‘Did you write the letter to Alice?’ I ask, sitting down in the winged-back armchair, which is covered in a rich burgundy velour.
‘Yes, it’s there on my desk.’ Mum nods towards the Edwardian bureau by the window. ‘I’ve left it open so you can pop your letter in too. Have you done it yet?
‘Not yet. I’ll get on with it after I’ve drunk my tea.’
‘Okay, well, make sure you do. I don’t want Alice to think we’re not replying to her.’
After our tea and chat, I say goodnight to Mum and, taking the letter with me, retreat to our family sitting room. I put Mum’s letter on the table, along with my phone.
‘What’s that?’ asks Luke.
‘Just the letter from Mum to Alice. I’m going to add mine tonight.’ Hannah yawns as her programme comes to an end. ‘Come on, I’ll take you up. Say goodnight to Dad.’
I hadn’t realised how tired I was. One minute I’m sitting in the chair beside Hannah’s bed, listening to her tell me about how some boy in her class got his name on the board and then got sent to the head teacher. The next, Luke is gently shaking my arm, whispering to come to bed.
‘You fell asleep,’ he says, guiding me out of the room and closing Hannah’s bedroom door behind him. ‘You’ve had an emotionally exhausting few days. It must be catching up on you.’
‘I need to write to Alice first,’ I say, following him out onto the landing. ‘I’ll be up as soon as I’ve done it.’
I go back downstairs to my study. It’s a small room at the front of the house with a small desk, bookcase and shelving. Nothing too fancy. It’s a handy space if I need to work on anything in the evenings or weekends, although I try to avoid that whenever possible.
I sit at the desk and take a sheet of writing paper. Despite Leonard’s warning about keeping home and work life separate, throughout the day I’ve been thinking about what to say to Alice.
Dear Alice
Delighted. Overwhelmed. Ecstatic. Euphoric. All these words can’t sum up how happy I was when Mum told me you had been in contact. It’s unbelievable! I keep pinching myself to check it’s not a dream.
I have thought about you so very often. My last memory of you is leaving with Dad, your little face looking out of the car window as it drove off down the drive.
I’ve never given up hope of finding you again and now you’ve found us. All this time I’ve often wondered where you are and what you’re doing.
Thank you so much for contacting us. I can’t wait to hear from you and to, hopefully, see you again. My darling little sister, you’ve come back to us.
All my love
Clare
xxx
I keep it simple. There’s so much I want to say, but can’t put it all down on paper. I want to see her in real life. To hold her and for me, Mum and Alice to all be together again. Luke’s warning hovers in the background but I push it aside. We have Alice back and, at the moment, that is all that matters.
I fold the letter in half and, retrieving Mum’s letter from the sitting room, I slip mine inside and seal the envelope, leaving it on the side ready to post tomorrow. A warm feeling of happiness stirs inside. I kiss my fingertips and transfer the kiss to Alice’s name on the envelope, smiling as I do so.
‘You’ve found us, Alice,’ I whisper, before turning the light off and heading up to bed.
The following morning is a scramble. I finally manage to haul myself out of bed on the third alarm. I’m never like this in the mornings.
Breakfast goes by in a blur as I play catch-up, but can’t quite make up the time. I’m saying hurried goodbyes and rushing out the door with that feeling that I’ve forgotten something.
I start the engine and run through my checklist. Phone. Bag. Purse. Briefcase. Yep, I’ve got all them.
It’s not until I reach the office and the postman walks up to the door, pushing his trolley, and takes out the mail, passing it to me, that I suddenly remember.
‘Shit,’ I say out loud. The postman looks taken aback. ‘Sorry, not you. I’ve just remembered I’ve forgotten to pick up a letter from home. Bugger.’
I send Luke a quick text message asking him to post Mum’s letter to Alice.
‘You’re looking a bit flustered this morning,’ says Tom, as I hand the mail over to the receptionist.
‘You know how to make a girl feel better,’ I say. ‘Why don’t you make yourself useful and put the kettle on?’
Tom gives a mock salute, clicks his heels together and marches off towards the kitchen. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
The coffee tastes good. I like a cup of tea at home, but at work I tend to thrive on the coffee buzz. ‘It always tastes nicer when someone else makes it,’ I say gratefully to Luke as we stand in the kitchen. ‘Thanks for that.’
‘Can’t have Mrs Calm-And-Collected Tennison all flustered and dishevelled, can we?’
‘Hmm. Feeling the effects of going through the proverbial emotional wringer,’ I say. My phone bleeps and I check my messages. It’s Luke telling me not to worry, he has it all under control. I put the phone down on the worktop.
‘You know you can talk to me, if you need to,’ says Tom. His voice is soft and I appreciate his kindness.
‘I feel like I’ve been wishing for this all my life, for Alice to get in touch,’ I say, looking down at the dark-brown liquid in my cup and breathing in the aroma of the coffee beans. ‘You know when you’re a kid and you blow out the candles on your birthday cake and you make a wish? Or at New Year when the clock strikes midnight or when you throw a coin into a magic wishing well? All those times, I’ve always wished for the same thing, that we would find Alice or she would find us, that someday we’d be together again as a family.’ I pause as I take a sip of my coffee to buy some time to blink back the tears.
Tom puts his cup down and rubs the top of my arm with his hand. ‘Is it a case of being careful what you wish for?’
‘No. Yes. Sort of.’ I can feel the strength to keep it together seeping out from me, as if Tom’s hand is absorbing all my powers of self-control. ‘Now it’s happened, I’m … I’m scared.’
Tom takes the cup from me and rests it next to his. He steps closer and puts both arms around me. ‘It’s okay to be scared. It’s a big life-changing event. You have to try to harness that fear and turn it into a positive emotion.’ He rubs his hand up and down my back. ‘And, just for the record, this is a hug between friends. Thought I’d clarify that before you jump away from me like you’ve been electrocuted.’
I laugh into his shirt, grateful the mounting tension has been broken. ‘As if I’d do anything like that.’
Tom gives me a squeeze before stepping back, his hands moving to mine. ‘Honestly, Clare, I know what all this means to you. I haven’t forgotten. How could I?’
I smile and nod. ‘I know and I do appreciate you being here.’
‘I’ve always been here for you. I haven’t forgotten all those hours we spent huddled round your laptop, trying to trace Alice. And those phone calls! Do you remember the private investigator we hired to organise a search for her?’
I nod and smile at the memory. ‘That first one was bloody useless. What a waste of money that was.’