Read Online Alexandra, Gone by Anna McPartlin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anna McPartlin
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a drink, but Tom said he’d make it himself.
Ben shook Jane’s hand and thanked her for coming. “It’s great to see you. How’s that boy of yours?”
“He’s fine. He’s seventeen.”
“My God, time passes quickly. It seems like only yesterday yourself and herself were giving us a run for our money.”
Jane grinned. Although Ben was older than his wife, he still managed to look ten years younger. He sported a full head of gray hair and he rubbed at the gray stubble on his chin. He was heavier than he had been years before. She remembered him as being fit and sportive, but those days were long gone. His shirt buttons strained over his paunch, and when he’d approached her he walked with a limp.
Some neighbors arrived and sat in the sitting room with Breda. The house seemed full and empty at the same time. Tom handed Jane a glass of red wine. Tony Bennett was playing on the stereo. No one talked about the fact that Alexandra was gone. They referred to her often and included her in stories about the past, which was where it seemed her parents now resided. Tom talked with his in-laws’ neighbors and Frankie and Owen, but it was difficult not to notice the coldness between him and Alexandra’s brother and father. He spent some time with Breda, who hugged him warmly and whispered something in his ear.
Half an hour before midnight he found Jane in the hallway studying a picture on the wall.
“That was taken on a day out in Bray in 1983,” she said. “It was such a hot day, the beach was mobbed, and we’d run into the arcade and onto the bumper cars just to cool down. Alexandra ate so much cotton candy she puked pink all the way home.”
Tom looked at the picture and recognized Jane. Her hair was so blond it was almost white, and it was braided to her waist. She was hugging Alexandra, whose rich, wavy chestnut hair shone in the sun. Both girls were facing the camera and grinning so hard they had dimples. He shook his head. “It’s a funny old world,” he said, but nobody was laughing.
Midnight came and went and the new year was celebrated. As soon as the clock struck one, Tom and Jane made their excuses and left.
In the car, Jane asked Tom about his relationship with Alexandra’s family.
“Ben and Eamonn need someone to blame,” he said.
“Why you?”
“Why not me? She was my wife.”
“And what about Breda?”
“Breda blames herself.”
“And you?”
“It depends on the day.”
When they got to Jane’s house, he thanked her once more for coming. “It meant so much to Breda.”
She nodded and told him that she’d be in touch the following week with an update about the benefit. He nodded, and she got out of the car. She closed the gate behind her and waved, and she made her way up the steps of her house. She could hear Bing Crosby’s voice singing “You Are My Sunshine,” punctuated by laughter and chatter, coming from her mother’s basement flat. She didn’t stop to say hello. Instead she went inside, took off her shoes that were pretty but painful, poured herself a whiskey, and took it to bed.
When the clock turned midnight Elle raised her bottle and toasted the sky. She spun around the beach in bare feet with a bottle of vodka pressed closely to her chest. When she stopped spinning, she fell on her ass, still managing to hold on to the bottle. She got up as quickly as a drunkard can and sprayed some alcohol on the fire so that the flames danced higher and higher. The car engine had already exploded, and so now she and a homeless man who called himself Buns watched the shell burn out. She sat beside the old man and clinked her bottle against his.
“Happy New Year, Buns!”
“Happy New Year, my dear!”
They sat in silence listening to the flames crackle and the low hush of the sea as it swept in and out. Elle lit a cigarette and passed it to Buns. He refused with a wave of his hands. “Those things will kill you.”
She laughed a little. “Sleeping on a pavement in
Ben shook Jane’s hand and thanked her for coming. “It’s great to see you. How’s that boy of yours?”
“He’s fine. He’s seventeen.”
“My God, time passes quickly. It seems like only yesterday yourself and herself were giving us a run for our money.”
Jane grinned. Although Ben was older than his wife, he still managed to look ten years younger. He sported a full head of gray hair and he rubbed at the gray stubble on his chin. He was heavier than he had been years before. She remembered him as being fit and sportive, but those days were long gone. His shirt buttons strained over his paunch, and when he’d approached her he walked with a limp.
Some neighbors arrived and sat in the sitting room with Breda. The house seemed full and empty at the same time. Tom handed Jane a glass of red wine. Tony Bennett was playing on the stereo. No one talked about the fact that Alexandra was gone. They referred to her often and included her in stories about the past, which was where it seemed her parents now resided. Tom talked with his in-laws’ neighbors and Frankie and Owen, but it was difficult not to notice the coldness between him and Alexandra’s brother and father. He spent some time with Breda, who hugged him warmly and whispered something in his ear.
Half an hour before midnight he found Jane in the hallway studying a picture on the wall.
“That was taken on a day out in Bray in 1983,” she said. “It was such a hot day, the beach was mobbed, and we’d run into the arcade and onto the bumper cars just to cool down. Alexandra ate so much cotton candy she puked pink all the way home.”
Tom looked at the picture and recognized Jane. Her hair was so blond it was almost white, and it was braided to her waist. She was hugging Alexandra, whose rich, wavy chestnut hair shone in the sun. Both girls were facing the camera and grinning so hard they had dimples. He shook his head. “It’s a funny old world,” he said, but nobody was laughing.
Midnight came and went and the new year was celebrated. As soon as the clock struck one, Tom and Jane made their excuses and left.
In the car, Jane asked Tom about his relationship with Alexandra’s family.
“Ben and Eamonn need someone to blame,” he said.
“Why you?”
“Why not me? She was my wife.”
“And what about Breda?”
“Breda blames herself.”
“And you?”
“It depends on the day.”
When they got to Jane’s house, he thanked her once more for coming. “It meant so much to Breda.”
She nodded and told him that she’d be in touch the following week with an update about the benefit. He nodded, and she got out of the car. She closed the gate behind her and waved, and she made her way up the steps of her house. She could hear Bing Crosby’s voice singing “You Are My Sunshine,” punctuated by laughter and chatter, coming from her mother’s basement flat. She didn’t stop to say hello. Instead she went inside, took off her shoes that were pretty but painful, poured herself a whiskey, and took it to bed.
When the clock turned midnight Elle raised her bottle and toasted the sky. She spun around the beach in bare feet with a bottle of vodka pressed closely to her chest. When she stopped spinning, she fell on her ass, still managing to hold on to the bottle. She got up as quickly as a drunkard can and sprayed some alcohol on the fire so that the flames danced higher and higher. The car engine had already exploded, and so now she and a homeless man who called himself Buns watched the shell burn out. She sat beside the old man and clinked her bottle against his.
“Happy New Year, Buns!”
“Happy New Year, my dear!”
They sat in silence listening to the flames crackle and the low hush of the sea as it swept in and out. Elle lit a cigarette and passed it to Buns. He refused with a wave of his hands. “Those things will kill you.”
She laughed a little. “Sleeping on a pavement in
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