Putting Alice Back Together. Carol Marinelli

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      About the Author

      The two great discoveries that changed CAROL MARINELLI’s life were the Sat Nav and writing. Born with no sense of direction, Carol spent way too long poring over maps, missing turns, getting utterly and completely lost and hoping that she’d get there in the end—which she invariably did, but usually flustered and late. The arrival of Irish Sean into her life changed many things. She soon learnt that if she just carried right on sooner or later he’d re-navigate and she’d reach her destination.

      Carol also spent way too long poring over application forms—she’s been a typist, a nurse, a fruit-picker, a backpacker, and has also applied to be a policewoman and to study midwifery, psychology… the list goes on. They all appealed—just not enough. Since the age of eighteen she’s dabbled with writing, but it was a rather sporadic effort at first—then finally she decided to take it more seriously. The biggest thrill in Carol’s writing life (and it still is to this day) was typing, for the first time, the words “The End”. For so many years there had been chapters and outlines and endless stop-starts, but having a full story, from start to middle to end, gave her a rush she had never expected. Of course it was rejected, but she’d got the bug and kept going till she was accepted.

      These days she takes an awful lot of fish oil, and keeps a pen and paper by her bed, in her bag, in the kitchen, in the car. She loves that she can talk to friends at length about the people who pop into her head and not get looked at too strangely for it. Being published, sitting down to write every day—finally she found direction and a whole lot of new friends. A whole new way of life, really. Now, no matter what life throws, when she pushes the button for home the answer is always the same: at the end of the day, sit down and write.

      Find out more about Carol at www.carolmarinelli.com

      Putting

      Alice Back Together

      Carol Marinelli

       For Sam, Alex and Lucinda with love always xxxx

       Acknowledgements

      Mostly I have loved writing this story, but there are times I have just wanted to walk away—actually, a few times I did walk away, so there are loads of people to thank for helping me to keep going till I felt Alice’s story had been told.

      First of all I want to thank my children (not that I ever want them to read my work)—I have to confess that it worries me a little that they think it’s perfectly normal to have a mum crying and laughing at the computer keyboard and that they have all, over the years, individually asked how Alice is doing!!

      I have a brilliant friend, Helen Browne. There is no way I would have finished without her—not only does she help with the ups and downs and logistics of my life, but she also has an amazing ability to keep her eyes from glazing over as I bombard her with my plot and to nod in all the right places—better still, she tells me the bits that she doesn’t like (brave woman indeed)!

      I want to thank the wonderful team at MIRA for taking Alice’s story on, especially Kimberley Young and Jenny Hutton, who have pushed me to make it the best that it can be and who have been so patient.

      Thanks, too, to my mum and my sisters Anne and Helen, who put up with my long phone calls. I have the best mum and despite the distance we are so close and she comes over and is a huge support. A special thanks to Anne and my gorgeous niece Hannah, who came all the way over to Australia from the UK when I needed it the most.

      I have a wonderful group of friends, they go by the name Maytoners—we push each other and support each other, well, they do me and I hope I give the same back—they all know who they are, but I cannot not mention Anne Gracie, who read a shaky draft of this book at a time when she really had every reason not to and then took the time to contact me and give me words of encouragement—it meant an awful lot. Nor can I leave out Marion Lennox, who lent me a very patient ear as I worked out where Alice’s pregnancy was going.

      I would like to thank Stuart MacDonald for his enthusiasm—he is a wonderful friend and an endless source of wisdom. Thanks, too, to Shane Burns, a gifted musician and all around nice guy and also thank you to Annemarie and John for breakfasts, lunches and love and also to Raelene and Leanne too.

      Yasmin Boland has been wonderful—not only letting Alice read from her fantastic book Cosmic Love, but also providing me with insightful, wonderful horoscopes every day at www.moonology.com

      Then there’s Sarah Morgan, a brilliant writer and an amazing friend. If there is one advantage to living on the other side of the world, then it has to be the time difference with e-mail. I can pour out my worries at night—when the book has stalled, when things catch up, when life feels hard—and then wake up the next day and it is as if the fairies have been and I have a reply filled with love and support and an awful lot of laughs.

      Anyway, these are my thank yous—they really are heartfelt, but first, last and always my love and thanks goes to my children.

       Prologue

       Little Alice

      ‘That’s the Munchkins sorted.’ Mrs Evans smiled. ‘Now we can move on to casting the main parts.’ Everyone was nudging, all sitting cross-legged on the gym floor—a mix of eager and dejected faces, because anyone left after this would be in the chorus. ‘The Wicked Witch of the West…’ Mrs Evans announced, and I held my breath. If I wasn’t going to be Dorothy I didn’t actually mind being her, but I could feel the sweat beading on my forehead as Debbie Carter got the part.

      ‘The Lion…’ I knew this next lot of roles would go to the boys.

      It was between Louise and me—she was so pretty and blonde she’d be lovely as the good fairy.

      I knew I was good at drama. I knew I had a role and that there were only two girl ones left—and with my curly hair I wouldn’t make a nice neat calm fairy. And given that my hair was red too…

      I was going to be Dorothy!

      Jonathon Phillips actually walked like the Tin Man as he stood up.

      ‘Choose me, choose me…’ I had my fingers crossed under my little fat shaking knees. I was trying to pretend I didn’t care, that the lovely gingham dress and ruby shoes didn’t matter so, except they did. I made my wish at the wrong second, though. Everyone was cheering. Louise was patting me on the back and Mrs Evans was grinning widely as, red in the face, I stood up and crashed my way through all the crossed knees.

      I was Alice Lydia Jameson—the Scarecrow.

       One

      ‘How could she not know?’ Roz snorted.

      Hugh was at the table, filling in tax forms.

      Roz and I were watching the news when a story came on about some woman who hadn’t known she was pregnant and had flushed СКАЧАТЬ