Mad Alice Lane

Chapter Nine

Martha

Every morning the dreams seem more vivid and I'm able to piece together more and more, and yet, they still mean nothing to me; peopled with unknown faces in unfamiliar places. I've not been able to get any more information from the Internet about Deepdene, so this morning, once I'm showered, I pull trousers over my legs, notch a bra into place and hunt for my favourite angora soft grey sweater; a pair of silver studs and a thin chain complete the outfit. If I am to convince my mother and Richard that I'm on the mend, appearance is everything.

I know I need to do more than scratch the surface with a simple Google search if I'm to find out more and the library is the obvious place to do that but I know, although it won't be stated outright, that I am on lockdown. I am not to be trusted on my own.

I can hear my mother pottering around in the kitchen. It's not yet seven o'clock and I wonder if Richard will make a check up on his way to work. Just in case, I sit at the dressing table, open my make up drawer and carefully smooth on a layer of lightly tinted moisturiser, followed by circular strokes of pale pink blush to my cheeks, some clear mascara to my eyebrows, some black to my lashes, a dusting of translucent powder to set and a spritz of Richard's favourite scent on my neck but avoid the bandaged wrist. I pull the sleeves of the jumper low to hide any evidence.

I examine myself critically, as I imagine he would. Skin a little pale perhaps, eyes a little sad, but overall an acceptable appearance; one that suggests an invalid on the mend. I involuntarily brush my hands against my stomach, a habit that is proving hard to break. A side view shows not only my flat stomach, but also smaller breasts now too; ones that easily fit into my pre-pregnancy bra this morning.

My hands reach to the drawer for my medication, and had it not been for its absence, I think I would have forgotten my previous resolve. To take a daily set of pills is as natural as brushing my teeth. I know the stasis I've been held in is damaging; my emotions frozen. Today, I can still feel the effects of the drugs slowly washing from my body and I feel undeniable nerves at the thought of facing my emotions again, for the first time in years.

"Good morning, Martha," says my mum, as I enter the kitchen. "You look much better today. It must have been those pills that Richard brought back for you." Any indecision I have about not taking my medication vanishes with that one sentence. I refuse to be controlled by my husband.

"Morning, mum. Yes; I feel brighter." I have to play the game; at least I've woken up enough to know I'm in one and that I already know the rules. "What are your plans for today?" I say.

"I don't have any plans, Martha. I'm here for you."
"I have a check up with my doctor, and then I thought I might go to the library and pick up some books."

"Oh yes, of course; your final appointment. I'm not sure about the library though; a long day might tire you out."

"I was hoping to pick up some books about grief and loss," I say. "You know, maybe find something to help me tackle all of this so I can make sense of things before I see the therapist." I am being deliberately manipulative. Surely this isn't a request she can refuse.

"What about that tablet you have? Can't you download them on to there?"

I'm surprised by her techno-savviness but have a response already, "You can't download every book yet, and besides, this way, once I've read them, I don't have to have them lying around the place. And then you could see if they've got any new books in for you."

She stares at me with concentration. We might have little in common, but she's still my mother, and I think that she senses that I'm not telling her the whole truth. I can see her debating my suggestion.