UNDER HEAVEN. OVER HELL.

The Wardrobe

"A Hotel?"

Whatever resides up there, please bless Alice, for this had to be her craziest scheme yet.

"Yes!" Your friend beamed from across the small kitchen to you, sitting at her even smaller round kitchen table. Wooden and rickety.

"Are you mad?" You chuckled. Although, from the pictures you had seen of her newly acquired estate , there seemed to be no better use for it that you could pin under your thumb. It fit. And the country home was far from quaint. It was luxurious .

"No." And Alice frowned, bringing two mugs of fuming tea with her as she sat opposite you. While she was used to your cynical, rather sarcastic nature, it never failed to sting in times like these. Salt in the wound and alike.

You see, Alice had come from a complicated family based in a drab part of London – one where few blood relatives were alive – and they were in care homes. A long line that dotted here and there of no particular relevance to the world. No one in her family had done anything great. No one had helped to reach the moon, or command armies in either world wars. Or...even something as simple as build a local business. Or so you had been foolish enough to think until now. For, as a stroke of luck would have it, there was one relative who never married, never had siblings, but did have cousins. Who did have children, and so on, and so forth. Until eventually the family tree had thinned out and thinned further, leaving the only living relative on record, related by blood, to be your very friend Alice. And she jumped at the chance to have some trajectory in her life.

"Don't you see?" She huffed and leaned back in her chair. You watched from the rim of your mug as her pleading green eyes sported a furrowed brow above them, "This is good! This is a chance to actually do something with my life! Get some money in! And have fun doing it. Right now my degree in Hospitality Management is sitting there, collecting dust on the wall of my living room." You sighed, putting down your mug.

"What does Thomas think?" Alice bit her lip.

Thomas was a well to do man from the south west of london, his family coming from money well before the first world war. A dynasty he had left behind in the persuit of his love for Alice. One thing he did not leave behind was his red hot and very interchangeable temper. The irony for you lay in the fact that this relative of Alice was much rather suited to Thomas's background than hers. Nevertheless you were happy for her. And wished nothing but the best for your friend of many years.

"I haven't told him."

"What?!" You almost spat out your tea.

"That's why I'm telling you! I know until I have a concrete plan set in place i'll have no idea what to do about anything and he'll just shut me down as usual–"

"Or you could just put this pipedream to bed and move on with your life." You cut her off, which earned a sharp hiss of your name in response. "Sorry."

Alice blinked, eyes falling to her mug as a small but sad smile twitched at her lips for a very brief moment. "It's okay. It's stupid I know."

"No," you cooed, albeit, a touch patronising giving the context, "I just–" You struggled to find the right words for a moment. "Where would you get the money?"

"I'd take out a loan. And Thomas and I have savings too. I've got a little inheritance from my parents not long ago in there." You still weren't convinced. The way your lips pursed assured her of that. "It could work."

It was stupid. Silly. Beyond reckless. But Alice had always been there for you. You'd be a pretty shitty friend if you didn't at least go see the place with her. So that's how you found yourself driving the longest five hours of your life to the English countryside, accompanied by Disney tunes and her shrill singing.