that is true, but dearest Bridie weâll miss you, Terri Irons â99 . She signed it. A fucking condolence card,â Ida said.
âI know, thatâs the icing on the cake,â said Tom, laughing.
âI only remember poems about cats and birthdays. Sheâs obviously matured as a writer since Iâve been gone,â said Ida.
She put the card back down and moved towards the mantelpiece, where there lay a carved stone ashtray, a tortoiseshell hair clip, and a framed photo of Ida and Alice as children, grinning and frizzy haired in their boaters and school blazers.
âFucking hell,â she said, picking it up and revealing a bottle of whisky that the photo had hidden from view.
âApparently she had hiding places all over the house,â he said seriously.
Ida winced. Did he think she didnât know that? That he knew her mother better than she did?
âWell, Alice wonât like that. Waste not, want not,â she said as cheerfully as she could and went to put the bottle in her room.
Alice showered after her jog and came downstairs in a red high-necked sixties shift dress, blue Adidas Gazelle trainers, and a white mohair cardigan. A satchel was slung across her front, covered in colourful badges.
âStill a âBournemouth High Street nightmareâ? Will I do?â she asked.
âIt was your tracksuit⦠â
âYeah, the tracksuit that I wear to do exercise â mental.â
âWell, you look nice. I like your shoes,â Ida said. She really did.
âThanks,â said Alice, not quite sure if Ida was taking the piss. âYouâve still got those boots. I couldnât believe it when you turned up.â
Ida lifted her leg and showed Alice the sole. âTheyâre on the way out. Full of holes. I did get them from a charity shop about fifteen years ago, though.â
âShall we go?â Alice asked. âWe canât be long, Dadâs asked us for lunch. Tom still hasnât met him.â
Ida followed as Alice took Tomâs hand and stepped outside.
It was a breezy day and Idaâs head felt cold without the thick hair she was used to. She yawned. The house had made her tired.
They walked along the road, past flash cars, Ida increasingly impressed and disgusted by how fancy the area had become. She wouldnât mention it now, she knew sheâd better not, but she wondered how much they were going to get for the house. Thereâd be debts, that was certain, but surely theyâd each be in for a decent sum â enough for a deposit on a flat or Aliceâs wedding to this indie-schmindie dwarf. She wished she could feel more excited. But the truth was she felt scared. She knew she was terrible with money, she had been all her life, and that in her hands even fifty grand could be fifty quid by the end of the month.
They reached a battered Mini. Ida expected Tom to drive and was surprised when her sister walked round to the driverâs side and took some keys out of her satchel.
âWhat, youâre going to drive, Alice? You can drive?â Ida asked.
âIâm twenty-six,â said Alice.
âOh, okay. Wow,â said Ida, squeezing into the back seat.
âYou canât drive?â asked Tom, from the front.
âShe canât even walk in a straight line,â said Alice as she put on her seatbelt.
They were silent in the car, seemingly regretting the idea of the walk. Under normal circumstances Ida would have suggested the pub and it took a great deal of strength for her to swallow that suggestion each time it came to her lips. Tom drummed on his knees incessantly â something Ida was sure was driving Alice mad â and took the fact that her sister stayed quiet, politely, as an indication that their relationship was still pretty new.
The heath was not how Ida remembered it and she was almost embarrassed. Instead of the snakes she had promised Tom there were used condoms and
John B. Garvey, Mary Lou Widmer