Red Queen

Come Inside and Meet the Missus

Posty turned, setting his cup down on the worktop. As he walked away, Alice glanced from him to the cup, intending on just having a quick sip as she went past. The empty cup. She stared at it for a moment, wondering if she had imagined the contents. No, she couldn't have, could she? Was this messed up place messing her up?

"All things are as they don't seem," said a voice.

She looked up suddenly, guiltily, preparing to apologise for having a drink, even though she hadn't and couldn't because there was nothing there. The voice didn't belong to the professor. It belonged to the nobody who'd been haunting her since her arrival in this madhouse.

"Who are you?" she said angrily. "Why don't you show yourself?"

"Who are you talking to?"

Alice jumped. This time it was the professor.

"Pardon?"

"Who do you want to show themselves? Surely you'd ask nicely if you wanted something, wouldn't you? But there's no-one here, so nice or nasty isn't going to draw anybody out."

"I keep hearing a voice," said Alice. "It's following me but, when I look around, there's nothing to make the sound. It's driving me insane!"

"Are you sure you're not already there?"

There were certain people, her family and possibly her doctor, who might say she was, but she didn't think so. She was as sane as the next man. Well, in her present company, maybe not the next man...

"No," she answered emphatically. "I'm not. I'm definitely hearing a voice."

"I don't doubt it," said Posty. "I was just checking you weren't crazy."

"Why would you think I am?"

"Oh, no reason. I ask everyone."

"But why would you? It's a strange question to ask."

"Come on," he said, walking away. "We have to go if you want to meet her."

"But..."

But he was gone. She hurried after, any thoughts of phantasmal refreshment gone from her mind as quickly as the drink had vanished.

The doorway from the kitchen opened onto a living room, or what once would have probably been one. The cluttered surfaces of the kitchen seemed to have spilled over into here. A narrow pathway forced its way through the piles of junk to a door on the right. Again, an order which she couldn't quite make out but, if she squinted and looked at the reflection in a mirror over her shoulder she might just be able to, seemed to sort the spare parts and odd wires and cogs into something nearing (but doing its best to avoid) organisation. The professor had already disappeared from the room and she picked her way quickly through the ordered disorder.

A hallway led from the room deeper into the house. At the far end was another door, closed. Stairs led up into a dusky half light she was nervous about venturing into. She started along the corridor only to hear a voice from upstairs.

"We have a visitor."

Oh. The darkness beckoned to her with a glint its eye. Come up, it whispered. You'll be fine...

Alice gulped and took a deep breath. She had little choice but to accept the invitation. The stairs creaked as she mounted each one, no matter how lightly she tried to set her foot down. It was as if they were doing it deliberately to announce her presence, shouting up to those above she was coming lest she sneak up and surprise them.

The landing was an odd shape. Instead of being rectangular or square or even L-shaped, it had awkward angles which didn't seem to want to meet up with each other. There were six doors she could immediately see but at least another three areas where doors may have been hiding. For such a small house, she was shocked at the internal space.

Only two of the doors were open and she heard movement from within one of the rooms. She entered.

Posty was stood over a large bed with a flowery, brightly coloured duvet spread across it. A tall wardrobe was against a wall with one door hanging open. It was stuffed with clothes to the point some were spilling out onto the floor. Over in a corner was a pile of at least a dozen identical tall, black hats, matching the one he'd been wearing. Alice couldn't remember seeing him put it down anywhere but assumed it must be balancing precariously on the kitchen worktop.

"She's here," the professor whispered to someone. He moved to the side and Alice saw a woman, tucked up to her neck in the bed.

The woman was quite pretty but looked prematurely aged as if frown lines had forgotten to stop furrowing her face and had continued on to her cheeks and jowls. Her eyes were a deep green and instantly captivated Alice in their gaze.

"How do you do," Alice said. "I'm Alice."

The woman smiled. It was an attempt at something beaming but weakness kept the strength from the smile and made it less than it intended.

"Of course you are," she said.

Alice looked from the woman to the professor. Wasn't that what he'd said? She wasn't sure how to respond to such a comment.

"Come closer," said the woman.

The green of her eyes had suddenly faded to a milky cream colour and she began to blink as if trying to clear her sight. Alice stepped towards her, glancing at Posty who held his fingers to his lips and a sad look on his face.

"It's a pleasure to have you with us," said the woman. "I told Posthumous you'd be here and should prepare but he never listens."

"How did you know I was coming?" asked Alice.

"Pardon?"

"How did you know I'd be here?"

The woman frowned, causing the lines to deepen to crevices dividing her features like tectonic plates.

"Pardon? Who are you? What do you want?"

She was becoming agitated and Posty ushered Alice from the room, closing the door. She heard him whispering to the woman.

"Yes dear. I know dear. Of course, dear."

Alice was about to put her ear to the door when it opened again and he stepped out.

"That went well, don't you think?" He was already on his way down the stairs before she could respond and she hurried after.

He turned at the bottom in the opposite direction to which they'd come. Following him, she was led through a mini-maze of hallways and tiny rooms which seemed to lead in every direction except straight. Most of the rooms were piled with boxes filled with all manner of unrecognisable objects, stuffed to the point where their precarious balance was unnerving and she felt she should hold her breath as she walked by. Those which weren't packed with packing were empty, square cubicles of nothing. One was larger than the others and housed some sort of machine, taller than Alice and covered in levers and buttons, a bright green screen set in the middle. Posty continued through each room, stopping only when they reached the kitchen once more. Alice was panting.

"Tea?"