The Other Ida by Amy Mason Read Free Book Online Page B

try to help.
    Ida had drunk most of the bottle of port and was feeling better, whereas Alice, who had simply watched her drink, seemed to be feeling considerably worse.
    By the time they reached Ashley Cross Ida couldn’t bear it any more.
    â€œAlice, if you want to say something to me, can you come out and say it? I’m sick of all this passive aggressive shit,” she said.
    â€œIf there’s anything passive about it it’s unintentional. You’re a total dick. A total, selfish dick.”
    Tom took a loud breath.
    â€œFuck this, I’m a grown woman. Can you let me out somewhere? I want to get out.”
    Alice carried on driving.
    â€œLet me the fuck out of this fucking car!” Ida shouted.
    â€œWe’re on a main road, I’ll let you out by the snooker hall – you can walk home or go to the park. Or do whatever,” said Alice, calmly.
    She pulled over to the side of the road, and Tom got out, so Ida could squeeze past.
    â€œThank you,” she said to him.
    â€œDon’t be too long,” he said, bravely attempting a smile. “I’m making chilli for dinner.”
    â€œThis is the last day of fucking around, by the way, we’ve got the flowers and all the calling to do tomorrow, and to organise the whole bloody thing,” shouted Alice across the passenger seat.
    Tom got in and Ida slammed shut the car door.
    Ida had not had a clear aim in mind when she’d asked to leave the car, just a desire to be free of her sister and all the bad things she made her feel.
    Now as she walked past the snooker hall where she’d gone so often when she was young she prayed that she wouldn’t bump into anyone from school or any frumpy acquaintance of her mother’s who would want to express their condolences. Why was not mentioning things frowned upon? Children and teenagers had it right. Death was embarrassing for all involved.
    She knew she looked unusual in her airing-cupboard suit and people noticed her as she walked, a group of teenage boys shouting something she couldn’t understand as they overtook her on their BMXs. She smiled, reassured that she didn’t fit in, and aware that this was childish.
    She walked through the gate and into Poole Park. Next to the cricket pavilion, an old man sat reading the paper, and ahead of her a little blond boy was cycling his trike towards his mum. On the other side of the pitch was a boggy pond, filled with reeds and throaty, squawking Canada geese, and around its edge curved a tiny train track which Ida walked along, taking careful steps in between the metal girders.
    Hearing the train coming Ida watched as it headed straight for her. It was slow and very small but the children at the front were shouting for her to get out of the way and waving their hands about in hopeful horror. What would happen, she wondered, if she lay down right here? She supposed the driver would brake, but she would like to know what would happen if he didn’t. Could her body stop a whole train? She had a feeling that it probably could.
    The woman tried to charge Ida for a child’s ticket as well as her own and seemed taken aback that she was travelling alone. In fact, she gave the distinct impression that she did not like the cut of Ida’s jib, and for some reason Ida felt compelled to thank her effusively.
    Clutching the pink raffle ticket that had cost her 60p, Ida boarded the train, jamming herself into the seat that was meant for two children. It was the last train of the day and was almost empty apart from a stern-looking man wearing socks and sandals with two young boys that she supposed were his. The younger one turned round and stared at her and she waved at him and stuck out her tongue. The father smacked the boy on the knee, giving Ida a suspicious sideways glance. She put her feet up on the opposite seat and clutched the sides of the carriage.
    The train began to move very slowly indeed. Ida watched two girls