“Oh, that feels like such a long time ago,” said Elisabeth. She looked at Alice and shook her head slightly, as if she’d never seen anything quite like it. “You’re like a time traveler. You really are.”

“So I guess you don’t work there anymore?” Alice felt irritable. This was going to get tiring if everyone looked at her with awe each time she asked a simple question. How much could have changed in ten years? It seemed like everything.

“The Treasure Chest is a website now,” said Elisabeth. “And I stopped working there about six years ago. I worked for an agency for about four years, and then two years ago I started running these training seminars on how to write direct mail. Or junk mail, as most people would call it. They’re quite—well, they’re quite successful, actually, as strange as that may seem. Anyway, it pays the bills. I was running one today when I got the call from Jane about you.”

“So it’s your own business?”

“Yes.”

“Wow! That’s so impressive. You’re a success story. I always knew you would be a success story. Can I come along and watch you?”

“Come along and watch? Watch me?” Elisabeth snorted.

“Oh. I guess I’ve already done that, have I?”

Elisabeth said, “No, Alice, you’ve never shown the slightest interest in coming along to one of my seminars.” Her voice had that sharp edge again.

“Oh,” said Alice, confused. “That seems . . . well, I wonder why not?”

Elisabeth sighed. “You’re just really busy, Alice. That’s all.”

There was that “busy” word again.

“And also, I think you find my whole choice of career maybe a bit—tacky.”

“Tacky? I said that? I said that about you? I would never say that!” Alice was horrified. Had she turned into a nasty person who judged people by their choice of a career? She’d always been proud of Elisabeth. She was the smart one, the one who was going places, while Alice stayed safely put.

Elisabeth said, “No, no, you never actually said that. You probably don’t even think it. Just forget I said that.”

Maybe, thought Alice fearfully, the other Alice who has been living my life for the last ten years isn’t very nice.

Alice said, “Well, what about me? What do I do for a job?”

Alice had worked as an administrative assistant in the pay office at ABR. She didn’t love it or hate it, it was just a job. She wasn’t especially interested in a career. “You’re such a domestic goddess. You’re like a 1950s housewife,” Elisabeth had once said to her, when Alice admitted that she’d just spent the most blissful day gardening, making new curtains for the kitchen, and baking a chocolate cake for Nick.

“You don’t work.” Elisabeth gave her an inscrutable look.

“Oh, well, that sounds good!” said Alice happily.

“You’re very busy, though.” What was it with that word? “You do a lot of stuff at the school.”

“The school? What school?”

“The children’s school.”

Oh. Them. The three scary little strangers.

“Frannie,” said Alice suddenly. “What about Frannie? She hasn’t—got sick or anything, has she?” She didn’t want to even say the word “died.”

“She’s fine,” said Elisabeth. “Full of beans.”

The silver mobile phone sitting on the cabinet next to Alice’s bed burst into life.

“It must be Nick at last!” Alice lunged for the phone.

“Oh!” Elisabeth jumped to her feet. “Let me talk to him first!”

“No way.” Alice held the phone away from her, irritated. “Why?” Without waiting for an answer, she pressed the green button and held the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, hi, it’s me.” It was Nick; Alice felt blissful relief running straight through her bloodstream like a shot of brandy.

“What’s happened?” His voice was deeper, rougher than usual, as if he had a cold. “Is it one of the kids?”

So Nick knew about “the kids,” too. Everyone knew about the kids.

Elisabeth was jumping up and down, waving her arms about, gesturing for the phone. Alice poked her tongue out at her.

“No, it’s me,” said Alice. There was so much to tell him, she didn’t know where to start. “I fell over at the, ah, gym, with Jane Turner, and hit my head. I was unconscious. They had to call an ambulance—oh, and I was sick in the lift all over this guy’s shoes, so embarrassing! And wait till I tell you about this bike-riding class! So funny. Hey, you’re in Portugal, I can’t believe you’re in Portugal, what’s it like?”

There was so much to tell him, she felt like she hadn’t seen him in years. When he got back from Portugal, they would have to go out for dinner at that Mexican restaurant they liked and talk, talk, talk. They would have margaritas; she could drink again, now that she wasn’t pregnant anymore. Oh, she yearned to be in that restaurant with him right now, sitting in a dark corner booth, his thumb caressing her palm.

There was silence on the other end of the phone. He must be in shock.

“But I’m not badly hurt!” Alice reassured him. “It’s not serious. I’ll be fine! I feel fine!”

He said, “Then why the f**k did I need to call you?”