Shall we get some cake?”
I check my watch. “Cake? For breakfast?”
“I know, I know. I’ve always shown a blatant disregard for the rules. Come on, Alice, I won’t feel so bad if we both have a piece.”
“Then how can I refuse?”
It takes over an hour for all of the lanes to reopen and the backlog of traffic to clear. In that time, we’ve each devoured a slice of red velvet cake and another coffee. I feel giddy from the caffeine and the sugar rush so early in the morning.
“I like your outfit.” Charlie is stood waiting for me as I gather my things and stuff them all into my bag. I’m wearing a red leopard-print shirt dress I bought last year – it’s one of my favourites – but I’m not used to compliments, especially from handsome strangers.
“Thank you.” I feel my cheeks flush.
He smiles. “I’m sorry if my company distracted you from work.”
“It’s fine, I can catch up at the office.” I could have done with getting stuck in really, my late start will set me back and ensure I’m stuck at the office until dark. I groan inwardly at the thought – I’m meant to be pulling in a long run this evening in preparation for the Edinburgh marathon.
I tuck in my chair and follow Charlie out of the service station and into the waiting sun which greets us.
“Lovely day,” he says.
“Isn’t it just?”
I can feel an awkwardness descend. We’ve had a nice time, almost like a date, and now we’re on the cusp of that moment where one of us will have to be brave enough to turn it into something more, or say goodbye. My head is telling me to walk away, to thank him for the cake and the company then get into my car and drive towards work, unhindered by the complexities of human emotion.
“This is me,” he says, gesturing to a black saloon.
“Well, it’s been nice meeting you, Charlie.” I’m trying to listen to my head, really trying.
He rests his back against his car and smiles, his hands in his pockets. He seems to be rummaging around for something and I wonder whether he’s trying to find a business card or a piece of paper on which to write his phone number. He takes a step towards me, and then another, closing the gap so that we’re practically touching. I turn my face up to meet his eyes and I feel one of his hands rest on my arm, gently at first and then gripping with a little more force. I think he’s going to lean down and kiss me, to brush his lips against mine – the perfect goodbye.
But that isn’t what he’s doing. I’ve got it all wrong.
“Alice, I’m going to need you to come with me.” The blade of the knife glints in the sunlight as I look down to see what he’s holding pressed against my stomach. “Don’t make a scene; that won’t end well for you.” I look around, my heart pounding in my chest, desperate for someone to see what’s taking place in broad daylight. His grip tightens on my arm. “No one’s going to help you, Alice. Now get in the car, before I’m forced to make you.”
2
ONE YEAR AGO
He’d mistook my fragility for weakness – that was his biggest mistake. Sometimes, those that have nothing left are filled instead with a darkness that can either become part of you or destroy you. I have nothing to lose, and from that absence comes a certain type of strength; dark and twisted, one that doesn’t care about consequences or outcomes. It’s do or die.
“What have you done?” he says. “What the fuck have you done?”
He’s gesticulating wildly at the shredded clothes tossed all over the bedroom; the broken aftershave bottles which lie smashed on the wooden floor; the suitcase which lies open and ready for his ruined belongings.
I could have just packed his things, of course. I could have packed them neatly into the suitcase and left it by the front door. I could have had the locks changed while he was out or left my key on the inside so he couldn’t get in. There are many things I could have done, but none of them gave me the sweet sense of justice that breaking his things did. I ripped his T-shirts and cut the arms off his favourite blazer; I threw his expensive aftershaves against the bedroom wall and smiled as I heard them smash and fall to the floor; I took his laptop and snapped it in two, then stamped on the screen for good measure – the sound made me laugh with a deranged elation and I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, wild-eyed and feral-looking, my inner darkness unleashed.
