Rabbithole

My eyes opened to the incessant and unforgiving glare of fluorescent lights; and the rough, irritating itch of blue polyester fabric, against which my face was lying. As consciousness drifted slowly through me, I realised that I was not where I should be - where I would expect to wake up – in my single bed in my severely overpriced studio flat in Brixton.

I sat up, blearily.

I was on the tube, and it seemed to be hurtling through it’s intricate web of tunnels at an unusual speed. I did not remember how I came to be there, or even where I had come from.

Brilliant Alice, you must have had even more to drink than usual.

The carriage looked as one would expect – two rows of blue seats facing one another, perpendicular lines of yellow handrails. I noticed that the space where you would usually presume to see asinine adverts for perfumes and tourist attractions pasted above the windows was whitewashed, and where the ads should have been, bizarre quotations from music and literature were scrawled out in calligraphy.

“In societies where modern conditions of production prevail, all of life presents itself as an accumulation of spectacles.”

“We cannot afford to be idle. To act on a bad idea is better than to not act at all.”

I frowned at this, and it added to my general state of confusion, but I dismissed it as some kind of marketing ploy – one that under different circumstances would have piqued my attention further - and turned my attention back to my more immediate predicament.

I watched my own reflection for a moment, clear in the window behind which was pure darkness. I was wearing my navy blue batwing dress. I looked down at my feet and saw that I was wearing heels, which I rarely do.

Ah- I had been at Jonah’s party. I must have been. I remember getting ready. Did I ever make it to the party? I didn’t remember. How did I end up here?

My head was pounding.

I looked down at my wrist to check the time but to my surprise my watch had disappeared.

Had I been wearing it when I left tonight?

I always wear it.

On the seat beside me was my black clutch bag. I opened it to find that it was empty, with the exception of a half-smoked packet of cigarettes, a lighter and a lipstick.

Where was my purse? My card? Phone?

I began to feel very uneasy indeed.

Even more bizarrely, beside my bag lay a bottle of water and a paper bag. Curiosity demanded that I open it, and upon looking inside I found a selection of fresh, ripe fruit – a perfectly red apple, two peaches, a plump, round pear, a couple of deep purple plums.

What in the name of God is going on here?

The train continued to rattle along through the darkness and it suddenly occurred to me how unusual it was that it hadn’t stopped yet. Any journey on the underground is usually punctuated with a pause every couple of minutes. Oxford Circus. Tottenham Court Road. Holborn, et cetera. Commuters, tourists; each carriage – even at night – was ordinarily filled with people bustling through their lives, anonymously and with a seemingly unshakeable sense of purpose. Never once had I seen an empty carriage. And yet here I was alone, hurtling through a seemingly endless series of tunnels with no phone and no money – just a bag of fruit and the early makings of a hangover.

I shivered.

Surveying my surroundings again hazily, I decided that I should try to make my way to the front of the train to find an official to help me with my dilemma. I stood up and stumbled with the first step, suddenly feeling worse for having moved.

Why is this train going so damn fast?

I grabbed the clutch, the water - even the fruit – and made my way to the next carriage, identical to the one I woke up in; equally empty. And the next. And the next.

A rising panic started growing in me now. My mind fumbled unsuccessfully to try to understand how I came to be here. To understand why these carriages were empty, in the centre of London; why this train hadn’t stopped in what I estimated must have been at least 15 minutes in the time since I woke up; why it was moving so very quickly beneath the city –

Clunk, hiss.

My increasing panic was interrupted by the unexpected sound of the carriage door opening behind me. I jolted and span around. A man was standing in the doorway. I eyed him fearfully. We stared at one another for several seconds without moving, without speaking.

He looked somewhat dishevelled – a mess of dark hair protruding from his head in all manner of unusual angles; the beginnings of a five o’ clock shadow appearing on the bottom half of his face. However, I also noticed that he was wearing an expensive-looking, creaseless black shirt tucked into smart black jeans; polished shoes. If I had met him in a different scenario, I would perhaps have tried to find an excuse to initiate a conversation.

When I observed his eyes, I noted that they were deep – like they held all manner of sorrow and empathy – and also a flicker of the same fear and uncertainty that I assumed he must have been seeing in mine. He did not move from his position in the doorway.

‘What’s going on?’ I asked feebly, in a much quieter voice than I had intended. ‘Who are you?’

I continued to eye him suspiciously. Although I had the sense that this was a person I could trust, I was also deeply aware of the vulnerability of my position; a girl alone with this stranger under such bizarre circumstances.

‘I woke up on here.’ He replied quickly. ‘My name is Nick. I don’t know what’s going on – I was hoping you might be able to – ‘

‘This is so fucking weird,’ I muttered. He looked just as perplexed and afraid as I was becoming. ‘I woke up here too. I don’t remember getting on, or even being at a station. I don’t know what’s going on either, but I’m glad I have run into you. Is there anyone else on the train?’

He moved into the carriage toward me now, and I gestured in the direction from which he had appeared.

‘Haven’t found anyone else so far,’

‘Fuck.’

We looked at one another in fear for a moment.

‘Have you ever seen the tube like this? So empty. Have you ever known it not to stop for so long? Or to go so quickly?’

‘No.’ replied Nick, flatly and softly.

A wave of light-headedness suddenly came over me. I put my hand to my head and stumbled backwards, steadying myself on the handrail.

Nick instinctively stepped forward and grabbed my arm, steadying me with his other hand on the small of my back. I felt a small shock of electricity at the feel of his touch and the kind, deep concern coming from his eyes, but swiftly reprimanded myself for this reaction when there were so much more important things to be thinking about – like where the fuck I was or – more terrifyingly – where I might be headed.

‘I’m sorry,’ I muttered, ‘I think I had a bit to drink tonight. I don’t remember. It suddenly feels so warm in here.’

Nick guided me backwards to the seat, signalling for me to sit down. He sat beside me.

‘What’s your name?’ He asked kindly, removing his had from it’s prior position. I was almost disappointed.

‘Alice.’

‘Nice to meet you, Alice.’ After a pause, ‘I wonder if we’re headed to Wonderland then.’

I noted a mischievous glint in his eye and can’t help but burst out in laughter. What a thing to say at such a time. I appreciated the audacity of the remark. He smiled at me, apparently pleased that he has succeeded in amusing me.

‘You’ve been given a packed lunch too I see,’ He signalled to the crumpled brown paper bag I was still holding. This comment made me shiver again, though I wasn’t really sure why. ‘I ate one of the apples and had some of the water – probably about twenty minutes ago – and so far I feel fine. The water seemed to be sealed. I would suggest that you have some. I know it seems risky – and it might be - but it looks like you could use some hydration and to get some sugar in your system – ‘

I agreed with him. While eating the fruit seemed like it might be a somewhat Snow White-esque risk – or perhaps like something ill-advised from the Old Testament – I also felt that if I didn’t eat or drink something soon I may pass out again – which seemed even more dangerous. I opened the sealed cap on the water bottle and drank a third of it in three gulps.

‘What will it be, Alice?’ Nick asked, holding out my bag. The glint in his eye remained, as though he were still amused by my name, and picturing me growing until I filled the carriage, or shrinking down to the size of Thumbelina. His presence and good humour relaxed me a little. I reached out and pulled a ripe, round peach from the bag. I took a bite. It was sweet and juicy and delicious and I devoured the entire thing hungrily within about a minute, almost relieved when I finished that there were no signs that I was about to grow bigger, or smaller; and that it actually made me feel better, rather than worse.

The train continued to rattle through the darkness. On and on and on – which as far as I could see at this point, defied all logic. I must have woken up at least forty minutes ago.

‘I am assuming you don’t have a phone, or a watch?’ Nick asked, thoughtfully.

I shook my head.

‘No, they took mine too.’

Once again his mention of this anonymous they made me tremble. It did indeed seem though, like this had been orchestrated in some way – yet I couldn’t begin to fathom why, or how.

Where could we possibly be going?

‘Can you remember anything at all about how you got here Alice? About where you had been beforehand? Anything?’

He was eyeing me intently. I considered this carefully before I answered.

‘It was Friday night. I have a friend Jonah – he had a party. I remember getting ready in my flat. I remember walking around the party, drinking a glass of white wine – but it’s patchy – like fragments rather than a real memory. I didn’t know many people. I was watching them all, not enjoying myself very much. And I woke up here. I don’t remember leaving the party, I don’t remember walking to a tube station, or being inside one. I just woke up in a carriage – with no phone, no watch, no money.’

On saying this I remembered the cigarettes in my clutch bag. I took one out of the packet and lit it, instantly feeling that familiar sense of insatiable comfort with the nicotine hit. I held the packet out to Nick.

‘You’re smoking? On the tube?’

I laughed quietly.

‘Yes. I bloody hope I get kicked off for it.’

He laughed too.

‘Good point,’ He took one from the pack himself and lit it. ‘Thank you.’

‘So what do you remember?’ I asked him, ‘From tonight? How did you get here?’

‘I – ‘

Before he had time to respond, the lights in the carriage flickered then with a heavy clunk, switched off completely, leaving us in absolute darkness apart from the orange glow from our cigarettes. Instinctively, I dropped mine and leapt toward Nick, landing directly next to him on the seat.

The train never stopped moving through the dark.

‘What the fuck is going on?’ I whimpered, finally allowing a wave of fear to crash through me.

I felt his hand grab firmly onto mine and hold it tightly. I felt his arm wrap around my shoulder resolutely. I buried my head against his chest, wanting for just a moment to take myself away from this absurd situation. A tear fell out of my eye and I think he felt it against the skin above his buttoned up shirt.

‘Alice, listen to me.’

I pulled away from his chest, and felt him softly move his hand from mine and up toward my face.

‘Listen, you’re going to be alright, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.’

His fingers brushed another tear away from my cheek and then continued to move softly across my face in an act of comfort and reassurance. My face was inches from his. I could feel the warmth of his breath as he calmly said, ‘I took four jiu-jitsu classes eleven years ago: you and I are going to be just fine’.

I laughed through my tears.

Because he was being so kind and so comforting, and because I was rather attracted to him anyway, and because he made me laugh twice, and because I wanted a few moments to escape my fear, and because I thought there was some chance I may die at some point in the fairly imminent future, I leant in to where I instinctively knew his lips were and briefly brushed my own against them. I felt him freeze up in surprise when I did this. Then after a second or two, he exhaled and returned the kiss, with slightly more pressure and urgency, and I gladly reciprocated.

At first, it was just our lips, exploring each other hesitantly, but this soon escalated to full mouths, tongues – God, it was a great kiss. His hands were still against my face but he moved them back through my hair and down onto my neck with increasing urgency. I heard the slightest moan unconsciously escape his mouth against my own and it drove me crazy. His hands moved with more purpose now, down over my body, as we both enjoyed the intense escape of this moment. He pulled me closer toward him and without a thought in my head, I swung around so that I was straddling him on the seat. He kissed my neck and his hands moved down toward my ass when I heard a moan escape from my own lips. I had never felt more desire for a person in my life, and I had only known him for a maximum of about half an hour. Then again, these are pretty extenuating circumstances, I thought to myself.

As his mouth reached the rather low V-neck of my dress and I pushed my body toward him, eager to know what he planned to do next, the lights flickered on as quickly as they had flickered off moments earlier. We pulled apart instinctively.

So there I was, in an empty tube carriage, straddling a perfect stranger who was quickly removing his hands from my ass. I slid off him as swiftly as possible, mortified that I had been so forward, as though what had happened between us could only be acceptable in the confines of that impossible blackness. I had never done anything like that in my life – but Christ it felt good.

‘Oh God, Alice,’ Nick mumbled awkwardly, ‘I’m so sorry, I – it’s just that – ‘

‘It’s alright,’ I interrupted. ‘I get it. Me too –‘.

We smiled with mutual embarrassment.

As though it intended to break the awkwardness, the crackle of a tannoy sounded above us, making us both jump. We looked at each other, wide-eyed.

‘Good morning, passengers.’ A man’s voice rang out. He was very well spoken, and there was an air of friendliness in his address. ‘May I begin by apologising for the small technical issue that has just occurred? The issue has been resolved and please rest assured, the lights will not switch off again for the duration of your journey.’

If I hadn’t been so utterly bemused by what I was hearing, I may have felt almost disappointed by this information.

‘May I apologise also for the worry and confusion I know you must be feeling now? I am sincerely sorry. With time, you will come to understand the necessity of the secrecy surrounding this night’s events.’

Nick and I continued to stare at one another in bewilderment as the monologue continued.

‘I shall explain this in earnest later, when I finally get to meet you in person, but please be assured that you are quite safe. You are in no danger. This is going to sound strange, but I know that each one of you is dissatisfied with the state of society, and perhaps with your own lives within it. Each one of you has been personally selected, for the opportunity to live a different kind of life.’

My brow furrowed at this, and I looked down for a moment. Inside myself, I felt a pang of recognition – on some level what he was saying applied to me, and it made me uneasy that his words carried some truth. Nick seemed to notice when I tensed at them. He shot me a brief, frowning smile as we continued to listen.

‘That is as much as I can tell you for now, but please rest assured that if you wish to return to your homes, you will have the opportunity to do so soon. Do not be afraid my friends. In just shy of three hours, you will arrive at your destination and I will be able to explain all of this to you properly. In the meantime, there are additional snacks and beverages in the tenth carriage, and a lavatory in the eleventh. Please help yourselves to whatever you need and I look forward to meeting you all soon.

I shall leave you for now with the words of Roald Dahl: ‘and above all,’ he famously wrote, ‘watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.’

And the tannoy clicked off.

Nick and I looked at one another in disbelief, struggling to process what we had just heard.

‘What in the name of…’ Nick trailed off, half-perplexed; half-entertained.

I frowned and smiled and shook my head in agreement. I liked Nick. I was glad he was here to share in this strange and unsolicited adventure.

We were quiet for a moment, both thinking – or at least trying to think – but no logical explanation would materialise.

‘Where the fuck are we going?’ He reasoned aloud, ‘Did you have any idea the underground extended this far? How far do you think we have travelled already?’

I shrugged in bemusement.

‘Too far,’ I offered uselessly. ‘Way, way too far.’

‘Alice, do you think there are others on this train? It sounded like whoever was speaking through that tannoy was addressing more people than just the two of us,’

‘I thought that,’ I replied. ‘Shall we continue the way you were going before you came across me? Find the carriages he was talking about?’

I took another large gulp of water from my bottle and we exited the carriage, both of us too focused on our new quest to think too much about what had transpired in the dark a few moments earlier.

Another empty carriage.

Another empty carriage.

And another.

‘Alice.’ Nick stopped walking. ‘There was something I was about to tell you, before the lights went out. I feel I am being dishonest somehow if I don’t mention it.’

I stared at him quizzically, silently inviting him to continue.

‘My memory of what happened before I woke up here is like yours – murky and fragmented. When I walked into the carriage, and saw you standing there, I felt like I recognised you from somewhere. I was at the party too – at Jonah’s. I work with Mike, his husband.’

‘You were?’ I blinked. ‘Did we speak?’

How is my memory of tonight so mashed up?

‘No. This is going to sound strange – probably a little creepy, but I don’t mean it to. I remember watching you for a while. You were observing everyone else, quietly, sipping on your wine – as though you were separate from them – a silent witness. I only remember fragments – but I do remember being – I don’t know – kind of captivated by you for a while. I mean, you’re obviously beautiful – but you also looked kind of tired, and sad. Like you didn’t want to be there but you didn’t know where else to be.’

I nodded slowly at this, acknowledging the truth of what he had seen in me.

‘Do you like it, Nick?’

‘Like what?’

‘Life. In London – or wherever really. The way things are. The way people are. I don’t know. I must sound crazy but sometimes it just feels like we’re missing something. Like everything is a spectacle and we just race forward, forward, forward as fast as we can except we never really get anywhere and we miss what’s around us on the way –‘

I stopped, having surprised even myself with this outburst.

‘Mhm,’ he affirmed quietly, his furrowed brow indicating that he was turning my words over with care inside his head. ‘I know I must sound crazy too, but I think that’s why we’re here, on the train. I don’t feel so afraid as I did before.’

I realised I didn’t either and this momentarily fizzled in the air between us like a current. I nodded.

‘Let’s check the next carriage.’

Two more down, we finally came across the rest of the passengers. There were seven people, sitting on seats either side. I saw in each of their faces the abstract bemusement myself and Nick were also experiencing.

It felt as though London must have been a thousand miles away.

‘Hi,’ I said as I walked through the door to greet them.

None of them appeared to be surprised by our intrusion. I assumed they must have come across one another in much a similar fashion. Equally, there wasn’t a lot to say. It was apparent that we were all in the same situation; that no one there could offer any further explanation. Nick followed me into the carriage.

To my left were two women and a man; and to my right three men and a woman. Most of them looked to be in their late twenties, perhaps into their thirties. They all seemed to have come from a party, or an event – dressed well in different ways – two of the women in cocktail dresses. One of the men, in a waistcoat with a beanie hat and eyeliner, looked like he might have come from a rock concert.

Something caught my attention: one of the women – wearing a well-fitting red bodycon dress - was lifting something to her mouth.

‘Is that coffee?’

‘Next carriage, hun. It’s pretty good.’

‘Thanks, we’ll – erm – see you in a bit I guess,’

If meeting people at London parties was challenging, this was something else entirely.

Nick followed me into the next carriage.

It looked different, not like a tube train at all. There was a mini-fridge stocked with what looked like different juices in glass bottles; and milk. On the left there was a pewter jug labelled coffee.

I immediately proceeded to pour myself a cup, signalling to Nick by way of asking whether he’d like one too. It felt strangely intimate, preparing those coffees together. Nick already had this way of looking straight into the heart of me with those dark, probing eyes, which somehow said more than any words could have.

‘This is going to sound like a bizarre thing to say, but I am so glad you’re here, stranger. Wherever we are going.’

He smiled wryly.

‘Me too, stranger.’

The rest of the journey was uneventful. We carried our drinks back into the carriage where the others were gathered and mainly sat in silence, each of us trying to work out what could possibly be happening. There were a few brief introductions – names, jobs – that kind of thing. The majority of them came from London but a couple had been visiting from other places. Though we were all polite, there seemed to be a general sense that there was little to say, and very little point in speculating about the meaning behind this absurd experience. So, for the most part, we sat with our thoughts and waited as the train continued to rattle, rattle, rattle on through the darkness. Nick, beside me, softly held my hand for the remainder of the journey.

All of a sudden, it became apparent that something was changing. Everyone seemed to awaken from their stupor and begin to look around, though it wasn’t entirely clear why at first. Then we realised. It was getting lighter. We were reaching the end of the tunnel and the night train emerged back up into the real world. Everybody in the carriage turned around and stared intently out of the windows as we arose from the endless maze of tunnels.

We materialised on a coastline. The train was running adjacent to the edge of the water. On the horizon at the vast edges of the glistening ocean the sun could be seen rising slowly into the sky, casting the whole prospect in a stark and unapologetic auburn glow. We in the carriage stared in reverent silence, too taken with what we saw to question where we might be. We watched in awe until the sun had risen completely before anyone moved.

From the other side of the carriage, I could see fields and little areas of woodland flashing by. We could have been anywhere, or nowhere at all. There were no markers to indicate a specific location. But it was beautiful. It felt as though London might as well be in a different universe - one, in that moment, that I had very little interesting in returning to. Nick looked at me questioningly, as though trying to interpret my thoughts as I stared through the window in wonder.

As we watched, something else beneath us shifted. The lulling rattle along the track, that had been our world for the last few hours, altered. The rhythm of the cluck-cluck-cluck reformed around us. We were slowing down.

We pulled into what looked like a large village, comprised of beautiful, classic-looking houses – like old-style cottages, but stronger and cleaner somehow. The station was marked with a large stone sign that read: SHANGRI-LA. I looked across at Nick quizzically as we pulled to a stop against the platform.

For a moment, nobody moved, unsure of what we were supposed to do. Then the door of the carriage slid open and a rather unkempt-looking man with a friendly demeanour and contagious smile stepped in.

‘Ah – here you are. New recruits, so to speak.’ He grinned with a wink. ‘Only nine of you this month? That’s quite a small haul for Matty.’

Still nobody moved.

‘Don’t worry, he continued. ‘I’ll take you straight over to him and he’ll explain everything. I can still remember how I felt pulling up in this place for the first time. I’m Iain, by the way. Pleased to meet you all.’

So, we grabbed what few possessions we had been left with and followed the man from the carriage onto the platform. It was instantly refreshing to get a breath of fresh sea air and feel the brisk oceanic breeze against my face. I hadn’t really even thought about how stuffy it had been in those carriages.

I must have looked something like happy. I could tell because of the way Nick was smiling at me.

The nine of us were led into a building only a short walk from the station. We were taken into a room that was set up like it was ready for a small conference, only all of the furniture was fresh and wooden. It struck me as strange that nothing at all seemed to be made of plastic. And then it struck me as strange that that should have been strange.

We all took a seat reticently, with the same puzzlement that had lingered since waking up on the train, though any concern about imminent danger had clearly dwindled in all of us.

A man entered through a different door in front of us. He was wearing denim shorts, possibly jeans that had been cut off at the knee; and a navy t-shirt. His face was whiskery, a thin layer of bristles lined the sharp lower half of his face – a face that looked both friendly and authoritative. It was difficult to place his age, but if I had to guess I would have said he was perhaps in his fifties.

‘Good morning. My name is Mattias Atkinson.’

I was immediately evident that this was the same well-spoken voice we had heard over the tannoy, hours earlier. His voice was calm and quiet, but also commanding – compelling me to listen.

‘I always start by apologising for the manner in which you have come to be here today. I am not proud of the distress and confusion I know must be aroused under such circumstances. However, what I have established here is thoroughly dependant on absolute secrecy.’

He was interrupted by the jolt of the man sitting two seats down from me – James, from the rock concert.

‘Wait,’ he exclaimed. ‘I thought I recognised you. Mattias Atkinson – as in the founder of AtTech? The father of microchip technology? You went off the grid years ago. Where are we?’

Mattias Atkinson smiled genially. He didn’t seem at all perturbed by the interruption.

‘There’s usually someone who recognises me. Guilty – that’s me. Let me ask you a question – if you had a billion pounds – hypothetically – what would you do with it?’

We looked quizzically at one another, unsure whether he expected a response.

‘Well I decided to create this.’ He gestured around. ‘Shangri-La. The name is a little trite, I admit, but I always thought it was a pleasing combination of syllables – lyrical and appropriate.’

He smiled.

‘Anyway, I wanted to establish this community, away from the pitfalls of modern life. Call me a fool, but as far as I can see, we got something wrong along the way – it certainly felt that way to me – someone who managed to claw himself to the top of the technological age. Someone who managed to win at capitalism, so to speak.’

We all listened with rapt attention.

‘So, I bought some land, and began to build. With help, of course, though always with the utmost secrecy. Creating the infrastructure to access this area from central London – the trip you took this morning - that cost me, I can tell you. But I like to think I have created something special here. There are one hundred and thirteen of us at the moment – it’s a good number but I’m still bringing in more. I think it’s important to keep things fresh. We’ll have a party tonight, so that you can meet everyone. Shortly – Iain will take you on a tour of the area. Any questions that occur to you during the next couple of days, I will answer – and believe me, you will have some. In two days, the train that brought you here will make it’s way back to London. If you do not wish to stay, you may board it and return to your life. I know it is a lot to ask, but I cannot have people coming and going here. Unfortunately, you will be required to make a decision within the next 48 hours – and that decision will be final.

For now, I will let Iain commence with his tour, so that you can see what we are offering here, and how it all works. He will also show you to where you will be staying, and you will of course get the chance for some proper rest soon as I know you will be needing it. It has been a pleasure to see you all. I will make a point of speaking with you individually before the day is up. Thank you, for indulging me – though I am aware you have been given little choice in the matter.’

Then, after a small bow, he exited the room.

‘What are you thinking?’ asked Nick, as we followed Iain back outside. He looked utterly perplexed; but thoughtful like he were paying credence to what he had heard. ‘What do you think we should do?’ – as though whatever decision we made, we were to make it together. As crazy as this was, I felt the same way.

The words I read when I first woke up in the train carriage flashed across my mind.

To act on a bad idea is better than to not act at all.

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what life might be like if I decided to stay, and for a moment I lost myself in it.

***

There are no calendars here, but it is warm so I know it must be summer. I can hear the waves lapping rhythmically against the sand not far from our window. A crack of sunlight penetrates through a gap in the edge of the curtain and I observe Nick beside me, his breathing in synch with the lapping waves. His slumbering face carries a steadfast look of contentment which makes me smile.

We have been living here together now for what I imagine must be several years. I very occasionally wonder about the confusion – and perhaps even grief – that we left behind in London – about the impact of our respective disappearances from life. Though I am sure there must have been one, I also can’t help feeling that it must have been fairly insignificant, in the grand scheme of things.

Life here is good. You work with the earth; there is no rent, no taxation; no morning commute; no credit card; no choice during your 40-minute lunch break about which of thirty possible shades of lipstick to invest in for that party at the weekend. There is no crime; no small talk; no aggression. The air is fresh and sharp; the fields fertile and the water clear.

‘Mama, Mama.’

My thoughts are interrupted by a silhouette in the doorway. Lara must be around two now, I speculate.

‘From Matty. Yum yum.’ She toddles up to the bed with an enormous, beaming smile and from her little fists drops something round and succulent beside me on the bed.

‘Thanks Lala,’ I smile, scooping her up beside me. ‘My favourite.’

With blissful anticipation, I take a bite out of the peach and think to myself how very lucky I am that I decided to attend Jonah’s shit party in that other world, so very long ago.

***

‘Alice,’ Nick repeated under his breath, pulling me out of the stupor of my daydream, ‘What do you think we should do?’