Putting Alice Back Together by Carol Marinelli

blubbering Roz, and he was just about to retreat when Roz saw him.
    ‘Don’t go on my account, Hugh,’ she gulped. ‘Stay and have drink; we were going to watch a movie.’
    Actually, no, we weren’t! Roz always brings the same two movies in the hope I’ll watch them— Run Fat Boy Run and Meet The Fockers —honestly, I swear I will talk to her one day.
    And they would have sat unwatched, as they had for the past few months, except Hugh’s eyes lit up when hesaw the two DVDs on the coffee table that just turned out to be his favourites.
    ‘Are you sure I won’t be interrupting?’ Hugh checked.
    ‘Please,’ I mouthed, and he gave a half-smile. ‘Roz has had a row with her daughter,’ I explained, as he served up the curry.
    ‘Lizzie?’ Hugh said and I was surprised that he knew. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Roz—sixteen’s a shit age.’
    ‘Tell me about it.’
    ‘Grab a glass,’ I said. ‘It’s organic and tannin free.’
    ‘I’ll stick with my duty free.’
    Okay, the movie was funny. They were both funny and it was kind of like the old days, not quite a full house but three of us, not in any rush, and I finished off the disgusting organic, preservative-free wine (actually, it wasn’t that bad—I just felt it ought to be). We were working our way down Hugh’s duty free when Roz suggested I play the piano, as she often does when she’s had a drink.
    ‘Play,’ Roz urged, as I tinkered around, and I sensed Hugh’s interest. Was I going to break into ‘Chopsticks’ or ‘Row, Row, Row Your Boat’ and disappoint?
    Normally, when it’s people other than Roz, I play something silly, the oldies but goodies. When it’s just Roz, though, well, she’s so encouraging that I try other things. I like Mika and I try to work out his songs by ear, and even though Hugh was there, unbelievably that was what I did.
    I started playing ‘Grace Kelly’. I love the beginning: there’s this restless energy to it that makes my stomach go tight.
    He’s like musical cocaine to me—there’s a rush thatcomes with the sounds he makes. The range of his voice makes me quiver. Well, I played the intro and then I looked at Roz and she was grinning and so I played it again and then…
    Even though Hugh was there, we did what we do when it’s just us.
    Roz got to be Grace Kelly, while I played and sang.
    It sounds silly, but I just hammer that song.
    I feel like I am galloping at breakneck speed along the beach.
    Maybe I was showing off at first. Maybe I was flirting and showing Hugh a different side, but only for a few seconds—you can’t be lost in music and show off. When you are lost, it is so exhilarating that there isn’t room for anything else.
    Roz could shatter a glass at a hundred paces but she was singing now as if she’d hadn’t been crying, as if she didn’t have a care in the world, and I was just flying—all the colours were vivid as I sang them. My voice is good and I was on a high as I sang. When it ended, Roz got off the stool, as dizzy and as euphoric as if she was getting off the waltzers at the fair. I fiddled around for a bit and with Roz urging me on I played a couple of pieces from my exam repertoire. I forgot about Roz and, for the first time since I’d found him in my kitchen that morning, I completely forgot about Hugh.
    The piano does that to me.
    When I was a teenager, I used to love the mornings that Mum and Bonny were both on early shifts and I’d have the house to myself for an hour before school. I could just play uninterrupted for an extra precious hour.
    I’d have played from the moment I got in from schooltill Mum told me to go to bed if I could have got away with it, that was how much I needed it—but now, rather than sustaining me, it drains me.
    After half an hour I’d had enough and I would have, which is rare for me, been quite happy to go to bed. I felt depleted, but Roz was still begging for diversion from her fight with Lizzie and she suggested we play spin the