Living Next Door To Alice

Who is Alice? I ask myself that same question everyday and still cannot come to accept her far-fetched account. Alice I have known since I was a child. Our introduction was not by choice, as this strange reclusive woman seldom was seen in the company of others.

Alice was a short lady with long waist length hair as white as snow, her childlike features belying her age. She was one of those women you could not put an age to but she had lived in Millbrook Street since the houses were built some thirty years ago and on that reckoning she must have surprisingly been at least fifty years of age. My parents recalled the day she bought the house and say she has not changed a bit in those thirty years.

Alice was a figure of ridicule in Stokesley and some even claim she is a witch. As a child we used to go out of our way to avoid her and she seemed happy with this arrangement. That all changed on that day sixty years ago when I was a ten year old child with not a care in the world. My parents warned me not to talk to this enigma of a lady but they might as well have handed me an invitation, as I was a curious rebellious child.

I recall that day as if it was yesterday. It was the hottest day of the Summer as my older sister Kate and my mother were sunbathing in the back garden. As mother was on her knees tending to her beloved roses Kate and I frolicked in the paddling pool. I remember the laughter as a large bee swarmed around Kate, which alarmed her as she made her way indoors screaming at the top of her voice, mother swiftly hurrying after her. My glee was complete as I saw the colourful insect home in on the arm of my distraught sister like a Kamikaze pilot swooping on a battleship.

The panic indoors offered me the opportunity I had been waiting for. I picked up my football and flung it over the high fence before exiting the garden. I knocked loudly on the paint starved red door and saw the curtains move. Again I knocked and was soon looking up at this ominous figure of a woman.

Close up I could see even as a child how pretty she must have been in her younger days, then realised she looked no older than my mother in the face, it was just that pristine white hair that added years on her appearance. Her narrow eyes were green like emeralds and her so white teeth were perfect and unblemished, but the clay pipe clamped between her lips held my attention. I had never seen a woman smoking a pipe before. I still recall that mustard coloured cardigan and long black skirt trailing down to her bare feet to this day.

My bravado was running in reverse as I took a step back wondering why I was here.
“Yes little boy. What can I do for you?”

“Mmmy bbball, it’s gone into your back garden.”

Fear-provoking thoughts entered my head as the stories of Alice the witch would not go away. I envisaged images of the inside of a pie and Alice licking her lips as she placed me inside her hot oven. I took another step back.

“Well come on then. Let’s go and look for your ball.”

“I have to go, my teas ready.”

“Why not have tea at my house? I have jam tarts, hot cross buns and rice pudding. You like rice pudding don’t you?”

I nodded enthusiastically as the lure of the goodies negated my fear.
She beckoned me inside with her index finger attracting me like a magnet and it was at that moment when I noticed the length of her fingernails. This added to my imagery of her being a witch but the aroma of the hot cross buns won the day.

It was a strange house, all of the rooms I passed had a strange green glow emitting from them and there was very little furniture. Several portraits adorned the black painted walls all depicting a woman, which I took to be her. The kitchen was no exception as the green glow gave it an eerie atmosphere. My eyes were attracted to four large pans or were they cauldrons sitting on the hob of the age-old oven?

Alice stood besides the oven, her green cat-like eyes fixed on me as she smiled; or was it a smirk?
“Hubble-bubble,” she laughed as she reached for a wooden spoon.

I backed off and she guffawed loudly before telling me to relax. I took a deep breath as she opened the oven door expecting the worst. I licked my lips as she removed the hot cross buns and a large bowl of rice pudding. Alice winked at me and I followed her to the table and realised there was only one chair, which she prompted me to use. My mouth watered as she spooned the delicious looking pudding into a bowl. I polished off two bowls and still made room for a hot cross bun and a jam tart.

Alice watched me contently as I held my stomach and offered her a toothless smile.
“Well, what do you think?”

“It was the bestest rice pudding I’ve ever tasted.“

“I thought you’d like it Timmy.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I know everyone's name.”

“No you don’t. That’s impossible.”

“Is it?”

“Okay, what’s the name of my dog?”

“Goldie of course.”

“Yikes! You are magic. Are you a witch?”

She laughed loudly throwing her head back as her long white hair distorted her features. “The children like to think that. What do you think?”

“I don’t think you are because you haven’t got a cat and all witches have cats.”

She looked past me and smiled. I heard the patter of tiny feet before hearing the sound I was dreading. “Meow.”

I stood up and felt my eyes popping out of their sockets.
“Sit down Timmy, you have nothing to fear from me.”

“The other kids call you Alice the witch but I don’t, honest.”

“Sticks and stones.”

“Why are you always on your own?”

“Because Timmy it is God’s wish. I have been punished and am still serving his sentence.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someday I’ll tell you. You won’t understand if I told you now.”

“Please tell me Alice. I won’t tell anyone honest.”

She smiled flashing her perfect teeth. “Maybe you are more grown up than I give you credit for Timmy. You’re a smart ten-year-old aren’t you?”

“How do you know my age?”

“How old do you think I am Timmy?”

“Dunno, about one hundred.”

Again she threw her head back and laughed loudly. “Timmy, I am a wee bit older than that. Before I continue you must promise me that you will tell nobody of what you are about to hear?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Very well, I trust you; she said pouring out a glass of refreshing lemonade for me. Timmy, I lived in a village in Northumbria many years ago. When you are older you will understand more what I am about to divulge to you. I was a young girl, pretty and in love with a young man called Edwin. In those days the Romans ruled Britain and even though we hated the Romans they offered us security, as we were vulnerable to attacks before they arrived. All was well until 408 AD, yes Timmy, 408 AD. Our rulers were recalled back to Rome and of course the inevitable happened.”

“The Romans; we’re learning about them at school.”

Alice continued. “We were attacked by the Picts and were defenceless without leadership and guidance. Edwin and I fled to the forest and were captured by those terrible people. A large bearded man with his face painted blue was about to smite Edwin with his sword and I begged him not to. What he wanted to know was the whereabouts of our village and promised he’d spare our lives if we cooperated and told them where the village was. Edwin begged me not to tell and reminded me our families lived in the village but I was a young girl smitten. I told them and they cut off Edwin’s head in front of me before, well I’ll tell you when you’re older of my ordeal.”

“You’re telling fibs, nobody can be that old.”

“I’m not finished Timmy. I returned to my smoldering village and found the ravaged bodies of my family including my two-year-old sister. I wandered around aimlessly for what must have been days before I came across a strange green glow in the forest. I had to shield my eyes from the brilliance of the phenomenon and a loud booming voice talked to me. The voice said I had betrayed those that were closest to me and that as a punishment I would be left to walk the earth forever.”

“Wow, was it God?”

“I don’t know Timmy but here I am. I have seen many things in my time on earth and I am tired. I long to find peace and to be allowed into the kingdom of heaven but I know in my heart it will never happen.”

“That’s a brilliant story Alice.”

“Remember your promise Timmy.”

“I promise.”

My parents scolded me for seeing Alice but every opportunity that presented itself I visited her as she enthralled me with her countless stories of her life. I eventually went to University but looked forward to visiting Alice whenever I returned home. The many self-portraits depicted her in her various eras and I learnt so much about this poor woman destined to never die.

I had my doubts of course but it made sense when I thought about it. Alice never looked any older and she went into so much detail about her life, and I have to admit; I checked out the dates and facts feeling a little guilty as they always substantiated her story.

Our relationship is growing as each day I get a little nearer to her age. I am mesmerised by her accounts of her meeting Henry VIII and being present at the coronation of Queen Victoria. She was once even accused of being a witch in the dark ages but one of her accusers fell for her alluring charm and all charges were dropped. It amazes me to think when I am no more Alice will still be around, marveling at another new era.

There is a great sadness in this tormented woman and recently found out the extremes she is willing to go to in her quest for the ultimate peace. It was a fine Spring day and I decided to accompany her to the Supermarket against the will of my parents. I was now nineteen years of age and free to do as I please and our unhealthy relationship according to my father would I hope flourish. I felt myself growing closer to Alice and could see the vulnerability in her emerald eyes as she poured out her soul to me. A sexual chemistry was developing between us not physical as yet but mental. I think Alice could sense my lustful thoughts and encouraged me to find a girlfriend my own age.

Lecherous stares were directed at us as we walked along the High Street towards the Supermarket. We waited at the traffic lights and I took my eyes off her for one moment but that is all she needed. I heard the screech of brakes and then the loud dull thud as the car hit Alice catapulting her into the air as if in a dream sequence. She was thrown to onto the road and I screamed as she disappeared under the wheels of a bus.

Several more screams accompanied mine as I dashed into the road blindly. I crouched below the bus and held out my hand and felt her cold palm enveloping mine. The tears streamed down my eyes as she stared into nothingness.

A priest appeared from somewhere and asked her if she would like the last rites read. My tears turned to laughter as Alice smiled and said; “That would be lovely Father.”

What happened next was amazing as the crowd stepped back open-mouthed and Alice rose to her feet and brushed herself down. “Life goes on,” she said as she walked away mingling with the crowd. My troubled mind was in turmoil; I did not know if I was happy she had survived or if I was sad at her failed suicide attempt.

Now I am an old man and my life ebbs away, Alice tends to me. As I lay in her bed she relates to me stories of a small boy many years ago that craved for rice pudding. My hope is that after death I can be reunited with Alice, in this life or the next.

Fascinating! I just love this sort of stuff. Very readable and in my opinion, the characters really came to life. I suppose really that at the tender age of 647, I have not yet fully matured in my judgment. I have the feeling that I actually met Alice in June of 1603.

Keep it up! Cheers Allen

Feedback submitted by Neil Wills at neilwills@berlin142.fsnet.co.uk on 23rd May 2002 

Hi Hulse,
Long time no read. I liked this ....I must have because I finished it. Just one comment though. I felt the story was good but at times, it was a little stiff. Too 'worked'. Make sense?