Alice felt her head snap back as if she’d been hit. Nick had never, ever spoken to her like that before, not even when they were fighting. He was meant to fix the nightmare, not make it worse.

“Nick?” There was a tremor in her voice. She was going to be so mad with him later about this; her feelings were extremely hurt. “What’s the matter?”

“Is there some sort of strategy to all this? Because I’m not getting it, and to be frank, I don’t have time for it. You don’t want to change any of the arrangements for the weekend, do you? Is that what it’s about? Or, for Christ’s sake, tell me it’s not something to do with Christmas Day again. Is it?”

“Why are you talking to me like that?” said Alice. Her heart raced. This was more terrifying than anything that had happened to her today. “What did I do?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, I don’t have time for f**king games at the moment!”

He was shouting. He was actually shouting at her, and she was in hospital.

“Paprika,” whispered Alice. “You have to wash your mouth out with paprika, Nick.”

Elisabeth stood up. “Give it here,” she ordered.

She removed the phone from Alice’s trembling fingers, put the phone to her ear, and pressed a finger to her other ear. She turned her face away from Alice and dropped her chin. “Nick, it’s Elisabeth. This is actually quite serious. She’s had a bad head injury and she’s lost her memory. She’s forgotten everything since 1998. Do you understand what I’m saying? Everything.”

Alice let her head fall back against the pillow and breathed shallow gasps of air. What did it mean?

Elisabeth paused, listening, her forehead furrowed. “Yes, yes, I understand, but she doesn’t actually remember any of that.”

Another pause.

“They’re with Ben. He’s taken them to their swimming lesson, and I guess we’ll stay over with them tonight, and then—”

Pause. “Yes, okay, and then your mum can pick them up exactly as per the arrangements, and I’m sure by Sunday night Alice should be back on her feet and everything will be back to normal.” Pause. “No, I haven’t talked to a doctor yet, but I will soon.” Pause. “Right. Okay, well do you want me to put Alice back on?”

Alice held out her hand for the phone—surely Nick would be himself again now—but Elisabeth said, “Oh. Okay. Well, bye, Nick.”

She hung up.

Alice said, “He didn’t want to talk to me? He actually didn’t want to talk to me?” She could feel stabbing pains all over her body, a long witchy finger poking her cruelly.

Elisabeth clicked the phone shut and put her hand on Alice’s arm. She said gently, “You’ll remember soon. It’s okay. It’s just that you and Nick aren’t together anymore.”

Alice felt a sensation of everything around her plummeting toward the central point of Elisabeth’s moving lips. She focused on those lips. Raspberry lipstick with a darker line around the edge. Elisabeth must use lip liner. Fancy that. She must line her lips.

What was she saying? She could not be saying—

“What?” said Alice.

Elisabeth said again, “You’re getting divorced.”

Well, fancy that.

Chapter 8

Alice had one glass of champagne with her bridesmaids while they were getting their makeup done, another half a glass in the limo, three and a quarter glasses at the wedding reception (including strawberries), and another glass sitting up with Nick on the king-size bed in their hotel room that night.

So she was somewhat sozzled, but that was no problem because she was the bride and it was her wedding day, and everyone had said she looked beautiful, and so this was a beautiful, romantic drunkenness that would probably not result in a hangover.

“Do you love and adore my wedding dress?” she asked Nick for what could have been the third time, as she ran her hand across its rich, lustrous fabric. It was called Ivory Silk Duchess Satin, and touching it gave her the same sensuously satisfied feeling as when she was a little girl and she used to run her finger over the plush pink lining of her music box, except this was even better because back then she really wanted to be in the music box, rolling around on pink satin. “I love my wedding dress. It sort of looks like golden, magical ice cream, doesn’t it? Couldn’t you just eat it?”

“Normally I’d tuck in,” said Nick. “But I’m full of cake. I had three pieces. That was outstanding cake. Everybody will be talking about the cake at our wedding for years to come. Most wedding cake is boring, but our cake! I’m so proud of our cake. I didn’t make the cake, but I’m proud of it.”

It seemed Nick had drunk quite a bit of champagne, too.

Alice set her glass on the bedside table and lay down on her back with a rich rustle of fabric. Nick slid down beside her. He’d taken off his tie and undone the buttons of his white dinner shirt. He had the beginnings of a five-o’clock shadow and slightly bloodshot eyes, but his hair was still perfect with a ridgelike wave at the part. Alice touched it and pulled her hand back. “It feels like straw!”

“The sisters,” explained Nick. “Armed with gel.”

He stroked her hair and said, “That’s a nice synthetic feel you’ve got going there, wife.”

“Hairspray. A lot of hairspray, husband.”

“Is that right, wife?”

“Yes it is, husband.”